Right now, he was on the verge of a psionic lashing from their leader. The master of the Jiogku was not someone you disappointed or could bluff with excuses as to your failure. The current situation in Tokyo was out of hand and it needed to be nipped in the bud. As the major organised crime organisation on the island, the Jigoku needed to stop this before they were no longer feared.

After this had happened to the Shingen, he had become a laughing stock, and many were pleased that the affair had ended in his death, because they would have had to kill him anyway.

"Your instructions regarding the X-Men and any of their membership..." Vargas tried to explain, but he fell to his knees as the psionic pressure forced him to his knees. He was one of finest warriors in Japan, in the world, and his skills with a sword were second to none, but there was nothing he could do against an attack such as this one. He was a master of the physical world, not the mental, and while his natural psionic defences were good, but against a master telepath there was no protection.

"My apologies," he said and the attack stopped. "The message is simple - Wolverine is coming for us. What do you require of me?"

The words in his mind, and the minds of everyone else were simple: ~STOP HIM BY WHATEVER MEANS POSSIBLE~

"Do I have your leave to kill him?"

There was a moment's pause as the leader considered this and then came the determined reply.

~IF THAT IS THE ONLY WAY, SO BE IT~

"It will be done," he said and the connection was broken. The man known as Vargas turned to the gang.

"We have a mission to undertake, and the man known as Logan is not one to be taken lightly. He has single-handedly decimated one of the great orders of the Hand, and the word is that he and a group of others have eradicated them from the face of the Earth. We all know how busy he has been in the last twelve hours, and that his vigilante actions have cost us a small fortune in money and reputation. The Yakuza have left this to us to deal with, and out Mistress has commanded us. Failure is not an option."

"Does Logan fight as X-Man or head of the Clan Yashida?" asked a voice.

"I fear neither the X-Men or the so-called Clan Yashida. They have been in decline since death of Lady Mariko, and there is nothing they can do." Vargas turned away for a moment and looked to the sky. "Though, I must admit to hold the Honour Sword of the Clan would be a worthwhile prize." He turned back to them. "Prepare yourselves. This will be a war of attrition. We will win by wearing him down and then we will strike."

Vargas closed his eyes. If any fight were a true test, this would be it. How fortunate that Logan was at his best once more. Fighting a man with one hand would have been much too easy. This would indeed be a challenge, and for the first time in many years, Vargas knew he would have to rest before this battle.

Wolverine was a man living on borrowed time.

"Logan-san."

I hear the voice and a hand on my shoulder and it wakes me. I open my eyes and look up. Didn't think I was that tired. Live and learn

"Hiroshi?" I say, looking at the young girl standing there. She's the housekeeper of the Clan Yashida. She's not much older than twenty-five, by my reckoning, but she's got a maturity that belies her years. I can see why Mariko hired her.

"There is a car waiting for you," she says, her tones soft yet with a sense or urgency to them. "You have been summoned by the Emperor himself."

"Can't take a rest without it bein' interrupted," I say as I get up. I still have the odour of smoke about me after the fire last night, even though I showered when I got in. Ain't had a response to my messages as yet, but then again it's early yet. I know someone out there is gonna be might pissed at me. "Tell them to wait five, Hiroshi," I say as I go to the closet. "I need to get changed."

"Ai," she says and goes to let them know I'll be along shortly. I sigh, thinking how natural Japanese is to me. Never really understood why, before now. Now I remember everything about my past, about how I was and how I've gotten to be the man I am. Don't get me wrong, in my own way I'm as nuts as I ever was, but it's been tempered over the years, and look at me now. What would my parents think if they could see me now? Next time I'm in Canada, I'm gonna look and see where they're buried, an' pay my respects. I wish I'd known them, but them's the breaks.

"Figures." The only thing here in my size is my old kimono, the threads I wore when Mariko said she'd marry me. They're pristine, but I never figured I'd wear them again. Not without her by my side, anyway. This place has so much pain, so many memories, but it's a place I can call home. Never really had a place of my own before. It's always been someone else's pad, or it was rented, or half someone else's. Even the Princess in Madripoor is half Le Beau's. This place is mine, an' mine alone.

Go figure.

I go down to where the car is waiting.

"Hiroshi, my plane is this afternoon, could you?"

"I will see to the arrangements, Logan-san," she says and the driver looks at us strange.

"I ain't in to the whole Lord Logan riff," I explain. "I ain't earned it, it's been given to me." The driver says nothing, but he gives a nod and closes the door behind me. My cigars are in a tray in front of me, as is coffee an' I have to smile. They're really laying out the red carpet for me. Is it about last night, or is there something else in mind? I know we received apologies that a representative of the Emperor couldn't attend the funerals of Leyu and Shiro.

I keep forgettin' how much clout the Clan Yashida really has. It ain't just a name here, it's a legacy. When people think of dynasty, they think oil and shoulder pads, lousy actors and lousier storylines. I think of it, I think of a more civilised time, a forgotten era of history. Maybe that's why I like Japan. It's aged well, and never forgotten it's roots.

I smoke a cigar, wonderin' what the hell's got in to me of late. Since Elektra died, I've been thinkin' in different terms. It ain't me, it ain't what I do to cope. I get in to fights and drink, I don't sigh and think about things. Wonder if something happened to me when I used the Sword of Life? Heck, it grew my missing hand back in a matter of moments, so it could have done anythin' to me. I'll get Beast to give me the once over when I get to the mansion.

An' that ain't gonna be easy, seein' as how they put me in chains an' threw me out last time I was there. Life's just too damn complicated of late.

We arrive about thirty minutes later, and we're greeted by Ling-Mae, the Emperor's daughter. She and Shiro seemed to have something goin' last time I was here. She was helping him gain support to rebuild the compound. Agrashima needed a lot of work after the fire. To look at it now, you'd think nothing had ever happened, but we all know better.

"Crown Princess," I say bowing when the driver opens the door.

"Lord Logan," she says, sendin' a shiver down me. Too damn formal - I'm Logan, or Wolverine if you must. Lord Logan, that ain't me.

"Please, Logan-san," I say and she nods in acceptance.

"My father bids you welcome and requests that you join him in the Gardens."

"I would be honoured, Princess," I reply and she leads the way to her father. "How are you?" I ask as we walk, and she knows what I mean.

"I miss him, Logan-san," she answers. "The last time you were here, I believed that we would marry at some point, with my father's blessing. Between the deeds of himself and his cousins Mariko and Keniuchio, the Clan had become honourable again, and worthy of the blessing of the Emperor."

"I am sorry for your loss, Princess. Rest assured that at some point, I will see to it that he is avenged." I don't smile, because I know it's inappropriate, but if I were alone I would be. "Count on it."

"I believe you, Logan-san," she says and we say no more until we reach the Gardens, where the Emperor is waiting for us.

"Thank you, Ling-Mae," he says and she takes it as a dismissal. I bow to her and she leaves myself and the Emperor alone.

"You wished to see me, your Highness?" I ask, and he bids me to sit down.

"Lord Logan," he begins, and sees the tightening of my body as he says it. "Logan-san," he starts again. "I wanted the opportunity to speak to you, as the head of one of our oldest families. I know this is not easy for you, for although you are as much Japanese in your soul as you are gaijin in being, this was not the way you wanted things to turn out."

"Yes," I say. "If things had been different, I may have become consort to Lady Mariko, but it was not to be."

"I understand," said the Emperor. "I was fond of her as well. We had many discussions in this garden as she sough my guidance on cleansing the stain of dishonour from the Yashida family."

"I did not know," I answer, wishing she had turned to me instead of the Emperor, but then again she wanted to prove herself worthy of me.

"She spoke of you often," the Emperor mused. "It was a shame that her betrayal by the Yakuza cost Mariko her life."

"More than you know," I reply, thinking of the look in her eyes as my claws punctured her heart, sparing her the agonies of the poison she had been given. It was a look of love, thanks and forgiveness all in one and I watched as the light faded from her eyes.

"I know how hard it has been for you with your disgrace at the hands of the American government, and I meant what I said at our last meeting, that there is no ill will towards you by ourselves or our government."

"My thanks, your Highness," I reply, still unsure of where he's going with this.

"I understand that you will be returning to America, to mourn the loss of another of your colleagues."

"Yes, that is correct," I answer, thinking of Rogue. Too much death of late, as if our sins our catchin' up with us all.

"How will you accomplish this, bearing in mind you are currently denied entry?"

"I have my ways, your Highness," I reply. Gotta admit, sneaking about the city ain't my preferred option, but I ain't got a lot of choice.

"And I have mine," said the Emperor. "I name you my special ambassador to the United States, with the diplomatic immunity that it entails." He clicked his fingers and a one of his people brings me some papers. "Your official documentation, Lord Logan."

"Your Highness," I start, lost for words. "My humblest gratitude for this…"

"You are the Head of the Clan Yashida, I can do no less." I review the papers and see a passport, which I open and the name 'Logan Yashida' inside. I've not had a last name since… well, ever. It seems strange to have one now. "And for what it is worth, Logan-san, you were Mariko's husband in all but name." He extends his hand and I accept it. This is one hell of a gift he just gave me. "Now let us talk of your latest endeavours as the hero Wolverine…" and we start to discuss the events of the previous night, but all I can think of is how much I owe this man.

"Yes," said the footman as he opened the door. "Can I help you?"

"Yes," replied the man, the trenchcoat and hat covering his face. "You can let me in."

"This place for members only, and I have never seen you before…" The footman died as he was shown the membership badge and he bowed. "My apologies, sir, I didn't recognise you."

"You weren't meant to," he answered as he entered the building. "Tell me, is there any other members here?"

"No, sir," replied the footman as he took the man's coat. "Have you not heard of the murders in America?"

"Yes," he said. "I was speaking of the new Inner Circle, the one set up by Shinobi."

"No, sir, as I understand it they have a cash flow problem which means they do not get as far as Japan."

"Excellent," he replied. "Then the only person who knows I am here is you."

"Yes sir," said the footman and then said no more as the Donald Pierce snapped his neck like a twig. Evidently Sebastian had not informed everyone that his membership of the Hellfire Club had been revoked. He turned and locked the door before going up to the suite of the Inner Circle. He had always loved Japan, a city of technological marvels, and for what he had in mind he would need them.

His new plan for revenge on Wolverine would be that much sweeter when the mutant met his final destruction.

"You are on borrowed time, Wolverine," he said as he looked out of the window, and then he went to work.

My mind is still on the pieces of paper as the car pulls up at the Yashida compound and I get out, thanking the driver and I watch as the car disappears in to the distance. It's about then I realise that there's something wrong here, that the compound is silent. There's no bird song, no hustle and bustle of people, nothing. It's as if there's a calm before the storm.

I taste the air, but there's nothing out of place, but every instinct I've got is telling me there's a problem. This is probably what I was waiting for and they've used my absence to set things up. Bad idea, attacking me on my own ground. It didn't work for the last lot, or for anyone else who's attacked the compound.

I enter as if I've not noticed anything and a rush of air causes the hairs on the back of my neck to respond. These jokers are silent, and make no sound. They've been trained well, but just because I can't smell them or hear them, it doesn't mean I can't sense them. My sense of touch is as heightened as the rest of them and as two of them come up on me, their moves displace the air and I strike before they get a chance.

My elbow flies back to the chest of one as my fist meets the face of the second, dropping them both. They fall fast, one with a broken nose, the other with the air knocked out of him. They ain't ninja, which is a change from when I'm normally in Japan, but they are trained fighters. They don't seem to realise how in tune I am with my surroundings.

"Who's next?" I growl and there's a shout that seems to come from all around me and I'm set upon by about seven of them, each with various weapons and as they come at me from all sides, I'm moving towards the closest one. In a moment I've slammed my fist in to his gut, sending him down, and I leap on to his back, and kick out at a second, knocking him in to a third and I avoid an attack from a fourth who hits the guy I'm using for a pivot. The fifth manages to get me with his sword, and he twists it in my shoulder, taking pleasure in the act.

His mistake.

I grab the sword and yank it from his hand, at the same time smashing him in the face with my head, and using the sword to meet the sword of the sixth, then I twist and disarm him and as he watches his sword go up in the air, I stick my own through his chest and turn to see where the seventh has gone. Then my chest explodes in pain as I feel a shot strike me, just below the heart. Either I turned in time or he's a bad shot, either way I'm alive but hurt and he fires again, but he's not going to get the chance to hit me again as I stick my claws in to his stomach and pull them out turning to see the others have regrouped and are about to attack again.

I stand before them, fury in my eyes and one set of claws dripping blood.

"Bring it on," I say, and they come towards me as one, a combined charge. I duck and swing with my claws, slicing through shin and ankle, taking two of them to the ground in a moment, and then there's the click of automatic weapons in the background, as I realise these thugs were more of a distraction and I move as shot after shot after shot after shot rings out, shattering tile and denting stone as they try and get a shot at me. Some hit, some don't and my healing factor's working hard to keep me going.

I expected this response, though I thought there'd be a better call than this. These seem more than happy to simply shoot it out than attack up front. Keeping me at bay is smart, but it also says they know I get in close, they know they're going to see their guts spilled on to the floor. The shots stop, because they need to reload and I'm moving in the instant they do. There used to be times like this when I thought the adamantium would help me, but since getting' my memories back I know that I don't need it after all, an that's I've survived worse than being shot to hell.

They try and defend themselves for all the good it does them but they don't last long at all. One of them manages to get another shot off before I slice open his chest and it shatters my left ribs and bursts my lung. Breathin' ain't easy now, and I know I need a breather, but I ain't gonna get one any time soon. What I really need is a sword, to give myself a bit more flexibility. Claws are fine, but I need a bit more reach if I'm gonna sort this out.

The honour sword is kept somewhere safe, so that nobody other than myself can find it and I know that it'll look better if I'm holding the sword. I'm Lord of the Clan, the Champion of the Clan and as much as I hate to admit it, that has a reputation. It'll give 'em a moment's pause and that's all I'll need.

Can't help the feelin' I'm being watched though. Dunno how they're masking themselves from my senses, but it's getting' on my nerves and the last thing they want is to irritate me even more than I already am.

Vargas watched Logan cut through the Jigoku with deadly efficiency. Yes, they got their own shots in, but it wasn't enough to slow him down. The mutant was hurt and bleeding, but he acted as if he were immune to pain. Vargas smiled, wondering how much training he had gone through to maintain that degree of discipline. He had been shot, stabbed and still he moved with incredible ease, slicing through men with pinpoint accuracy. His moves were incredible he admitted that himself, and he longed for the moment he confronted him, but Logan needed wearing down more first.

Vargas would sacrifice as many people as he had to. Sacrifices had to be made, though he had only killed the guards of the Clan. The domestic staff had been subdued and left alive. There would be enough death here without killing these others, plus they would live to spread the word of the retribution that had been handed down on the Clan Yashida by the Jigoku.

Logan would die at his hand, and his body would be left at the gates of the mansion for all to see. He watched as Logan used the opportunity of the reloading to attack again and after it was over he noticed that Logan was moving a little slower than he had before and Vargas could see a dark stain on the left hand side of his chest. The bullet that had hit him there had done more damage than the first one that had hit him and he knew that his healing factor was working to compensate. It was getting closer to the time where he and Logan fought and he relished the opportunity.

"He is almost ready," he whispered. The sub-dermal communications devices allowed him to contact his men and give them their instructions. They had also laid down a chemical that had been designed to neutralise Logan's sense of smell, using the directions provided by their Mistress. It had proved most effective but they knew it would wear off soon enough. He followed Logan, taking great care to avoid any way of being detected. He watched as more of his men attacked him, but as before they ended up being wounded or killed at the hands of the gaijin.

Plus Logan was starting to move more fluidly again as well. Vargas was stunned at the speed of his recovery. He had seen the healing factor of Sabretooth when he had taken on the X-Men and how swift it had been in action. He had not considered that Logan's healing factor was also as swift. He had been told of Creed's belief that Logan was his father, and he had believed that if it were so, then Creed's powers would be better than those of his father. He was faster, stronger, more vicious than Logan, that was certain and yet Logan was still capable of beating him. It wasn't just a question of raw power, it was skill.

Vargas contemplated the mutant warrior and wondered that he might have miscalculated him, that this war of attrition was nothing more than a waste of men. She would not be pleased by this if he did not kill Wolverine now. A swift strike to the heart, slicing the vital organ in two would certainly finish him. He frowned, thinking of what he had to do to achieve such an objective and decided that enough was enough. He must confront the X-Man now and let the fates decide.

I can feel my body expel the bullets an' my breathin's gotten easier. None of the staff are about an' I have to wonder what happened here for the Clan to be so taken by surprise. Security's gonna have to be improved. When I'm in Canada, I might have a word or two with Jimmy Hudson, see if Department H can pass some stuff along. I can't be comin' back here every five minutes to see if the place is still standin'.

I descend through the catacombs underneath the place, knowin' where all the traps are, all the pitfalls and problems and avoiding them so I can get to the Honour Sword. By the time I get there, I'm feelin' as good as new and I remove the sword from the shrine I have to the memory of Mariko. There's no safer place for the Sword than in her care.

Plus down here my senses tell me the air is clearer. They must have used somethin' upstairs to keep me off guard. Didn't help them an' there's a scent behind me so I turn to meet whoever's there.

"Handy moves, bub. Not many can get past Shingen's traps."

"There's very few as good as I am," he says, with no bravado. He truly believes he is that good. I smile.

"You may be good, bub, but I'm the best there is."

"Let's find out." He draws his own sword and almost before I have a chance to defend myself he's on me and our swords clang with a deep resonance. "You're fast."

"You're no slouch yourself," I reply as we duel. I strike and he counter strikes, then he lunges and I parry and we continue our dance moving up and down, varying the height of strikes. His sword goes back and mine pushes down, but he has a strength that defies belief and forces my blade back up, but I spin and it glances him, stabbing in to his shoulder, but the strike isn't as good as I'd like and it's not a deep cut, but it's a start.

I leap over his head but as I land with the sword bearing down on him, he turns and meets my blade, and almost as quickly he turns the sword back on me swiping at my gut, but I move avoiding it but it makes a thin across my abdomen and I realise how close that was, and then my jaw is met by his foot, sending me back, and the Honour Sword falls from my hand as I hit the floor, but I roll to grab it as he slams the sword down where I was.

My hand meets the blade and in a moment I'm back on my feet, but he's already coming towards me. He swings at me again but I block it and this time smash his face with my hand, knocking him back and I press the attack while he's off guard, but he's not as off guard as I thought and he gets a strike in and I feel the sword run me through and he pulls it free as quickly as he pushed it in but as he does so I unleash my claws and swipe at him.

He dodges and slashes again and I feel something tear and I stagger. It was a good strike and I can feel my insides trying to burst through the tear and my healing factor starts to work on it, but it slows me down as I fight. Strike after strike after strike bear down on each other and I lunge towards him.

I miss and he strikes back and a jolt of pain shoots through me and I look down. The blade's pierced my heart and I shake as he pulls the blade free. I've no control over myself and my legs buckle under me and I fall to my knees, my sword falling from my hand and clanging as it hit's the floor. I can taste the blood in the back of my throat and I fall to the floor. I look at him, hatred in my eyes and then it all goes black and I feel the cold of the floor as I collapse.

No.

Hello?

You must rise.

Who's there?

It does not end this way.

Where am I?

A place you should not be.

I know you.

Yes, you do.

Elektra.

Logan.

Then I'm dead.

Not yet, but you are close to crossing. It is not your time, my love.

Darlin'…

Trust me, Logan, there is much to live for. There is more to do.

Maybe it's all over. Elektra, I'm tired.

You do not give up. Your will to live is what sustains you.

Maybe I don't want to live anymore. There's not a great deal left.

Amiko. Yukio. The X-Men. The Chaste. The Clan Yashida.

They will survive without me.

Are you so certain of that?

Nothin's certain. I can't lose you again.

You never will, Logan. My love sustains you. My love protects you.

I don't understand.

I gave you my soul, Logan.

Your soul?

When you drew the evil of the Destroyer in to yourself, it should have corrupted you beyond all else.

I know. You gave your life.

Just my physical life. My soul, the essence of what I was - I transferred it to you. Our love, the purity of what we had, prevented your corruption.

And without your soul…

My body could not survive. There was nothing to sustain it and the wounds I suffered were too great. I would have died anyway and this way I live on, through you.

So, if I die, then you die too?

In effect. Everything I was is now a part of you.

Explains a lot.

You would have known sooner or later. Can you feel it, Logan? The coldness of oblivion. Yes there is peace, but there is nothing else but peace.

The light…

Why should oblivion be darkness? Darkness is not peace.

We'd be together.

Will we? Can you say with absolute certainty that we will?

I…

What of Silver Fox? What of Mariko? What of Laura? You cannot be with all of us.

Never thought of it like that.

You don't have the time to think, to consider the next life. You are concerned with the here and the now. You are of the present, Logan. I am of the past.

What of the future?

I am merely a spirit. I cannot predict the future. If we are to be together, you must live for us both.

It may be too late.

It is never too late, my love. All you need do is believe. You have fought so many creatures. Fight Death. Fight for me.

Darlin'…

Elektra?

ELEKTRA!!!

Vargas shook his head as he picked up the Honour Sword of the Clan Yashida.

"The best there was at what he did," he mused, imagining the words on Logan's tombstone. "Second best, perhaps." He had been tested and he had won. He had beaten the legend that was Wolverine, and now he lay dead in front of the shrine of his beloved Mariko. "Honour is satisfied."

Of course there would be a revenge attack by the mutant's foster-daughter Amiko and he would likely have to kill her as well. She was the new head of the Clan Yashida. So many leaders in so little time. The Mistress would be pleased by this - the Clan was ripe for the taking and it would cement the power base of the Jigoku once and for all.

He marvelled at the sword in his hand. Over eight hundred years of history was in this blade. It represented all the Clan stood for and wanted to be - spiritual and physical perfection and worn by the samurai that best exemplified those qualities. It was a symbol of the old order, and suddenly Vargas knew it was nothing more than a trinket. There was nothing special about it at all. It was just an antique sword and he stuck it in the floor and primed his own sword, and brought it down, snapping the ancient blade in half and the handle fell to the floor. He would present the blade to the Mistress and she would know that he had succeeded where so many before him had failed.

"Shouldn't have done that, bub." Vargas' eyes went wide as the gravel toned voice echoed in his ears. "Ya just made it personal." He turned to see Logan standing there.

"This cannot be," he muttered.

"You ain't the first to think that. You ain't gonna be the last, either."

~SCHLUKT~

Vargas heard the claws extend from Logan's hands, bursting through the flesh and ready to be used.

"You won't return this time," he said and moved towards him, striking with the sword, but Logan wasn't there, but at his side instead and as Vargas struck the air, Logan grabbed his arm and yanked it down against his knee and Vargas felt his ulna snap and an intense pain in his side as Logan's other claws slashed him. He gave a cry of pain and slammed his fist in to Logan's face, knocking hiom back.

Vargas knew better than to waste time looking at his wound and even though the pain was excruciating he wrestled the X-Man to the floor, pounding his face with his good arm, while applying pressure against the mutant's throat with the other. He punched him again and again swiftly and repeatedly, trying to choke him at the same time, but Logan managed to get leverage and roll him over on his back.

The mutant's face was bruised and bloodied and one eye was more or less closed but Logan smashed his head down on to Vargas and Vargas's head hit the floor, dazing him and in a moment Logan had his claws around his face, with the third pressing in to his jaw.

"Yer damn good, I'll ya that," said Logan and he was so close that Vargas could taste the stale tobacco on his breath and flecks of spittle landed on his face. "But I'm the best there is. You don't have to be the fastest, or strongest, you just got to be the last one standin'."

"Just kill me," said Vargas, his teeth gritted from the pain. "You won't get another chance."

"Yer welcome to try," smiled Logan through his own injuries and Vargas could see the bruises starting to fade already. "Thing is, I ain't gonna let you get off that easy. That sword was special, an' you shouldn't have done that." The muscles on Logan's forearm twitched and the claw pushed up. "Now this takes a lot of concentration, bub." Vargas couldn't answer, his tongue pinned to the roof of his mouth by the claw. "You think that hurts?" said Logan. "Try this." He wrenched the claws back, tearing through the tongue, the gums and the lower face of Vargas who screamed in agony.

"It's nothing surgery won't fix," said Logan, standing up. "Ya might speak with a lisp though. Still anyone who laughs at you, just kick the crap out of 'em. Dunno who you are, or who you represent - but give them a message. The Clan Yashida is off limits to them. As am I. Mess with me or mine again - I'll shut you down fer good. Got it?"

Vargas gave a slight head movement, which Logan took as a yes, then he booted Vargas in the head and knocked him out cold. He'd have the body dumped in Tokyo later. It had been a close one this time, he thought as he looked at the wound on his chest. He'd almost had him, but Elektra had saved him - again.

"How many's that, darlin'," he whispered and shook his head. He carried her soul inside him. It was a strange thought, yet comforting at the same time. The only other person who could have understood was Rogue, and she was dead. Speaking of which, he still had a plane to catch back to the States, and he had to sort out the household before he left. Then there was the question of the Honour Sword as well. Fixing that wasn't going to be easy, but he had to try. There was so much to do and he gave a deep sighed. He bent down to pick up the broken blade and winced as he moved. He was alive, but he wasn't fully healed.

If Vargas only knew how close he'd been…