NOTE: This story takes place prior to the events of The Twelve.

Main Entry: greed
Pronunciation: 'grEd

a : marked by enthusiastic or impatient desire or interest
b: excessive or insatiable desire for wealth or gain : GREEDINESS

Greed

My name is Clayton Milbourne. This party, held on the third floor of my European estate, is to celebrate my most recent acquisition. I glance towards the pedastel at the front of the room. On it rests a small, metallic object—a helmet, if you will. One with wires running out from the sides. It was recently taken from a school in Westchester by my associates. The Seven Sins.

I take a sip from my champaigne and feel lithe hands run across my shoulders.

"Beatrice..." I say. "What did I tell you?"

The young woman circles around to face me. She is in her early twenties, her jet-black hair a stark contrast to her fair skin. Her dress puts more skin on display than it conceals. There is no doubt in my mind that Beatrice Haydel is a seductive woman. Perhaps most enticing, however, are her unusual, purple eyes.

"You said not in public," she repeats.

"And you are disobeying me," I say. "Not wise."

She laces her arms around my neck and presses her slim body against my own.

"What's wrong? Don't you find me attractive, Clay?"

"What did I tell you about using your powers on me?"

"Can I help it if I want you all to myself?" she asks.

"No, you can't," I reply.

"...wait..." she says. "You're doing it again, aren't you?"

I ignore her comment and glance around the room. Among the party guests, I spot my fellow Sins. Michael Williams and Sean O'Malley, both broad, strong young men, are standing guard. Williams, or Envy, was once an underground boxer. O'Malley, or Anger, was an alcoholic—which cost him his job and his family. Dakim Petrenko, a particularly obese man helps himself to the buffet. Petrenko, also called Gluttony, is an interesting man. His connections with the Russian mafia have made him a useful tool in my organization. My eyes continue on to find Guy Liz leaning back in a chair with his feet propped up on the table. He's young, perhaps younger than Beatrice. I almost resent having him around, yet I have little choice. After all, we need a Sloth. Finally, my eyes drift upwards to a small balcony where I see a man looking down on us. He's Pride.

"Answer my question," says Lust. "You're doing it again, aren't you, Clay?"

I offer her a coy smile before I say, "I have no idea what you're talking about, Beatrice."

Cannonball

I'm still tucking my shirt into my pants as I follow Cyclops an' Dazzler down to the X-Mansion's War Room.

Ah keep my eyes towards the ground. Guess I'm just too embarassed t' look over at Alison, an' I'm too ashamed t' look at Scott. He gave us a brief rundown of what happened while me an' Alison were... doin' our own thing, so to speak. Gotta admit, I can't help but feel a little guilty about it. I mean, the X-Men coulda used my help, but here I am, hoppin' into bed with a gal I hardly know.

I sneak a glance at Alison. What's goin' through her mind right now?

"Sam... it was a mistake, I'm sorry. I used you, I'm still not over Longshot."

Is that what she's thinkin'? Is that what she'd say t' me?

"Sam... I care about you. But because of what happened, I think it's best that we just stay away from each other for awhile."

Is that it?

She's different from Tabby, Ah know that much. Tabby was a lot more wild an' Ali's more... I dunno. Restrained, maybe? I just can't seem tah read her at all. My mind jus' keeps settin' up these different scenarios, an' I'm not sure what to think. I dunno what I should do. I turn my head an' look over at Scott, who leads the way.

Scott... he didn't seem too happy when he found us. Is the rest of the team mad at us, too? Jean an' Hank an' Storm? I mean... it's not our fault, was it? It's not like anyone came to try and find us. An' it's not like they haven't made mistakes in the past. I'm still not really used to the way the X-Men do things compared to X-Force, an' Ali's been off active duty for awhile. We can't really help it if we're not up to speed on protocol. If someone told me I shouldn't sleep with another member of the team 'cause o' the possibility that there might be an intruder, I wouldn't have gone to Alison at all.

Scott stops in front of the metallic doors. In that moment, I look back over at Alison, and she looks at me, too. Our eyes lock, an' for a moment, I feel too embarassed t' be lookin' at her after what happened.

Dazzler

The sound of the door opening causes me to break eye contact with Sam. I brush a few blonde strands of hair that fell into my face back. Scott walks into the War Room first, and Sam and I follow. The first thing I notice is how Jean, Hank, and Ororo all look right towards Sam and me.

My eyes follow Scott as he walks over to a console against one of the walls. Then, I notice that a lot of the hardware from the War Room is gone. Jean and Hank are both sitting at a large, round metallic table with a large X engraved on it. Jean stands from her seat and goes over to Scott. Hank's eyes look at me from behind his thin glasses, and he offers a reassuring grin followed by a wink. I can't help but smile at that.

I look over to the corner of the room where Storm stands. Her arms are crossed over her chest, and her eyes are closed. It almost seems like she's in pain. Her eyes open briefly, and they lock with mine. There's something in them... I never saw Storm look at me like that before. Her eyes close once more. It was... anger.

I take a seat at the table across from Hank, and Sam sits at the opposite end. Aside from our brief eye contact in the corridor, he's been avoiding my gaze. Poor guy, he's real dedicated to the X-Men and he's probably blaming himself for what happened. I can hear the sound of low voices, and I look towards the console where Scott sits. Jean breaks her conversation with him and looks at me. There's no emotion whatsoever in her face, no smiles, nothing. Then, she turns her attention back to Scott and continues whispering. I can't help but wonder what they're talking about...

Phoenix

"...we'll talk about this later," says Scott. He stands from the console and walks past me towards the table. I let out an exasperated sigh and take my seat next to Hank.

Scott begins to run down the details. He informs the rest of the team that the Seven Sins stole the Cerebro unit during their attack on the mansion. On the monitor behind him, the images of Lust and Envy come up, and he explains that there's no known information on the two of them.

I can't help but think about how much things have changed. When the team factioned off originally, I thought that things were going to get rough. But it wasn't until after Scott's coma and Apocalypse's attack that I realized exactly how rough they would get. Our little trip through space, followed by the incident at Smile Bright have made me realize just how tough things have gotten.

Scott continues on about the tracking device in Cerebro. He says that they've traced the signal to a Victorian mansion in the European countryside.

"We'll regroup in the hangar," he says. "Suit up."

I can't help but watch him and notice how much he's changed over the past several months. He seems so... distant now. That's when I realize no one else has moved from their seats.

"That means now," he says.

Storm

I pull on the black overcoat atop my uniform and tie my white hair behind my head with a band. As I enter the hangar, I see spot Cyclops disengage the refueling system. He is running a last minute diagnostics test on the Blackbird, that much I can tell. I feel I should try speaking to him about recent events, but I decide against it. I was not a part of the Smile Bright mission, so I feel it isn't my place to say anything.

I board the jet and move to the front of the plane. I sit in the copilot's seat and rub my forehead. I cannot help but feel light-headed after the recent events. The inconsistant pains I am feeling are a result to the morphine, I imagine. I hear footsteps and I look up to see Cyclops taking his seat in the pilot's chair. He holds a device in his hand, similar to a Palm unit but larger. He holds a stylus and I know from past experience that he is running off the pre-flight checklist. I cannot help but notice the growing silence between us, however. The growing silence between Scott and the entire team in fact.

"Just so you know..." he begins. "I don't blame you for any of this."

His words send me into a shock, and for a moment I feel as if I am delusional from the morphine.

"I appreciate the sentiment, Scott. You may not blame me, but I do."

"You did your best," he says. "That's all I expect from anyone in my unit."

"Hmm," I say with a low chuckle. "You're starting to sound like Nathan."

"Like father, like son I suppose."

"I find it ironic."

"Oh?"

"You originally disapproved of Cable and his methods."

"Things change."

"Apparently," I say. I moan slightly as I feel another pain stab through my body.

"You up for this?" he asks.

I nod my head slightly.

"I may have become the weak link as of late, but I'm still willing to prove myself."

"Suit yourself."

I hear the sound of the Blackbird's entry door closing. Cyclops activates the engines, and I realize that the rest of the team must have assembled aboard the plane. As he begins lift-off, I close my eyes and drift off into meditation. And for some reason, a strange feeling comes over me. One of... dread.

Beast

I've failed.

Despite my best efforts, Proposition 66 was passed. Yes, after the Smile Bright incident, the Senate did reverse the registration act. But it doesn't seem to be enough, at least not to me. There has to be some way I can make a difference. Perhaps if I talked to Trish, maybe we could come up with something...?

Trish... I haven't spoken to her in ages. She hasn't made an attempt to contact me, either. I'm beginning to wonder about this odd little "relationship" of ours—or lack thereof.

"We're approaching the target," says Scott from the front of the plane.

"Tracking unit says Cerebro is on the third floor," says Jean from a small console towards the back of the ship.

"Question, fearless leader," I chime in. "Do you have a plan to retrieve Cerebro?"

"Yes," he replies simply.

"Oh..." I say. "So... how are we going to retrieve Cerebro?"

"Like this."

I feel the Blackbird begin to speed up, and then the trajectory changes as it takes a dive. I move forward in my seat to see that we are headed directly towards the third floor of the estate—towards a wall composed entirely of glass.

"Should we brace for impa—"

Main Entry: pride
Pronunciation: 'prId

the quality or state of being proud: as

a : a reasonable or justifiable self-respect
b : delight or elation arising from some act, possession, or relationship

Cyclops

I ignore Beast's comment as the Blackbird crashes through the glass wall. It is filled with people dressed in formalwear, and they scatter. I can feel Phoenix's eyes burning a hole into the back of my head, and I just know that she sent out a psychic warning to the guests.

With her gaze, I'm reminded of what's inside her. Apocalypse impregnated her. I was in a coma. I couldn't stop it. I couldn't stop Xavier from dying, I couldn't stop Bishop from taking away half my team, I couldn't stop Proposition 66, I couldn't stop the country from declaring Logan a traitor, I couldn't stop the deaths of Rogue or Warlock. And I couldn't stop the Seven Sins from taking Cerebro.

But I can make them give it back.

I practically rip the seat's straps from my body and I march towards the hatch.

"Anyone want to go first?" I ask.

I receive no reply and I slam my fist against the hatch release button. I step out, and the partygoers back up in shock.

They're smart.

I hear the sound of an eruption, and I glance behind me. Cannonball has taken to the air with Storm behind him. Dazzler and Beast deboard and come up behind me. Phoenix remains in the Blackbird. I told her before the briefing that her pregnancy makes her a liability on the battlefield.

"Don't just stand there you idiots, get them!"

The man who just shouted the order is, I suppose, the leader of this outfit. I recognize Lust by his side. I step forward and I hear footsteps rapidly approaching. My foot shoots out and nails Envy in the stomach before he can get any closer. While he's keeled over in pain, I grab him by the shoulders and throw him in the air. Before he hits ground, my visor opens and unleashes an optic blast that rockets him to the corner of the ceiling.

"You picked the wrong day..." I mutter.

My thoughts are no longer limited to my own. In my mind, I begin to see the images of the rest of the X-Men battling the Sins. Phoenix's doing, she's established a psi-web to keep us in contact. Smart woman, good to see that she's putting some of her training to good use.

The Sins attempt to use their emotion-altering abilities to try and weaken us. I can feel Beast's anger at himself for failing to stop Proposition 66 rise up inside of him. I can feel Storm's desire to give up rise. I can feel immense hunger growing in Dazzler. I can feel Cannonball's lust for Dazzler increase. And I can feel my own desire to have Cerebro to myself, to have Jean to myself, and the X-Men.

All for me.

It takes a bit, but then... my head begins to clear up. My emotions start to return to their normal level. Phoenix is using the psi-web to keep us all calm and collected, effectively making the powers of the Sins useless on us. Without their ability to alter our emotions, they're powerless. The X-Men eliminate them in short order. I continue to walk forward, and the crowd simply backs out of my way to form a path.

Someone attempts to jump me from behind. His arm latches onto my chest. I grab the arm and flip him on the ground. He stands and looks at me with hatred in his eyes.

"You want it, don't you?" he asks. "You want to take Cerebro. It's yours... all yours."

This must be Greed.

"Quiet," I tell him. I open my visor just enough and a small blast strikes him the shoulder, dislocating his arm. He cries out in pain, and I deliver a cross to his face as I walk past him. I approach the pedastel Cerebro sits atop. I reach down to pick it up when an energy blast of some sort darts past my vision. I look to the side and I see someone standing in the shadows. With glowing red eyes.

He steps out, and it is almost as if I'm looking into a mirror. Except he's not wearing glasses.

"Hello Mr. Summers," he says. "I'm Pride."

"Scott... he looks just like you... what's going on?"

"Scan his mind."

"I'm trying, but I can't seem to get through."

"Tell your pretty wife not to waste her time," says Pride with a grin. "My mind can't be read."

"Nice look," I say. "Let me guess... clone? Manifestation of my dark side? Illusion-caster? Or just an actor with plastic surgery?"

"Oh please, don't reduce me to a comic book cliché," he says.

"Then what are you?" I ask. "Why do you want Cerebro?"

"Isn't it obvious?" he asks. "The people present at this party are some of the wealthiest in the world. What do you think I want with Cerebro?"

"I don't have to reduce you to a cliché—you already are one."

"Really?"

"You're using a special device to force rich people to give you their money," I tell him. "What else would you call it?"

"Hmm... point taken," he says. "I hadn't considered that."

"Obviously not."

There is a silence between us, yet no one moves.

"So..." he begins. "This is where we fight to the death, right?"

"Something like that."

"Are you going to say something like, 'this world isn't big enough for the both of us'?" he asks.

"No."

"Didn't think so."

Before Pride can fire off one of his optic blasts, I rush forward and drive my elbow into his face. While he's stunned, my leg kicks his own out from under him. and he hits the ground. Once he does, his optic blast strikes me and sends me reeling back. He stands and I fire a blast down at the ground. It ricochets and strikes his chest.

While he stumbles back, my visor opens wide and I fire a blast at the balcony above him. It comes crashing down on his head. I start to approach it, and the rest of the team begins to gather around the rubble.

"We should get him out," says Beast.

"No," I tell him. "Storm, use your winds. I don't want him getting the drop on—"

An optic blast fires upwards from the rubble. Pride stands, his clothes torn and his expression one of rage. His next blast strikes Dazzler in the head and knocks her off her feet. Beast immediately goes to her side, and Cannonball, lost in anger, ignites his blast field and rockets into Pride.

"Henry..." begins Storm.

"Mild concussion," replies Beast. "We should—"

"Leave her," I order.

"We should at least move her to the Blackbird, Slim."

"With Phoenix and Dazzler out of comission, that means it's just the three of us and Cannonball," I tell him. "Maybe if Wolverine and Iceman actually cared about their responsibilities—"

"Scott!"

"It's Cyclops in the field, Storm," I tell her. "We're professionals, so let's start acting like it."

I leave Beast and Storm and run towards Cannonball. He's released Pride from his grip, and he's about to slam into him again. Unless I miss my guess, however...

Pride falls back onto the ground before Cannonball reaches him and fires a full-force optic blast at Cannonball. The sudden backstop forces Cannonball to reverse his trajectory and go straight through a wall. Dumb kid, you let your feelings for Dazzler get the better of you, and you screwed up as a result. You need to learn that emotions have no place on the battlefield.

A blue flash goes past my eyes. Pride was too busy gloating at his victory over Cannonball that he doesn't see Beast until after his blue-furred feet force him back. Beast leaps forward and uses his hands to give him a bit of a spring. His feet wrap around Pride's head, and he throws him off into the distance.

I feel a slight chill in the air, and I look upwards to see Storm hovering in the air, her body charged with electricity with winds whipping around her. She extends her hand and lighting shoots forth from the clouds forming above her. Meanwhile, Beast leaps towards Pride. He smiles and grabs Beast's legs as they come towards them. He uses Beast's own momentum against him and throws him into the path of Storm's lighting bolt.

"Henry!" she cries out. Pride fires an optic blast that rockets past her head. At first I think he missed. That's when I see that the blast wasn't aimed at her, it was aimed at the brick wall directly behind her. Storm instantly whips up winds to keep the wall back, but a stray brick strikes her in the head and takes her out of the fight.

Phoenix is in my thoughts. She's telling me that she can't get through his psychic defenses. I tell her to concentrate on keeping Dazzler awake. Pride looks at me with a smile.

"That was fun," he says. "Are you ready to join them?"

"You're certainly full of yourself," I say.

"Well, my name is Pride."

We both rush forward and our arms interlock. I stare into his eyes and he stares into mine through the lens of my visor. Both of us know what's going to happen next as our powers activate. The force behind our blasts instantly puts distance between the two of us. I'm thrown into the pedastel that the Cerebro unit rests on. Pride unleashes another optic blast and I open my visor fully to counter it. The blasts strike at equal force and almost cancel each other out. His blast slowly begins to gain some leverage, and at the last second, I shut mine off and leap out of the way. His blast continues, however, and smashes into the Cerebro unit. The small explosion from the impact forces me to the ground. I get to my feet just in time to watch Pride begin to dissipate into nothing. I look around, and the rest of the Sins do the same.

A teleporter of some kind...?

It takes me a few moments to collect myself, and in that time, Beast and Cannonball, carrying Storm and Dazzler, approach me as I collect the remains of Cerebro.

"What was that?" asks Cannonball.

I look at the damaged Cerebro helmet, the glare of the light shining off it.

"We may never know..." I reply.

AUTHOR'S NOTES

First off, I want to thank Dino Pollard for being able to script this issue for me during my hectic schedule, for giving me my shot at X-Men Alpha in the first place, and for the keen and insightful back-up story for this Annual. What a heck of a guy. Next off I want to thank my screening crew these issues, Brad Horton, Logan Trent, and Adnan Khan.

It's like... you guys are cool and stuff. You should all go read their stuff coming up at Marvel: Revolution, which is also headed up by... yep, Dino Pollard.

Last but definitely not least, my fan-base in Jason "JJ" Compulsion, Brent Lambert, Candy A., and anyone else out there I may have missed. You folks are the only ones out there I don't force to read my stuff necessarily, and for that I thank you.

Ever since I came to M2K I wanted a shot at a X-Men title, but at the time I wasn't the best writer for the job and probably still ain't as you can tell by Alpha's continuous cursed deadlines. I hope to think that me getting the title up to twelve issues and an annual broke the curse for the next guy up, but who knows until he gets up to bat, am I right?

One day I hope to return with many more stories, but for now without further ado, everyone finally welcome Logan Trent, one who I know has many kickass stories lined up, to the X-Men Branch. Good luck, man.

-Cory Wiegel
April 24, 2003

NOTE: This story takes place during the events of X-Men Omega #36 and Wolverine #30

"Sounds like you've been through the ringer, lately," says Jean. I just got through telling her about the incident with the Hand, Elektra, all of it. She seemed a bit taken aback, but that's to be expected.

"Life's never been easy for us, red," I say.

"Now more than ever, huh?"

"Yup."

"Look, I'd love to stay up here and catch up with you all day, but we should probably go with the others," she says.

"You go," I tell her.

"You're not staying for brunch?"

"Nah," he replies. "I've got other things on my plate right now."

"I can only imagine," she says. "Logan, you don't have to go through this alone. You're still an X-Man, and we'll gladly help you get through this."

"I know, an' I appreciate it," I tell her. "But I gotta go it alone this time."

"I understand," she says. She embraces me a final time. "Don't be a stranger, though. I've actually begun to miss the cursing and cigar smell."

"I'll see if I can make some more time," I tell her. Although, in truth, both of us realize that it probably won't be awhile before I can come back to this place. Much as I hate to admit it, this place just don't feel like home anymore. I've got other things I gotta take care of before it can.

We part ways, an' I purposely try to avoid going anywhere near the dining area. Last thing I need is for Jubilee or someone to spot me an' drag me in. Right now, they're probably all sharing stories about Rogue. Stories from happier times. It seems real odd being back here, especially for the funeral of a friend.

I head out the back entrance, and I see someone off in the distance standing in the cemetary. Long, white hair blowing in the wind. I start to approach her.

"Hello," she says.

"Am I losin' my touch?" I ask. "Thought I didn't make a sound."

"You didn't," she replies an' turns to look at me. "I felt the disruption in the winds."

"Didn't know you could do that."

"It's nice to know that I can surprise even the seasoned Wolverine," she says.

"How you doin', 'Ro?"

"I should be asking you the same thing," she replies. "I heard about Elektra, I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry about Rogue," I tell her. "Knowin' you, ya probably blame yourself."

"You know me too well."

I put my hand on her shoulder, an' her fingers gently touch my skin.

"After the Professor's funeral, I shouldn't have allowed the fight between Bishop and Scott to escalate to the point it did," she says. "I should have tried to intervene, tried to convince Bishop and the others to stay. I should have attempted to bridge the gap between the two teams."

"In that case, then we're both guilty of the same thing," I say. "Didn't do too much t' stop 'em myself. Everyone was on edge back then."

"Charles..." she mutters. I watch as a tear starts to escape from her eye, and she calmly wipes it aside.

"It ain't easy, is it?"

"Logan... there's something I have to tell you..."

Her posture changes. I've never seen her like this before, she almost looks like she's gonna keel over. She looks so... weak.

"You okay?" I ask, using my hand to help her keep her balance. I lead her over to a small stone bench sitting just outside the cemetary. She takes a seat an' I slide next to her. Her hand grips mine tightly, an' I know that what she's about to tell me is somethin' she's been keeping inside for too long.

"Before Scott awoke from his coma, Lilandra came to me in secret. She told me that she had found a way to resurrect Charles."

"Go on..." I tell her. Although somethin' tells me I don't like where this is going.

"I'm not entirely sure how it happened, but Lilandra succeeded. She was able to somehow place Xavier's soul in the body of another. Yet... it wasn't right. Xavier came to me... and he told me that the other spirit was still within him, that it wouldn't be fair to the man if Xavier remained. And he..."

"He asked you t' kill him," I finish. I hear Storm beginning to sob an' I stroke her hair with my free hand. "Y' did the right thing."

"He also told me I shouldn't mention this to any of the other X-Men," she says.

"He was right," I tell her. "It's better that they don't know. Jean told me you took a leave of absence up until recently, an' now I can see why. I'm sorry, darlin', I wish I coulda been there to help you."

"It's not your fault, Logan," she says. I feel her grip on my hand begin to loosen, an' she starts to regain her composure.

"You gonna be okay?"

"Yes..." she says. "I suppose I should get to the mansion."

"Yeah, some food'll do you good."

"I take it you're not staying then?"

"Nah, I gotta get on the move," I tell her. "Technically, I'm not even supposed t' be here right now."

"Understood," she says and hugs me. "Take care of yourself."

"You too," I tell her. "An' do me a favor, try t' keep things together here. I heard about what Scott did, guess things are startin' to get to him."

"Can you really blame him?"

"Not really," I say. "That's why I didn't bring it up to him or Jean. Just... keep yer eye out."

"I will," she says. "And Logan, thank you."

"Don't mention it."

I watch her as she makes the short trek back to the mansion, an' I think to myself that she's probably the person in that place that I trust the most. Sure, I trust Jeannie an' everyone else, but with Storm, it's different. Comes from being in tons o' life-threatening situations together.

"Might as well come out now," I say. "She's outta sight an' earshot."

The scent of smoke suddenly hits my nostrils.

"Been waitin' t' do that all day," he says.

"First sign of an addict."

"Yer one t' talk."

"What's with the cloak and dagger act?" I ask. "Yer just as welcome at this place as anyone else, LeBeau."

"Don' feel right bein' back here yet," he replies as he steps out of the shadows.

"Know how ya feel," I tell him. "Still, everyone knows what that girl meant t' you, even if you try to deny it."

"I'm not denyin' anyt'in, mon ami," he says. "It's... complicated."

"I overheard Wings an' Bishop talkin'," I tell him. "About yer visit to Australia."

He glares at me with those bright, red eyes, an' they seem to glow slightly. A warnin' f'r me to back off. Figure it'd be best if I did. Man's in a bad enough state as it is, an' I don't want him startin' somethin' he'll regret.

"Hear you been pretty busy yourself," he says. "How's it feel t' be branded a traitor?"

"You tell me."

"Dat was low."

"Now you know how I feel," I tell him. There's a brief silence between us that I decide to break. "When'd you find out?"

"When I got back from Moscow," he replies. "Bishop left a message with the Courier about the funeral arrangements. After Australia, I felt it was best for Maximoff that he don' see me."

He takes a drag on his cigarette, an' I take it from him. I take a drag as well, then hand it back to him.

"Dunno why you smoke those damn things," I tell him.

"People in glass houses..." he says.

"Point."

"...I gotta be hittin' de road. I'm needed back wit' de Guild."

He steps up to Rogue's grave and reaches into his pocket. He leaves a playing card on the ground among the flowers. The Queen o' Hearts. Then, he walks away.

I walk towards the front of the mansion where I left my bike. Pyro's sittin' out there on the steps with a cigarette danging from his fingers. The ash just keeps growing, but he doesn't flick it off. Don't even seem like he's paying attention to anything. Almost like he's zoned out.

"Allerdyce," I say as I walk past him.

"Logan," he replies back.

"You—"

"Do us both a favor mate, save th' pep talk."

...didn't expect that.

"Got a problem with me, Allerdyce?"

"About 99% o' the times we met, we were trying t' kill each other," he replies. "Just because we're on the same side now doesn't mean I'm gonna bawl me eyes out on your shoulder. Wouldn't give you th' satisfaction."

"Have it your way, firebug," I say. I climb on my bike and start it up. Don't feel like pressing the issue with him.

I've got bigger fish to fry.

AUTHOR'S NOTES

I'm not David Wheatley. He obviously writes a better Wolverine than I could ever hope to.

But hey, why should he have all the fun?

As I was scripting over Cory's plot for the "Seven Sins" conclusion, I started to realize that Wolverine and Storm hadn't really gotten a chance to connect at all during M2K. One of the hallmarks of the X-Men has always been the relationship between those two characters. So, I felt tossing in a little extra stuff between them at Rogue's funeral would be the perfect setting for them to have a little chat. We already know Wolverine and Storm were both at the funeral, so by setting it there, I'm not stepping on anyone's toes. And I tossed in Gambit since I was writing his series at the time, so I knew where he was. Figured it would be best to see his reaction.

Sadly though, it's the last chance Storm and Wolverine will ever get to talk (for those of you who were under a rock during A2K, Storm's dead).

The real irony of this story?

I don't even like Storm.

Go figure.

-Dino Pollard
April 24, 2003