The MCRT, Morlocks, MGH and Murder

Part 2: Chapter 4

Scott had received word less than an hour ago that Logan was on his way to his usual haunt, where he would do what he did best and scare some no-good drug dealing kids into giving up their sources. Scott had told him to make sure he did everything by protocol standards if it came to that, and then ended the call with a sigh. Logan was always stuck on some conspiracy, usually involving a large number of individuals with government or anti-mutant connections. He was positive that these n’er do well teenagers who sold MGH to mutants were hired grunts of The Purifiers, an anti-mutant group with nasty violent tendencies similar to the Ku Klux Klan.

Scott wasn’t sure if he believed it yet, because unlike some of the people who worked for him; Logan, Remy, and also his girlfriend, Dr. Jean Grey, he liked facts and not instinct or emotions to clog his rational thinking. But, much as he and Logan may always butt heads, he could not deny that Logan was one of his best – maybe one of the best agents currently employed by S.H.I.E.L.D. Sure, he did his own thing and didn’t always follow the rules, but he had seen and done more than the average bear could ever hope to see or do.

His phone rang again, and whatever he was going to write down on his memo pad escaped him. Seeing it was Logan, he sighed. “You know,” he said as he answered, “I need an occasional update, not one every five damn minutes.”

“The Cajun in yet?” Logan asked, ignoring his boss. He did that a lot.

“Am I his secretary?” Scott asked rhetorically. “Call him.”

“I tried his desk just now,” Logan said. “He didn’t answer.”

“Try his cell. Leave a message,” Scott said, irritated. “Voice mail has been around for quite some time now. Even you should know how to use it by now.” Logan was notorious for not wanting to work new technology; he hated computers. He apparently liked to use his cell phone though, even though it was way behind the newest models Tony had sent them to use.

Even as he was scolding him, Scott poked his head out of his office that was located above the bullpen. He saw Remy approaching his desk, and while on his desk phone, sent Remy a text with his cell that said, “Visit me, a-sap,” Scott figured Remy wouldn’t care if he presumed he was in trouble.

He watched as Remy checked his phone, looked up, and then made his way up the stairs. Scott handed him the phone as Remy entered his office and mouthed ‘Logan’.

“What do you want?” Remy asked into the phone.

“Meet me down in MD 1, pronto.” Logan was never one for manners or pleasantries, which was why Remy didn’t bother with them at the moment.

“Um, sure, let me just ignore everything else to do you a favor,” Remy said, sarcastically.

“This is something you’ll wanna see, trust me.”

Remy couldn’t help but make the much older man angry whenever he got the chance – especially if he wasn’t in striking distance. “Can you be a little more vague, please? Just in case someone is listening in?”

It did the trick, because Logan was easy to piss off. In a snarl, he said, “That shit happens, Cajun. You’re just too damn young to know.” Then, out with it, he said, “Got a dead Morlock here.”

Remy sobered quickly, and asked, “How do you know it’s a Morlock?”

“He’s ugly as shit.”


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