Good time to come back, huh? It wasn't home, but New York was as close to a familiar haunt as they came. For all its offensive smells and general smudginess, Logan still favored the busy metropolis over many others. He knew its streets, its corners, its hidey-holes. From the docks to District X, Lower East to Upper West. It was the kind of place where he grouchily reminisced about New York City's hayday over a bottle of cheap beer, and it seemed like the logical stopping point on his way to track down the good professor.
But he didn't remember such chaos. The violence, the panic, the mobs. Flashes of WWII flickered in Logan's broken memory bank, but that war never reached New York. The same, but different. This was modernized insanity. Was nuclear war declared with Russia, and no one thought to tell Logan? Maybe the president had been shot. Or someone found Linbergh's baby. Something had to be at the heart of this, something...
He felt the twinge. Right at the back of his neck, prompting the coarse hair there to prickle. He frowned, even as he ignored the angry shouting nearby. Something felt wrong, off. His heart started beating faster, but he was standing still. Disturbed, he stared at his hands, turning them over slowly as if drugged. He felt that animal, pushing its way forward. He fought it, trying to regulate his breathing. Find his center, focus, breathe out -- snikt!