Doyle ran into Cathedral, taking one last look
at the lights of the city behind him. 'He's over' said Francis as Doyle suddenly
reappeared, retreating from a tide of moving colours, quick shapes.
'Cubs!'breathed Logan. The cubs darted around Doyle, striking him at lightening
speed, their actions sped up by the drug Muscle. Within a short time he was
motionless and the cubs gone, scattered by a vapour charge from Francis' Gun.
Logan went over to his battered corpse, in his tightly
clenched palm he held a small key. Logan pocketed it.
On the way back to Headquaters, riding beside Francis in the shuttle,
Logan kept his right fist closed against his side. He didn't want to see
the crystal flower in his palm. It was blinking.