Rumble in the Blue Light District
by
Elektra
DISCLAIMER: Logan and Kitty belong to Marvel, Fox, etc. I'm pretty sure Famke, Tyler and Anna all belong to themselves.
DISTRIBUTION: If you would like permission to archive this story, please email: wxfonline@yahoo.com
OFFICIAL WEBSITE ADDRESS: http://www.wxfonline.com/hominus
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Now I'm really screwing with things, but it's all in good fun :D
AUTHOR'S NOTE 2: Apologies to David Hayter. I didn't think your screenplay was bad, honest.
Logan felt his stomach go queasy as his eyes skimmed over the script. It was all there, well almost. Pick up Rogue at the side of the road. . . check. Senator Kelly becomes a mutant. . . check. Scott acts like he has a ruler shoved up his ass. . . check. But--
"Who'd ya say wrote this?" he asked looking up at the creative team of the X-Men movie.
Several men and women in three-piece suits looked at one another, clearly unsure if they should reveal the writer's identity. He had, after all, already been signed to write the scripts for the fourteen sequels they were counting on.
"We-, ahem, that is, uhhh, we used a screenwriter named David Hayter. Why? Is there some kind of problem?"
Logan glared at the producer who had unwisely chosen to answer his question before gesturing to Lindsey.
"Gimme yer phone."
"What?" the publicist asked, clearly befuddled by his attitude. She wasn't used to being told what to do -- unless a bigger, more powerful publicist happened to be in the room.
"Yer phone. The thing yer always yappin' in. Give it to me."
"I really don't se-"
"Just give me the damn phone," Logan said, the flame on his short fuse drawing uncomfortably close.
The redhead's eyes narrowed dangerously. The message was clear. One more threat like that, deranged fan or no, and he was getting fired. She weighed the risks carefully before slowly handing over the glossy red telephone.
Logan punched in several numbers and then patiently waited for someone to answer at the other end.
"Hey Kitten. Yeah, it's Logan. I got a situation here I think you can help me with."
One of the producers drew in the air with an imaginary pen signaling her production assistants to start taking notes.
"Kitty, hold on a sec," Logan said, as he watched the fleet of PAs go diving for their notepads and ballpoint pens.
*SNIKT*
"One word," he said, caressing the adam's apple of the PA sitting across from him with the blunt side of one claw, "you write down one word, and I'll use these to cut yer balls off. Savvy?"
The PAs head jerked in several short nods. As Logan looked around the table, a half dozen ballpoint pens clattered to its surface.
"Glad we could work that out," Logan muttered, lifting the phone back to his ear.
"Kitten? Yeah, just keeping these Hollywood geeks in line. You got that right. Anyway, use the dbase to run a check for me, will ya? Uh huh. Try alias David Hayter. Yeah, that's it, H as in hemorrhage, A as in artery," he said, teeth glinting in the florescent light of the conference room, "Y as in yellow, T as in tendons, E as in eviscerate, R as in rupture. Yeah, I'll wait."
Logan chuckled to himself as three of the PAs made their excuses and left the room. He forced himself to contain the full force of his laughter as he saw the telling wet spot that had begun to appear through the pants of one of the retreating PAs as he walked out the door. He turned his attention back to the phone when he heard Kitty's voice on the other end of the line.
"Yeah, I'm here. Uh huh. Yeah. Raven? That's what I thought. Do me a favor? Tell Chuck if he doesn't hear from me later today, we're all set. Yeah. You got it. Tell Jeannie I love her. Uh huh. See ya, kid."
Logan turned off the phone and handed it back to Lindsey.
"Yer already shootin' this thing, aren't you?" he asked no one in particular.
"Yes, we've got several hours of footage already in the can," a man in a horn-rimmed glasses said defensively.
"Can't change the script now, right?
"No, we can't change the script," the man sputtered. "Besides, you weren't brought in for that kind of assistance. We just want to use you for stunts like hanging off the Statue of Liberty."
"Good," Logan said with a smirk, "you just saved me a lot of work."
"How so?" the man asked, clearly annoyed that he'd helped Logan out in any capacity.
"You guys actually bought that pile of horse shit Mystique was peddling. Who the hell would really believe any of us exist after you make us all look inept?"
"Hey," one of the assistant producers chimed in, "we worked really hard to make sure you guys came out looking good. Why else would this project have been in development for so long?"
Logan chuckled.
"This is making us look good?" he said, gesturing toward his copy of the script. "Toad, who is, by the way, one of the most pathetic mutants on the planet, could single-handedly take out not only Cyke and Storm, but Jean? Shit, the slimy freak probably wrote the damn scene. And, what the hell is this kung-fu, Star Wars bo spin ya got him doin'?"
Logan shook his head in disgust.
"Yeah," he said, "that's makin' us look real good."
"Well, you come out looking pretty good. You save the day."
Logan snorted.
"That's just because Raven and I had a thing for awhile. Shit, she's alive at the end. Don't you get it? She's basically calling me a pussy, sayin' I can't get the job done."
"But-"
"Nevermind, she ain't as smart as she thinks she is. All I want is one minor change at the end. See, this is how I see it," he said, leaning over and piercing the producing staff with a calculating stare.
* * * * *
*PING*
The redhead jerked her head back quickly, barely evading the three adamantium claws piercing the copper lining of the Statue of Liberty set.
"Shit," she exclaimed, "those fucking things are real!"
"Quiet on the set, please," the director said through a megaphone. "Let's finish this in one shot people."
Famke composed herself and prepared for her next shot. She started slightly as she heard the thud that signaled the arrival of the actor playing Sabretooth. She squirmed inside her uncomfortable leather costume. At first it had seemed sexy, but you could only go so many hours under hot lights before the heavy fabric began to chafe.
"Scream for me."
Finally, she thought, we're getting somewhere.
Another thump signaled the arrival of the security double. God, she hated that guy.
"Hey Bub, I'm not through with you yet."
Bub, she mused irritably, who the hell actually says that?
* * * * *
As the camera pulled in for a tight shot, Logan pressed his lips against the young actress's forehead. He caressed her hair gently, imagining Kitty or Jubilee or the real Marie in her place.
Take that Raven, he thought wickedly.
"Cut! Print! That's a wrap!"
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