Real name: Katerina Naomi (Rina) Logan
Occupation: Undergraduate: Columbia University (Criminal Justice and Forensic Science double major)
Identity: Known to government and friends/classmates as a mutant.
Legal status: Naturalized American Citizen.
Other aliases: Wild Thing
Place of birth: Madripoor
Marital status: Lone Wolf
Known relatives: Jessica Hoan aka Tyger-Tiger (Deceased), James Logan (Wolverine)
Group affiliation: X-Men
Base of operations: The X Mansion
First appearance: 08/06/01
History:

Part 1 - 2001.

Once upon a time, in Madripoor.

There's a special on TV on Madripoor. I was born there. It was my home once.

"Madripoor is an island country in the Ryukyu island chain, a series of islands extending from the Southern tip of Japan to China, dividing the Pacific Ocean from the China Sea. Most of the island is mountainous area, over 90% of which is covered with tropical and subtropical virgin forest. Most of then are literally the untouched jungle. The climate of Madripoor is much closer to tropical than subtropical. Overwhelming rainfall creates tropical rain forest climate here."

Mmm. I can still smell it when I close my eyes. The sweet, vaguely rotten scent of a living jungle, spices, flowers... a riot of flowers. I remember the heat, the rain falling warm against my skin, buzzing of insects. steamy humidity as I breathed. The sweet chill of pool water as I dove in, the curious scent of air conditioning and the liquid cool it flowed down when I went indoors. Mom had a scent too... Jasmine and cinnamon. She would put a little oil from each in her bath water.

I was never that smooth. From the time I was 11 my body has been on a hair kick. Pretty much killed any desire I had for ballet. Even electrolysis didn't keep it down for long. I'll never be smooth and slinky like mom was. The men she dated never seemed to be able to stop touching her skin. It never quite seemed real, it was so very smooth, so soft. I should probably just become a nun now.

"Madripoor is home to many rare species of animals and plants such as "Iriomote lynx", "Serpent eagles", and "Semaruhakogame(turtle)" even today. Like the land, the sea around Iriomote Island has an underwater jungle of coral reefs, offering numerous unique and beautiful places to snorkel and scuba dive, or just enjoy time aboard a boat."

I remember that too. Weightless in the water, every breath bubbling up past my ears, to be replaced by a *click* and a raspy hiss from the regulator in my mouth. A million colors of coral, swarms of fish, thick, sometimes blotting out the light. Look but don't touch. But I remember reaching out... and touching. Searing pain. Then... nothing. I looked at my hand. The cut was closed, healing. It itched alot. By the time I came to the surface, I'd forgotten about it. And when I thought to look again, the cut was gone, utterly, as though it had never been there. Eleven was an interesting year. It made getting my period seem like such a letdown.

"Madripoor's economy is made up of a combination of fishing, tourism, and the export of opium, both legal and illegal"

That's where mom fit in. The velvet glove around the iron fist of the Tiger family operation in Madripoor. That's where the money came from. Every Eden has it's serpent. Mom tried to shield me from what she did. But look, contrary to popular opinion, I'm not stupid. I know there were funerals awfully regularly. I know that many of the men in mom's life, men who would come out on the boat with us, men who spent infinite time at the house just to be near mom... were killers. Or leaders of killers. Even I know Mom was completely shameless when it came to dating to get what she wanted. She told me she'd explain it all some day. She never got the chance.

What I do know about Jessica Hoan, better known as Tyger Tiger, or "mom" is that she came up from nothing, just a girl in the fields of Madripoor. She married young, and she married well, making the fateful connection with the Tiger clan. But whereas her husband and the clan were fairly minor players in the power and money game, Mom was ambitious. And ruthless. At first the ruses were simple - a rumor here, a hired gun there. And then her husband was dead. I don't think she had it done. There was a rumor that she did, but I think she was really in love with him. Mom DID fall in love, sometimes deeply.

Anyway. By the time her husband died, Jessica Hoan was only 16, but she understood the game in her bones, and played it like a master. There was a brief attempt to stop her that could have been a war, but mom's network of infiltration into the other families was so good and so complete that she set them upon each other, each believing the other was secretly allying with her. She had a dozen people quietly rubbed out, and it was over. A few concessions to the survivors of the other clans - well watched positions of power and responsibility, and there were very few problems.

I don't know who my father was. All Mom would tell me about him was he was an American, that he had one eye, and was from New York City. Oh, and that she was pretty sure he was CIA. But whoever he was, he did the deed, and mom surely remembered him fondly. Maybe even loved him. Said I reminded her of him, and it was a compliment. But whoever he was, he did the deed, and in due time along came me.

I sometimes wonder if alot of the way I was brought up wasn't Mom trying to make sure I got to live the life she didn't. A life of beautiful things, of art and music, conversation and manners. Mom learned class well, and made sure I learned it too. Of course, all I wanted to study were gymnastics, ballet, and Kung Fu, in that order, but we both compromised and so I did both. I spent a lot of time studying with various private tutors.

I know mom knew I'm a mutant. I think she suspected from the time the hair problem cropped up and refused to be beaten, and she knew for sure when I told her about the coral. She didn't seem at all surprised. Or displeased. I wonder if my father was a mutant and it showed or something.

The TV show is cutting to news footage. I don't have to look. Can't look. I've seen it a thousand times, and I was *there*.

Tonight the city of Madripoor is in flames, as guerilla forces attempt to free their nation from the control of the drug cartels. Resistance has been heavy, with machine gun fire echoing through the burning ruins as the drug cartel's mercenary armies try to hold what's left of the city. "

That was my home. My mother. Her name was Jessica. Somehow the network of spies had been breached, turned against her.

"The President has issued a press release following the overthrow.

"My fellow Americans. Today the people of Madripoor, with our help, have struck a blow from which the Tiger drug cartel will not recover. These vicious terror brokers have now been silenced, and the people are now in charge of their own destinies. In the coming months our advisors will continue to work with the people of Madripoor to help them establish a democratic government. I hope you will join with me in applauding the actions of these freedom fighters this night, as they send a message to the drug cartels that cannot be ignored, and make the streets that much safer for our children. Good night, and God Bless."

Freedom fighters? Idiot. Just another family. I could name them. But it might get me killed.

"This morning the MLC declared total victory over the former government of Madripoor. They announce that as soon as the remaining leaders of the Tiger cartel can be located martial law will be lifted and..."

It blurs as I turn off the TV. Fades into silence. I remember her dying. The spray of bullets, blood, and flesh. Stench of gunpowder and blood, and urine as the bullets tore her apart.

I remember hearing a scream inside my head. The scream of something wild, some primal thing. I was frozen. no idea what to do. It knew though. It acted. I remember the world slowing. Remember the sound of bullets tearing through me. It was like moving in a dream, the one where you can only run in slow motion, like the air has become molasses. I remember the motions, slow, but perfectly formed, exactly the way my sensei taught me. Thinking while my hand arched upward. The soft *crunch* as my hand crushed the shooter's larynx. The louder crunch as the follow up kick broke his neck. thinking between heartbeats. Then the slow collapse to the floor. Realising it hit just as hard in slow motion as normal. Breathe. Pain. Heart pounding. Head pounding. Praying it would stop.

But it didn't stop. Of course.

I remember Lee grabbing my hand. shoving me into a car. The drive to the airport. I remember the fire fight between Lee and the "freedom fighters". They had us stopped and were making it very clear what they had in mind for me after they killed him. Lee was a good shot. They only got one shot off. Screaming. I remember hunkering down to the floor in the back seat, screaming.

I remember the flight. Looking to Lee. Seeing that he'd soaked his seat with blood. He gave me his wallet. Gave me the envelope and the cash he had. And he gave me my passport, and my social security card, the ones that name me Catherine Hong, and make me an American, daughter of an American serviceman in Okinawa. "Rina, I've been your mother's soldier since I was a boy. I promised her I'd get you to the United States if anything happened to her. She... always wanted you to find your father. Take this money... there's not much left. Keep some for an emergency... so you can leave the city if the cartels look for you there. When you find your father... give him the envelope. Don't open it. It was to be given to him unopened. Promise me." As we crossed over American waters he died. His promise fulfilled. Mine only started.

More blur. Customs. INS. The police. I told them the truth we'd agreed on, that Lee was my uncle, that my parents were American Citizens fleeing the mess in Madripoor. That they hadn't made it out. That he hadn't told me he'd been hit. More blur. Child welfare. Foster families. This is number 4, I think. I loose track.

So now my life is different. American. High School. I wear whatever, learn what I can. No more drug princess for me. And god... I see the other side of the opium world. It's ugly. But self inflicted, you know? Me, I'm doing ok in school, my foster parents are pretty reasonable. They don't understand me... I mean, he's an ad artist, and she's a grade school principal, they don't even really live on the same planet I do. But they're ok.

I still wake up screaming some nights. Ironically I usually dream about killing the shooter more than mom dying. Screaming because... in the dream... it almost feels good. Have to get outside then. Pajamas or no. Have to get outside. My current foster family is cool with this. I climb out the window and up the fire escape to the roof. It's never really dark in the city, especially in infrared. Did I mention I can see in infrared? I don't think so. I just started noticing it recently. I expect I'll mutate into the creature from the Fly in the end. That the Wild Thing will be all that's left.

Sometimes I venture further out, restless. The Wild Thing, the killing thing gnawing at me from inside. Can't sleep. Need to get into open space, with the ground under my feet, and my head filled with the smells of living things. They're cool with this too. As long as I don't get in trouble and my grades are good. And as long as I'm home by curfew on school nights. I think they're gearing up to have "the talk" with me. They think I don't know. But I hear them together. Smell them. I can't stop it, it's not a big apartment and the walls are thin.

At school, like I said, I do pretty well. I think Mr Flyme in History thinks I'm lazy. Says I've got all kinds of potential if I'd apply it better. That I drift away sometimes in history class. Imagine that.

Obviously I'm not turning this paper in for English class. It would almost certainly get me deported, if I didn't get killed first. I'll have to bash out something else, some happy little lie about who I am, where I come from, and all that. Maybe I'll write about the castle on Okinawa. It's the only part of that island I ever actually saw.

Part 2- 2003.

It's important that I remember these things. That's why I'm writing them down. I've been putting it off and putting it off all summer, but I know that if I don't set it down, some day, when I really have forgotten, I'll regret it. So Scotland. You are here. Well, I am here. Have been here. The only Asian girl some of these folks have *ever* seen. In New York I forget things like that.

Here, I feel like I'm from another planet.

What the hell am I doing in *Scotland?* Besides learning Scottish? Okay, okay, and spending the summer with Rahne, doing the summer school thing under the tutelage of Dr. Moira. Who seems to like me, despite the fact that I'm a "bad influence" and "undisciplined and amoral." Remember Joe? Somehow that's my fault. As if by setting him and Rahne up I was somehow responsible for her giving him her virginity, and the *torrid* little affair that came afterwards. Okay maybe I did enable a little. But it was fun. And it made Rahne *so* happy. Moira? Not so happy. And if she knows about me and Rahne, she hasn't said anything about it. Bleah, I make it sound like this hot, torrid romance. It isn't. Wasn't. Never was, just one sweet moment when it seemed likeÉ when it was what we both wanted Ð at the same time. No regrets, except for the fact that that and Joe are probably why Rahne's not coming back with me. She's happy to be here, I think. Back with her mom, who could never be bothered to come see her in America.

I think I'm starting to dislike Moira.

Anyway. This island isÉ rural. Really rural. Open fields and woods. Sheep for pete's sake. Hundreds of them. Seems like it should be my scene. But I'm a city kid, when you come down to it. I like my wild spaces, but when I can't look to the horizon and see some building sticking up like a clawmark in the sky... I don't know. Maybe it's the constant smell of manure mixed with religious fervor. It reminds me of Rutland.

Not that I'm not busy here. Lessons, homework. Homework. Geez, I'm home schooling and I have homework? What gives? I spend my spring fighting evil and saving the world and I get homework all summer?

Yeah, I wish I could be that flip about the whole Rutland thing. But that is why the Professor sent me here. For R&R, and to get me out of the city before I kill somebody important. And I think to get me away from Dad. Something Dad said. "You ain't me, kid, but you're sure's hell actin' like me. Knock it off. You got your own life." Rutland has been likeÉ the pink elephant in the corner all this time. The thing I don't want to think about but can't really avoid. And can't talk about. I can't even tell Rahne except that the ubersecret mission with the Professor was *bad*, but that we kicked butt and took names. I don't like keeping secrets from her. It's kind of gotten between us, I guess. Maybe I'm being paranoid. Wouldn't be the first time.

Heavens no. The first time would be when I got here and the flashbacks started. Not my usual ones of Victor and Mom's killers or the other people I've killed. Rutland. Again. It's taken all summer for me to get to a place where I can talk about it, and what's to say? I wanted to be a cop, I wanted to contribute to making society work, instead of working against it. Or something like that. Well, I guess I have a cause now. I've seen how bad bad can be. Rutland. The tunnels. Florida. And of course the project is still out there, if I need a personal cause. They don't like me because I'm a mutant. But who else can cut it against... whatever is just outside our human reach, hiding in the corner of our all too human eyes? If not us, then who?

I'm looking forward to getting back to New York. Civilization, and all that. I still have to spend some quality time with Willie for selling us out. Greater cause or not, he could have been honest with us. All I'm planning on doing is yelling at him. When I found out he sold us out I was going to take his balls. 3 months of haggis, sheep, and bagpipes have softened my head.

So right, getting back to New York. I'll be starting my Sophomore year. In theory. I'll also be taking some courses two nights a week at the Police academy in forensic investigation. The official reason is because I want to be a cop. Who knows, I might yet do it. The real reason is because I think the X-men need an investigator, and with my nose and senses, and my interest, I'm the obvious candidate. If they need harder core hack and slash than me, they've got Dad. In theory, although they may have him off on a special mission again, since I haven't been able to talk to him on the phone. He might have been on a 3 month bender, too, you never know. I have to wonder if the holes in his memory aren't places where things like Rutland and the Florida Nazis and the Ghouls once lived. Me, I remember all those things, although I don't remember so much what it felt like. How afraid I was. But who knows how long ago it was for Dad, too.

So I guess my itinerary is to go to London to meet up with the Professor and company and fly back with them at the end of the Symposium. That's when Moira, Rahne, and I will part ways, I guess. They're coming back here. I'm going home. Without one of my best friends in this world, without my wuffgirl friend, without the only person who ever carried unrequited love for me. I'll get by. But right now I can't imagine how.

Later

Rahne's sleeping in her room. As usual when we snuggle, I can't sleep, so here I am, after a quiet night skulking about the facility grounds. Maybe it's best that I'm going back alone. These three months... as I've gotten my head back together it's become horribly frustrating that I *can't* be Rahne's lover. And more and more that frustration is getting to me, whipping up the violence in me, bringing me back into the mindstate I left New York in. Someone could get hurt.

Anyway. As usual, this file will be encrypted and given to the Professor to lock away someplace really. secret. The idea is that if I someday can't remember this, I, unlike Dad, will have a place to start to dig for my memories. A skeleton to hang them on, some ghosts from the past to animate them. Because as much as I'll miss RahneÉ as much as it burns me that I'm a whisker too straight to go back to her room and make love to her all nightÉ As much as Moira's condescending attitude toward me Ð and toward Rahne gets on my nervesÉ and as much as I want to forget the things I came here to forgetÉ this is where I come from. This is my life. This is who I am, and a part of who I always will be. It's important. That I remember.

Part 3 - 2005

I keep looking back at those old diary entries of mine. The sad little essay about where I came from, the equally sad and angry essay about how I spent the summer of 2003 with Rahne and her mother. It's embarrassing. I was such a drama queen.

Granted they were turbulent times. I learned that there are more things in Heaven and Earth (Horatio) than are dreamt of in your philosophies. And quite a lot of them are bad. I died once. Briefly, courtesy of Victor Creed. It wasn't much fun.

But to read those entries it sounds like there weren't good moments too. I fell in love. Twice. One girl, one boy. There's a certain symmetry to that. Of course, they were both total train wrecks, as was my only other potential relationship. But they were good times while they lasted. I'm not sure I really want to do it again, though. I'll think about it, if I run across Wraith again, maybe. Or Rahne. Or hell, even Bobby, if he's got a good excuse. I like to think I'm a little more mature now, so while there might be shouting, I wouldn't *hurt* Bobbo. John, yes. I still intend to take his balls the next time I see him. I miss them all. And I really, really wish I'd gone ahead and slept with Dennis when I had the chance, you know? I mean, sure it would have been a disaster, but... oh well. At least of the three of them he's the only one I have that kind of regret with. I don't regret giving my virginity to Bobby any more than I regret taking Rahne to bed. I regret the soap opera that followed, but not the sweet moments themselves. And if Dad doesn't like it, that's just too damn bad.

So yeah, I also finally found my father. He's not going away, at least not for good. We get along, and more, we kind of understand each other, I think. We're a lot alike. Our wildness expresses differently, and our abilities are a bit different. Plus of course, someone plated HIS ass in adamantium, and mine is still all me, but that's ok. We should be different. It lets us exist together in the same ecology better. That ecology would be the X-men, of course. And the world. If we were exactly alike, we'd overlap too much to be useful on the same team, or to not wind up fighting each other in the world. But we're not. And I love my father. I guess that makes three times.

X-men. Yeah. I'm still a little nebulous as to my status with them. The Professor, bless his bald little heart, still thinks of me as a child, I think. So he hasn't upgraded me to full member status yet. Which is annoying, some missions I've been on I'm practically the senior member present. And I'm 18 now, freaking legal, it'd be nice if he got around to making me a full member. Maybe when I finish qualifying on the jet he'll go for it. Or maybe he just doesn't want *two* of us both on the same team, and Dad was here first. Or maybe he knows something about me that I don't, that I'm not as in control of myself as I think I am, or he knows the real compromise I live in, that the sudden bursts of instinctualness I used to call my Wild Thing are pretty much a full time part of me now.

There is no Dana, only Zuul. I like to think I've just gotten more honest with myself about it, is what's happened. My instincts have gotten more consistent, and I've learned to live with them as part of me, finally, so I don't wind up in the same boat Corvid did, with two personalities, or like Dad is, with memory gaps when he looses control. The price for all this is, of course, to be a wolf among sheep. Like Dad is. Like Victor is. Killers all. Nature, red in tooth and claw, and it's not just killing, it's everything. School, work, fighting with the X-men, sex, motorcycling, hell even how I talk to people when I'm not careful. Probably another reason I'm still single. Sheep are easily intimidated, and I'm not really into the kind of freaks who find that a turn-on.

I'm not a complete savage. No natural predator is, unless tortured. I love music when I can hear it live, I like sculpture, particularly if they'll let me touch it. I write a bit, I'm learning to shop again, although because of how I live my clothes tend to be pretty butch still. And I'm studying to be a cop, to be a detective, to put my abilities, and yes even my instinctiveness to a use that benefits society and is fulfilling to me. If they'll take me when I'm done.

That's a bit of a trip. Most of my fellow cadets know I'm a mutant, and some resent the fact that I can smell gunpowder residue on people, smell the perpetrator of a crime and match his scent, and do a thousand other things they simply can't. I have to remind some of them that I'm not better than them any more than they're better than me by being taller and more intimidating, by being smarter, by being male in a paternal society. We're all in this together, all out to do the same job, to make the city a better place, and we use the gifts we were born with and work around the limitations. Not everyone buys it.

So that's basically it, the last couple years have been a little more normal, if you can call it that. Won some, lost some, resolved some things, didn't resolve some things, and some new things need work, but that's life, I guess. There's a reason I don't write in this thing much.

Height: 5'1 Weight: 135
Eyes: Brown Hair: Black
Unusual physical characteristics: Rina's retinas are much more reflective than normal, which makes them glow when the light is at certain angles, and makes it nearly impossible to get a photograph of her without "redeye". Rina also cannot fully straighten her fingers due to the presence of claws within them. Rina also has "fangs" - rather pointed canine teeth. While Rina does not have an abnormal amount of body hair, both it and her head hair grow very rapidly.
Strength level: Rina can lift a thousand pounds. While this is not *quite* superhuman, it is rather unusual for someone her size. Rina also approaches the human limits of dexterity, endurance, balance and speed.
Known superhuman powers: Rina regenerates much in the fashion of Wolverine. She has claws, approximately two inches long, sheathed in each finger and toe. She has enhanced senses of smell, touch, hearing, vision, and presumably taste.
Other abilities: Rina is a skilled martial artist, studying from the best (Wolverine). She is also bright, a good student, and reasonably adept at brewing beer. She writes reasonably well, knows some gymnastics, and understands the essentials for running a mafia-style criminal organization. She speaks English and Japanese fluently, although her English accent is mid-American flat, and her Japanese accent would suggest she's from Okinawa.
Weapons and paraphernalia: Sunglasses (Forgetech), stock late 80s 1000cc superbike (Kawasaki ZX10/Ninja 1000)
Other notes: Rina's BG is written from her perspective. As such, not everything in it may be objectively true, but rather reflects her own memories and impressions of events and characters involved.