All X Men and Hercules characters belong to Stan Lee and Marvel Comics Group. No infringement is intended or should be inferred.

o-o-o-o-o

Scott Summers collapsed into the nearest chair. Jean Greydid the same to the oversized loveseat. While this particular mission had not been an especially hazardous one, it did tax the X-Men's mental and emotional abilities. Charles Xavier, the headmaster of the Xavier School For Gifted Youngsters, andincidentally, the head of the X-Men, had sent them to secure an agreement concerning a top secret project that he believed was in danger.

Ororo put down a pack on a table. "Well, we managed to pull this one off with quite a bit diplomacy." She said, straightening her ivory white hair. It was in stark contrast to her semisweet chocolate complexion.

"I'd of rather busted some heads." Logan growled, lighting up one of his ever present cigars.

Jean glared at him, disapproving. "Logan, is that all you can think of? Violence? We got the two parties to agree to a settlement without any fighting. That's the civilized way. What would fighting have accomplished that words did not?"

"It'd make me feel a lot better." Logan half growled, as he headed for the door.

"Where are you going?" Jubilee asked.

"Out."

"What are you going to do?"

"Nuttin'."

o-o-o-o-o

After wandering around Westchester for an hour and finding no particular means to satisfy his feelings, Logan found himself in a rather seedy part of town. He was outside a bar called 'Joe's Hole'.

"This looks like a prime spot to ... 'release a little pent up hostility' ... as Jean calls it." He mumbled as he opened the door.

He spotted another Superhero, Hercules, coming from the opposite direction. He was apparently headed for the same destination.

"Hey, Herc, whaddaya doing in this part of town?" Logan called as he held the door for his compatriot.

"I have heard much concerning this quaint drinking establishment and have decided that it is time that the premises be graced by the presence of one such as I." Hercules answered as he stepped

inside. "What brings thee to these ... how dost thou say it ... digs?"

"Thirsty."

o-o-o-o-o

Several hours later, Herc and Logan were more or less seated at the table, barely upright. Nine empty beer pitchers were lined up between them. Logan emptied the tenth one and carefully lined it up with the others.

"By the beard of Zeus, I have never known a mortal who could match the ale quaffing prowess of the Prince of Power. My hand is out to thee." Hercules said, clumsily slapping his drinking partner on the back. It was obvious that he had kept up with Logan, pitcher for pitcher.

"Brrruup." Logan replied.

In another corner of the tavern, several patrons, apparently feeling no pain, snatched at the waitress as she passed their table. One of them pulled her to him and roughly grabbed her bosom.

"Stop that!" She cried.

"C'mon, honey." One of the others slurred as he grabbed for the other breast. "You know you like it."

"I said stop that!" The waitress shouted, slapping his hand away.

Hercules went over to the table. "Excuse, kind Sirs. Methinks the fair damsel doth not appreciate thy advances." He pulled one of the man's arms from around the waitress.

"@&%$ off, you %#$*!head." One of the drunks growled at him.

Logan grabbed the offender by the collar. S-N-I-K-K-T. Two adamantium claws extended from his knuckles, one on each side of the man's throat, extremely close to his jugular vein. "What did you say, Bub?"

"GLRRG!!!" The man swallowed loudly. The smell of fresh urine permiated the air.

From somewhere in the room came the cry. "MUTIES!"

Within seconds, pandemonium ensued. Fists, furniture, and bodies flew everywhere. It seemed as though everyone was fighting with everyone. The bartender, meantime was carefully removing huge sheets of plywood from their hiding place behind the backbar, and fitting them into pre-drilled sockets over the mirrors and the windows.

At the bar, Juggernaut sat drinking a beer, largely ignoring the fight. It wasn't his problem. Suddenly a man came sliding down the length of the counter and into his beer. The foamy substance cascaded down the front of his shirt and down his trousers.

"That fries it!." He yelled, slamming the glass on the bar, shattering it. His face was a bright crimson with rage. "A guy can't even hoist a few brewskis in peace anymore!" He picked up a barstool and proceeded to demolish it over the head of the first person that came within range.

An explosion ended the fighting. Tear gas seeped from a canister in the middle of the floor. As everyone turned to the door, a squad of police in riot gear streamed through.

"Dammit!" Logan said, dropping the man he was pounding to a pulp. "Just when things were gettin' interestin'" He wiped a pseudo tear from his eye.

When the fighting was finally over, the bar looked as though a bomb exploded. Most of the furniture had been broken and the little that was left intact was scored and creased from various knives and other heavy objects that had been dragged across them. The bartender began to take off the plywood and return it to the backbar.

A Paddy wagon pulled up to the cracked door of the establishment. Within minutes, the police herded a string of people inside.

In the back of the police wagon, Herc and Logan sat, handcuffed, side by side.

"I must say, Friend Logan, I cannot remember when I have spent a more enjoyable afternoon." Hercules said, rubbing the purple bruise on his chin. " Dost thou think we might do this again on some other occasion?"

"How 'bout next Saturday?" Logan replied fingering the knot on his head.

"Sounds good to me."

o-o-o-o-o