All characters featured are not of my design but properties of both Marvel/Disney and DC Comics respectively. I own no rights what so ever and merely chose to use whatever Bodies of Land and/or people and animals mentioned for entertainment purposes only.
WOLVERINE: SHORT STORY LONG NIGHT
City of Boston Massachusetts. Time: 9:36 pm. Location: Bar. Identity. Classified.
The man known as Logan, also known as Wolverine. Truly needed a vacation. And that's what he'd decided to take. With all the craziness in his life, it was all he could do to keep from killing someone. At least, more then he usually did, that is. This particular man, dressed in a lumberjacks checkered shirt of red and black, and a pair of black bikers boots, was no ordinary fellow. And lived a life most could not even imagine. He'd been on this earth a long time. And during that time he'd been everything, from a Spy to a Samurai. Now a Headmaster at a prestigious, if not frantic, Prep School. However now, as the Winter rolled over, and many of the children slumbered in their beds, all he could find himself wanting to be, was another man, in a smoked filled Bar. The smell of testosterone, cigars, and beer sailed around the room like Ship on a gentle sea. A cache of smell's he was all too familiar with. And also ones he loved. He settled down in a dark corner near the end of the small building, careful to avoid much eye contact, but still being able to make enough. It was the alpha male message. One that read loud and clear. I AM NOT TO BE DISTURBED. He was enjoying the seclusion, the peace. He had seen much death as of late, and even his attempts at a change of pace, seemed to be for naught. So nights like this were rare. Beer and brawls. Seemed like an eternity. The brawls were frequent at least. But here. In this place. It would be no death. There would be no mourners. A couple punches to the jaw and a drunken stumble into the cold winters air, would possibly be all that occurs.
He set and drank. Listened to a few classic hits, and drank some more. The beer even seemed to be taking effect faster then he'd initially anticipated. But he had to remember, he was in Boston after all. Next to Asgard, it was one of the best places for a good night of kicking back with a quality brew. He intended to return to the Jukebox when the smell of fear and blood filled his nostrils. Also, a group of smells he was familier with. First it was on the outside of the bar. Then, like as if pushed by lightning it was at the entrance. Logan's senses, heightened by mutation, immediatley picked up the scene, even before she made it in his field of vision. ''She" was a young girl. No more then sixteen. And she was covered completly in blood and presperation. She could stand, but her legs wobbled, and Logan knew right at that moment that the girl was exhausted. He leaped from his table and crossed the room to reach her. She was already being approached by other patrons, eager to help. ''U ok darlin?" A burly man with a mangled beared of midnight black, asked the teenager as she stumbled from the entrance door, into a coat rack, which she held on to for support, before falling into his arms. ''I..so tired..man with claws." They may have been jumbled, incoherent words to the bodies frequenting the bar at that moment. But Logan already knew what time it was. Someone was sending him a message. Unfortunately for whomever that was, the message was received. Loud and clear.
''Everybody get back and give the kid some air." Logan's voice broke through the tension like a knife through butter. The burly man, whom held the girl, turned to the sound, facing the approaching little man, who walked like he was a really big one. ''You a Paramedic?" He asked with ginuwine curiousity and care for the girls well being. She was pretty once Logan got to see her up close. Blue eye's that sparkled like smooth arctic rivers, and skin that seemed virtually flawless. Her blond hair, that was a popcorn gold, was matted to her face, attached by sweat. ''Nope." ''But I believe I'm the one she's lookin fer." His gutteral, lingo pouring from his lips, like the beer he'd earlier consumed. ''Her eye's weakly rose to meet the sound, and once they settled, her expression was easy to read. ''Your him right?" ''The man with the metal claws?" ''He showed me a picture."
He didn't realize it before. But once she said ''He" he picked up the stink. ''Creed." The name was spoken under breath, but it still seemed too loud. It was a name he hated. One he tried to avoid saying whenever possible. But even after being killed, the bastard was intent on ruining Logan's life. ''wher.." ''He said just walk outside..he's waiting."
The stink came through the entrance door now, as a man with a brown overcoat walked in from the chilly night. ''Some freak standing in front of your place Joe.." He turned to see Joe, a man of about fifty with sandy brown hair, huddled in a center of the bar near the body of a small child. ''What's going on." ''Nothing you need concern yourself with buddy." Logan spoke as he rose and walked towards the door. Past the shocked man in the overcoat. ''Just keep everyone inside." As he rose to leave, the burly man, still holding the girl, now partially rested, shouted towards Logan's direction. ''Who the hell are you?" ''Didn't you hear the girl." ''I'm the man with the metal claws." And with that, the small man turned, and walked towards the cold Boston night.
As he closed the door behind him. He found his old enemy standing out in the middle of the street. Directly outside as promised. ''Logan." ''Been a while since we've danced." You up for another song?" ''What we've been doing ain't never been dancing bub." ''And if that's what you've been thinking, then your sicker then I thought. ''All the more reason to end your lunatic ass!" The rage rose from his lips, and claws made of metal pierced his skin. A gift given to him by the Canadian government. The metal, not the claws. He took to a dash. His muscled legs propelling him towards his enemy like a run away freight. He was practically at slashing distance when he felt the shot. A perfect shot that got him right between the shoulder blades. His legs buckled and he tilted, his body being caught by Victor Creeds strong right arm. That snatched and grabbed the pissed mutant by the throat. ''Didn't think I'd take you alone did you?" ''Sorry but after losing one's head, one becomes somewhat paranoid." ''Look at me yakkin like an egghead." Using all his strength, the mutant killer known as Sabertooth to many, but Victor to few, slammed the smaller man face first into the cold concrete of the street. While many of the attendees watched from the bars entrance way. Creed removed a small piece of metal from his pockets, and placed it to his right ear. ''Deadshot get yer ass down off the roof and get the Van."
''On the way my liege." The sarcastic lite of the worlds greatest marksman cut through the reciever, straining the mutants ears. Born with similar abilities to his fallen foe. Creed learned long ago that he was a monster. And was making the world pay ever since. The roaring engine of a 1993 Chevy astro came blaring outta the night stopping hard in front of the Victorious Victor Creed, and the Humbled Logan. ''I'll Drive." Creed said to the hired gun, who didn't seem to deem the task of tackling the tenacious Canadian worth suiting up for. Floyd Lawton was a handsome man. And quite wealthy. He also posseseed the caviliar attitude of one whom was aware of these things. ''Sure thing snowball."Casually opening the door to the Van he was asked to ride in the back with the prisoner. ''Why?" ''Because your the one with the tranqs smart guy." ''I ain't in the mood for a long dragged out fight if he wakes up." ''Wakes up?" 'How the hell do you know he's not dead? You asked me to load these bullets with enough of this knock out formula to overdose an elephant." ''Well good thing he ain't an elephant uh?" Creed answered in an ever so sarcastic drawl. ''Something I outta know about the hairball?" ''Only that you don't want him waking up." The words seemed to be said as a warning and was perceived as such. Lawton found him self questioning the mission, and his decision to take it. When a man ask you to capture another man in a bar for a million dollars. You don't just pass it up. You wait on the roof for three hours until their drunk and then you shoot them while their drunk asses are leaving. Easy peasy, lemon squeezy. But now it dawned on him. Why a million for a drunk? And how could he have run so fast if he was intoxicated? ''Dammit Lawton!" ''What did you get yourself into? He barely had time to gather his thoughts before the sound of sirens kicked him in the rear. Leaping in the back with the still napping hairy man, Lawton just decided to think about the implications on the ride to his money.
As the van sped off the shouts of the patrons rose through the air. Whether they were yelling for the cops or for the van to stop was hard to determine. All that mattered was the escape. The man known as Creed applied so much torque to the motor, it was a miracle they did not lose control on the ice filled streets and careen into a building. Lawton set against a wall, knees to chin, gun in hand, facing the small sleeping man. ''No problems her.." The words barely made it out of his mouth as the small man set up, faster then any drunk should have. Lawton's arms rose quicker still and a shot of the same substance struck the enraged man. Only this time directly between the eyes. Only this time they didn't work! This time, Lawton knew exactly why the job paid so much. ''Sonofva..!!" He shouted as he let off shot after shot. These were now lethal rounds, as he'd only had two tranqs. Which he didn't even see the need for initially. The real bullets seemed to only piss the guy off more. The claws in Logan's fist broke skin, and spooked the assassin even more then he'd already been.(Not a small feat). ''Holy sh!t!" The man known as Deadshot. Whom killed so many. Now faced death himself. And it scared the hell outta him. Kicking out with his right leg, he managed to catch the feral mutant in the throat, not completly stopping the man beast, but staggering him enough for the hired gun to leap towards the vans doors. Snatching open the handle. The man with the million dollar smile, and incredible aim. Dove out into the night. Landing in the streets, of the city of Boston. Breaking bone and bouncing off gravel. He'd live this day. And would be damn sure to get the details of his next job. ''CREEEEEED!!" The little man with the huge temper screamed. He tore through the Van like a can opener, breaking his way into the cockpit...only to find it empty. ''The Hell?" The explosion was an unexpected blast of white hot pain, that shook the small man to the core. Stopping the large vehicle in a heap of metal that slide across the snow filled streets until it finally stopped.
As he came to. Logan saw the blaring lights of Squad cars coming from almost every direction. ''Creed?" ''Where?" The scent came fast, and dissappeared just as abruptly. The man known as Creed watched from a distant rooftop, as police cars arrived from all sides. ''Next time runt." The mad mutant killer spoke out loud to himself. As the cars arrived, Logan who's body now began to heal, raised his arms above his head. Much too tired and pissed to fight the police." As the officers pulled up and excited their vehicles, the man known as Logan only stared dully. ''Freeze!! Boston PD!!" the shouts escaped nearly every officer on the chaotic scene. All Logan could do was sigh and say. ''Easy fellas." ''I'm a headmaster."
End.
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