Copyrights owned by Marvel Comics/Disney, Meant only for entertainment, I've gained no money for this story.

No Country for Old Man Logan:

By David Barry

Chapter 1:

''I figured I've kept my head down long enough''

Those were the last words I've said to an adult, WITH only the baby to keep me company. And besides the god awful smell from its back side, and the ear shattering crying, He ain't much to talk to.

I've started its training. And it ain't easy training the son of the hulk. The first few months were tough. Id cut him up a little, he punch me through a wall. I couldn't believe how strong the little runt is already.

I seen him lift the horse a few times, even tried to nibble of its legs, and already got a taste for blood.

Good Boy

The sun bakes my skin more often than normal. The healing took care of the burns, but it still hurts like a hell. The little one started taking after me, repeating my words.

Bub, kill, and even my families' names. Scotty, Jade, and my Maureen. It hurts hearing it speak of them. It was his brothers that killed them. Made me angry, and I took it out on him in training.

After months and months, he grew about half a foot, but still enough to stuff in my back pack. Heavy as an ox, but dangerous. I even heard him call me pa a few times. I found it hard to hear that word again.

I started to think about a lot of things, Should I take it down to hammer falls? See if it can lift Thor's hammer? It's not a killer yet, so its spirit is pure, unlike its kin before it, What if…

Maybe it could….

Nah, forget it. Only Steve could lift it out of all of us, Cap and Storm. I never doubted Ororo…..I miss…her..

Stop it, Stop thinking of them. Can't let the kid see weakness, no time for that, gotta train.

San Francisco

The first stop on this long trip, this is the ghost riders territory, I owe em big for when they jumped me and Clint. So I figured, at the level the runt is at now, they should be ripe for the picking. Growing by the day. Even if only a a bit, it'll be walking beside me in a month.

Some half witted junkies play around on their power highs. Synthetic mutant DNA, only good for a few minutes, They give people mutant powers as well as some of their memories. The intensity is so much that the idiots never found a way to harness it. It could be the way to repopulate the mutant community.

High hopes old man. Short term ideas sound better. And I smell the sulfur all around me, I guess they know we're here. I'm glad I didn't have to wait long.

Blaze and Ketch would be embarrassed by these fools.

The riders all have a symbol on their back. Representing the medallion of power, the thing that kept the Spirit of vengeance in line a while back. Thor, at the request of Dr. Strange, destroyed it, and scattered the pieces.

Once they found the pieces throughout the country after the war, they put them back together, giving Zarathos new hosts. Problem was, they're not the best of choices. Four idiots carrying powers that effect the vile and bad spirited, they use it to high jack people and get a thrill outta life.

The first one rode directly in front of me, I kept my head down, not letting him see my eyes. Didn't know if they could do the penance stare, I survived that when Blaze did it on me before, but I was in a coma for weeks, most wicked nightmares of my long life.

That's another story.

I spat at his boot, It was as big as I could muster in the dry air, I could tell he was pissed, but he stayed calm.

''Whats in the pack pop's'' the one on my left said, nudging his shotgun at the flap. A small green hand grabbed at the barrel and tilted it towards the ground. The wind picked up when the baby laughed its little laugh.

Powerful little thing

The other two flanked us and yelled out curses in an ancient language I ain't heard in years. I understood it in bits and pieces, something about wanting the bag, and that I wouldn't make it out of this alive.

The little didn't like that much. He leapt out of the pack, and ripped off the head of the one in front of me. The smile it had when he decapitated him caused anger in me. Was that the last thing that my family saw before they were slaughtered? That damned yellow toothed grin?

Three claws in the burning chest of two of them, Lefty and righty I'll call them for the moment. The yellow fire poured from their wounds, charring than flat out melting the skin from my hands.

It hurt like hell, I admit, but It felt good to take them out.

I leapt into the air and punctured all six of em into the arms of the last rider, didn't want him to die just yet.

''Look here, bub. We're going by here, and your gonna let us. First, your gonna tell us where we can find the caretaker. And then your gonna give me your jacket since you decided to bleed all over this one'' Parker always said I was good at talkin like that.

The bastard shivered when he looked into my eyes, He was dying so the Stare didn't work. I could feel it trying to work its magic on me. I saw the eyes of some of my victims from World War 1. Gladly the vision faded. His jacket was practically new, better than the duster I had on.

''The caretaker is….he's…is New Orleans'' he said. I didn't believe him. And neither did my six friends digging deeper into his shoulder muscles.

''Ain't no way he's there. I'm not crossing the negative Zone to get to him. You think I'm stupid. It's a trap, so tell me another story'' I said, the yellow poured from him, he only had about thirty seconds to live. I guess with the power of the medallion spread so thin for so long, the hosts aren't as invulnerable as they think. I swear I heard Mephisto laughing his red ass off somewhere.

''I'm telling you….He's…there…Old house in the hills…..Let me g…go..man..Have a heart'' the coward said to me.

A heart

I sheath my claws; I turn them as I pull out to make it hurt more. The baby was ripping at the corpse of the rider he was toying with. I wanted to laugh if it wasn't so disturbing.

I call him over.

''Get over her you little green scar'' I knew the reference; I just never said it out loud. The caretaker could give me some information. I know there's some heroes out there, and he would know. I've heard stories of people trying, some of Dooms, and even Osbournes, attempted to strong arm names out of the old man. Bad things happened to em. Funny thing about rumors nowadays, they tend to always be true.

Mjolnir, we drive past it. Same humans bowing and praying to it, waiting for the thunder god to return. They'll be waiting a long time for that.

The choppers seem to growl when we walked past them, they need a new path. I touched the bikes handle bars.

So far so good, no attacks yet. The other two purred in fear of what would happen next.

I ain't too sure to be honest.

The flames started to change colors. First the hot orange turned into a light blue, then a lime green, finally, it stopped at a blood red that seemed to excite the little guy.

I sat down on its seat. I gotta say, it felt damn good to be on a motorcycle again. I revved it up, played with the gas a little, it sounded like hell itself burped up some anger.

On the road again, good ol Willie used to sing about that.

Reed and sue are in the time stream. Logan needs to find them. Forge is the key