On the road for many years now, wandering aimlessly and always looking for a purpose. The mutant known as Logan and by some known as Wolverine. A troubled mind and clouded memories are all he carries with him from his past as he can't remember anything from his life before the last 10 years. He's been hunted by both humans and mutants for different reasons but in the end they all made the same mistake. They thought he could be beaten, they were wrong. He tends to avoid contact with people and keeps to himself and sometimes he'd go weeks without talking to anyone.
Many have died at the fury of his adamantium claws as he will lapse into an uncontrollable rage when pushed too far. He travels from town to town and usually prefers the smaller towns as the big ones will have a greater risk of him running into mutant haters. Entering a small town somewhere west of Texas he walks with his head down and hands tucked deep inside the pockets of his dark brown leather jacket. In a small town they tend to notice a stranger quite quickly and so the people he crosses while walking through town all look back at him.
He nears a bar where the thick scent of bourbon and beer fills his nose and like the song of sirens beckoning sailors at sea, he's unable to resist it. Pushing his left shoulder against the door he shoves it open as he enters the bar where a cloud of dense smoke from lit up cigarettes hits his face. Like any other bar this one is filled with common small town people and they sit at small wooden tables drinking and conversing. A few people notice Logan as he strolls toward the counter with only a few men sitting on stools in front of it. He takes a seat at the far left of the bar with his elbows leaning on the counter as he makes eye contact with the bartender. Clearing his throat as Logan mumbles a few words to the owner of the bar and says.
Logan: "Give me a cold one."
A simple nod is the response he gets as the owner taps him a cold glass of beer and it overflows just a bit as drops of beer hit the counter. Clenching his hand around the glass he raises it and takes a good strong gulp of that liquid gold he so loves. He licks his lips and avoids eye contact with any of the other customers at the bar as he just stares at the glass in his hand. His rugged appearance is not easily overlooked as his muscular frame and hairy facial features make him stand out from the normal crowd. He minds his own business and quietly drinks his beer but he can hear every conversation that's being held in the bar and nothing worth mentioning as it either revolves around sex or money. Just a week ago he had a clash with members of the H.P.M (Human Protection Movement)which is an organization of mutant haters who hunt and kill mutants.
They tracked him down after someone in the motel he was staying at called their number and warned them about his presence at the motel. He cut his hand accidentally and the person who called watched his wound heal in seconds. A group of five H.P.M members came to the motel with guns and tried to take him with them and when he refused they started to shoot. About 30 minutes later no one could tell the bodies apart from one another as he cut them so many times they looked like chopped up meat. The scent of their blood still lingers in his nose and the bad taste of violence in his throat is one he wants to wash away with a whole lot of beer.
Having finished his beer he gives the bartender a nod and his glass gets filled up right to the top and he continues to wash away the memories of the blood he shed not too long ago. Still minding his own business he suddenly gets a tap on the shoulder as the scent of oil and beer creeps up on him, a local car mechanic. Joe is the only guy around town who fixes cars and has a reputation for drinking heavily for days on end and he's been at it again. Tapping Logan repeatedly on the shoulder until finally Logan slowly turns around and faces Joe. Raising a brow as Logan is immediately annoyed, he sighs while looking into Joe's eyes and the drunken mechanic says.
Joe: "You're in my seat. I never heard you askin' me for permission. Move it hairball."
Logan doesn't even bother to answer and he frowns as he's ready to throw a punch but he can contain himself for now anyway. He turns his back on Joe and just continues drinking his beer while an angry Joe still stands behind him. The bartender shakes his head as he knows where this will end because Joe's known for making trouble. Joe gets frustrated because Logan ignores him and so he grabs Logan by the shoulder and forcefully turns him around again. A deep growl followed by a few words are what meet Joe when he faces Logan again and he says.
Logan: "Take your hand off of me, now. Go sit somewhere else bub."
Logan pulls his shoulder away from Joe's hand and he simply turns away again. Joe's getting impatient and even more frustrated while Logan couldn't care less and he continues drinking his beer. Joe throws a glance at the bartender and they exchange looks though the owner shakes his head again, hoping he'd convince Joe to take a seat somewhere else. Annoyed and angry a heavily drunk Joe grabs a screwdriver from a deep pocket on his left leg. He raises it and plans on stabbing Logan in the back, but as he goes in for a strike things take a surprising turn. Logan turns around and grabs Joe's hand and grips it so tightly that he drops the screwdriver. Growling deeply as he nearly breaks Joe's hand while getting up off of the stool he was sitting on, Logan grinds his teeth and snarls.
Logan: "You just don't fuckin' listen. I told you, sit somewhere...else. Leave me alone."
The urge to unleash his claws is burning within his hands and he has to find some form of control before he slices Joe up. Joe's scared by the fury he sees in Logan's eyes and the pressure on his wrist almost brings him to his knees. He pleads for Logan to let go and so he does as he pushes Joe away.