Chapter One: Alone
Author: The Mad Techie
Series: Maybe
World: Alternative Moviefic
Characters: Logan, Original Character, The X-Men, Magneto, Sabertooth, Toad, etc.
Pairing: Logan/Ororo, Scott/Jean
Synopsis: A cage-fighter calling himself the Wolverine meets someone who will change his life forever.
Feedback: Pleeeease? :)
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What if it was not Rogue Logan met in that bar in Alberta? And what if their pursuer was more deadly than Magneto?
Snow drifted down onto the battered roof, causing the old sign to creak alarmingly under the merciless winter moon.
Shivering uncontrollably, a small shadow detached itself from the shelter of the trees and crept up to the side of the old building. Inside, enthusiastic yells and drunken laughter made the sputtering yellow light seem to quiver as it drove back the darkness.
Climbing up on the small windowsill, the child managed to poke a special lock-opener - a thin stick with branches broken away - into the lock and scramble into the dingy bathroom. The tiles were a grimy yellow and the stench unforgettably foul, but the youngster was grateful for the warmth.
Tugging the old jacket scrounged the day before down, the child huddled in the corner, waiting for the tremors caused by the icy Canadian night to ease.
Then, carefully, padded to the old door, and blinked at the scrawled words there.
They didn't mean anything to the child, of course, but somehow it was obvious they were not nice.
They never were.
Tucking his head down to shield himself from the fierce winds, Logan stalked wordlessly to the door and entered with a curt growl to the bouncer. Making his way to the edge of the fighting cage, he tossed his jacket onto the nearest chair.
In the background, the television was rambling a familiar theme: mutants, they're real, and on and on, as he glanced over at the bartender, who shuffled over to ask what he wanted to drink.
"Molsons." said Logan, curtly, and jerked his chin at the cage. "What's the stakes?"
"Three hundred, four hundred if ya can take Jimmy." The bartender indicated the massively muscled bouncer at the door, who looked over briefly with a sneer.
"Yer on." Tossing back his drink, Logan threw his shirt onto the chair on top of his jacket.
"Whattaya callin' yerself?" In bar's like this, a moniker was all you needed.
"Wolverine."
The bartender almost laughed at the lanky, wiry man, and mentally gave him about five minutes - until he saw his eyes.
Eyes that scared the hell out of him.
Logan entered the cage, and stretched once, then flashed a feral grin at the current champion.
Stocky and muscled, with clumsy tattoos on his arms and chest, the other fighter returned the grin with cocky self-assurance.
The battles were almost too easy, the fighters clumsy and slow compared to Logan's fluid grace, but he had to let out the simmering fury that blazed within him, to give his life some sort of meaning, give him a reason to make it to the next town...
Throwing the huge brawler out of the cage with a move of his shoulder, he snorted and felt the familiar itch in his hands, forced down the desire to rip and tear and kill.
Held on to his sanity as he defeated three more would-be fighters.
The child edged out into the smokey, smelly bar and slid into a darkened table, hoping to remain hidden.
The last thing that was ever the youngster's desire was to be noticed.
Lifting a tentative gaze, the youngster saw a huge cage, like something you would put animals in, and a big man being tossed around effortlessly by a slightly shorter, wiry man who's hair came up in almost-horns on either side of his head.
A lot of places the small observer had hidden in had people fighting, but nothing like this.
"Hey, kid, wanna make a few bucks?" The voice belonged to a slightly-wobbly - and very drunk - man who shoved his face near the smaller one's.
The child shook a head noticable for the unevenly cut hair, knowing all too well what he wanted.
"Aw, c'mon...." he grabbed the nervous youngster.
And the shadow-child did the only thing available in a pathetically small arsenal - and bit him.
Careful not to draw blood, the child dodged around him as he gave a yell of rage and scampered out the door, relived that everyone was watching the man win the latest fight.
Logan won the last fight by whipping the bouncer's legs out from under him, collected his four hundred dollars, and headed back to his truck.
He was drumming his fingers absently to the tune on the ancient radio when a strange scent assailed his nostrils.
What the...?
It stank. Smelled of waste and dirt and snow.
Slamming on the brakes, he slid down, stomping to the trailer, and yanked open the door.
Brilliant amber eyes stared at him, startled, but not fearful.
Not fearful of him, anyway.
Oh, geez. he thought, almost angrily. "Geddown." he commanded.
The kid did as he ordered, trembling in the cold, eyes huge as it stared up at him.
Logan hesitated.
One part of him wanted to not get involved, to leave the kid there and he stomped back to the cab, swung up, and started the ignition, started to drive.
The youngster didn't say anything, just stared down the road after him, breath making tiny wisps of icy smoke as the small figure watched for a moment.
Obviously expecting no help, the child began to make it's way toward the treeline.
Dammit! Logan slammed on the brakes.
He couldn't do it, couldn't leave the kid alone, freezing, in the snow.
Getting soft in yer old age, Logan. he snarled at himself, but a part of him was pleased when the child scrambled up into the truck and huddled against the seat.
He reached over to turn on the heater and the kid looked up at him, a look so full of innocence and hope and trust that he felt a strange little flicker in his chest before he slammed it back down.
"T'anks." the kid said. Almost a chirp, a little, but living voice.
"Yeah." He didn't look at the child, just commented gruffly, "Name's Wol - Logan."
The kid nodded solumnly.
"What's your name?" he finally asked.
The eyes tipped up to his, and the kid replied, "Mutie."