Born From The Shadows

He is my first memory, my earliest memory. I can remember everything about him. His face, his hair, his eyes. . . His name, Logan. I will never forget him. Or what he did for me. What he sacrificed for me. I can't remember anything before him. I was still young, seventeen I think, and I can't remember those first seventeen years of my life. They are hidden in the shadows, and I was born from them. He is where my memories begin. His face. He is my first memory.

I was unique for my time. Unique even for a mutant. I was one of kind back then. For you see, I have wings. My wings can spread out to about twenty ft. from wing tip to wing tip. They are not like a bird's or an Angel's. They are more of a devil's, more like bat wings. They are black and thin, but strong nonetheless. I have horns too. They are also black, but are skinny and flimsy. They are long, and spread to my back. I even have claws on my fingers. But nothing compared to what my other mutation is. I am darkness. I am shadows. I can control darkness. I can literally. . . Become a shadow, and sink into the floor. Hide in the darkness. I suppose that is why they took me away. . .

I woke up in a tank on the side of a wall in. . . some kind of lab. My arms and legs were chained to the wall. My wings were spread wide, with two poles piercing through them, to keep there. The tank was full of this green liquid. I had. . . tubes down my throat to keep me breathing. I was too tired to panic. . . Too tired to realize what was really happening to me. Too weak to fight. . . I knew whatever they were doing to me. . . Why they had taken me, imprisoned me, I knew it was wrong, and I knew they were hurting me. I knew I should of screamed, I should of fought, but I couldn't. . . I was too tired. . . too weak. . .

I looked up, and there he was. Logan. A man name William Stryker walked beside him, and they strolled around the lab.

"So are you ready for this, Logan?" William asked.

"I'm not gonna become like this am I?" Logan asked pointing at me.

"Oh no, not at all."

"Wait, she's only a kid in there."

"Yes, but there was no other way to handle her, see those claws, those wings. Very dangerous mutant, this one. Very aggressive."

Logan walked away from Stryker, he came closer to me. He looked up at me, and I could see his face. My vision blurred in the tank, but I could still see he was scared. Still see the fear in that young man's face, something I never saw again.

"Logan?"

Logan took a moment before looking away from me. He turned to William again.

"Yeah?"

"You ready?" William asked.

"Yeah. . ."

Logan then turned his back on me, walking back to Stryker. I don't know what happened. When Logan came up to me, I felt stronger. I lifted my head, and even tried to move my arms, but nothing. . . Then he turned away from me. He went into another room with William, and left me alone with these people with guns and in white suits. I can't really remember the details. . . But I could feel myself just getting tired all of the sudden. And darkness covered my vision. The room became black, and I fell asleep for days.

I woke up with the tubes still down my throat. My wings still pierced down, along with my legs and arms. I was still too tired. . . I opened my eyes slowly. But heard the sounds of screams before I could see clearly. . . The screaming wouldn't stop, not for a long time anyway. I shot up my head, to see the cause for the screaming. I saw him. . . Blood all over his body. He was screaming, and standing out of a tank in the middle of the lab. He started shaking, as people came closer to him. They fired electric guns at him, each making him scream even louder. Even inside that tank, the noise hurt my ears.

"Don't hurt him! I don't want him hurt!" It was William.

They fired their guns at the man named Logan. He screamed from his agony, and these. . . bone claws came from his hands. . . And then he made his last stand, he growled to the sky, and fell back into the tank, unconscious.

The months that came to be, I watched as they slowly turned that man into an animal. The man that seemed to look at me with wonder in his eyes, now only had blood in them. They took the man away, and replaced him with an animal, a careless beast, only meant to kill. Only killing was on that thing's mind. They stuck needles in him, cutting him, turning the green liquid in the tank to red. Everyday, everyday the man named Logan became no more. William Stryker had lied to the man, and now he was no more. Sometimes Stryker would come to my tank. He grinned this evil way, and look up at me. He'd smiled and look at Logan, telling me that was my fate. And I knew it too. They did things to me. Things I can't remember anymore. Something with taking my blood, mixing it with someone else's. I wasn't enough for William. I didn't have that healing factor his other mutants did. I think they tried to change that. I can remember only once when they tried doing that. They stuck something in my arm, the next thing I knew I was in a tank full of blood. . . I don't know who's blood either.

Then the day came. When the man was no more. The day they took Logan's bones away from him. They crafted them into metal, into Adamantium. I can remember, seeing what looked like Logan's dead body in that tank. He never moved, they never let him. They put these plugs on him, sending electrical shocks through his body. Over and over again they did this, hurting him, making the body jolt. Until he screamed, and the bone claws came out metal. I could see it. It hurt him, taking out those claws, but they wouldn't stop. They kept electrifying him until, they were fully out, until he screamed, and blood came from his hands. All I could do was watch.

That night, William paid us a visit. I didn't sleep that much anymore. I didn't want to. I didn't want to fall asleep, and not see what they were doing to me. William came walking down the stairs, making echoes as he went down. He pulled down an X-ray, and stared at it as he stood beside Logan's tank.

"You're one of kind, Logan." William said. "One of a kind."

William started to circle the tank.

"You're almost a hundred aren't you, Logan? Something like that. It's a miracle you've survived this long, no one else has."

He looked up at me.

"Of course, except for you, darling."

He laughed at me.

"Oh Logan, my friend. James Howlett. That's your real name, right? Of course you don't remember. You can't remember even yourself now. James Howlett, second son of John and Elizabeth Howlett. But those names won't mean anything to you anymore. James Howlett, Logan, now Wolverine or Weapon X."

William put his hand in Logan's tank. Logan didn't move, still not even awake.

"You've lived a life, Logan. You've been a great friend, a great man. But mutants aren't meant to be men. . . They are animals! And that is what you are. That is what you'll always be, I'll make sure of it."

William punched his hand through the water, and stormed off towards the door. But then he stopped, looking at me.

"And you, you are even worse."

Then William left. And I was alone again. Alone with Logan.

Sometimes I felt like dying. I wish I could have killed myself. The things I had seen, I was still young, I should have never seen them. The blood became too much. I missed the screams of Logan. They meant he was still there, still fighting, but he never screamed anymore. It made me loose hope that I'd ever get out. To see the sun. To fly in its warmth. Spread my wings again. But I had no memory of such things. My entire life up to that point was in that tank, watching Logan. But I never could die. That's why they had that tube down my throat, to keep me living. Keep me breathing, stop me from just stopping. They wanted me alive. They wanted me to become a weapon. Just like Logan.

They took him out once. They actually took Logan out of the tank, they let him loose, they made him kill. They let him outside, with wolves. Everyone watched on the screen as he killed the wolves with his claws and bear hands. He killed those wolves without even flinching, without even a thought of stopping. He was a weapon. He was a killer. They took a kind man, they lied to him, hurt him, killed him, and kept him alive. They kept him alive with tubes down his throat, and they made him watch as he became an animal. There was blood on his claws when the dumped him back in the tank.

William stood over the tank, smiling at his work. He had done it. He had created the perfect weapon, one that could not die, one that could not think for itself, one that would take orders. He looked over at me.

"You're next, darling." He said.

No! No! They couldn't do that! I won't let them! They can't do that to me! I struggled. My winds flapped, and my hands shook. I tried freeing myself. I tried. I really did. But William only laughed at my attempts.

I gave up. I stopped trying. There was nothing I could do. Nothing I could say. I was just a mutant with no past, and no future. I looked over at Logan. He was my fate. I'd be just like that. I stopped and I looked down. I prepared for the worst.

Then there was screaming. Out from the tank, like the rising Phoenix, Logan lived. He jumped out of the tank, his metal claws extended. He screamed, he fought. He sliced the monsters that had done this to him. Everyone who hurt him died. He was covered in his blood screamed in the pain. He ran around in his bare skin, cutting everything in site. Hopefully he got William, but I am not sure of that. He ran around the room, and cut my tank. The glass broke, spilling the liquid and me out. I grabbed the tube, and pulled it out of my throat. I coughed and held by throat the pain of freedom. I lay on the floor, wet just like him from our tanks. I panted just like him. My wings covered my body, protecting me in a way. He stood above me, the blood dripping onto my wings. He looked at me. . . Those eyes. He wasn't just an animal. He was Logan. Logan lived! In his eyes was that kindness I could remember. He stood over me just for a minute, looking down on me, his animal deciding if I was a threat or not. He growled in pain, and looked at me one last time. He then ran away from me.

"Logan!" I cried.

I had never heard my voice before, I wasn't sure even if it was mine. I held my hand out to him, still crawling on the floor. I wanted to help him. To help the man. But he looked back at me, and ran away from me. Further into the darkness, and into freedom. I could hear his screams, echoing throughout the now empty lab.

I couldn't stand, too weak to stand. Too tired. So I crawled. I crawled through his blood. Following it out into the world. Into the snow. I looked around, outside of the lab. It was cold, and snowing. But that was better than anything else. I followed the blood. But it began to fade, and soon it just stopped. Too weak to do anything else. . . I passed out in the snow, just where his blood stopped. My wings covered me in the snow, like a blanket. They probably kept me alive. But Logan saved me. He freed me. He was alive. No Weapon X. Just Logan. Logan was ok. . .

It's been a long time since then. My past just before that is still nothing to me. Logan is my first memory. I don't know what else happened. But I'm still here. It's been almost forty years, yet I haven't age much. They did something. I don't know what, but something. . . They must of put his blood in me or. . . I . . .I can't remember. But I'm still here. And I know Logan is too. He is a man that came back from the dead, forty years and I know he is still out there, somewhere. I hope he's okay. I hope he's better. I hope he's found a home, unlike me. I'm searching for him. I still want to help him. I know his name. I know his real name. . . James. I can help him, can't I? Help him like he helped me?

I stand here, at the night on the top of building in New York. The city shines brightly, and the wind blows my wings. I don't have a name. I was born from the shadows, my memories in the dark. All I can remember is that man. Logan. . .I know he's out there. Alive, still breathing just like me. I carry his blood, and his name. I need to find him. Thank him, help him. The wind blows.

"Thank you, James Howlett. . .Logan. . . Wolverine. Thank you." My voice is carried by the wind.

Somewhere, out there, maybe Logan can hear me. . . Maybe. . .

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This may continue someday.