It's been many years since he's experienced a night like this. It's been many years since the cold sweats, the aching body tremors, the enveloping nightmares. Indeed, it has been a long time since Logan has experienced a berserker rage of this caliber. Now a man dedicating his life to his students at the Jean Grey School for Higher Learning, now a man who no longer keeps a deadly secret as the assassin leader of X-Force, Logan has come a long way since his days as the X-Men's most unstable member.
Then why is Logan tossing and turning aggressively in his bed as if possessed by a demon? Why is his blood burning as if the very fires of hell were running through his veins?
As we look past his bedroom, most fitting the warrior Logan has become, past the samurai sword above the bookshelf filled with teacher editions from calculus to social studies, past an open scroll with half its contents on top of an Old Hickory Nightstand highlighting the kill points in the human body alongside graded papers from the pop-quiz issued earlier in the day. As we travel past the outside world and into his jigsaw mind we see the very reason for this berserker episode.
For his tormented thoughts are not of the Weapon X program, or his sinister rogues gallery. Not of Sabretooth, not of Omega Red, not of Cyber, not even of his deceased son Daken. Inside Logan's psyche lies the man responsible for the pain and anger he's been desperately trying to suppress ever since the death of the only real father figure Logan's ever had. All the meditating, all the missions he has been a part of since, not only as an X-man, but as an Avenger. All the hours spent in the danger room, savagely hacking and slashing his way through every danger he can possibly think of. All the time mourning the only way he could, by taking the fight straight to the enemy, distracting his mind from the loss of the man that thought him everything that truly matters in the world, and had asked for nothing in return.
Inside Logan's mind we have a ruby quartz visor. Inside Logan's mind we have the man responsible for Professor Xavier's death...
"Suuuummmerrrss!"
Snitk!
Logan has left the room and the Wolverine in his pure animalistic nature has walked right in. The adamantium claws begin to shred the room to pieces. Wolverine snarls and growls as he slashes away with no regard to his belongings. Not even precious memories are saved as he skewers a picture frame housing a time where perhaps his two most beloved pupils, Kitty Pryde and Jubilee, bathed him with beer during an annual picnic, surprisingly catching the ronin off guard. All caught for the camera by the infamous class clown Bobby Drake who was in on the fun. The wild man works his way to an old uniform once worn by his greatest friend, the bushwhacking, sword-wielding, blue-skinned Nightcrawler. Wolverine had sworn he would never let anything happen to that uniform, a promise he breaks on this thunderous night.
In mere seconds the mutant's room seems as if it has been caught by a tornado and Wolverine is the eye of the storm himself. Not even the heavy rain crashing against the tall windows, or the exploding sound of thunder as if Thor himself has landed on the school grounds in response to such a phenomenon can mask Wolverine's roars.
Then, as if things couldn't possibly get any worst, Wolverine is filled with yet another regrettable memory. For it seems that all his life the memories worth keeping are either taken away or constantly being replaced by bad ones.
During restless nights she walks the long mansion halls and eavesdrops on the dreams of others. She finds comfort in these dreams, especially in the dreams of her younger classmates, full of life and rich with optimism, but she never dared find comfort in the dreams of the school's Headmaster. She is not certain what led her to this room, this chaotic mind that she has learned to always skip. But to her bewilderment, young Jean Grey has stumbled into a nightmare.
She stands in the room's doorway speechless, witnessing the madness. She has dreamt of this. She has dreamt of this man so mad with rage, unstoppable, slicing the throats of her friends, making his way toward her and ultimately suffering the same fate. She knows she must act now before it's too late. She knows she must use her newly emerged telepathic powers to reach into Wolverine's mind and pull him out of the inferno. But all the young mutant can do is watch. Like in her nightmares, Jean Grey is powerless.
Jean Grey has recently decided to take her future into her own hands by not only traveling through time to the present, but staying without so much a second thought. She swore that no matter what dangers this world brings her way, she will survive. Contrary to popular belief, her fate is not to die. She won't have it. But taking down Wolverine in the state that he is in is so unexpected. To survive this is a whole different story.
Jean Grey is scared. And because of that fear all she can do is muster a single word…
"James…?"
It feels like a saw is cutting you right down the middle, a dull blade starting from the top of your head, making its way down your thorax, driving down your abdomen, unveiling your cuts. Your brain is split in two like a soft peach without its seed, your intestines fall out like the mating of eels, tangled together with no sense of bashfulness, and before your heart goes silent, it becomes heavier than anything you've ever carried and gives out the most painful jolt you have ever experienced. That is how Wolverine feels after hearing Jean's faint voice.
Turning to her and seeing her frighten is the worst thing of all. Jean Grey, in her purest form, the love of his life, the woman he would've given his life for. The animal is wounded with shame.
Wolverine is dealt with a blow so fierce, so profound, not even his healing factor can cure. He runs towards one of the windows and jumps right through it, letting out one last fierce growl.
"Noooo!"
Jean Grey looks out the broken window and thanks to a sudden strike of lighting, catches one last glimpse of Wolverine before disappearing into the night.
The Tyrannosaurus is a creature so immense, so terribly feared, yet so admire by the masses. Believed to be one of the greatest hunters of all time, this mega-tyrant was the king of the Cretaceous Period and now a giant in pop-culture. But this is not pop culture. This is the Savage Land, a hidden tropical preserve within Antarctica, home to the Tyrannosaurus and many other creatures long thought extinct. Unlike the inaccurate interpretation of the prehistoric land in comic books and movies, the Savage Land is real. Step inside its vast jungles and you're as good as dead. For a man like Kraven, that is not a problem. This is a place where the Tyrannosaurus is not the hunter but the hunted.
Kraven the Hunter has been stalking his prey for several miles without making a sound. He is flawless in his approach, flawless in his methods. His prey has come to a stop, and cloaking his scent from the dinosaur, Kraven finds himself right where he needs to be… underneath the belly of the beast. He hides in a pool of mud, motionless, holding his breath, unfazed by the behemoth's earth-shaking steps, inches away from the giant's razor sharp claws. To Kraven, this is just another hunt. There is nothing different between this beast and the beasts found in any other part of the world. In Kraven's eyes, he is the deadliest hunter of them all, deadlier than the Tyrannosaurus in his line of sight, deadlier than the beasts of the concrete jungles thousands of miles away.
Kraven has already visualized the kill. He has seen the imminent future in which utilizing his newly crafted spear, with its tip made out of a vertebrae of a tail from another Tyrannosaurus he hunted not long ago, he strikes the titan's neck as it lowers its head at the deliberate sound of the hunter's exhale.
It only takes a small release of air for Kraven's prey to investigate the mud bellow. It sniffs right on top of Kraven, picking up small traces of the hunter's scent. The Tyrannosaurus is confused, its instincts indicating something is right there, in the worm infested mud, yet its senses are unconvincing. Kraven has his prey right where he wants it. Acquiring a good look at the dinosaur's neck, the hunter grips his weapon tighter and is ready to strike, but seconds before unleashing the wrath of his spear, the colossal reptile rapidly raises its head at the sound of a terrifying growl. The growl is immediately followed by unsettling shrieks; cries that give the sensation that somewhere out there in the jungle animals are being butchered. Then, as if the wails were not terrifying enough, the hunter and his prey are rattled by the roar of what can best be described as a man. But this is no ordinary man. A man simply does not yell in that manner. This roar was more beastly than human. Like its long dead cousins in a history museum, the Tyrannosaurus is motionless.
The herculean lizard faces the direction where the roar came from for what seems like ages, its unsettling pause only championed by Kraven's patience. Kraven waits for another opening at its neck. He waits for the Tyrannosaurus to investigate the mud once more. To the hunter's dismay, his prey suddenly rushes off like a dog with its tail between its legs, thrashing the mud bank in its wake.
"No! Come back! Damn you!"
But Kraven's demand is of no use. The Tyrannosaurus is now but another speck in the vast jungle, blending in with the rich greens and browns, hard to spot even with Kraven's superhuman eyes.
Kraven's expertise and experience fail in an attempt to determine the kind of creature that can scare off a Tyrannosaurus solely with the use of its vocal chords; much less a man.
The flustered hunter arises from the mud, focusing on the direction where the peculiar sounds came from, determining the distance, and narrowing his point of entry. His anger causes him to grip his spear so tight, it snaps in two. Kraven aims to engage the person or thing responsible for spoiling his hunt. In his eyes, the hunt is not over. It has just begun.
Swiftly and stealthily making his way, now about halfway to where he wants to be, Kraven picks up the scent of several familiar creatures, and one distinct scent, closest to that of a wet dog.
It cannot be... not here. Wolves are not from around here. And they sure as hell do not sound like that…
The hunter has made his way to the source. He gracefully settles on top of a large tree and is shocked at what he sees underneath. Kraven the Hunter has seen just about every predator slay its prey in just about every part of the world. He has witness every type of kill, every type of strategy, every marvelous taking of life the animal kingdom has to offer. From the most cunning of hunters like the fox, to the most vicious assassins like the great white, Kraven has seen it all, all but what lies below.
To his astonishment, Kraven has stalked right into the most vicious, most primal bloodbath he has ever witness. He finds the perpetrator behind his failed hunt to be a man wearing nothing but what looks like torn pajama pants and bearing strange metallic claws, going toe-to-toe with a pack of Velociraptors. But as Kraven has suspected, there's something more to this man.
Fueled with rage, the clawed warrior tears through several raptors; all while receiving severe wounds in return. He is relentless in his attacks, even more so than the creatures he faces. Blood persistently splatters around them, further decorating their already exotic ring. Yet the man does not go down. He should be losing, but the more the fight drags on, the more raptors end up on the ground with their insides exposed.
Kraven's vantage point allows him a broad view of the action and he immediately picks up what appears to be the Velociraptor leader slowly making its way to the mysterious man. This red, yellow and black raptor resembling the coral snake sneaks from behind, closer and closer to the unsuspecting man. It is different from the rest not only in color, but in size, as it is significantly bigger than its brothers. It bears many scars as it has been in many battles, and has won them all. Finally in range, the raptor leader bites the savage man with great force.
"Ghraaggh!" shouts the wild man, his pain echoing across the land, catapulting many of the bird species to the air.
Biting down on the man's shoulder and not letting go, the Velociraptor utilizes its strength to jolt its enemy off the ground and just as easily thunderbolt him back down, face first against the earth. Again and again the ferocious carnivore jerks its catch back and forth, slamming him against the ground until the battered man, in what can be describe as a miracle, manages to get his footing and with sheer will pulls himself out of the creature's razor sharp jaws, shredding off his skin, leaving behind a chunk of his shoulder in the process.
Once again, Kraven has not seen anything like this before. What's more, he is now witnessing with his own two post-human eyes the man's wounds are healing almost as fast as it is taking the Velociraptor to chew and swallow the flesh which seconds ago belonged to him in the first place.
How… how does he still stand? His body is fixing itself? Wait… I-I recognize this man – yes! He is one of the Spider's friends. He is the mutant assassin. He is…
"Wolverine…" says the hunter softly.
In his current state, the small coherent part of the mind that is Logan knows he can be nowhere near the mansion. He knows he can be nowhere near his students, nowhere near his fellow X-Men, nowhere near everything he cares for. Logan's berserker episode needs to run its course. His rage towards Cyclops needs to be dealt with the only way possible – through bloodshed, through the animal that is Wolverine.
Wolverine needs to kill and kill and kill some more, for his fury is great, and his regrets are greater. Wolverine regrets taking Cyclops' side over Charles Xavier's. He regrets not trusting in the Professor's dream when the mutant race needed it most. The animal regrets not killing Scott when it had the chance, and there were many of those…
The Savage Land is the perfect place for Wolverine to do just that – kill indiscriminately until he evidently burns himself out. Here in the Savage Land, Wolverine's savagery is being put up against the most savage beasts in existence. He can let it all out, his conscience completely blind, his body unchained to the limits of man. Wolverine can picture himself maiming a dozen Cyclopes when in reality he is slicing through a pack of hungry dinosaurs. And now, Wolverine finds himself face to face against the last of the raptor pack, the terrifying leader who got a taste of the mutant's flesh and is far from satisfied.
Looking below, Kraven sees the mended Wolverine and his adversary circle each other, the hunter knowing well their next attack can be their last. Seconds ago, this land was a library of sounds. Now, the land goes quiet; not even the chirping of a single bird can be heard. But the muteness does not last very long.
The Velociraptor breaks the silence as it rockets toward Wolverine, the red band on its head blurred due to the beast's remarkable speed, which in Wolverine's distorted mind appears as Cyclops' visor. Grinding his teeth the barbaric man jumps right at the reptilian missile, his claws flying through the air as if aerodynamic, and like an experimental aircraft breaking the sound barrier, Wolverine lets out a sonic boom of his own as he pierces through the animal's belly.
"Raaarrrggh!"
Over and over Wolverine stabs the long dead raptor, each stab followed by a grunt, each grunt more profound than the last.
"Die! Rrrrrgh!"
And after what seems like a lifetime of stabbing, Wolverine regresses himself even further from man with a bite to the carcass' neck. Like a rabid dog, Wolverine gnaws at the lifeless animal until he tears off a brick of it, bringing a smile to the observing hunter's face.
Kraven hasn't felt this kind of happiness in a very long time. The kind of joy that can make you forget your failures and the abyss of disappointments you can't crawl out of, that can dampen your uneasiness and can draw a blank from the fact that you were once dead and can't be killed like most things. For the first time since his resurrection, Kraven truly feels alive. And it is all thanks to the feral mutant.
The thrill of the hunt is back, and Kraven the Hunter has chosen the next beast to display on his trophy wall.
How could I have been so naive? How could I have missed this? This mutant… he's the perfect beast! Never in my long, and in my recent, life have I witness such viciousness, such power! I've wasted so many years on meaningless hunts when I should've been hunting what now lies within my reach. I am the perfect hunter, and now I have the perfect prey...
The mutant now stands on top of what used to be the Velociraptor leader, its guts up to his ankles, its blood seeping into the soil further fertilizing the land.
The hunter equips himself with a pair of custom knives made from the fangs of a saber-toothed cat and shouts, "Wolverine! Your fight is now with me, you foul beast!" He then pins one of his knives to the tree, producing a leak of nutritious sap for the many insects and bugs.
Kraven arms himself with a third fang, a vibranium blade more beautiful and more deadly than the feline twins. He bites the knife at the hilt, collects the fang from the tree and is ready for what in his heart will be a glorious battle.
The alerted mutant looks up at the hunter as he jumps off his hidden position and into the kill zone. "K-kill you," mutters Wolverine before wiping off the red and white foam from his mouth.
To Wolverine, Kraven is just another target to unleash his fury on, another Savage Land native with sharp fangs to take down. He wastes no time and launches straight for the hunter, leaving behind a mid-air trail of blood which had made camp on his body and fur-like hair.
Kraven is now familiar with this uncanny speed and knows that against such velocity, elegance is of an essence. Matching speed with the mutant is not nearly enough, but finesse… finesse may be the key to Kraven's victory.
Kraven narrowly dodges Wolverine's deadly slash by jumping over the mutant in a most graceful manner that would give his old nemesis Spider-Man a run for his money. Upon landing, both warriors immediately turn with a simultaneous swing of their respected weapons. Kraven swings low, his legs never pushing his upper body upward after touching the ground, thus slashing Wolverine with one of the twins across his lower stomach. Wolverine swings high, missing the hunter's head, swiping off a bit hair and nothing more.
The wounded mutant stumbles back. The hunter, still low to the ground, knows full well Wolverine's injury is not deep, not significant for this animal. He then leaps to the air like the giant cat whose pride he took, and if this was a gladiator arena and there was an audience present, they would be in awe at such a spectacle. His muscles tighten, creating a portrait of the human body, fangs above his head ready to sink into Wolverine's flesh. For Kraven's fangs are not meant for slicing.
"Rrrrgh!" shouts Wolverine as Kraven's fangs demonstrate what they are really meant for. The fangs dive deeper and deeper into Wolverine's shoulders until they reach his adamantium-laced humeri and detach the bones from their sockets, thus leaving the mutant without the use of his arms. With Wolverine immobile, Kraven makes use of his muscular neck to exhibit the purpose to the blade in his mouth and slices his prey's neck wide open.
Letting go of his saber-knives, the hunter looks down at Wolverine falling to his knees and bleeding profoundly. Kraven's strike does not allow for another lupine growl out of the mutant. No longer biting down the hilt of his vibranium blade, Kraven wipes it clean with the use of his leather pants as a flourishing thought comes to mind. "I know that I cannot kill you this way, Avenger…"
Kraven pulls Wolverine's head back by the hair, disclosing more gushes of blood. "…but who says I want to kill you?"
He leans close and tells Wolverine what plans he has in store for him. "You are the perfect prey. And as such this land will be your prison and I your jailor. I will hunt you and slice you open and hunt you again and gut you again. Over and over I shall put a knife to your throat and you shall re-emerge from a pool of your own blood as good as new."
The smiling Kraven now stands a couple of feet in front of Wolverine with his eyes at the horizon. Wolverine's red, murky vision causes the hunter's chiseled back to seem like the gigantic face of a monster that makes the Red Hulk look like the Kool-Aid Man. The hunter continues, "You will not escape. We will be locked in eternal battle. The hunt will go on forever! Yes, for all of time!"
Wolverine's body shakes uncontrollably as his reliable healing factor begins to push the saber-fangs out of his shoulders and works to reattach his throat. Kraven's mind is still fixed on the eternal hunt which has distracted him from the fact that Wolverine isn't quite beaten yet.
The hunter is by now well aware of the mutant's rapid healing, but is too blinded by lust to notice his perfect game now stands. It takes the sight of Wolverine's shadow overlapping his own for Kraven to realize he has spoken too soon. With reflexes rivaling his assailant's, Kraven turns just shy of taking the full force of Wolverine's fatal strike.
"Ghraagh!"
The tips of Wolverine's claws run down the side of Kraven's face, making their way to his jaw, and finally ending their infamous John Hancock with a small laceration to the chest.
Wolverine takes another hellish swing. "Rarrgh!"
This time Kraven deflects Wolverine's attack with the use of his vibranium knife. The clash of metals gives birth to an array of silver flashes. It is as if the two warriors activated a secret means of travel and were transported to space, surrounded by silver stars. It is a lightshow unlike any other and with the fireworks there's a peculiar ring, almost alien, not quite familiar to the ears of Kraven that diminishes slowly. The hunter's knife can't take another adamantium strike of that magnitude, where before it was the pinnacle of knives, in an instance it has become nothing more but a jagged memory.
Wolverine continues his voracious attempts at gutting the figure in front of him, pushing Kraven further and further back until there is no more ground to walk on. With one last swing of claws, Wolverine forces Kraven off the hill, but not before the hunter grabs hold of the mutant's arm and shouts, "We fall together for eternity, Avenger!"
The fall is long, the two men no more than specks from the cliff which they fell. Their bodies spin uncontrollably like clothes in the dryer on laundry day, Kraven's browns and yellows swirling together, almost becoming a different color entirely. Wolverine's unbreakable bones are once again put to the test as he crashes right through a giant boulder with relatively ease. The rock explodes like a claymore mine, its shrapnel flying in every direction. But Kraven's bones are a whole different story.
Crashing his way down the big hill, colliding into and bouncing off one gigantic tree to another, Kraven is already aware of his two broken ribs, bruised spleen and fractured kneecap. The thunderous fall ends with the bullet-like warriors shooting out from the hill as if the land itself had swallowed them whole, did not enjoy the bitter taste, and spat them back out, landing on top a boneyard.
The graveyard tells a story of its own. Most of the bones are very large with a few much smaller, less brittle bones in the mix, the remains of juveniles and infants. A heard of Diplodocus was massacred here. Entire families ripped to pieces by ferocious predators, the number of which seemingly impossible to tell.
It is most fitting for Wolverine and Kraven to end up in a place like this, a place where Death has left his mark. Men who have died, some may even argue as to the number of times, and have risen again. Wolverine and Kraven have spat at the face of the devil and got away with it.
The hunter catapults out off the marrow he was buried under on crash landing. He lands on his feet, his body already healed. There is no trace of the injuries he sustained during the big fall. He is ready for another go at the savage Avenger. He scans the area for his perfect prey, counting on the mutant's seemingly immortal body for his plans to hunt the greatest hunt that man has ever experienced to be a success. "I know you're out here somewhere, Avenger. You aren't gonna get the jump on me like a tiger stalking some helpless water buffalo."
The feral Wolverine finally makes his presence known. Like Kraven, Wolverine was buried under the heavy bones of the Diplodocus. But unlike the hunter, Wolverine sustained major injuries during his crash which is why it took longer for him to dig his way out.
Kraven gives his prey a cheerful stare. "Ah! There you are! Wow. Look at you…"
The hunter is delighted with the state Wolverine is in. Large bones run through the mutant's abdomen, pierced from the lower back, massive fangs that look like they belonged to the world's largest bat. They cross at the sharp ends like abnormal tusk, where if Wolverine was wearing his X-uniform, they would've gone well with the X-theme. Half of Wolverine's face is covered with needle-like bone fragments, like a curious dog that got a little too close to the hedgehog.
And for the first time since the two warriors locked eyes and exchanged lacerations, the mutilated mutant speaks to Kraven with a soft voice. "We are done here."
The hunter's enhanced hearing picks up the low decibels coming from the disfigured X-man, but ignores them. He instead gravitates to a clunky looking thing the size of a baseball bat a couple of feet away. Kraven picks up the Jurassic matter, raises it up high, and gives it a scan. There's a hole in it, ironically about the size of a baseball, like a caveman's useless bat discarded after a rival pitcher meteored a rock through it with his Neanderthal strength. Overall, it looks like it belongs in an arts exhibit.
Kraven puts one eye to the hole as if he was looking through a looking glass afar out to the sea, and at the sea monster that's been trying to swallow him whole. "Done, you say?"
The hunter anvils the bone to the ground, a slight tremor tickles his prey's feet. "This will never end!"
The last two and a half days have been one hell of a ride for the small mutant from Canada once highly referred to as Weapon X. Blood has been shed, but Logan has survived another of his berserker episodes, and so have his fellow X-Men.
The wheel is back in his hands. No more rage, no more lust for blood. The first thing Logan's conscious mind picks up is a rush of pain, like an addict that has recently gone clean. Logan looks down at the massive bones stuck through his body, the horror of it ill-compared to what would have been if he had not fled the X-mansion when he did. Instead of his own blood, Logan would have been standing in a viscous pool of plasma provided by all that he holds dear.
The Avenger raises his gaze and focuses on the stampeding hunter shooting straight towards him. Each powerful step Kraven takes releases a miniature dust cloud filled with tiny white specks -small chips of bone, like sprinkles or fairy dust, but not as magical. Nothing is magical about death.
Logan can almost make out a giant skull, the product of the hunter's tiny clouds, hovering not quite above Kraven, but a little behind, trying its hardest to keep up with its creator.
With Kraven on the offensive, Logan cannot afford to wait for his healing factor to remove the bones from his body and repair his wounds. The mutant grabs hold the large bones and begins to pull them out from whence they came. The pain is unbearable. He can feel them graze his metallic spine, and for once is thankful for his adamantium, if it were not for the unbreakable metal; he would be a cripple at the moment and at an even worst disadvantage.
The hunter reaches his prey. He grins one last time at the look of his target and lashes his weapon with such might that as it connects with the back of his prey's head, it snaps in two. Bone dust disperses to the air, and Kraven inhales with great pleasure. The dust jet streams up his nostrils, circulate his brain, and refresh his senses.
Logan is dazed. As expected, he stumbles but never hits the ground. What his attacker doesn't realize is that Logan allowed himself to be hit in the manner he did. He deliberately waited to the last possible second before giving the hunter the back of his head. On impact, Logan was able to remove the bones from his body by using the force of the blow as an extra push.
Logan has almost healed. Even the shards of bone stapled to his face are almost completely gone. And despite the head trauma he just suffered, Logan seems to be thinking a whole lot better.
The hunter's weapon may be broken, but it doesn't make it any less dangerous, as Kraven aims to use the bottom half still in his possession as a stabbing tool. Kraven sees the mutant struggle to keep off the ground, and charges.
With Logan's back to the hunter, Kraven's goal is the back of the mutant's neck.
You're mine, beast!
The X-leader feels the hunter's weapon getting closer. The back hairs on his neck rise and stand firm as if they themselves where sentient, ready to face their demise like proud prisoners of war put to executing by firing squad.
Somehow, Logan creates enough space between the hunter and himself, and turns ready with a counter attack.
"Enough!"
Logan's roar snuffs out the signature sound the claws make when ejecting from his hands. He drives the claws right through the hunter's bone weapon, breaking it apart like clay, ultimately reaching Kraven's hand and thrusting it, along with its master, downward. Logan nails Kraven's hand to the ground and snaps his foot to the hunter's neck. He is truly the best there is at what he does.
"You can't be serious," says the X-man with a bit of fire in his voice. "You can't truly believe that this hunt will go on forever. Everything comes to an end… everything. I've heard about you from the web-head, and although he swore up and down that you are delusional, you are not as crazy as this. Whatever you're reasons for this, whatever you're going through, you must let it run its course. But this is not the way."
Logan loosens his foot enough for the hunter to speak. He is unaware that Kraven's free hand has gathered dirt from the ground, perhaps blinded by the hunter's reminder of himself — the anger, the madness.
"Shut your mouth, you brainless beast! You are nothing but a slab of meat for my knife to put to the fire."
"I can help you. I have friends, doctors that can take a look at you. Telepaths that can scan your mind and patch you right back from within, with your consent, of course."
Kraven's expression changes to that of an abandon puppy that only wants a loving family and a place to call home. "Please… help me."
"Okay," says Logan, showing signs of relief. "C'mon, let's take you back to the school. My friends will know what to —"
"Aaarr!" shouts the hunter as he blankets Logan's eyes with unclean matter, immediately following with a hard kick to the mutant's temple, unhinging his hand and securing his freedom.
Logan rolls back, and before getting back up, finds that the hunter — like many of the great lions of Africa Kraven has killed — is majestically right above him. It is as if his attire has replaced his flesh, transforming Kraven into the very lion which he wears on his chest. Pouncing on his prey, Kraven then raises his undamaged hand and guns it to Logan's face.
Being the soldier that he is, Logan has found himself in this position many times before and knows exactly how to get out of it. He bends his neck with electricity, opposite the direction of Kraven's fist. The hunter's bullet punishes the ground. The cracked earth returns the favor with a dislocated knuckle.
Kraven reloads and fires again.
Like a smooth flow of water, Logan avoids the attack, reaches for the back of Kraven's head, pulls him down, and elbows the hunter's ear. The disorientation allows Logan to slip his legs from under the hunter, bend his wrists back parallel his head, extend his shiny best friends, imbed them to the ground and kick the hunter on the chin while backflipping to his feet. Like a smooth flow of water indeed.
The tables have turned. Logan is no longer the seeker of blood. He no longer attacks with blinded violence and narrowed professionalism. It is Kraven who is now possessed. He springs from the ground with a "Kill you!" and dynamites toward Logan. His attacks are distasteful. His fists are like balls of excrement, easily avoidable and looked at with uncanny disgust. Logan has had enough of the hunter's filth.
There's only one way.
With yet again another display of the X-man's martial arts prowess, Logan allows for one more ball of waste to fly by is head before grabbing hold of the hunter's arm and hurling him over his shoulder. The hunter's backside bounces off the ground, but never makes it back down thanks to Logan's arm tucked under his chin, holding Kraven up like a hangman's fashionless tie.
Kraven's cuffed windpipe produces gargles, not like the sounds one makes when cleansing their throats, but more like the occasional house cat that ventures out and gets hit by a car. Logan takes notice of the hunter's hand scratching away at his arm; the very hand that was pinned to the ground moments ago.
There's something that has been nagging away at the back of Logan's mind ever since he awoke from his berserker nightmare. Just how good is Kraven's ability to heal? After all, Logan has met very few that can walk away from the things he has. Many healing-empowered beings that have crossed his path have turned out to be nothing but cheap downgrades. There has always been something they can't walk away from.
"I hate to break to ya, bub."
Logan raises his available fist, claws pointing to the sky, inadvertently slicing the sun's rays, ready to ensure the kill.
"But this episode of yours is over..."
"As is mine," mutters Logan as his claws take a dive and scoop right back up like fighter jets in combat formation. Their target: Kraven's heart. But first they must crush through the enemy's feeble defenses known as the rib cage.
Kraven the Hunter releases one more groan out to the world as Logan finishes him off. His bloodshot eyes roll back, his eyelids cribbing them to the dark. His knees touch the ground, followed by the rest of his body. And where there should have been perhaps the most splendid thud ever heard, there was nothing but silence.
The hunter has fallen to his prey.
The seat is covered in muck. Its armrests powdered in bone, dirt and dry blood, its headrest nothing but grime. It has been less than a second since Logan took a seat inside the blackbird, but he's managed to make his seat seem like if it were thrown out the jet in mid flight, crashed through the dirtiest place you could think of, and picked right back up again for use.
"Logan… what in the world has happened to you?"
The quiet Logan turns to Kitty Pryde at the pilot seat, past the original X-Men under her care and the present Bobby Drake. The obvious concern on her face is immeasurable.
"Dude, you look like crap. And what's up with the pajamas?
Bobby's ability to state the obvious is also immeasurable. Kitty gives Iceman the stink eye. "Bobby. Zip it."
"But I didn't say anything!" shouts the Iceman from the past, flapping his younger, more snowy arms in the air.
"Not you, him!" Kitty's banshee-like scream puts a lid on the Icemen, indefinitely. "Logan, we found your jet twenty miles south of here. It's utterly destroyed, incapable of flight. Like if it was ripped apart from the inside. Not to mention your room at the mansion…"
Over the years, Kitty has seen her share of Wolverine at his worst, but it's never gotten any easier. Nonetheless, she has enough experience with the feral mutant to know that now is not the appropriate time for questions. She also has enough experience to know when her fellow X-man has given her the answer she's looking for without saying a word, as Kitty notices Logan's gaze is on her co-pilot, the young Scott Summers.
"Okay. Everyone buckle-up," instructs Kitty. "We're going back to the school."
The engines are fired up and ready to go. The jet begins its departure when the young Cyclops points out something out the window. "Hey! There's someone out there!"
The group squeeze themselves to the window. For Kitty, another realization that no matter how powerful the original X-Men may be, they are still children. And no matter how old Iceman gets, he will never grow up. All are crammed to the window except Jean Grey who remains seated and gives Logan a stare. Even at her age, the look she's giving Logan would intimidate the toughest of men. But Logan knows what she's after and opens his mind to her.
Being a novice at telepathy does not stop Jean Grey from easily reading the minds of anyone she pleases. But Logan's mind is a little trickier. His cruel days as a lab rat for the government have granted him with sophisticated defenses against telepaths. Not to mention the museum of pseudo memory implants. Jean appreciates his making it easier for her to get what she's looking for. It could've taken her hours to find the truth behind the man lying on the ground below.
Inside, she is witness to the entire battle between Logan and the man known as Kraven the Hunter. Chills run down her spine at the sight of blood and extreme violence. She is still not accustomed to this world. Like many of her teachers suspect, Jean is growing out of her innocence faster than she should.
"Is he dead?" whispers an uncomfortable Hank McCoy. Not because he is upside down and above the rest of the swarm — that he is used to — but because like Jean, he is not accustomed to a world with so much death.
Jean reaches the climax of the battle. She sees as clear as day Logan raising his arm, pointing his claws to the sky and dropping them for the final blow. She sees as clear as day Kraven releasing the last bit of oxygen from his lungs. And she sees, again as clear as day, Logan retracting his claws at the last millisecond for a hard punch to the hunter's side, knocking the wind out of him before being put to sleep.
The revelation brings a smile to Jean's face, and with that, erases the shame Logan felt that night at the mansion.
Logan smiles and answers everyone's question with "He's taking a nap is all." He raises his arms, places his hands behind his head and closes his eyes.
"Now hurry up and get me home. I could really use a shower."