A/N: I've never been to Canada (or America), so I actually don't know the towns I'm writing about. So, sorry if you know them, and I've portrayed them inaccurately.

Also, I've never ridden a motorcycle, so…. I hope the bike scene is alright.

WARNING: Some swearing in this chapter. Tell me if you think it's higher than a T Rating.

Logan's nose twitched as he scented the air. He spun with his claws extended, trampling the snow beneath his feet to a pulpy brown mush. He howled in despair as he was forced to face the truth- he had lost Sabretooth's scent, he had no hope of tracking him after the recent snowfall.
"NOOOOO" he growled, "I will find you, Sabretooth. This isn't over. It's never over!"

During a lull in activity at the Institute, Logan had set out to find and end Sabretooth once and for all. Guided by local reports of a feral 'wolf-man', Logan had made his way up into the Northern-most reaches of Canada, disconcertingly close to his first reliable memories after undergoing the Weapon X experimentation.

Logan straddled his motorcycle, listening to the purring engine as he waited for it to warm up. Patience had never been Logan's strong suit, and Logan's enthusiasm to hit the road caused his bike's cold engine to splutter out as he attempted to start it.
"URRRRAGHHHHHH!" screamed Logan, bringing his fists down heavily on the body of the motorcycle. The engine on the now-badly dinged bike continued to sputter and spit, unperturbed by the outright rage of its rider. Logan dismounted the bike and extended his claws, shuffling his feet through the snow as he began tearing into a near-by pine tree.

"Fucken- bike- fucken- Sabertooth-" he huffed as he swung at the tree. Shivers ran up the tree as snow from its branches rained down onto Logan's head.
"Can't get a break around here" he snarled, as he stomped back towards his bike, hoping to vacate the area before the torn-up pine fell on his head.

As Logan flew along the highway, he felt his communicator vibrate in his pocket. He slowed his bike and pulled off onto the side of the road, taking out his communicator and pressing the 'Receive' button.
"Hello?" Logan greeted his caller.
"Logan" began the wise voice of Charles Xavier, "We've picked up a new mutant using Cerebro. She's a little older than student-age, but she's been using her powers a lot recently. I was wondering if you could check it out on your way back home, once you have finished with your own quest."
"You've got some great timing Professor, I was just on the way back now. Where'd you say this girl was?"
"I didn't. She's south of you, in a town called Hinton, in Alberta. She's probably early 20's, she's a blonde in this photograph, but other than that, Cerebro hasn't been much of a help. She's a long way away from me, and isn't particularly easy to lock onto. So, you're on your own from here."
"Great" sneered Logan, "I'll see what I can do to find your mystery blonde", as he hit the 'End Call' button on the communicator.

Logan continued down the highway, wind rushing into his face as he increased his speed. He was in too much of a bad mood to care about another mutant. The sooner I get to her, the sooner I'm back home, he reassured himself as he journeyed toward Hinton.

Warning: Pole dancing scene in this paragraph. Skip if you don't like.

Olive reached down to touch her toes, leaning backwards as she did, so the pole pushed between her butt-cheeks. Her skin gleamed with sweat and something else, a touch of gold, the ethereal shimmer that made her a local favourite. She stood up straight, flipping her head up and sending her hair flying back around the pole. She arched her back against the pole as she slid her back down it, her knees wide open as she reached the ground, thrusting and rolling her hips forward.

She stood gracefully and jumped, grasping the pole and spinning round it. She hooked her left knee around the pole and stretched her right leg out. She dropped lightly to the ground, her stilettos clicking against the sticky floor. She took a heaving breath as she sent another ripple of gold across her skin, pouting at the leering crowd.

She jumped and reached behind her, kicking her legs out as she spun before arching her back and curling around the pole. She stood again and reached her hands up the pole, pushing off her toes and wrapping one knee around the pole, leaving the other free as she spun down towards the ground.

Her sweaty knees hit the ground and slid along. She let go of the pole and leant forward so she was on all fours, forcing her facial expression to become one of the 'come-hither' variety. She crawled towards the front edge of the stage, pushing out her breasts as she went. Hooting erupted from the crowd as she felt hands all over her. Slapping her ass, pulling her hair, stroking her check, but most, thankfully, sticking notes into her grater.

Once her shift was over, she took her wage, paid in cash, along with her tips and walked home. It wasn't the worst money she'd ever gotten, she accepted both the good and the bad of the job. Today she'd worked the 7.30am – 3.30pm shift, alternating between dancing, cleaning and waiting tables. It was a good time for work to end, it was still light enough to walk home.

Sweetie's Lounge wasn't even a bad place to work, the other girls were all great, and the manager was a shrewd older woman who'd been in the industry her whole life. Olive was one of the most successful dancers at the Lounge, often working one of the 3 poles on a Friday or Saturday night. Olive sometimes wondered if it was appropriate to use her mutation while she was dancing. But she'd soon stopped wondering, because she realised it didn't matter what she thought, because she wasn't Olive when she danced. Then, she was Giovanna Golda. What a stage name, Olive thought as she rolled her eyes.

So, I hope you enjoyed this, and keep reading!