"I was a snake eyed boy at the age of nine, I made love to the howl of the wolves with a dark haired girl." I look at my reflection in the rearview mirror of the '57 Chevy I stole. My reflection smirks back at me. Only Glenn Danzig and me know what it's like to live the life of a renegade. "The life you lead, is going to be a hard one to tread," he croons.
It feels damn good to be out drivin' along the open road, top down, wind blowin' through my hair. 'Damnit Logan, you're lookin' mighty fine tonight,' I tell myself. I light up another cigar and speed up, headin' towards the local waterin' hole. I don't know who I am, 'cept for the fact that my name's Logan. If I get hurt my wounds can heal up pretty quickly, and I've got a set of adamantium claws stuck in my forearms. Who needs guns when ya got your own arsenal?
'My my there's a pretty looking' gal o' mine,' I think, my nose is on high alert. I sniff and pick up the scent o' lilacs and file it away. For some reason it's hittin' a major chord with me. As I saunter over to her, I get a quiverin' in my belly as the dim lighting flashes off o' her white hair and chocolate brown skin. Rubbin' my hands together I decide that she will be mine tonight. The closer I get to her the more familiar she becomes to me. "Hello, chiere," I say. Where the hell did that French crap come from? She eyes me warily, "May I help you?" "Aw nothin' sweet cheeks. Mind if I buy ya a drink?" She raises an eyebrow, and a sudden cold wind blows open the bar door. I order a Jack Daniels for me and a Bud Light for her. As soon as she touches the glass the drink becomes frozen solid. "What are ya, some sort o' weather witch?" I find myself saying. 'What the hell made ya say that, bub?' I ask myself. I flash her my Crest like smile but she looks worried.
"Why look who it is sugah. Wolverine's trahin' to pick up Storm." some hick behind us says. I quickly turn around, my claws fully retracted. "Ya wanna say that again, bub?" I stare hard at the guy. I'm a good head shorter than him but I'm pretty well stacked. "Mon dieu he doesn't remember Gambit." The red-eyed bastard says. "What the fuck didja say?" I menacingly get closer to the Cajun punk. The chick I was trying to pick up is now gone, some bald cripple's there.
"Welcome back Logan, or should I say Wolverine? Hopefully you'll remember your dear Professor Xavier." "Hey there baldy, I hope you're plannin' on explaining yourself before all o' yous taste metal." The dude just laughs; if it weren't for the fact that he was a cripple I woulda knocked him out. Something else is holdin' me back from brawlin' with these guys. My gut's tryin' to tell me something, almost like it's keeping me from givin' them a set of new bowels.
The geezer starts talkin' but I ain't payin' attention, more o' his lackeys have surrounded me. They're all dressed oddly, all with X's in a circle somewhere on their costumes. I see the white haired girl again; she gives me a tight-lipped smile. I can smell a mix o' fear and worry commin' off o' them.
