CHAPTER ONE
BERSERKER SAVIOR
Somewhere in the blazing hot desert of New Mexico, a motorcycle sped along a dirt road. He always did prefer to travel by bike. By the looks of him you wouldn't say he was as old as he was, most guessed him to be thirty five or forty give or take five years. But the mutant known as Logan was much older than that. He rode on a 54 Panhead chopper and wore a pair of faded jeans, brown boots and a dark-gray tank top with a dog tag that dangled on his chest.
The messy crop of hair on his head constantly jerked against the wind as it blew into his face. There was a good reason why he drove through a barren wasteland, a very good one indeed. Logan was on the hunt and chasing a girl who'd been kidnapped a week ago. Her name was Yuna and she was one of many missing women over the last six months.
A reward for her safe return was issued by her father who was a wealthy businessman in the field of stock trading. Logan did the odd job every once in a while to earn a bit of money and sometimes he'd get involved in finding people who'd gone missing. Surviving this way for more than five years and counting because that was what he did best among other things. He'd gotten a velvet scarf from her father that was drenched with her scent and had it tied around his left wrist.
After prodding and poking around the local gangland territory in Arizona which was where she was last seen, he came upon a rumor that there was a small abandoned army base somwhere in the New Mexican desert where women were taken before being sold overseas. After a little messy skirmish with a pimp who knew more than he wanted to reveal, Logan had gotten some coordinates for the exact location of this army base.
Eventually he reached a cliff that overlooked more desert terrain. He parked the bike and with the scarf in hand walked right up to the edge of that cliff. Squatting on his haunches he narrowed his eyes on a little group of buildings in the distance. From the looks of it there were three small buildings surrounding a larger one and various trucks scattered around. He brought the scarf to his nose and sniffed, inhaling Yuna's scent.
Once acquainted with a scent he'd never forget it and would be able to track it immediately should he ever come across it again. He tied the scarf around his wrist and looked at the setting sun with a scowl. He had to leave the bike behind because it would make far too much noise and he was on the prowl, out for blood.
It was in the dead of night when he arrived at the base on foot. There was no mistaking it now, Yuna was close. He smelled her. He hid behind a rock formation not too far from the base and had ample view on the handful of armed men walking in between the buildings. There were a few tall lights that illuminated most of the base. Logan sniffed and the poignant smell of oil and gunpowder filled his nostrils. He had to move fast and take them out hard as to avoid explosions or wayward bullets that might harm the women they captured.
He could reach an army truck from his current position without being spotted by the thug who stood on the other side of it. He stayed low as he made his way and snuck to the truck with his left hand balded into a fist. A fat man with a shotgun stood against the other side of the vehicle, he smelled of foul sweat and cheap booze.
An idiot with a gun was easy to distract and thus when Logan knocked three times against the metal of the truck it drew the fat bastard to him. When the drunkard wobbled around to the other side he was immediately met with three adamantium claws on Logan's left hand that jammed into his forehead. Logan held his other hand to cover the fat man's mouth and calmly let him sink to the ground. Slumped like a bag of flower the fat man sat lifelessly against the truck as the blood from his fatal injury gushed.
Logan examined the man's shotgun and discovered it had no shells. He shook his head and shoved it under the truck.
"Yer loss, bub," Logan quietly grumbled to the corpse beside him.
He navigated the terrain and moved from one hiding spot to the next. She was so close that her scent was guiding him as though she were holding his hand. It was the larger building he knew it for sure, her scent was strongest in that direction. Three armed goons hung around near the front door and by the smell of it were just as drunk as the fat man he took out.
There was no chance he could draw them away without causing too much noise and as he hid behind a stack of crates he growled inward, baring his teeth. He had to charge them. Suddenly a female voice screamed in agony originating from that same building, her cries were loud enough for his heightened sense of hearing to pick up. A rage that had been building overtook him and he ran out from behind the crates.
With both sets of claws extended and roaring furiously, Logan pounced on the three goons who were barely able to lift their firearms. He carved through flesh and bone and gutted all three of them. Covered in their blood and enraged he destroyed the front door and burst inside a medium-length hallway. It was a one story building but it had several rooms along the hallway.
He followed her scent to the back of the building, to a room all the way at the end. He broke down the door and leapt inside. There she was. Yuna. Completely naked with bruises and cuts on her body and a big-black left eye. She was strung up with chains around her wrists. Next to her stood a punk with a heroin needle and a flacid dick hanging out.
"Go get your own pussy, this one's mine," the scum said while drugged out of his mind. Logan's bloodied face and claws must've not registered with the scum because he seemed barely aware of Logan's presence.
Logan lunged with a gutteral growl and in one swift clawed stroke he ripped out the guy's throat. He fell to the floor and bled out as his body jerked. Logan retracted his claws, panting, and slowly approached a barely conscious Yuna. He smelled her fear and as he drew closer she became visibly frightened and tried to free herself from the chains.
"I ain't gonna hurt ya, don't be 'fraid," Logan said under his breath as he held his hands up to show his resolve not to hurt her.
Yuna could only utter weak moans and had little strength to engage him or even properly make eye contact. He slashed her chains and caught her as she collapsed, not able to stand on her own legs. He held her in his muscular arms but before they could leave the room he paused, hearing numerous footsteps running down the hallway toward them. He wrapped Yuna in a dusty blanket that he found in the corner and sat her down.
"Listen ta me, Yuna. Whatever ya hear outside I'll come back fer ya," Logan reassured her as she clenched the cloth in between her fingers. She was too frightened to even look his way but made sure he knew she understood and faintly nodded once.
Inaudible voices merged with the cocking of guns outside in the hallway and Logan knew they were prepared for him.
With claws extended he ran out of the room almost foaming at the mouth with feral ferocity. They fired at him but he kept on coming and cut his way through a group of ten men. He gutted, decapitated and stabbed all but one. A terrified punk covered in the blood of his buddies, clutching an empty sub-machine gun to his chest. With expressive terror in his eyes he stared at the berserker killer in front of him.
Logan's clothes were shredded by the gunfire and every wound he gained had healed. He was soaked in blood, dripping, and the hatred in his eyes and constant snarl showed just what happened if he lost even a fragment of control. His claws had chunks of flesh that slowly slicked to the floor, the silver of adamantium had turned completely red.
"Just let me ge—" the guy pleaded but could not finish as Logan ran his right set of claws into the top of the punk's head and sunk them down entirely. He retracted both sets of claws and kicked the body aside of the corpse he'd just created.
He stepped over the bodies he cut down, having turned the hallway into a slaughterhouse, and made his way back to Yuna. He tore off his cut up tank top and threw it aside before he entered the room again. She hid behind her blanket and held her eyes firmly shut. Logan slowed his approach and gingerly walked toward her. He crouched before her and took a deep breath, the rage still burned in his veins.
"Yuna? We're gettin' outta here, I'm gonna have ta carry ya cos yer too weak ta walk," he said and slowly reached out his arms.
She flinched when he scooped her up but otherwise remained calm as he carried her. They walked the hallway and she never once opened her eyes, keeping them firmly shut, but before they reached the exit Logan stopped and turned. He sniffed, once, twice before discovering the scent of other women in the other rooms down the hallway.
He walked outside to the nearest truck and opened the passenger seat in the front and carefully sat Yuna down inside. He stood next to the open door and held it as he furrowed his brow.
"I gotta go back 'an get ta others inside. I won't be gone long," he said before shutting the door.
Logan ran back inside and following the scent to one of the first rooms on the left in the hallway. It wasn't locked and he pushed it open to reveal a disturbing sight. Several naked women huddled together, all were badly beaten and abused but luckily none were dead. He stood there shirtless, a big hairy muscular chest, and still covered in blood from his face to his boots.
"Don't be 'fraid, yer goin' home," he said with as little gruff in his tone as he could manage.
After managing to find more crusted and dirty blankets so that they'd at least be able to cover themselves, he made sure they all got into the truck and before entering himself he did a last minute sweep of the entire base including the smaller buildings but found no one else except a few flyers for Humans First which was a mutant hating cult of sorts.
As he sat down in the truck and hotwired it he glanced over at Yuna who for the first time made eye contact with him and gave a brief but honest smile. Logan responded in kind and turned toward the road ahead.
"Let's go home," he said and drove off.
Several weeks later in a diner somewhere in Upstate New York. Logan sat in the back nursing a cold bottle of beer. He wore a leather jacket with another tank top underneath though this one was white and stared at the dog tag he held between his fingers. On the front it read 'Logan' and on the back 'Wolverine', puzzled he stared at it before finally letting it dangle on his chest again.
The television set that hung on the wall a few feet away from him showed several news reports. One of which was another attack by the mutant radicals known as the terrorist group, Prime Species. And another about a carnage discovered in the desert of New Mexico.
He arched an eyebrow and polished off the bottle. All of a sudden a man in dark sunglasses with a suit and tie sat down in front of him. He had numerous beads around his wrists, black painted nails and smelled of bourbon and women.
"I ain't interested," snarled Logan and gave the stranger a menancing look.
"But, mon ami, you 'ave not heard Gambit's offer yet," the stranger said and lowered his glasses, his eyes flashed red and he smirked.
STAY TUNED FOR CHAPTER TWO!