Disclaimer, etc. in first part…
4.
The Blackbird landed in–or rather, dropped to–the snow-covered clearing with a quiet whumph.
Ororo glanced over at Scott and arched a brow. He gave a little shrug of apology.
Chuckling, the white-haired woman unbuckled her harness and made her way towards the rear of the jet. Scott joined her as she lowered the loading ramp. They were immediately met with a blast of icy wind and snow.
"He's got to be kidding," Scott murmured. "How does he expect us to find one Man-Beast in all this?"
'All this' consisted of snow, trees, and yet more snow.
Scott was pretty sure he might have found the snow-buried evergreens beautiful, even peaceful–if he were in any other situation. Leather was not known for it's good insulation and the word 'shrinkage' rose unbidden to Scott's mind. He nearly turned on his heel to head back to the cockpit.
As if sensing his urge to flee, Ororo laid a gentle, yet restraining hand on Scott's arm. "Don't worry about it, Scott. If he is even half the beast we assume him to be, I expect he will find us first." With that, the Goddess of the Wind stepped out into the cold.
And she thinks that was reassuring. Letting out a sigh of disgust, Scott followed Ororo's lead.
* * * *
Nearly three hours later, Scott was more than ready to head back to the Blackbird. He trudged through the snow, briskly rubbing his gloved hands together to regain some sort of feeling in his frozen fingers. He was tempted to rub at other, less-seemly parts of his anatomy to see if he could still feel anything there as well. If I stay out in this cold much longer, he thought, disgruntled. I'm going have a whole new definition for the term 'blue balls'.
"Storm!" Scott called, careful to use his teammate's codename. He was ready to call an end to their search, but Ororo was nowhere in sight. Damn it! They were supposed to keep within eyeshot of each other! "Storm!"
He cast another look around and took a moment to wipe at his visor. The snow was coming down a bit heavier now and it was getting harder to see. Scott looked up at the sky. The clouds had grown dark and heavy, indicating an approaching storm. Storm…Could she have taken to the sky to get a better view? He decided it was worth a try to send off a flare.
Scott had just started to lift a hand to his visor when he heard a low, menacing growl come from behind him. Ever so slowly, he turned around. And looked up.
So, Ororo was right. He did find us first. Or rather, he found me first.
Well, he certainly did look like a Man-Beast. He crouched on a sturdy, low-hanging branch of a nearby pine as if he owned it. Dark hair grew thick and wild about his head and face, and he was filthy from head to toe. And the professor was right. He didn't wear a stitch of clothing.
The Man-Beast bared his teeth in a feral snarl and growled again.
Scott was starting to worry. He was alone, facing down a wild man, and Ororo was nowhere to be seen. He was just grateful that the one thing the Professor hadn't been right about was those foot-long metal claws.
There was a distinctive metal hiss and Scott could only stare as six foot-long claws emerged from between the Man-Beast's knuckles.
Why the hell did the Professor have to be right all the time?
Careful not to make any sudden moves, Scott slowly raised his hand. If he could just get to his visor…He didn't have a chance.
Without warning, the Man-Beast leapt.
Scott found himself sprawled on his back in the snow, with about two hundred pounds of rabid male animal on top of him. Gee, he thought dazedly. And it's only our first date.
Scott watched in horrified fascination as an arm drew back then descended, those lethal claws aiming for the jugular.
Then, with a blinding flash and a deafening boom, the Man-Beast went flying over Scott's head. The X-man sat up just in time to see Ororo land lightly on the ground. He could still smell the burning ozone and his teammate's eyes were just returning to their usual dark brown. He craned his neck to peer over his shoulder.
The Man-Beast lay facedown in the snow a good twenty yards away. He was motionless.
Scott looked back at Ororo and arched a brow. "Where were you?"
She shrugged, a smile tugging at her lips. "I went up top to get a better view. Seemed like a good idea." She came forward and held out a hand.
Scott muttered a "thanks" as he let her help him to his feet. He was still trying to figure out whether she had used him as bait or not.
"You're welcome," Ororo replied cheerfully and she walked off to check on their fried Man-Beast. She frowned down at the still figure. "Oh, dear. I hope that metal doesn't run throughout his body."
Scott snorted. "Chances are it does."
"Then, chances are I might have killed him." Ororo crouched down and rolled the Man-Beast onto his back. Little white tufts of condensation escaped from his slack mouth at even intervals. "Oh, good!" Ororo beamed. "He's still breathing."
"Yippee," Scott deadpanned. "Can we go now?"
"Certainly." Ororo rose to her feet, then rose to the skies leaving Scott to take care of the Man-Beast.
"Bait," Scott decided as he struggled to position the wild man over his shoulder. "She definitely used me as bait." At least those damn claws had gone back into their sheaths.
As he shifted the deadweight, Scott heard the clink of metal against metal. He immediately dropped his burden and backed up several feet, hand at his visor.
When the wild man didn't stir, Scott berated himself for being such a wuss and stalked back over to the still form. It was then that he noticed the dogtags.
Dogtags? I wonder who this puppy belongs to. Whoever they are, they should be fined for letting him off his leash.
Keeping an eye trained on the Man-Beast's hands, Scott leaned in close enough so he could read the scraps of metal.
"Wolverine. 458 25 243." Scott smiled ruefully. "Wolverine, huh? An apt name if I've ever heard it. Well, wild man, I hope you've had all your shots."
Hoisting the Man-Beast–the Wolverine–to his shoulders once more, Scott began the trek back to the Blackbird.