Bitterness

It was cold. That was the first thing that he noticed. It also smelled like, well he didn't know what. It hurt to think. Gingerly propping himself up onto his elbows, he looked around.

It was snowing really hard and his bike looked mangled. It was a wonder the thing hadn't exploded. He had hit the black ice and instantly lost control. Swerving wildly he had crashed into the thick copse of forest along this desolate stretch of Canadian back roads. Pulling himself up, he watched, as his hands seemed to move on their own; picking up the bike and pushing it back to the road.

His head had that woolen feeling as he tried to shake out the cobwebs. It was a long way to go to the next town and he had three hours to get there. Checking his bike, he started it and gently headed down the road, fighting the altered alignment.

Logan pulled into the parking lot of the hotel, it was run down but promised heated rooms. Walking into the lobby, shaking snow out of his hair and off his leather jacket.

" Gimme a room, three nights." , Logan said over the counter. The thin man behind the counter raised his head from the magazine he was reading. Looking him up and down he merely grunted and turned back to his magazine. " Maybe you didn't hear me, I said I wanted a room."

" No vacancies, can't you read?" , The gaunt man pointed to the sign in the parking lot.

" It doesn't say anything." , Logan growled. The man looked out the window, then flipped the switch that said No Vacancies. Growling louder, he grabbed the man by the front of his shirt. Lifting him out of his seat Logan stared him in the eye. " You know what, you're not worth it."

Logan tossed him back in his chair and turned away, storming out the door. The man rubbed at the front of his shirt, then picking up his magazine, watched as his counter sagged and split in half in the middle, as if someone had cut it with a chainsaw.

The bar in Laughlin City was exactly how Logan pictured it, seedy, cramped, and filled with cigarette smoke. Inhaling deeply off his cigar, he turned to the manager. The bartender noticed him and signaled that the man he was looking for was in back.

" I'm here to pick up my money Tony, and no backing out now. Just let me get my truck and money so I can go.", Logan stated to the older man counting out money.

" You still have ten fights ya owe me, and yer gonna go through with them. Unless you don't want to get paid.", he quirked his eyebrow, or tried because it only made him look stupid.

" Fine, all ten tonight, and put three grand down on me, I'll want paid. If you back out, I'll beat you to death.", Logan whispered to Tony. Tony blanched a little.

" Fine. Fine. Go get ready."

After beating several drunks and one man he knew was a ringer, someone with enough experience to last more than several minutes with the man the emcee referred to as the Wolverine, he was feeling good. He had a nice buzz from the half drank bottle of whiskey in front of him. Cigar in hand he waited in the cage while the emcee did his thing. That's when he caught a whiff of something that didn't belong.

It was a smell that clung to the small figure being ushered in from the front door by a bunch of truckers. The girl was young and smelled like strawberries and fresh rain. Her innocence was so out of place in the rough bar that it distracted him, allowing the large man to beat him to the ground. Massive shots rained down and Logan welcomed the pain, enjoyed it. Until the man did something the emcee had warned him not to. He had just kicked Logan in his prized possession. The family jewels.

Growling in pain, he swung his fist into the oncoming one directed at his head, hear the snap of crushed fingers. Three shots and a head butt later and the man was out cold. The crowd was going crazy, howling for blood.

Stepping out of the cage after the last fight, Logan picked up his money. Knowing he had scored big, earning at least seven thousand in the legal betting in the illegal cage fight. Celebrating he stepped over to the bar. The place had quieted down and it was nearly four in the morning. " Gimme a beer." , Logan said, tossing a few bills onto the table.

The girl from earlier was seated about three stools from him. She would glance over at him, her eyes glistened, almost out of fear. Her friends were arguing about something and then one of them grabbed her gloved hand and yanked her out of her seat, her hood falling back to reveal her features. She was a looker, Logan would give her that. Then turning back to the broadcast of an upcoming mutant senate hearing down in Washington, he enjoyed his beer.

That's when there was a scream from out back.

Logan was out the door before he had even thought about it. He knew that the girl was in danger, and for some reason, he wanted to protect her. Save her. He put it down to the fact that she was the prettiest thing he had seen in a long time. Then he turned the corner into the back alley of the bar.

" Let her go." His voice was calm but the unmistakable rage was lacing every word. " Now."

" Go back in side little man, you don't want hurt." A guy with a knife was pressing it flat against the girls stomach, he could see she was going into shock. Her green cloak spread on the ground where there was two more men standing over her. Both had their hands in their pants, and one also had a gun.