Author's Note**
For all you Wolverine fans, the short man finally makes his first appearance. So where has our socially challenged human can opener been all this time?
It was late afternoon and the sun was well on its way to the horizon. Light was in the process of making itself scarce as the groping hands of twilight came ever closer. There was a gentle quiet that was interrupted every so often by the bark of a dog or the annoying honk of an equally annoyed driver.
The building gave the appearance of being empty and abandoned; its front door had been boarded shut and a "NO TRESPASSING" sign had been nailed to it. The windows had all been closed off as well, except for the right one on the highest floor. There was a plank missing, making a space just large enough for a medium sized bird to fit through.
He sniffed at the air and the cool, briskness of it filled his nose. Anyone else would have smelled only the strong saucy scent of pizza, but not him. He caught a whiff of something else, fainter and less distinguishable than it had been once before. Still, he recognized it. Mystique.
After dismounting his motorcycle and pulling off his helmet, Wolverine decided to save the owners of the building a little time and effort and do a little remodeling. As he stalked towards the door he clenched his fists and his adamantine claws shot out like deadly knives. The half rotted wood didn't even stand a chance. The door splinted and exploded beneath his attack and in seconds he stood in the front hallway. Not a sound reached his sensitive ears. He sniffed again and caught the scent, stronger now.
"Lucy," he growled, stepping forward past the debris, "I'm home."
A quick search of the downstairs turned up no one. Just as he reached the stairs, he heard footsteps from higher up. Without hesitation he slipped up, quiet as a large hunting cat searching for its dinner. Hopefully he wasn't planning on eating Mystique. This is PG-13 after all, let's not get gory.
His ears led him to the third floor and as soon as his head reached the top of the landing he was met by a black booted foot. Catching him off guard, the kick struck his face and sent him sprawling back down the stairs. Landing hard on his back, Wolverine shook his head and got immediately to his feet. The blow hadn't done much but piss him off. Baring his teeth, he leapt back up the stairs, crashing one of his clawed fists through part of the floor. Mystique nimbly side stepped just in time and the two faced off for the first time in months.
"Why do they always send the mongrel to hunt the lioness?" she asked sarcastically as they circled each other. Rolling his shoulders, Wolverine shrugged and grinned wolfishly.
"What can I say? You've got a special place in my heart blue-skin," he retorted in a way that betrayed the statement. Yellow eyes flashing, Mystique kicked again and her powerful leg missed him this time by mere inches.
"What are you doing here?" she demanded, trying to buy herself some time while her mind raced. She knew, despite her advancements, that she'd never be able to beat Wolverine in a physical contest. He had that added bonus to his strength of being mentally unbalanced. If he got his teeth into her, he'd never let go.
Testing his reach, Wolverine lunged forward and swung one of his claws at her, only to have her duck out of the way. He followed it up with several more swings but she managed to evade them as well. "You didn't think we'd just ferget the fact that you tried to kill One-Eyed, did you?"
Snickering, she sent another kick towards him then danced out of his reach. "Well, you always were one to fight other people's battles Wolverine." Slyly she shifted backwards towards a pile of dust she had noticed before. Wolverine swiped at her and she back flipped away, giving her the perfect opportunity to scoop up a handful of the stuff. Adopting her most insolent pose, she baited him.
"You're quite the guard dog. It's a shame they didn't give you any brains to go with your animal instincts. Otherwise I might not have been able to infiltrate your home quite so easily."
The reminder of his inability to scent her before was enough to send Wolverine rushing forward, driven by his constant internal rage. Mystique was waiting for him; when he came close enough she threw the dirt in his eyes, blinding him. Snarling incoherently, Wolverine scratched at his stinging eyes while the shape shifter took the opportunity to pummel him with kicks and punches. A low sweep of her foot sent him crashing down on to his back. She followed it up with a boot to his mid section that had him curling up. The thrill of victory raced through her and she didn't hesitate in going for the final blow.
She had miscalculated though; Wolverine's anger hadn't been as hot as she had thought and he had suspected she would try something low down and dirty. Only some of the dust had actually gotten into his eyes, the rest had been playacting. As her fist came down towards his head, he reached out and grabbed hold of her legs, dragging her down onto the ground. Before she had fully realized what had happened, he slammed his fist down to her neck, pinning it with two of his razor sharp claws. She could feel the cold metal against her skin and the sharp prick of his third claw as it slowly pushed forward. With defiant eyes, she glared up at him.
"Do it," she challenged, lifting her chin slightly. Wolverine leaned forward slightly.
"Love to," he retorted gruffly. "But you've got a few questions to answer first."
"Release her," came a firm, but quiet feminine voice. Without relinquishing his grip, Wolverine lifted his head and stared at the middle aged woman that now stood near the top of the stairs. Her hair was short and brown, her eyes hidden by dark sunglasses despite the lack of light. He noticed she held a cane in one hand. "I will come with you and answer your questions," she added.
"Who are you?" he asked, still not shifting.
"My name is Irene," her lips curved in a self-mocking smile. "though some call me Destiny."
Wolverine recognized the name. "You're the one who raised Rogue."
Irene nodded, a barely perceptible movement of her head. "Yes. Now please release Raven. There is much to be explained and not much time to do so."
Suspicious, he glared down at Mystique. "We've got enough trouble without her roaming about free," he scowled. Charles had sent him a message relaying everything that had happened. He was itching to get back to the Institute, but had wanted to get this done first. For Stripes and the Elf. My sensitive side's showing again, he thought.
Tapping her cane impatiently against the floor, Irene frowned. "I know of your troubles, of the great evil that looms in the near future. There are a number of threads weaving their ways and the role she will play in upcoming events is critical. You must trust me, James, or you may doom us all."
Wolverine narrowed his eyes at the sound of the name. Her words were like ice down his spine.
"My name's Logan," he corrected, though he suddenly did not feel so very sure about that. She smiled again.
"Of course. Will you release her . . .Logan?"
Something pushed at his brain and convinced him that she spoke truthfully. Reluctantly he released his hold on Mystique and immediately she transformed into a hawk, disappearing through the hole in the window. Getting to his feet, Wolverine sighed and shot Irene a clearly distrusting look.
"You better not be wrong, shades," he warned. Irene did not seem at all bothered by the threat. She began to make her way down the stairs, tapping quietly.
"I am never wrong. Now come, I wish to see Rogue."
Shaking his head, Wolverine glanced in the direction Mystique had flown, then turned and followed Destiny.
"You ever been on a motorcycle before, shades?"