xXx
"You wanted to see me?" Creed said, hulking over Fury's desk.
"Siddown," Fury said. "I've got some news for you. The higher ups made their final decision on the next recipient of the adamantium grafting."
Creed sat down, the small chair creaking and shifting under his weight. His face was blank; too many emotions were behind it for it to reflect only one.
Fury looked him right in the eye. "Not you."
Creed gripped the desk. "Come again?"
"Not you," Fury said. "Just thought you'd want to know. Didn't want to keep you in suspense."
"Not… me…" Creed said, his claws digging deep into the heavy desk.
"You are too unpredictable," Fury said. "Every time things don't go your way, you end up AWOL. Your record and your potential do more to keep you here at the Project than your performance does. You're useful as backup. You are just too damned squirrelly to be trusted as a regular field agent. In fact, there is a theory among some of your supervisors that you're just with the Project until you get this upgrade then you plan to defect."
"Not… me…" Creed said.
"On the bright side," Fury said, "your request for leave is granted. You have a month."
"What if I prove myself?" Creed rumbled, a whine in his voice.
"We just don't have enough adamantium to do two agents," Fury said. "Sorry, Creed, I did all I could. You haven't done yourself any favors, you know."
"What if I got you some," Creed growled. "What if I bring you Logan?"
"Yeah," Fury sighed. "I'll hold my breath. Dismissed, Creed."
Creed slowly stood up to his full height, glowering down at Fury.
"A month," he said.
"A month," Fury agreed.
"I'll be back in a month," Creed rumbled. He turned and left. The door slid shut behind him.
The office was silent for a moment.
The side door to the conference room opened. A tall man shouldered in and stood by the desk.
"Do you want me to follow him, sir?" the big ugly man said.
"No, Garret," Fury said. "He's a predator." He leaned back in his chair, clamping his cigar in his teeth. "Let him hunt."
xXx
"Your calling card," the slim executive said. "It was… distinctive."
"So is my proposal," the huge man said to him, his voice deep and slow and marked with a Russian cadence.
"Well then," the executive said, sitting at the conference table, "Let's hear it."
"As you know by now, Mr. Stark, I am skilled at obtaining that which is difficult to obtain," the tall dark man said. "I am a hunter, by nature and by trade."
"Indeed," Stark said. "I've been looking for a copy of the original blueprints for a Model T for years."
"I hope my modest gift has done more than grant me audience," the tall man said. "I hope it has also predisposed you to my proposal."
"Mr. Sergei Kravinoff," Stark read from the card that had been attached to the tube with the blueprints. "You have my undivided attention."
"I ask that you allow one of your employees the freedom to consider a sporting challenge," Kravinoff said, smiling. His teeth were square, sharp, too white. His face was broad, his forehead tall, his eyes deep. His salt-and-pepper beard was neatly trimmed, and his vast muscled body was complimented by a tailored suit.
"What sort of challenge?"
"If he declines," Kravinoff said, tilting his head, "I will not pursue it further. However, I wish to invite him to a sporting event."
"Out with it, Kravinoff, I'm a busy man."
The big Russian leaned forward. "I wish to hunt him." Kravinoff leaned back. "I have, through my sources, obtained the cure for Tymaz Nine, something I believe he will risk his life for. If he defeats me, I will give him the cure. If I defeat him, his life is forfeit."
"Wow," Stark said.
Kravinoff nodded. "He is both more and less than either animal or man; he combines the pleasure of hunting each. I wish to try my skills against him. No guns, just what primitive traps and devices I can fashion and simple hand weapons."
"You are a big guy, granted," Stark said, "but if you go up against Logan in hand to hand," he shook his head, "that's just a bad idea, Mr. Kravinoff."
"Please allow me to take the risk. I come to you first because if I am successful, he will no longer be able to act on your behalf, for he will be dead."
"Coming to me first was smart. If I agree to this harebrained scheme, I can't punish you if you win. I don't like your idea one bit, but you've earned the right to run it by Logan. I'll call him in," he said, gesturing to one of his aids, who left the room at once.
"How did you find out about Logan, anyway?" Stark asked, eyeing Kravinoff.
The big man smiled. "I discovered him in my search for the cure for Tymaz Nine, along with others," Kravinoff said. "He intrigued me. He is mysterious, but he has led an illustrious life."
The door opened, and Logan walked in. "You called for me, Mr. Stark," he said.
Immediately, he and Kravinoff were eyeing each other; Stark thought he could detect flexing under their skin, he glanced at Logan and saw him sniff the air. He sighed.
"I have the feeling I'm going to regret this," he said. "Mr. Logan, Mr. Kravinoff. Kravinoff wants to hunt you, Logan, and if you survive the hunt he's willing to give you the cure to Tymaz Nine."
"The cure?" Logan said. He looked sharply at Kravinoff.
"It has been tested," Kravinoff said.
"Oh, yeah?" Logan said. "On who?"
"Me," Kravinoff said gravely. "We will be on an island. No guns, no outside access. Only hand weapons and what can be found or made on the island, that is all. I will have arranged terrain to my advantage, but that will serve to even things, as you have... natural advantages."
"To the death?" Logan said.
Kravinoff solemnly nodded.
"Then how do I get the cure, if I kill you?"
"At dawn, twenty four hours after we arrive, a call will be placed to a fax machine in the island's interior. The fax machine will have a cellular connection to a satellite network, and a portable energy generator. The fax will come in with instructions for reaching the contact who will supply the cure. I swear that it is not a trick. It is in my best interests to be honest with you. Please trust that the hunt is much more critical to me than the cure for Tymaz Nine. If you defeat me, I will bear you no ill will."
"That's a hell of a risk," Stark said.
"That's worth it ta me," Logan said, his voice hoarse. He stared at Kravinoff. "As you knew it would be."
Kravinoff nodded. "I have studied you, Mr. Logan. I did not want to kidnap you, or hunt you in New York. No, you deserve better. You are fascinating to me. I want to compete with you for the only prize that's worth anything," he said, his eyes gleaming, his nostrils flared.
"Life," growled Logan.
Kravinoff nodded.
"Whoah," Stark said. "Any more testosterone in here and I'm going to have to get a canoe. Logan, be reasonable."
"How's your work on the cure coming?" Logan asked, staring Stark right in the eye.
Silence. Stark regarded him, weighing his options.
"I'm in," Logan said, looking at Kravinoff. "Just give me the when and wheres."
xXx
Rain poured down on the seedy bar in Duluth, Minnesota.
Creed tensed.
"Don't you," the big man behind him said softly.
"Who the hell are you?" Creed growled.
"What if I told you I knew where you could find him?" the big man said, his voice still gentle.
Creed rose to his full height and turned to face the man standing behind him. "I said, who are you? Make me ask again and I'll pick through what's left of yer meat and clothes and find the answer myself."
Creed was a bit surprised when he did not tower over the dark man. He only had a few inches of height on the tall and solidly built man who was smiling in the face of Creed's wrath.
"I know you want Logan, and I can give him to you. In fact, I can arrange for you to fight him."
"Guess you aint listenin," Creed said. Claws slid out of his fingertips, and he lashed out.
The big man sidestepped, reaching into his coat. Creed gasped in startlement as a hand axe snipped through the flesh of his chin on its way towards embedding itself in his collarbone, splitting his sternum. As a follow through, the big man kicked him hard in the chest, knocking him off the axe and back into the bar.
"Arright," Creed spat, his voice frothy with blood that sprayed into his throat from below. He hunkered down, flexing. The patrons of the bar shouted and yelped, tumbling over each other to give the fighters space.
"I don't want to fight you here," the big man said smoothly, lowering the hatchet. "I want to take you to an island, just you me and Logan, survivor walks away."
Creed hesitated.
"If you come with me," the hunter said, "I will give you the chance to kill Logan and myself. If you do not," he said, shrugging, "how will you find Logan? How will you reach him to complete your burning need for his death? What if I kill him before you can? If you truly wish to kill Logan, I am your best hope. You may kill me," he added. "But not here."
Sirens wailed in the near distance.
Creed still hesitated.
"If you prove to be the hunter your reputation makes you out to be," the hunter added, his eyes narrow, "you will kill Logan and me and also walk away with the cure for Tymaz Nine."
Creed blinked. "Okay," he said. "Okay, I'm in. I know some people who want that," he added. And he suspected he knew how badly. He smiled broadly to himself. He'd show Fury success.
xXx
Three sea planes bobbed out beyond the reef, and three rubber boats droned in towards the shore of the imposing island.
Logan stared at the island's outline in the dim morning as the sun rose behind it. Three days without a cigar; his body's healing factor kept him from the worst of the withdrawal. He didn't want to make it any easier for them to smell him. This wasn't a fight.
It was a hunt.
He stopped his mind before it headed into the obstacle course of apprehension, desire, anger, and uncertainty it had been running through for the past three days. The time for thinking was over. The time for action had come.
He looked over at the other two rubber boats slapping their way over the surf, headed for the island. He saw Kravinoff, crouched in the bow of his boat, and in the other one the unmistakable hulk of Creed.
Not a bit surprised.
The boats grounded, and the three men clambered out. Then the boats turned around and headed back towards the sea planes. The three men were in heavy canvas pants and combat boots, bare chested.
"Welcome to my island," Kravinoff said with a huge grin. "You have both been given instruction. In twenty four hours, it will be assumed only one of us still lives. The information for the contact for Tymaz Nine will come in to the fax machine in the interior. Know that it is a cartridge fax, not film, so there will be only one copy. You have twenty four hours until the plane returns. Use your time well. May the best hunter win."
"How about I kill you two right now," Creed said, flexing.
Kravinoff and Logan faced him.
"Feelin froggy," Logan said, "just jump."
Kravinoff just stared at him.
"Twenty four hours, huh," Creed said uneasily.
"That's what I figure," Logan said. He turned his back and started walking along the beach in one direction.
Kravinoff turned and headed into the jungle, towards the island's mountain. Creed watched them go. Then he sat down.
"Question is," he muttered, "which one do I wanna bag first?" He chuckled. "I'll just sit here by these two scent trails until I make up my mind…"
xXx
Kravinoff ignored the itch in his skin as he squatted on a narrow platform, high above the jungle floor. Below, Logan came out of brush cover, his sweep of the area complete. Kravinoff smiled.
"Good," he whispered to himself. "You found fresh water, checked out the area, disabled some of my traps." He nodded to himself. "We will all need fresh water."
He was camouflaged with clay and crushed herbs. When the mixture set, he would smell almost exactly like the surrounding jungle.
He was one with the canopy as the breeze swayed his hideout. He simply watched. Time enough to act once he was confident of victory.
Logan squatted on the stream's bank. He dipped his hand into the water, sipped from the cup of his hand. He looked out over the sparkling surface. This was the stream's deepest, slowest point. He cupped more water out and dumped it on his head, enjoying the feel as it found its way down through his hair, down over his neck, streaking down his back. Hot. This place was hot. And his senses were still learning the sounds of the wind across alien leaves, the peculiar unique noises of this place's wildlife. He couldn't trust his senses yet. By tomorrow he'd be acclimated.
Some distant part of his mind was simply slack-jawed that he was in this lethal situation. "Life's sudden," he muttered to himself. "If yer gonna get ahead, you gotta be ready to deal with that."
