This story is a cross over with my original story, Chasing Ghosts. But enough about that, I just wanted to see Wolverine fight a werewolf, even if its a cage fight, without the claws being unleashed.


How Jacob broke his nose


Some dingy bar in Alberta, Canada…

The bar that was located in nowhere Canada was dimly lit from old lightbulbs, and lamps leftover from the eighteen hundred. Various pelts of different animals laid about and were on old, worn oaken chairs and tables. The place smelled of cheap alcohol and even cheaper cigarettes, and like something had died in here, but not recently. The patrons of the bar were drunk, or at the very least tipsy, and were gathered around a metal cage.

The cage had two contestants, and the floor of it smelled like blood and sweat and bad cologne and perfume from the prostitutes that hung around looking for a man to hook up with. In the farthest right corner of the cage, a large and well-built man leaned back, his back facing the spectators.

This man had long, golden-brown hair and bushy, messy side burns that mimicked the cheek fur of a wolf. He had a broad chest, and large, thick muscular arms. He had a square jaw line, and a long nose that had a slight bend to it as if he had broken it before. His eyes were a strange mix of brown and gold, being wolf-like in their appearance. He was shirtless, his jeans being held in place by a worn leather belt. His jeans were worn and tattered in some places.

His hands were large and calloused, the fingernails being short, blunt, but razor-sharp claws. The man was covered in scars, one of them being a short, but relatively deep scar across his right wrist with a scar across the palm of his right hand. He had three, parallel scars across his thick, tree trunk-like neck.

He had five parallel scars across his broad chest. He had a small, but jagged scar that cut his chin. He had a thin crescent shaped scar under his left eye. He had a mass of small, bumpy scars across his crooked nose. He also had two parallel scars over his lip, but not cutting down to the gum line. He had several scars across his back, showing off his rough childhood to the world. His jeans covered up a bullet wound that gave him a limp that he has to this day.

His eyes were on his contestant. He had that wolfish gaze in his eyes, like a hunter stalking its prey. The man was eyeing up the other man in the bar. It was pretty interesting to watch. It was like watching two rival predators stalk each other, judging to see what the other will do.

The other man, who was a wanderer, never stayed in one place for long. The man had messy dark-brown almost black hair that spiked up into something that resembled the ears of a wolf or a wolverine. He was a few inches shorter than the wild, feral looking man, but had the same exact build. His sideburns were bushy, but not as long as the other man's sideburns.

He had yellow-hazel eyes, like a wolf's eyes. He also didn't have a shirt on, but unlike the man who was wearing a pair of beat-up jeans with a worn leather belt. He also had the same type of jeans and belt on, but his leather belt was adorned with a silver belt buckle. He also wore a pair of dog-tags made with a dull metal that hung on his thick neck and clinked together when he moved. He took his cigar out of his mouth and placed it on the wooden stool he was sitting on. It wasn't the most hygienic, but a man with a healing factor of his caliber could care less about germs.

He noted the lax body of his opponent. He must be very confident with himself or have the world's biggest ego. The man was also watching him. He was lax but also alert. The loner made a soft growling noise that wasn't audible to anyone, as he got into a fighting stance. That man caused his inner animal to stir and perk its ears up, no not in the way Sabretooth does, but in more like a curious manner.

Swinging his fist, he aimed for the man's face. The man quickly dodged the fist, which shouldn't be possible given the size of the man. The loner felt his left leg being sideswept and felt his body fall to the ground.

Sonofabitch! That man was a lot smarter than he looks! He yelled in his head as his jaw connected to the floor. Growling, he got up and punched the man hard in the face, somewhat pleased when he saw him double back, clutching his face.

The wild looking man doubled back, clutching his face. His nose was broken, again. Why is it always his nose? He took his large hand off of his nose and shook the blood off it. He could taste the iron in his mouth as he grinned a bloody smile.

Feeling something in his mouth, he spat a disgusting mix of saliva and blood and one of his canines came out once that hit the dirty floor. That would hurt when it grows back in his mouth. The other man arched an eyebrow when he saw his smile. His inner wolf growled and bared its fangs once it recognized the other man as a challenger. A rival alpha, another threat. Then the man punched him in the face, knocking him out. The crowd started to cheer for the man or boo at him, for seeing their 'hope' get pummeled in about ten minutes, but that was five minutes longer than the other guy.

"Still king of the cage, The Wolverine!" the announcer yelled through his microphone.

The fight was over, the bell announcing the winner woke him up, and the large, wild looking man walked out of the cage. He sat himself in one of the dingy bathrooms and put on his undershirt and several layers of flannel shirts. He saw the man he fought sitting at the worn bar on a battered bar stool smoking a cigar. He wore a battered leather jacket with orange stripes on it, and wore several layers of flannel and a buttoned-down jean jacket. There were no bruises on the man's face where he swung and hit him, nor did he walk with a limp where he had hit him in the leg.

He walked up to the bar, pulling out a wad of cash he had on him. Due to his appearance, no one dared try to rob him. Then he pulled out a knife and a block of wood. It was going to be a bear when he's done with it. The bartender walked up, a dirty dish rag over his shoulder.

"Hey man, what do you want?" he asked.

"Whatever's on tap," he answered, not even taking his eyes off his carving.

The bartender came back, sliding down a foggy glass filled with beer. The feral looking man placed a Canadian five-dollar bill on the table as he slowly drank from his glass. The beer tasted like muddy water. It wasn't the most appealing thing out there, but he wasn't picky.

"I'll have a beer," the loner grumbled out, not even taking his cigar out of his mouth. The werewolf walked over to the loner and placed his beer and wood carving on the table. The loner arched an eyebrow when he saw the man.

"Who are you?" the loner barked, taking a sip from the beer bottle.

"The name's Jacob," the werewolf grumbled.

"Logan," the loner answered back, not even caring.

After that, the two left the bar, and went their separate ways. It was their destinies; however, their paths will cross again in the future. Two hopeless wanderers who are running from their pasts and trying to repent for the blood on their hands. A lone wolf, and a wolverine, both very alike and yet unalike in more ways than one.