Chapter 9: The Best There is at What I Do
The world was a burning, smoldering wreck. Buildings were in pieces, fires were everywhere, and a small group of individuals made their way through the desolation. Leading the group was a man wearing a black suit with a cowl and a red visor over his eyes. This was Cyclops, leader of the mutant superhero group, the X-Men.
"Come on," he instructed the others. "Let's get moving!"
The others followed close behind, being set upon by several explosions that seemed to be coming from nowhere. One of the individuals, a teen in a red metal suit with yellow shoulder pads named Colossus, looked up and saw some debris raining down toward him. He stood firm as his skin transformed into solid metal, allowing him to punch the debris away before it could impact him. Meanwhile, Firestar, a teenage girl with darker skin and wearing an orange suit with a yellow X design across the chest, kept moving across the ruined battlefield until she looked up and saw several missiles raining down toward them. She flicked her hands open, summing flames in her hands that she proceeded to fire upward, destroying the missiles in rapid succession. Before she could get the last one though, a stream of ice shot out, encompassing the missile and causing it to harmlessly land in front of her. Firestar turned around to see a blonde haired teen boy who's entire body was covered in ice, smirking at him.
"Come on, Bobby," Firstar complained. "I had that."
"You know, most girls would be grateful when a guy saves them from getting blown up," Bobby replied.
"I didn't need to be saved!" Firestar countered, both unaware of another missile coming toward them.
Their argument was cut off by a laser blast cutting past them, destroying it. The two looked back to see Cyclops' visor glowing bright red before subsiding.
"Iceman, Firestar, cut the chatter!" he ordered. "This is supposed to be a do or die situation. Act like it!"
The two nodded before rushing back into action. Meanwhile, the last member of the group, a teenage girl with brown hair wearing a black and purple suit named Shadowcat, wasted no time moving across the battlefield, even running toward a stone wall as another missile came barreling down. She leaped at the wall, phasing through it with no problem, just as the missile went off. It shattered the wall, sending a piece at Shadowcat's back and knocking her to the ground. As she picked herself up, she noticed a familiar pair of boots in front of her. She looked up and saw a gruff man in a yellow and black suit with a mask that had exaggerated eye pieces standing over her with a smug look on his face. This was one of the X-Men's more aggressive members, Wolverine.
"What?" he let out. "Worlds going to hell and you're just gonna lie there, half-pint?"
"Uh… no," Shadowcat insisted, getting back up. "I just got-"
"Doesn't matter. You get knocked down, ya get back up. No excuses."
"Right," Shadowcat replied, running off.
Wolverine watched her leave seeing a smoldering fire nearby and pulling out a cigar from his belt. He set it to the fire to light it up, taking a quick puff before moving to catch up with the others. Back with the group, Cyclops fired several optic blasts to cover the other X-Men moving behind a broken wall, with Wolverine casually walking up.
"Nice of you to join us," Cyclops remarked.
"Well, you seem to have things handled," Wolverine remarked. "How're the kids?"
"They're alive. That's a start."
"Ain't gonna be enough," Wolverine noted. "They gotta be ready for anything out there."
"They'll handle it, Wolverine. They just need to-"
Before Cyclops could finish, he saw a giant silhouette in the distance raising a hand to them. Thinking fast, Cyclops fired an optic blast at Wolverine, knocking him away before a laser blast could nail him. Wolverine picked himself up, grumbling in response.
"You could've warned me!" Wolverine shouted.
"Thought you were ready for that," Cyclops remarked.
Wolverine growled,getting back to his feet.
"Alright," he replied, extending two sets of three claws from his hands. "Playtimes over. Hey, Tin Man! Get over here!"
Colossus quickly went over, curious as to what Wolverine had in mind.
"How's your throwing arm?" he asked.
"Wolverine, what are you doing?" Cyclops asked.
"Getting the job done," Wolverine replied before turning back to Colossus. "Throw me."
"What?" Colossus let out.
"Just do it!"
Colossus obliged, picking up Wolverine and spinning him around before throwing him right at the silhouette in the distance. After a few seconds, and the sound of metal slicing into metal, a giant robot head suddenly came crashing down, landing upside down in front of the X-Men. Wolverine eventually stepped forward, retracting his claws.
"Class dismissed," he remarked.
Cyclops just rolled his eyes before activating his comm. "End simulation, Forge."
Suddenly, the destroyed city disappeared around them, replaced with a massive blue room with projectors lining its walls and the remains of the destroyed robot still present.
"That's enough for now guys," Cyclops said, turning to the students. "Take five and we'll start the next exercise."
The teens all took their cue to leave, chatting amongst themselves as Wolverine walked up.
"What? I do something wrong?" Wolverine remarked.
"Short answer, yes. Long answer-"
"Oh get off it, Summers," Wolverine dismissed, pulling off his mask.
"This wasn't one of your sparring sessions, Logan. We're supposed to be teaching these kids, not just picking fights for kicks."
"I'd say they learned something useful. When a killer Sentinel attacks, you attack back. Simple as that."
"Right, simple. Aside from the fact that they were supposed to learn how to respond to a defensive situation."
"Yeah, and the best defense is a good offense," Logan paused for a moment. "Or is that the other way around."
"You can't solve every problem by charging in head on," Cyclops insisted, crossing his arms. "I thought you'd have learned that by now."
"Yeah, well running away from a fight has never been my style," Logan replied, walking past Cyclops.
"Then what are you doing now?"
Logan just snarled before leaving the room.
…
Later, Logan had changed out of his X-Men uniform into more casual clothes as he made his way toward an office in the upper levels of the Xavier institute for Gifted Children, a secret haven for mutant kids to learn how to control their mutant abilities. Members of the faculty served as the X-Men, mutant heroes meant to inspire positive mutant relations for the greater public.
Logan opened the door, seeing an elderly bald man in a wheelchair sitting behind a desk going over some papers. This was Professor Charles Xavier, the founder of the Institute.
"Ah, Logan," he greeted. "I trust the danger room session went well."
"Depends who you ask, Chuck," Logan remarked, making his way inside. "I'm ready for our next session."
"Of course. If you're sure you want to keep doing this. Our last few sessions have yet to yield any new information regarding your past.
"Doesn't mean it ain't worth trying," Logan replied, taking a seat. "Please…"
Xavier nodded, placing a hand to his head, focusing his mental powers on Logan's fractured and disjointed mind.
…
Pain. it was his first true memory. The pain of having metal grafted onto his bones, being fused into his very claws. He didn't know who was doing it, but he was pretty sure as to why. To make him into a weapon. A personal killing machine.
…
His next memory was that of escape. Clawing his way through the forces trying to keep him imprisoned, he remembered fighting nonstop, barreling his way through anyone who would stand in his way to freedom.
…
The next memory that surfaced was that of rescue. After being hunted for so long, Logan finally found refuge among fellow mutants who sought to protect the world and mutantkind. Mutants like Cyclops, the weather controlling Storm, and the mental powered Jean Grey. They, among others, worked under Charles Xavier as the mutant hero team, the X-Men
…
The following memories were of the X-Men's various adventures and his relationships with the individual members. His one time failed courtship with Jean, his rivalry with Scott Summers, the respect he had accumulated for Xavier over the years, and his father/daughter relationship with a wayward and reclusive mutant named Rogue.
…
Finally, Xavier opened his eyes, coming out of Logan's mind.
"I'm sorry, Logan," he apologized. "There's nothing new I could find."
"No, no that can't be," Logan insisted.
"The mind isn't some box that can be opened. Your memories are… it's as if they are cut off in a dense fog. The only way to recover them is to work through it."
Logan sighed, knowing that Xavier was right. Reluctantly, he walked out of the office to think on his current situation.
…
Logan sat on the roof of the mansion, taking a sip of a beer can before setting it aside and grabbing a cigar. Before he could light it though, it flew out of his hand, ending up in the hand of a redheaded woman walking up to him.
"You know the Professor has rules about smoking on the premises," she commented.
Logan smirked in response. "Technically Jean, I'm not in the school."
"Semantics," she replied, taking a seat next to him. "Another session with the Professor?"
"Yeah… didn't learn anything new…"
"I think I might have though."
That caused Logan to perk up. "What?"
"I was doing some research for a history lecture on World War II when I found something," she explained, pulling out a picture from her pocket. "Tell me, have you heard of the Howling Commandos?"
"Should I?"
"It was a war unit led by Captain America," she held out the picture to him. "And one member stood out to me."
Logan took the photo, scanning through the people in. He suddenly stopped, his eyes fixating on a particular figure.
"That's… me."
Jean's smirk became a genuine smile.
"You were a war hero Logan," she told him. "And your name was James Howlett."
"James Howlett." he repeated, looking down a bit. "It's something, not being able to recognize your own name."
"Apparently your nickname was Lucky Jim. Said to have come out of more near deaths than anyone in the unit."
Logan chuckled a little. "Yeah, that sounds like me."
"You know, I did a quick search… There's an exhibit on Captain America coming to the Smithsonian this weekend. You may learn something more there."
Logan pondered for a moment, thinking it would be a great way to learn who he was.
…
After packing up a few belongings into a duffle bag, he made his way down to the garage and toward his personal motorcycle. He pulled out his keys and pressed the button to open the garage. He didn't even get a chance to mount his bike when he saw a young woman with a white streak across the front of her hair standing in front of the garage.
"Plannin' a little trip?" she asked in a southern accent.
Logan sighed in response. "I found something, Rogue."
"Gee, where have I heard that before?"
"This is different."
"No it ain't," Rogue insisted, walking up to him. "It's the same thing you always do. Ditch us to chase ghosts that don't tell you anything."
"I know my name now. This is the first true clue I've had in ages to find out who I was… who I am."
"I thought you already knew who you were. An X-Man, a teacher, a friend, a…"
She cut herself off on that last bit, turning away from Logan in response.
"A what?" Logan asked.
"... nevermind," she dismissed, about to walk away. "Do whatever you want. Just try to remember which way leads to home."
She started heading toward the door, Logan pausing for a moment.
"Rogue!" he called out, getting her attention.
He then took something off his neck, tossing it to her. She caught it, looking down at it to see it was his old dog tags. The only indication of his identity. The sound of an engine starting up caused Rogue to look up and see Logan slipping on his helmet.
"Hold onto those for me!"
With that, he kicked his kickstand up and drove off, leaving the institute and Rogue in the dust. She looked back down at the tags, rubbing her thumb over them.
…
Rogue made her way back inside the school, sitting on a couch in the main room and still looking at the tags. As she sat there, a slender man with brown hair and glowing purple eyes walked up behind her. This was Remy LeBeau, Rogue's fellow X-Man and boyfriend. He noted the concern on her face and leaned over to inquire.
"What's wrong, Chere?" he asked with a cajun accent.
"It's…" she began, sighing a bit. "It's Logan."
"Gone again, I wager," he assumed, flipping over onto the couch so he could sit next to her.
"Yeah… chasing another one of his past lives."
"Seems he left you a calling card."
"Yeah…"
Remy looked down at it with her, mulling over the gesture. "Guess it's his way of showing he'll be back."
"Yeah… until he leaves again," she commented, throwing the tags onto a table nearby. "It's a cycle for him. He goes off on the crazy hunts to do who knows what, comes back for a while, until he leaves again. It's…" her face drops a bit. "It's like he doesn't wanna be here."
"I'm sure that ain't true," Gambit insisted. "Why would he keep coming back if he don't care?"
Rogue mulled that over, taking the tags back and leaning back on Gambit so he could wrap his arms around her.
"I know, I just… I thought this place… us… it would give him a reason to stay."
"Guys like him don't know how to stay still." Gambit chuckled a bit. "I should know. I was one of em. Just be patient, Chere."
Rogue looked back down at the tags, smiling a little. "I guess you're right…"
…
Out on the open road, Logan continued driving his bike, the Captain America photo resting on the front so he could look at it.
"James Howlett." he repeated. "Who were you?"
...
One more chapter before the main story can begin. Hope you're all on the edge of your seats
This is the one I wanted to overwork the most. Mostly because I wasn't satisfied with the reason Wolverine breaks off from the X-Men. This feels more natural to me and doesn't give the impression that I dislike Cyclops. Which is far from the truth.
Wolverine:
Voice Actor: Steve Blum
Appearance: Wolverine and the X-Men
The X-Men present here are based on the story X-Gene written by my coauthor Author of the Insane. You can find the revamped version of that story on AO3. Check it out when you have the chance.