Spider-Bat: New Way Home

Chapter 20: Eye of the Tiger

"When a man wants to murder a tiger, he calls it sport; when a tiger wants to murder him, he calls it ferocity." -George Bernard Shaw

The northern Canadian wilderness witnessed a gruesome scene as Logan, armed with his sharp claws, delivered the final blow to the Wendigo, causing its blood to splatter across the snow.

"Go back to being a folklore, fur-ball!" Logan snarled as he pulled back his bloody claws. His face and body were almost as beat up as Wendigo's.

Having just witnessed the creature's gruesome demise, Logan inhaled deeply, his gaze falling upon his own injuries. Bites, bruises, and cuts marred his skin. "I need to find a place to heal," he muttered. He mimicked the action of checking his watch, even though he had no watch on. "Looks like it's Miller time!" he proclaimed. "I can heal while I hang out with my good buddy, Jim Beam."

Little did Logan know, his encounter with the Wendigo was merely a warm-up for the imminent and fierce battle that lay ahead. Unbeknownst to him, Kraven the Hunter, whose true identity was Sergei Nikolaevich Kravinoff, had been silently observing him, meticulously studying his every move and routine.

Minutes later, Logan entered the tavern and immediately walked up to the bartender. "Give me something strong, Bub," he instructed, taking a seat on the middle stool.

A sniff escaped the bartender's nose. "I'm not sure if I have anything as strong as the odor you're bringing in, buddy, but I'll look around," he joked, only to receive a mean stare in return. He swiftly took a bottle of bourbon from the shelf. "What's the deal with all that blood?" he questioned, examining Logan's injuries.

"It's not my blood," Logan grumbled, watching the bartender pour the bourbon into a shot glass. And before the bartender could do anything else- "Leave the bottle," Logan demanded.

"Sure thing, pal. Whatever you want." The bartender backed away.

Just as Logan guzzled his drink, a deafening motorcycle rumble announced their arrival. The bartender looked weary. "Oh great. Not these guys again," he muttered.

A mere second later, five members of a local biker gang strolled in through the tavern doors. They all looked as if they had already been drinking before they had gotten there.

They walked up to the bar and stood close to Logan. "Take a look at this freak," the gang leader mocked. "It looks like you got your ass kicked, pal."

Logan continued to study the bottle, taking another sip of whiskey. "If you think I look bad, you should see the other guy."

"Ha ha!" The man laughed. "Sure. Where is he?" he asked, acting as if he didn't believe him.

"I left his head in a pile of snow about a mile back," Logan informed him. "And…if you don't want to end up like him, I suggest you find someone else to talk to."

The gang leader's smile spread across his face as he looked at his friends. We are not interested in having a discussion. We came in here to drink, but the problem is, you're sitting in our spot," he stated, giving a friendly warning.

Without saying a word, Logan turned his head from side to side, spotting several open seats, silently suggesting that they find a different spot.

The biker got the hint, but he wasn't budging. "I don't think you understand, buddy. We want this spot!" He demanded, grabbing Logan by his shoulder.

Logan turned his head slightly, gazing down at the biker's hand. "There's another bar about four miles down the road. I'm sure you'll find plenty of available seats there."

"This guy is incorrigible!" The gang leader spouted. He then snagged the bottle of bourbon from off the countertop and acted as if he was about to hit Logan over the head with it.

The bartender's eyes widened in fear as he took a step back. However, it wasn't because of the biker's actions. It was because he spotted three boney claws protruding from Logan's knuckles.

"I'm not gonna tell ya again. You need to move," the biker demanded one last time.

Without hesitation, Logan acted immediately. In a blur of motion, he spun on his bar stool, slashing the bourbon bottle with his claws, sending shards of glass and whiskey flying. Next, he head-butted the gang leader, knocking him backwards with considerable force. In another quick motion, he backhanded the biker standing to his right, also sending him flying. Another biker attacked from behind, who grabbed him by the neck. Logan swiftly disposed of him by grabbing the biker, flipping him over his shoulder, and sending him crashing into another biker, both tumbling to the ground. The final biker threatened Logan by pretending to reach for a blade, but after a fierce glare from Logan, the biker changed his mind, tossing away the knife and fleeing the bar. Grabbing the gang leader by the collar, Logan picked him up from off the floor and shoved him hard against the wall. He then acted as if he was about to stab his bone claws into the man's forehead.

Click! The cocking sound of a shotgun could be heard from behind the bar. "That's enough," the bartender exclaimed. "Why don't you and your buddies go finish this up at that other bar you were talking about a moment ago," he suggested. "Anywhere but here."

Logan yielded, releasing the biker, who then fell back to the floor. Following that, he made his way out of the bar. "Your whiskey sucks, anyway," he grunted, slamming the door behind him.

The moment Logan stepped outdoors, something felt wrong. He saw the biker who'd dashed out of the bar after trying to pull a knife on him. He saw fear reflected in his eyes. Sniff. Sniff. The smell was unbearable, and he knew it wasn't just the result of the biker's incontinence.

Suddenly, a spear flew at Logan from an unknown source. Sensing danger, Logan reacted quickly, shifting his body at the last second. Despite the quick movement, the spear still managed to pierce Logan's upper chest and shoulder area, causing him to crumple to the ground in pain.

Logan detected the sound of the next spear approaching. Although he was in pain, he still managed to roll completely out of the way this time. Quickly getting to his feet, he sought cover.

After taking refuge, he attempted to remove the spear, but discovered it was entangled with barbed wire, increasing the difficulty. "This is gonna hurt," he winced, attempting to pull it out as quickly as the barbed wire would allow.

Trying to avoid detection, he remained as quiet as possible. Yet, as he considered that, a severed head came flying around the corner. The head belonged to the biker who had pissed himself. Logan understood the woods were his only hope for survival in this battle. He knew his way through the forest and he could find safety and shelter among the trees.

"I need to erase these footprints in the snow quickly if I'm going to have a chance to recover," Logan contemplated. He then leapt onto a tree branch, swinging from one to another, trying to avoid the detection of the predator.

Pausing briefly, he observed and listened intently, but there was no sound or sign of movement. Dropping to the ground, he began heading for a familiar hiding spot in the woods–a hidden cave off the beaten path.

As he drew closer to the opening, the ground unexpectedly caved in, causing him to tumble into a large pit. The hole was even more treacherous because it was filled with large, pointed spikes at the bottom. Logan landed directly on top of one. The spike went through his back and exited near his waist. The pain felt excruciating. He gaped at the bloody spike, fuming. "How the hell did that son of a bitch know where I was going?"

He lifted himself cautiously from the pointy object, attempting to get to his feet. "I've got to get out of this trap, or it will surely become my grave."

With his claws scraping against the earth, he began a slow ascent up the side of the hole. His ascent to the top was met with increasing danger. Arrows rained down on him unexpectedly. Trying to shield his face and chest, he raised his arms, but the arrows still found their mark, making his body look like a pincushion. "AAAARRRRGGGGHHHH!" he cried out in pain. He then took his sharp claws and swiped down at the arrows, snapping them off at their entry points.

"I've gotta find a place where this asshole won't find me," he thought. That's when he looked down at the blood dripping from his wounds. "It's going to be hard to hide if I'm bleeding all over the place." That's when a clever idea entered his brain. "I'll just have to use the blood to my advantage," he declared.

And that's exactly what he did.

With a sword in one hand and a shotgun in the other, Kraven trailed Logan's blood. Their journey concluded at a towering oak. Kraven raised his eyes to the branches above. There, he spotted what looked like someone in hiding. Logan, however, wasn't hiding there. With a deliberate intention, he hung his bloodied shirt on a high branch. Despite appearances, Logan was actually tucked away in a different tree only a few feet from their location.

"There you are, you sonofabitch," Logan muttered. "I've got you now."

Extending his claws, Logan leapt from out of the tree, fiercely plunging down at Kraven. Yet, somehow, Kraven was ready for him, spinning, and firing his shotgun directly at Logan. Logan was already in freefall, and there was no way for him to change his trajectory now.

The shotgun didn't use standard ammunition. This specific gun shot out a heavy net, trapping Logan within it and sending him crashing back into the tree he'd leaped from. Just like a fly caught in a spiderweb, he was completely ensnared, unable to move at all.

He began trying to move his arms, hoping to cut through the net with his claws, but it was to no avail.

"You won't be able to slice through this net, Wolverine. It's made of adamantium, the strongest metal in the world," Kraven informed him with malice in his tone.

"Do I know you, bub?" Logan inquired, not recognizing Kraven's smell.

"I am Kraven… The Hunter! I challenge myself by hunting the fiercest creatures on this planet. And honestly, I thought you'd make for a more formidable opponent," he responded, disappointed.

"You caught me on a bad day. You wouldn't have had a chance with me if I wasn't depleted from my previous encounter."

"Ah, yes, the Wendigo," Kraven echoed to what Logan was referring to. "I had to find out what you were capable of. Your healing powers are uncanny to anyone else on this earth. I had to make sure you were battered a bit before my hunt."

"So…you admit to cheating?" Logan stated, hoping to get a second chance at the game.

"Ha! You've been cheating everyone your entire life, but that is no more. Your head will make an excellent trophy for my wall. Plus, I will cut off your claws and wear them as my own," Kraven declared, removing a portion of the steel net away from Logan's head. He then lifted his sword. "Prepare for your demise, Wolverine!"

Logan, teeth bared, stared down at the death itself, unwavering and ready for the attack.

However, just before the blade could make contact-

BLAM! A loud boom erupted, followed by a white blast of energy that tore through Kraven's shoulder and sent him sprawling to the ground.

Logan looked down in amazement, not sure if Kraven was still alive or not. "What the hell was that?"

"It was from my sonic-blaster, mate. I acquired it on Neptune. Those little blue bastards sure had some cool technology," a grimly voice said aloud.

Logan turned toward the voice and spotted a towering, muscular man. His hair was long, dark, and stood up in spikes. His eyes were bloodshot and his teeth pointed. His skin and teeth shared the same brilliant whiteness. He was wearing a black leather vest and tight leather pants. Barbed wire wrapped around his wrists like a bracelet. Just above his black leather boots were skulls covering his kneecaps. "What hellhole did you crawl out of?" Logan quipped. "Who are you? Or better yet… What the hell are you?"

"My name is Lobo, mate. And I'm going to need you to come with me," the brooding figure replied, tearing down the steel netting from Logan's body.

"I'm not going to outer space, if that's what you're asking, bub," Logan retorted.

"Not to worry. I have unique plans for you–nothing that involves you leaving this planet," Lobo assured him.

"What exactly are you expecting from me?"

"I've been hired to find an alien that crash-landed on this planet nearly sixteen years ago. And I need your help, mate."

"Why didn't you just ask the other guy?" Logan retorted, looking down at the fallen hunter.

"Because… when we find this alien, you are going to need all the healing factors you can muster up," Lobo replied, a wicked smirk forming on his face.

"And what about you? Do you have any healing factors of your own?"

"As a matter of fact, I do."