4vA]^#PG#IN-2#ST-4#SP-2#DR-4#EP-1#FS-7#AD
Post by Wolverine on Mar 26, 2007 0:25:06 GMT -5
[glow=blue,2,300]People call me Wolverine.
I’m the best there is at what I do. And what I do best…
Is This.[/glow]
The air was frigid and thin; tearing at his massive and rugged forearms as he brought his un-sheathed and gleaming Adamantium claws upwards and across the barbarian reject’s lantern jaw.
Hundreds upon hundreds of federally issued 10,000 dollar bills flew aimlessly and erratically about the cargo plane’s spacious and chaotic interior as the mutant known as Wolverine rigorously engaged seven foes at once; all the while maintaining calm under pressure the likes of which even the Punisher would commend.
With one arm wrapped firmly around the Canadian X-Man’s thick and brutally defined jugular and the other reaching for his dagger, the red bandana wearing medieval thug was the first to fall. The yellow clad warrior swiftly brought his elbow up and to the right, shattering the man’s nose and hurtling him several feet towards the rear of the open vacuumed cabin.
The roar of the exterior wind tearing its way through the plane’s hollow interior and slicing at the sensitive drums within the mutant’s ears was enough to drive the wanderer casually known as Logan mad with disdain.
Rather than focusing on the ear shattering sound of the high speed winds thrashing the loose mounds of federally insured, tax payer’s dollars about the cabin, Logan brought his left knee up and across the face of the nearest target; causing the man’s upper molars to fly out and away from his shattered and blood gushing jaw.
[glow=blue,2,300]
The Crusader and his flunkies--[/glow]
All six unbreakable and flawlessly crafted, razor sharp claws were brought down and across the chain mail wearing and bearded opponent to Logan’s right; shortly before a spray of crimson gore tainted the metallic interior paneling of the cargo plane’s broken and open cockpit door.
[glow=blue,2,300]--A bunch of Sunday school rejects--[/glow]
Bellowing a war cry as fearsome in tone as it was in bass, Wolverine forcefully gritted his teeth as his vision narrowed upon the nearest three armor clad individuals. The first hurled his axe with what little strength he could muster in the face of obliteration; only to feel the icy grip of death seize his lungs as the mutant casually leaned forward, allowing the shrewdly crafted weapon to pass just above the crown of his perfectly shaped cranium.
[glow=blue,2,300]--Decided to hijack a federal treasury C-130, use the cash to finance the simultaneous bombings of hero HQ’s.[/glow]
The second of the original three drew two blindingly reflective daggers and lunged towards the leather clad beast only to fall flat on his face upon the mutant’s abrupt change of position. Before the swordsmen could lift his head and brace his arms against the nearest walling for support, the familiar sensation of blade piercing flesh overwhelmed his cerebral cortex as his parted eyes and lips filled with an ungodly amount of arterial blood.
[glow=blue,2,300]Pretty good plan.[/glow]
The first and the third ‘crusaders’ unsheathed their cheaply made, short swords and cried out in panic as they ran as one towards the unrelenting mutant menace. Logan’s right set of claws swiped down and to the left, tearing the first target’s lower jaw free from its tendons. As the would-be-attacker-turned-victim’s screams drowned themselves in the torrents of blood pouring freely from the horrendous wound above his throat, the left handed swing made by Wolverine moments earlier had come down upon and across the third foe’s chest; providing a raw, surgeon’s eye view of the human body’s circulatory and respiratory system.
[glow=blue,2,300]‘Cept it hit a bit of a snag.[/glow]
The fourth and final attacker came from behind as the first three lie motionless and drowning in their own bodily fluids before the short tempered X-Man. In one swift motion, the large, brown bearded Neanderthal hooked his right arm over and around Logan’s shoulder’s and chest. As the medieval barbarian raised an engineer crafted lug wrench high above his head, Wolverine calmly reached with his left hand across his chest, over his right shoulder, and above his clavicle bone before viciously springing the previously sheathed set of fatal blades embedded within his hands.
[glow=blue,2,300]And the snag hits back.[/glow]
Casting the man’s torso aside, Logan took several more steps up and over a relatively small set of titanium stair casings before finally arriving at the entrance of the cockpit; whose door remained shattered and ajar. He was abruptly confronted by the presence of an chain mail and armor clad crusader standing defiantly within the doorway’s frame; sword drawn and steadied at the hip.
[glow=blue,2,300]“Am I interrupting anything?”[/glow]
The mutant’s voice was rugged and deep as he spoke to the swordsman; his tone furthered weighed down by a history of violence.
“‘In God I will praise his word. In God I have put my trust.’ ‘I will NOT fear what flesh can do unto me.’”
With a devilish grin of approval, Logan spoke with much hope for the carnage that was to ensue in the coming moments.
[glow=blue,2,300]“Day’s young.”[/glow]
The chain mailed warrior, sporting a two handed grip long sword and a red trailing cloak raised his weapon and swung without hesitation. His blade awkwardly crashed against the X-Man’s triple set of claws as he continued his words of righteousness.
“And I will execute vengeance in anger and fury upon the heathen, such as they have not heard.”
Logan gently scraped his claws downward across the claymore’s etched surface as he spoke with unfaltering confidence; relishing the look of fear beginning to play across the King-Arthur-wannabe’s cowardly features.
[glow=blue,2,300]“You’re all talk, Artie. Not even ORIGINAL talk at that. Anybody can quote scripture.”[/glow]
In one swift and flawless movement, he pushed the agitated knight’s massive claymore downward with his right set of claws before swinging with his left down and across the crusader’s face; managing to deliver a clever one line response in doing so.
[glow=blue,2,300]“‘An eye for an eye,’ for example.”[/glow]
The crusader screamed with fright and panic as right eye was torn from its socket and cast atop the metal grated cockpit flooring. Turning his back to Wolverine, he rushed to the rear of the pilot’s seat and began barking order’s to his squire with impatience and spite.
“CRASH IT! CRASH THIS VESSEL INTO THE HEATHENS BELOW! ‘BEHOLD, MINE ANGER AND MY FURY SHALL BE POURED OUT UPON THIS PLACE. UPON THE MAN AND UPON BEAST AND UPON THE TREES OF THE FIELD. AND UPON THE GROUND; AND IT SHALL BURN, AND SHALL NOT BE QUENCHED.’”
[glow=blue,2,300]At some point, I really gotta read some of this religious stuff.
Find out how books written thousands’a years ago have somethin’ to say about crashing planes.[/glow]
Without hesitation, Wolverine took three quick steps towards the armored man before grasping a handful of his scarlet cloak and casting his battered and weary frame aside.
[glow=blue,2,300]“Not so fast, bub.”[/glow]
Upon coming up beside the pilot’s seat, he slammed the palm of his massive left hand into the unsuspecting chin of the ‘crusader’ who had been flying since the initial departure; mere moments before using a two handed grip to take hold of the vehicle’s rattling and unoccupied steering controls.
[glow=blue,2,300]“Lemme give you a hand with that.”[/glow]
The C-130 was now in a gravity induced vertical dive, picking up speed with every passing moment that Logan fought to pull back on the yoke; gritting his teeth with every ounce of physical exertion he could muster. The terrain features that had previously been a blur of greens, grays, and yellows began to sharpen and define themselves as trees, streets, and fields of corns whipping past at an unprecedented rate.
[glow=blue,2,300]“Hang on. This’ll hurt you a whole lot worse that it will me.”
The yoke fights me like a spoiled toddler.[/color][/glow]
The ground began to rush up on the Plexiglas cockpit windows as Logan’s mind calmly and methodically continued its train of thought.
[glow=blue,2,300]Maybe just enough to keep me from landing in that cornfield down there.
Well, not ‘Land’ exactly. Didn’t exactly learn that in the army.[/glow]
Green stalks of freshly blossomed corn began reflecting in the white’s of his unmistakable leather mask’s eyes.
[glow=blue,2,300]Your lucky day, Artie.
You get to meet your precious friggin’ maker.
This is gonna be a damn shame.
I love corn.
Almost as much as I HATE what’s gonna happen when this bird crashes.[/glow]
The tail end struck the field first, slamming mercilessly into the richly soiled and recently tended to crops below.
[glow=blue,2,300]People think: Healing factor. He bounces back from anything, almost impossible to kill…
And they’re right about all of it.
Doesn’t mean THIS part doesn’t take one helluva toll on me, though.[/glow]
The nose cone followed, crashing forwarded and burying itself into the thickest of the uprooted soil before its metal sheeting gave out; compiling onto itself and causing the entire front end to crumple beneath the gravity and force of its own impending downward spiral of weight.
[glow=blue,2,300]Particularly what happens NEXT.[/glow]
Mere seconds following the nose cone’s burial came the blast of the fuel tanks; engulfing the entire field in a fiery blaze of lit fuel and burning staple.
[glow=blue,2,300]Boom.[/glow]
The brilliant orange and yellow flames that rushed upon Logan’s vision as the C-130’s fuel tanks finally gave ceased to exist. His world was a pale and luminescent shade of green as he saw himself, his past lovers, and his fallen comrades before his now fleshless and flame seared, unblinking eyes.
[glow=blue,2,300]Some people think birth is one of the most traumatic experiences a person goes through.
No reason to think death ain’t just as lousy.
Truth being, there’s no way to describe the agony.[/glow]
His existential visions depicted himself in varying stages of pain, remorse, and rage as his thoughts continued their haunting narration.
[glow=blue,2,300]The truth being, agony doesn’t begin to cover it.
I got no problem with pain.
Me and pain are old friends.
Every time I just pop my claws, I’m slicing through fresh skin.[/glow]
Vision after vision equated themselves to his memories and emotions, flooding and flowing as one within his barely functional and hallucinogenic mind.
[glow=blue,2,300]This is the pain of the soul.
Dying not withstanding, I’ve only felt that kinda pain just a few times before. [/glow]
Logan saw himself, clad in his distinguishable leather uniform, enraged and shouting at the top of his lungs; a war cry fearsome enough to shatter brimstone and bone, if only their were sound in his current emotionless void of being-less existence.
[glow=blue,2,300]
It’s the kinda pain that does things to you, messes with your head…
And it’s not even the worst part.[/glow]
Shirtless and rugged, brandishing his thick, black leather gauntlet gloves, Logan found himself rigorously climbing from the base of a bottomless and eternal darkness towards the pique of a bright yet faint, heavenly shade of light.
[glow=blue,2,300]
The worst part is this.
The light.
It’s a cliché, I know.
‘Stay away from the light.’
‘Walk towards the light.’
But how do you think a cliché becomes a cliché in the first friggin’ place?[/glow]
As his hairy and muscular frame came closer to what he truly believed to be the end of his ascent, his deep brown eyes began to retain the reflection of a red eyed, hooded figure; standing solemnly atop the summit above.
[glow=blue,2,300]Or maybe there’s no light at all.
Maybe this is just the way my brain processes somethin’ that can’t be processed.[/glow]
The heavenly clouds that had seemed so close, within an easily surmountable reach, began to darken and close around the view that he had originally beheld.
[glow=blue,2,300]
I dunno.
Doesn’t matter.
What does matter is…
I know--I sense--that goin’ into that light…
Means dying for good.[/glow]
The cloaked, demon eyed figure turned its stare and allowed it’s gaze to fall upon Logan’s muted and calm form of expression.
[glow=blue,2,300]And he’s there, as usual.
Hoping it’ll happen.
Each time I expect different.
I know I shouldn’t, but I do.
Can’t help it.[/glow]
“He’s waiting for you, Logan. He’s waiting. And so am I.”
Wolverine’s barely formed and still regenerating eye lids gently parted; allowing the day’s bright, yet foreboden sun to contract his pupil’s before they’re ready for such a harsh exposure.
[glow=blue,2,300]I wake up three hours later.
And scare the living daylights out of an F.A.A. Body hauler.
He get’s a story he’ll be telling his great grandkids.
I get his jacket and the name of the closest bar.[/glow]
The establishment was reminiscent of a traditional ‘Road House’, complete with ‘Bud’, ‘Ace’ ‘2x1’ and ‘Taco’ banners littered across and above the porch top roofing.
The three poorly kept and rigid steps leading up to the bar’s entrance groaned and creaked wearily beneath the feral mutant’s heavy trodden foot steps. As he pushed the saloon-style swinging doors aside, the first feature that leapt out and slapped him across the face, so to speak, was the scent. Oak flooring, burnt onions, dried out French fries, stale hamburger grease, numerous rat droppings, peanut butter mouse traps, McCallum scotch, and the single most important scent on the menu thus far, Ale.
Dwight Yoakum’s ‘Guitars, Cadillacs’ was softly flowing from the neon lit, mahogany paneled juke box in the corner as Logan crossed the expanse of the barren saloon and took a seat at the nearest table. The only occupants within the bar’s relatively quiet interior were an middle aged, ‘John-Deer’ type sporting a Bass Fishing ball cap and a flannel shirt, casually tending to the counter tops, and a young thirty something blonde with long legs, flawless skin and light gray blue eyes. Swaying her hips with a seductive quality as she made her way past the muted television set and towards Logan’s table, the grizzly looking X-Man spoke first; allowing his eyes to play over her perfectly formed abdominals and navel as he did so.
[glow=blue,2,300]“Can I get a brew?”[/glow]
Her reply was lathered in a raspy yet sexy, southern juvenile accent as she sized him up upon withdrawing her order pen.
[glow=red,2,300]“I dunno. You got three bucks?”[/glow]
Logan replied as he withdrew a claw marked one hundred dollar bill, three vertical lines separated by a finger’s worth of space littering the center fold.
[glow=blue,2,300]
“This do?”[/glow]
Her voice was matter of factly and detached if not somewhat amused; still laden with southern sexuality and disinterest.
[glow=red,2,300]
“I can’t change that.”[/glow]
[glow=blue,2,300]“Then keep pouring.”[/glow]
The southern belle began to chew her order pen out of reflexive habit as she made an observation.
[glow=red,2,300]“Pretty early to be knockin’ em back. “[/glow]
[glow=blue,2,300]“Not for me. Just put in a day’s work. I’ve earned myself a break.”[/glow]
Before an awkward silence had the opportunity to befall the two, the mutant’s ‘Avenger’s’ pager, a button-pin sized letter ‘A’ with red LED lighting beneath it, began to chirp and glow softly atop his right gauntlet.
Without so much as a change in her unattached demeanor, the waitress spoke coolly.
[glow=red,2,300]“So much for that idea, huh?”[/glow]
Logan gave the wrist device an irritated glance as it continued to emit it’s simple toned alarm.
The waitress’s interest slowly began to perk as her posture became slightly more sensuous. Her hoarse and southern tone was soothing in contrast to the jukebox’s whiny pitched country lyrics spilling out over the machine’s speakers and into the barren room’s confines.
[glow=red,2,300]
“Pocket Pager? Don’t tell me: You’re a doctor. What kind?”[/glow]
Logan stared at the beeping and glowing device while responding in his usual tone of veteran experience and sarcasm.
[glow=blue,2,300]“Surgeon.”[/glow]
What seemed several moments passed before the device finally went silent and the glowing red symbol returned to a state of soundless dormancy.
[glow=red,2,300]“Jeez. They REALLY do keep you busy.”[/glow]
[glow=blue,2,300]“Feels like I’m in ten places at once, sometimes.”[/glow]
Just as the waitress let loose a huff of a laugh, a brief expression of mild amusement, a small letter ‘X’ encased in a circle, also the size of a button pin, atop Logan’s left arm gauntlet began to vibrate softly and glow a gentle hue of blue; pulse after pulse.
[glow=blue,2,300]
Ok. So this is bad.[/glow]
Shooting a quick glance towards the muted television set atop the nearest counter adjacent to the bar, Logan spoke in a firm and troubled tone without so much as making eye contact with the waitress before him.
[glow=blue,2,300]
“Turn up the T.V., will ya’?”[/glow]
Already dialed into C.N.N. the image playing across the dated television was a fiery explosion of gargantuan proportions; engulfing nearly every corner of the screen as news reel progressed.
[glow=blue,2,300]
‘Bout five kinds of Bad.[/glow]
Logan confidently turned his head away from the televised explosion and towards the waitress; who had just moments before cranked the television’s volume up before heading in the opposite direction towards the saloon’s rear side billiard area. His expression was calm, stern, collected, and serious as he spoke with that same grizzled and deep, veteran toned bass of voice.
[glow=blue,2,300]“You got a phone I could use?”[/glow]
I’m the best there is at what I do. And what I do best…
Is This.[/glow]
The air was frigid and thin; tearing at his massive and rugged forearms as he brought his un-sheathed and gleaming Adamantium claws upwards and across the barbarian reject’s lantern jaw.
Hundreds upon hundreds of federally issued 10,000 dollar bills flew aimlessly and erratically about the cargo plane’s spacious and chaotic interior as the mutant known as Wolverine rigorously engaged seven foes at once; all the while maintaining calm under pressure the likes of which even the Punisher would commend.
With one arm wrapped firmly around the Canadian X-Man’s thick and brutally defined jugular and the other reaching for his dagger, the red bandana wearing medieval thug was the first to fall. The yellow clad warrior swiftly brought his elbow up and to the right, shattering the man’s nose and hurtling him several feet towards the rear of the open vacuumed cabin.
The roar of the exterior wind tearing its way through the plane’s hollow interior and slicing at the sensitive drums within the mutant’s ears was enough to drive the wanderer casually known as Logan mad with disdain.
Rather than focusing on the ear shattering sound of the high speed winds thrashing the loose mounds of federally insured, tax payer’s dollars about the cabin, Logan brought his left knee up and across the face of the nearest target; causing the man’s upper molars to fly out and away from his shattered and blood gushing jaw.
[glow=blue,2,300]
The Crusader and his flunkies--[/glow]
All six unbreakable and flawlessly crafted, razor sharp claws were brought down and across the chain mail wearing and bearded opponent to Logan’s right; shortly before a spray of crimson gore tainted the metallic interior paneling of the cargo plane’s broken and open cockpit door.
[glow=blue,2,300]--A bunch of Sunday school rejects--[/glow]
Bellowing a war cry as fearsome in tone as it was in bass, Wolverine forcefully gritted his teeth as his vision narrowed upon the nearest three armor clad individuals. The first hurled his axe with what little strength he could muster in the face of obliteration; only to feel the icy grip of death seize his lungs as the mutant casually leaned forward, allowing the shrewdly crafted weapon to pass just above the crown of his perfectly shaped cranium.
[glow=blue,2,300]--Decided to hijack a federal treasury C-130, use the cash to finance the simultaneous bombings of hero HQ’s.[/glow]
The second of the original three drew two blindingly reflective daggers and lunged towards the leather clad beast only to fall flat on his face upon the mutant’s abrupt change of position. Before the swordsmen could lift his head and brace his arms against the nearest walling for support, the familiar sensation of blade piercing flesh overwhelmed his cerebral cortex as his parted eyes and lips filled with an ungodly amount of arterial blood.
[glow=blue,2,300]Pretty good plan.[/glow]
The first and the third ‘crusaders’ unsheathed their cheaply made, short swords and cried out in panic as they ran as one towards the unrelenting mutant menace. Logan’s right set of claws swiped down and to the left, tearing the first target’s lower jaw free from its tendons. As the would-be-attacker-turned-victim’s screams drowned themselves in the torrents of blood pouring freely from the horrendous wound above his throat, the left handed swing made by Wolverine moments earlier had come down upon and across the third foe’s chest; providing a raw, surgeon’s eye view of the human body’s circulatory and respiratory system.
[glow=blue,2,300]‘Cept it hit a bit of a snag.[/glow]
The fourth and final attacker came from behind as the first three lie motionless and drowning in their own bodily fluids before the short tempered X-Man. In one swift motion, the large, brown bearded Neanderthal hooked his right arm over and around Logan’s shoulder’s and chest. As the medieval barbarian raised an engineer crafted lug wrench high above his head, Wolverine calmly reached with his left hand across his chest, over his right shoulder, and above his clavicle bone before viciously springing the previously sheathed set of fatal blades embedded within his hands.
[glow=blue,2,300]And the snag hits back.[/glow]
Casting the man’s torso aside, Logan took several more steps up and over a relatively small set of titanium stair casings before finally arriving at the entrance of the cockpit; whose door remained shattered and ajar. He was abruptly confronted by the presence of an chain mail and armor clad crusader standing defiantly within the doorway’s frame; sword drawn and steadied at the hip.
[glow=blue,2,300]“Am I interrupting anything?”[/glow]
The mutant’s voice was rugged and deep as he spoke to the swordsman; his tone furthered weighed down by a history of violence.
“‘In God I will praise his word. In God I have put my trust.’ ‘I will NOT fear what flesh can do unto me.’”
With a devilish grin of approval, Logan spoke with much hope for the carnage that was to ensue in the coming moments.
[glow=blue,2,300]“Day’s young.”[/glow]
The chain mailed warrior, sporting a two handed grip long sword and a red trailing cloak raised his weapon and swung without hesitation. His blade awkwardly crashed against the X-Man’s triple set of claws as he continued his words of righteousness.
“And I will execute vengeance in anger and fury upon the heathen, such as they have not heard.”
Logan gently scraped his claws downward across the claymore’s etched surface as he spoke with unfaltering confidence; relishing the look of fear beginning to play across the King-Arthur-wannabe’s cowardly features.
[glow=blue,2,300]“You’re all talk, Artie. Not even ORIGINAL talk at that. Anybody can quote scripture.”[/glow]
In one swift and flawless movement, he pushed the agitated knight’s massive claymore downward with his right set of claws before swinging with his left down and across the crusader’s face; managing to deliver a clever one line response in doing so.
[glow=blue,2,300]“‘An eye for an eye,’ for example.”[/glow]
The crusader screamed with fright and panic as right eye was torn from its socket and cast atop the metal grated cockpit flooring. Turning his back to Wolverine, he rushed to the rear of the pilot’s seat and began barking order’s to his squire with impatience and spite.
“CRASH IT! CRASH THIS VESSEL INTO THE HEATHENS BELOW! ‘BEHOLD, MINE ANGER AND MY FURY SHALL BE POURED OUT UPON THIS PLACE. UPON THE MAN AND UPON BEAST AND UPON THE TREES OF THE FIELD. AND UPON THE GROUND; AND IT SHALL BURN, AND SHALL NOT BE QUENCHED.’”
[glow=blue,2,300]At some point, I really gotta read some of this religious stuff.
Find out how books written thousands’a years ago have somethin’ to say about crashing planes.[/glow]
Without hesitation, Wolverine took three quick steps towards the armored man before grasping a handful of his scarlet cloak and casting his battered and weary frame aside.
[glow=blue,2,300]“Not so fast, bub.”[/glow]
Upon coming up beside the pilot’s seat, he slammed the palm of his massive left hand into the unsuspecting chin of the ‘crusader’ who had been flying since the initial departure; mere moments before using a two handed grip to take hold of the vehicle’s rattling and unoccupied steering controls.
[glow=blue,2,300]“Lemme give you a hand with that.”[/glow]
The C-130 was now in a gravity induced vertical dive, picking up speed with every passing moment that Logan fought to pull back on the yoke; gritting his teeth with every ounce of physical exertion he could muster. The terrain features that had previously been a blur of greens, grays, and yellows began to sharpen and define themselves as trees, streets, and fields of corns whipping past at an unprecedented rate.
[glow=blue,2,300]“Hang on. This’ll hurt you a whole lot worse that it will me.”
The yoke fights me like a spoiled toddler.[/color][/glow]
The ground began to rush up on the Plexiglas cockpit windows as Logan’s mind calmly and methodically continued its train of thought.
[glow=blue,2,300]Maybe just enough to keep me from landing in that cornfield down there.
Well, not ‘Land’ exactly. Didn’t exactly learn that in the army.[/glow]
Green stalks of freshly blossomed corn began reflecting in the white’s of his unmistakable leather mask’s eyes.
[glow=blue,2,300]Your lucky day, Artie.
You get to meet your precious friggin’ maker.
This is gonna be a damn shame.
I love corn.
Almost as much as I HATE what’s gonna happen when this bird crashes.[/glow]
The tail end struck the field first, slamming mercilessly into the richly soiled and recently tended to crops below.
[glow=blue,2,300]People think: Healing factor. He bounces back from anything, almost impossible to kill…
And they’re right about all of it.
Doesn’t mean THIS part doesn’t take one helluva toll on me, though.[/glow]
The nose cone followed, crashing forwarded and burying itself into the thickest of the uprooted soil before its metal sheeting gave out; compiling onto itself and causing the entire front end to crumple beneath the gravity and force of its own impending downward spiral of weight.
[glow=blue,2,300]Particularly what happens NEXT.[/glow]
Mere seconds following the nose cone’s burial came the blast of the fuel tanks; engulfing the entire field in a fiery blaze of lit fuel and burning staple.
[glow=blue,2,300]Boom.[/glow]
The brilliant orange and yellow flames that rushed upon Logan’s vision as the C-130’s fuel tanks finally gave ceased to exist. His world was a pale and luminescent shade of green as he saw himself, his past lovers, and his fallen comrades before his now fleshless and flame seared, unblinking eyes.
[glow=blue,2,300]Some people think birth is one of the most traumatic experiences a person goes through.
No reason to think death ain’t just as lousy.
Truth being, there’s no way to describe the agony.[/glow]
His existential visions depicted himself in varying stages of pain, remorse, and rage as his thoughts continued their haunting narration.
[glow=blue,2,300]The truth being, agony doesn’t begin to cover it.
I got no problem with pain.
Me and pain are old friends.
Every time I just pop my claws, I’m slicing through fresh skin.[/glow]
Vision after vision equated themselves to his memories and emotions, flooding and flowing as one within his barely functional and hallucinogenic mind.
[glow=blue,2,300]This is the pain of the soul.
Dying not withstanding, I’ve only felt that kinda pain just a few times before. [/glow]
Logan saw himself, clad in his distinguishable leather uniform, enraged and shouting at the top of his lungs; a war cry fearsome enough to shatter brimstone and bone, if only their were sound in his current emotionless void of being-less existence.
[glow=blue,2,300]
It’s the kinda pain that does things to you, messes with your head…
And it’s not even the worst part.[/glow]
Shirtless and rugged, brandishing his thick, black leather gauntlet gloves, Logan found himself rigorously climbing from the base of a bottomless and eternal darkness towards the pique of a bright yet faint, heavenly shade of light.
[glow=blue,2,300]
The worst part is this.
The light.
It’s a cliché, I know.
‘Stay away from the light.’
‘Walk towards the light.’
But how do you think a cliché becomes a cliché in the first friggin’ place?[/glow]
As his hairy and muscular frame came closer to what he truly believed to be the end of his ascent, his deep brown eyes began to retain the reflection of a red eyed, hooded figure; standing solemnly atop the summit above.
[glow=blue,2,300]Or maybe there’s no light at all.
Maybe this is just the way my brain processes somethin’ that can’t be processed.[/glow]
The heavenly clouds that had seemed so close, within an easily surmountable reach, began to darken and close around the view that he had originally beheld.
[glow=blue,2,300]
I dunno.
Doesn’t matter.
What does matter is…
I know--I sense--that goin’ into that light…
Means dying for good.[/glow]
The cloaked, demon eyed figure turned its stare and allowed it’s gaze to fall upon Logan’s muted and calm form of expression.
[glow=blue,2,300]And he’s there, as usual.
Hoping it’ll happen.
Each time I expect different.
I know I shouldn’t, but I do.
Can’t help it.[/glow]
“He’s waiting for you, Logan. He’s waiting. And so am I.”
Wolverine’s barely formed and still regenerating eye lids gently parted; allowing the day’s bright, yet foreboden sun to contract his pupil’s before they’re ready for such a harsh exposure.
[glow=blue,2,300]I wake up three hours later.
And scare the living daylights out of an F.A.A. Body hauler.
He get’s a story he’ll be telling his great grandkids.
I get his jacket and the name of the closest bar.[/glow]
The establishment was reminiscent of a traditional ‘Road House’, complete with ‘Bud’, ‘Ace’ ‘2x1’ and ‘Taco’ banners littered across and above the porch top roofing.
The three poorly kept and rigid steps leading up to the bar’s entrance groaned and creaked wearily beneath the feral mutant’s heavy trodden foot steps. As he pushed the saloon-style swinging doors aside, the first feature that leapt out and slapped him across the face, so to speak, was the scent. Oak flooring, burnt onions, dried out French fries, stale hamburger grease, numerous rat droppings, peanut butter mouse traps, McCallum scotch, and the single most important scent on the menu thus far, Ale.
Dwight Yoakum’s ‘Guitars, Cadillacs’ was softly flowing from the neon lit, mahogany paneled juke box in the corner as Logan crossed the expanse of the barren saloon and took a seat at the nearest table. The only occupants within the bar’s relatively quiet interior were an middle aged, ‘John-Deer’ type sporting a Bass Fishing ball cap and a flannel shirt, casually tending to the counter tops, and a young thirty something blonde with long legs, flawless skin and light gray blue eyes. Swaying her hips with a seductive quality as she made her way past the muted television set and towards Logan’s table, the grizzly looking X-Man spoke first; allowing his eyes to play over her perfectly formed abdominals and navel as he did so.
[glow=blue,2,300]“Can I get a brew?”[/glow]
Her reply was lathered in a raspy yet sexy, southern juvenile accent as she sized him up upon withdrawing her order pen.
[glow=red,2,300]“I dunno. You got three bucks?”[/glow]
Logan replied as he withdrew a claw marked one hundred dollar bill, three vertical lines separated by a finger’s worth of space littering the center fold.
[glow=blue,2,300]
“This do?”[/glow]
Her voice was matter of factly and detached if not somewhat amused; still laden with southern sexuality and disinterest.
[glow=red,2,300]
“I can’t change that.”[/glow]
[glow=blue,2,300]“Then keep pouring.”[/glow]
The southern belle began to chew her order pen out of reflexive habit as she made an observation.
[glow=red,2,300]“Pretty early to be knockin’ em back. “[/glow]
[glow=blue,2,300]“Not for me. Just put in a day’s work. I’ve earned myself a break.”[/glow]
Before an awkward silence had the opportunity to befall the two, the mutant’s ‘Avenger’s’ pager, a button-pin sized letter ‘A’ with red LED lighting beneath it, began to chirp and glow softly atop his right gauntlet.
Without so much as a change in her unattached demeanor, the waitress spoke coolly.
[glow=red,2,300]“So much for that idea, huh?”[/glow]
Logan gave the wrist device an irritated glance as it continued to emit it’s simple toned alarm.
The waitress’s interest slowly began to perk as her posture became slightly more sensuous. Her hoarse and southern tone was soothing in contrast to the jukebox’s whiny pitched country lyrics spilling out over the machine’s speakers and into the barren room’s confines.
[glow=red,2,300]
“Pocket Pager? Don’t tell me: You’re a doctor. What kind?”[/glow]
Logan stared at the beeping and glowing device while responding in his usual tone of veteran experience and sarcasm.
[glow=blue,2,300]“Surgeon.”[/glow]
What seemed several moments passed before the device finally went silent and the glowing red symbol returned to a state of soundless dormancy.
[glow=red,2,300]“Jeez. They REALLY do keep you busy.”[/glow]
[glow=blue,2,300]“Feels like I’m in ten places at once, sometimes.”[/glow]
Just as the waitress let loose a huff of a laugh, a brief expression of mild amusement, a small letter ‘X’ encased in a circle, also the size of a button pin, atop Logan’s left arm gauntlet began to vibrate softly and glow a gentle hue of blue; pulse after pulse.
[glow=blue,2,300]
Ok. So this is bad.[/glow]
Shooting a quick glance towards the muted television set atop the nearest counter adjacent to the bar, Logan spoke in a firm and troubled tone without so much as making eye contact with the waitress before him.
[glow=blue,2,300]
“Turn up the T.V., will ya’?”[/glow]
Already dialed into C.N.N. the image playing across the dated television was a fiery explosion of gargantuan proportions; engulfing nearly every corner of the screen as news reel progressed.
[glow=blue,2,300]
‘Bout five kinds of Bad.[/glow]
Logan confidently turned his head away from the televised explosion and towards the waitress; who had just moments before cranked the television’s volume up before heading in the opposite direction towards the saloon’s rear side billiard area. His expression was calm, stern, collected, and serious as he spoke with that same grizzled and deep, veteran toned bass of voice.
[glow=blue,2,300]“You got a phone I could use?”[/glow]
4vA]^#PG#IN-7#ST-7#SP-7#DR-7#EP-7#FS-1