Episode 1: The Caveman

All Characters belong to Marvel!

---

Normandy, 1944. World War 2

Gunfire and explosions reigned the streets of Normandy as Allied forces fought against the Nazis as a squad was seen taking heavy fire from their enemies.

"This is Jack Fury, requesting immediate assistance! We're taking heavy fire down here, and I've got wounded that could use some serious fixer-uppers!" He nearly got shot in the head, causing him to shout as the bullet grazed his cheek. He touched his cheek, looking at his own blood painted on his fingers. "Damn!"

"Sir? Are they gonna send some backup?"

"Honestly, I believe they either don't care, or the radio frequencies are too mixed up that nobody can hear us!"

"So we're alone out here, ain't that right?"

"Well unless they send in the Howling Commandos, then we're in for a long day!

The Nazis continued to reign suppressing firepower onto the small platoon as one of the men saw that they were overrun, getting the impression that he needed to fix that.

"Not if I can help it." He said as he got out of the barricade, only for him to pulled down by the man known as Jack.

"What are you thinking, soldier?! You trying to get shot up there?!"

"Something like that."

"What, have you gone suicide?! You'll die if go head-on into danger like most poor folks out here!"

"That's the thing, sir." He cracks his neck knuckles, ready for a fight. "I'm not like most folks." He then got out of the protective area where they weren't getting shot at as all the men noticed.

"What's he doing?!"

"Stand back, Lee!"

The soldier took his helmet off, turning to get out of the heavily damaged barricade as he was then shot numerous times by Nazis. He took the bullets on his chest several times as soldiers fired upon the poor soul, making him fall to his knees until the bullets ran out.

The Nazis then looked over at the soldier that they shot at, finding him moaning from the shots as he was dying. But at least, they thought he was dying until a bullet fell off from the man. And another... And another... And soon, more followed suit as the man was no longer appeared to be dying, but much rather he was regenerating his own cells as he got up, getting Jack's full attention as the leader looked over at the man.

The man with long hair was growling now. His teeth shown as a sign of defiance as his clothes were ripped to shreds, leaving his buff chested skin exposed to the air as he looked angry at the Nazis shooting at him. They looked at him in horror, confused at what was this being that was standing in front of them.

But they stood too long... And that was just too bad for them because for the man himself, who was unsheathing three claws out of his closed fists, saws the perfect opportunity to waste the bastards trying to conquer the world. And he then did what he did best as he pounced at the Nazis, who then began to fire at the man with Claws as he has begun to tear them apart limb by limb while Jack just watched from his very spot...

---

Present Day... Northern Alberta

It was a cold night in the Canadian Province of Alberta. Pine Trees were sitting peacefully still as a bird was seen walking around, poking its beak on the ground in search of food when the sound of an engine roared, causing the bird to flee as a truck was driving at high speed.

There were about three hunters inside the truck as all of them held rifles, looking like that they had hunted something, but rather the opposite.

"Hey, did you get anything?" Asked the hunter driving.

The hunter that was trying to get a message shook his head sadly. "Still nothin'. Not even a goddamn text."

"Not even a goddamn text? That don't sound right."

"Yeah, this feels off." The hunter sitting in the truck spoke. "It ain't like Len to stay silent like this."

"We need to find him."

"And if we don't?"

"Then shit, we got ourselves a problem, don't we?"

The hunters nodded before looking at the road, watching the snowflakes fall on the horizon before one of them spotted something. "Whoa, slow down! I see someone."

The driver slowed down, parking the truck next to a man walking steadily on the side of the road. His hair was long, as his beard was grown too much. He looked like he wasn't living anywhere at all as he walked, one of the hunters got out of the truck to greet him.

"Excuse me? Sir?"

The man stopped, frozen in his spot as he was being called out.

"Excuse me, do you live around here?"

The man turned around to face the hunter, revealing his face as he looked at the hunters, wondering why they're bothering him.

"I don't need a ride if that's what you're askin'."

"Actually, we were hopin' you would help us." He gets out his phone, revealing a picture of his friend to the man. "Y' see, one of our guys went huntin' last night, and he didn't come back home. We were hopin' to find him out here, but we didn't. So, did ya see him anywhere we didn't look?"

The bearded man looked at the photo, feeling no memory of the missing hunter whatsoever. "No." He turned to the hunters out in the snow. "I haven't seen him... Sorry, Bub."

The hunter sighed sadly. "It's okay." He watched the bearded man turn around, walking alone. "Hey, are you sure you don't want a ride? Me and the boys are headin' back to town. If you want, we could take you back with us."

"Thanks, but I don't need it." He walked off, leaving the hunters alone.

The hunter watched as the man walked away, leaving him to return to his friends, who just looked at him weirdly.

"What the hell were ya doin' talking to him?" One of them asked.

"What do you mean?" The returning hunter asked. "I was just askin' to see if he saw Lenny walkin' around last night."

"Don't you know who you were just talking to?"

"No, who?"

"Buddy... That was the fucking Caveman!"

The hunter looked like as if he heard the name of a folktale. "The Caveman?" He asked. "You guys are fuckin' with me!"

"We're being serious!" The driver claimed. "That was the goddamn Caveman you were speaking to."

"Bullshit! The Caveman's a myth in this town!"

"Oh really?" The passenger asked. "Then how come he never asked for a ride?"

"I dunno!" He said. "To go take a goddamn hike or somethin'!"

The other burst out laughing. "A goddamn hike, you say?!" One chirped.

"Buddy, you've drunk one too many at the bar today!" The other teased.

"Come on, assholes! Let's just hit the road."

The hunters made their leave, driving to town while the Caveman continued his hike, walking in the snow alone. In his hand, he carried a dog tag... It had one single name imprinted it... Logan.

"Logan... Logan... LOGAN!"

Logan found himself opening his eyes, his beard shaven and hair cut a little, wearing a black leather suit in the middle of a battlefield as the streets were in ruin, and explosions rang in the air as he got up and looked around for anyone to save, his voice begins to narrate for us.

The term that other people use to call people like me is Homo superior... In which I'm guessin' is the polite term to call us Mutants.

Logan began to run as explosions began to build up, causing him to sprint as he ran away from the blast radius.

A race born different than baseline humanity, with an enhanced genome that gives us powers, also known as the X Gene.

The last boom caught up to him, making him fly in the air while ripping apart his suit as he fell to the ground, tiny rocks falling on top of him as he laid on the black painted cement.

Something that the baseline humanity didn't really like, which was then made into this conflicted relationship between humans and Mutant. Of course, as you already know, there were some shitty and shittier moments that happened in the nature of the struggle. But then twenty years ago, on July 15th, 2000, everything changed.

Logan then tilted his head up, seeing a belt lying in front of him. He picked up the belt, looking at an X Symbol drenched in blood as his voice began to scream.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

Logan stood up awake, finding himself back into the comfort of his cave. The morning had dawned, and he was in no danger as he began to recompose himself by taking several deep slow breaths of air.

Twenty years ago, a Mutant rally in Dallas, Texas was formed at the center of town. The protest was meant to show human beings that having powers doesn't make you some kind of monster.

He began to check his belongings once he was calm. Then he leaned back, sighing to rub his eyes to wake himself up.

At first, it started off pretty well; people were dancing, new ways of music was made by using powers, hell, even the average kind was getting along with them whenever they ate at the same spot together.

He then turned to look at a radio, which acted as his alarm clock as he picked it up near a pile of whiskey bottles, seeing it shut down due to low battery, much to his annoyance.

But then the usual shit happens; someone started a fight, and then another fight led to another, and all hell broke loose.

He checked his small box to look at a picture of a mansion, which was called "Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters", making him sigh sadly as he closed the box shut.

He was then walking to town alone as he traveled in the forest, walking past marked trees that had claws scratched on the sides. He was looking for a certain tree that he wasn't finished scratching yet as he made the search for the tree.

Years ago, Mutants used to get out more, try to open themselves out to the world, but now... People are scared to even show themselves what they really are.

He found the tree he was looking for, seeing nothing hasn't scratched it a second time as he looked around, seeing if he was alone out there among the trees.

Because of that same tainted day, humans were so scared of Mutants that they began to hunt down every one of them that even dares to step out into the open. And the only reason why no one's doing anything is that both the Brotherhood and the X-Men were reported to have been killed twenty years ago... Every last one... Except me.

Once he was sure that he was in the clear, he unsheathed his Claws, now made out of a strong Metallic alloy that can cut through anything as Logan scratched the tree for the last time, marking an "X" as part of his territory while he walked away, putting his chief weapon back into his skin as a grizzly bear appeared next to him. He took a look at the bear while he walked, unnerved by its' presence as he and the animal walked down the hill calmly until their paths separated the second the grizzly stopped to take a piss while the Mutant continued to walk alone.

After a while, he arrived at a small town located at the bottom of the mountains as he walked on the snow-covered street in the cold air, walking alone with hands buried deep in his pockets as a car drove past him while he headed inside of a grocery store.

Now, I'm considered to be the only one left... One of the last of an endangered species... The last of the X-Men...

He continued his way into the store as the car parked in front of it. Opening the driver's door revealed to be a woman with dark skin and brown hair, who looked like to be some kind of reporter as she had a news reporting name tag attached to the side of her waist pouch. She breathed in a sigh, shivering in the cold as she walked inside of the same store that Logan had entered, making her way to the closest person she could find, which happens to be the store employee

"Hello." Greeted the person manning the cash register. "How can I help you?"

"Hi." Greeted the Reporter, showing her badge. "Melita Garner of the San Francisco Post."

"San Francisco?" She asked. "What's a reporter from the West Coast doin' all the way up here?"

"I'm investigating a series of missing person cases that are spread throughout North America." She answered. "I heard that someone went missing here very recently."

"Oh... You must be here about Len."

"Do you know him?"

"Not personally." She then pointed outside the window to the same group of hunters that were looking for their friend known as Len. "But I think the people you need to talk to are his friends. I heard that they're plannin' some kind of search party in Josie's."

Melita nodded. "Thank you so much!" She looked around, seeing if the store in front of her as she felt thirsty. "Um... Do you know where I can find some water?"

"Aisle 4, hun."

"Thank you!"

She proceeded inside of the store to look for water while Logan was seen looking for a pair of batteries. As he browsed, Melita found a bottle of water in the aisle next to Logan as she picked one up, he picked the batteries he was looking for as they both walked out at the same time, causing the two to bump right into each other by accident as Logan dropped his batteries and Melita dropped her water bottle.

"Oh!" She exclaimed. "I'm so sorry!"

"It's fine." He said as he knelt down to pick up her water. "Here."

She picked up the batteries that he dropped, exchanging them for her water. "Thank you."

He looked at her, noticing the reporter's badge on the waist pouch. "Reporter, eh?"

She nodded. "For the San Francisco Post."

"The hell are you doin' all the way up in the cold?"

"Writing a story, making a report."

"About what exactly?"

"People going missing."

"Is that right?"

A gunshot suddenly went off, causing the conversation to be rudely interrupted as they both turned to see the hunters yelling at each other due to a misfire. Looking at Logan curiously, she turned to see if he was one of them so she could continue her journalistic investigation.

"You're not a hunter, are you?"

He turned to Melita, thinking about his previous life with the X-Men. "...Not anymore."

---

Cambodia, 1970. Vietnam war

The local villagers that were hunting their prey became the prey themselves as the ones who fought... The ones that are left anyway, were running away in the fields, trying to hide from the beast that slaughtered all the rest of their forces.

That was not stopping the man with blades sticking out of his fists, however, as he cut one of the villagers' throats out, blood pouring out as he fell to the ground dying. He went into the field in search of the villagers that killed off all of his platoons as he stood in the dirt, seeing no sign of them... Then he used his nose to sniff... And then he sniffed some more... And kept sniffing like a dog searching for something until he smelled their scent.

And that's when he struck; stabbing one of the villagers that tried to ambush him straight in the chest, impacting right in the heart as he yelled out a cry, taking the blades out of the corpse to attack the rest of the remaining villagers as he cut them down one by one until there was one left. Turning to the last person alive, he almost began to cut him open until he looked further into him. The boy was no older than 18, as he was holding up a weapon shakingly, afraid of what he may do next.

Looking at how young he is, and how nervous he was with the weapon, he just stared at him. Then he took a few steps forward and swung his hand. The boy flinched each time the blades cut something, cutting off each piece of his weapon until there was nothing left, but barely anything blunt and the handle. Looking at how vicious the person that took everyone out, he just dropped his weapon, raising his hands in surrender, making Logan get rid of the Claws.

"I catch you around here again, there won't be any second chances." He told the boy. "Now, go home." The boy probably didn't understand a word he said due to his native language, but Logan was sure he got the message the second he turned around started to leave. He watched as he staggered on the field trying to escape. "RUN!"

The boy yelped, starting to sprint away from the Slasher as he turned to walk away, seeing helicopters landing to deploy troops onto the field while the commander joined in to greet Logan.

"Where's your platoon, soldier?" Asked the Commander.

"All dead." He replied.

"And the enemy?" He asked.

"Only villagers that are left are the women and children," Logan said. "they're fine, there's no need to harm them."

"Move forward!" The commander ordered his men, making them move towards the field. "Good job with clearing the mess out for us despite the circumstances. I'm sorry you had to lose your platoon in the end."

"Don't mention it, Bub." He replied as he stared at his reflection from the water. "I'm the Best There is at What I Do."

---

Logan stared at himself in a broken mirror, sitting in on a rooftop while he worked the batteries, trying to make the radio that he brought with him to work once again.

I don't remember much about my early life... Of course, I had some parts and pieces restored previously, but I only remember gaps of who I was before losing my memory to some asshole that shot me in the head, such as the fact that I'm over 200 years old. Fought in a lot of wars, too many to count. And I was the Best There is at What I Did.

As he sat on the roof, he saw the woman named Melita walking to Josie's bar as it was filled with people who either hunted animals or drove long haul trucks, all of them were there for the one person that was missing.

"Alright," One of the hunters spoke out loud, getting everyone's attention while Melita walked inside. "The last time everyone saw Len, he was goin' over to them woods to hunt. He didn't come back, so we're gonna look for him. Them woods are big as the Titanic, so we're gonna be splittin' into separate groups."

As he continued to strategize with his group, Melita sat on the bar, listening in on the conversation when the bartender came over to her side of the counter.

"Can I get you, somethin' miss?" The bartender asked, getting Melita's attention.

"Um..." She looked at the wide selection of booze before making up her mind. "Just, the club soda, thank you."

"Club soda, comin' right up."

He went to get Melita's drink while she listened in onto the rest of the conversation the hunters were still going on about as Logan walked inside, seeing the woman he met earlier in the store as he walked to the other side of the bar, being careful not to startle her as he greeted the bartender.

"Hey," Logan called out, looking at the bartender. "I need to test out these batteries. Can you help me out?"

"Sure." The bartender approached Logan. "What kind of batteries are ya usin'?"

"Lithium-Ion." He replied as he handed him the batteries.

"Hmm... Is this for a vehicle?"

"Not quite. Can you help me out or not?"

"I'm getting there, just let me just test these batteries out."

The bartender assisted Logan in the batteries while Melita was waiting on her drink, she turned to one of the hunters inside of the bar, speaking to them in person.

"So, your friend, Len," Melita mentioned. "Does he usually go missing during these hunting trips?"

"No, ma'am, he never does." Answered one of the group members. "Lenny's always been careful about huntin' out there alone. He even wrote a guidebook 'bout survivin' the wilderness."

"Which is botherin' the shit outta us because this is the first time that Len's gone missing." Another search party member said.

"Okay," Melita spoke. "How many copies has Len's guidebook sold so far?"

"Well, he hasn't quite published it yet."

"In fact, he was going to have it published today, which is something that's been also botherin' us since Len's been known to commit to his timeframe."

"Never once, has he ever been late. Not once."

Melita sighed. "Alright, does his family know that he's currently missing?"

"Oh, ma'am, I'm afraid that Len doesn't really have any family no more." A hunter said.

"His wife died of childbirth many Dog Years ago. His only son got killed by a damn bear five years ago."

"Which was the reason why Len wrote that book, to inform folks who participate in this type of sport on what mistakes they should avoid."

"So, getting his guidebook published today was very personal to Len?" Melita asked.

"Honestly, I think it's safe to say that the book Lenny wrote was the one thing that could give him some closure after what happened to his son." Another spoke. "It would've cleared his guilty conscience had he not gone missing last night."

"I apologize for askin', but does Lenny disappearin' have to do with them other missin' folks you're lookin' into?"

Melita pushed her hair out of her face after hearing the question. "Possibly. Truth be told, there were cases of people disappearing out in the woods in local towns ranging from Midwestern America and now South Western Canada for the past 6 months."

"You don't think Lenny disappearin' is connected somehow, do ya?" A hunter asked.

"I'm still trying to figure that out myself." She answered honestly. "But if you guys hear anything else, just give me a call."

She handed them her card and proceeded to leave the bar while Logan watched her do so, the bartender came back with the batteries, having noticed that the reporter was gone.

"Oh, she's already leavin'?" The bartender asked. "I haven't even served her drink yet."

"Do the batteries work alright?" Logan asked.

"Oh, they sure do, sir." He hands him back the radio as Logan gently took it away from his hands. "Do you need help settin' it up though?"

"Don't worry," Logan reassured as he turned to leave. "I've got it handled."

He exited Josie's as he walked on the sidewalk, passing Melita's car on the way as she was seen on her computer sorting through the files. Then she grabbed her audio recorder as she stared at a picture of herself and a blonde, sighing as she activated the device.

"Day 256, Melita Garner speaking. I just arrived in Alberta this morning after learning of another disappearance that took place just last night."

She turned to look through other missing case files regarding people going missing.

"Same M.O. as the last bunch; someone was alone in the woods the night before, never to be seen again the next day. Everyone that disappeared has followed the same pattern, which leads me to the Canadian province... And why?"

---

Logan was out creating a fireplace for himself after he got the radio to function once more. He was resting his hands, feeling the warmth of the flame when rain settled into the night, making his attempt to sleep warmly set in vain as he cursed himself, standing up as he turned to lay inside of the cave, covering himself in his own personal blanket.

As he set a lamplight on, he looked through the box he had with him, seeing a newspaper headlined by the Daily Bugle was titled as he got a good look at it.

TRAGEDY IN DALLAS RALLY KILLS HUNDREDS; MUTANT/HUMAN UNITY IS REST IN PIECES.

Having read the one memory he dreads the most, Logan threw the article on the ground, growling lowly at that tainted thought.

Everyone probably knows that Humanity has had a problem with people like me ever since the dawn of time but ever since 7/15th, things have never been any shitier than they were before.

He sorted through the box, seeing a familiar X shaped emblem on what was used to be a part of a belt.

Some who are like me would probably call it hell.

Gunshots have been heard outside his cave as he turned his head around, the shots heard booming throughout the woods as he started to get up, walking out into the rain.

Although, if there's a bright side to this hell, it's that I never had to deal with trouble for the past twenty years... Until now at least.

Gunfire soon had screamed into the mix as Logan began to sprint in the rain, trying to get to the source of the chaos that was happening out there in the nearest vicinity. When he arrived, he saw a few dead hunters lying on the ground, much to his dismay.

They're all dead. Damn, I came here too late just as I came too late in Dallas.

As he knelt down to examine the corpses, he looked through them, seeing that they all had deep cuts on them, some on the chest and others on the face. He turned his face down to find any prints when he saw a pawprint of unknown origins as he examined the large shape.

This was caused by a savage beast... But this couldn't have been a grizzly.

Thunder roared at the same time as a bear did as Logan turned around, hearing the sounds of pain as he got his Claws out. Then as he walked over to the grizzly, he saw a cut deepened onto his back, similar to the hunters as well as a bullet placed on the side of his shoulder. The mammal being injured severely as Logan walked over to his neighbor.

"What the hell?" Logan asked out loud as he tried to get a look at the claw mark on the grizzly's back when the bear roared in pain. Stepping back, he examined the grizzly tone of voice as it laid its head on the wet ground, suffering as he smelled the approach of death coming for this bear.

"Don't make me do this." Logan said, not wanting to have to do the job as the bear moaned, wanting the pain to end.

He sighed, knowing that there was no way for him to heal the injuries on time, he raised his Claw up high and stabbed the grizzly, making it roar one last time until its suffering has come to a fatal end.

He pulled the blades out as he looked at the wounds. One ranging from a claw marking while the other was a bullet on the shoulder as Logan narrowed his eyes down.

This poor bastard was at the wrong place at the wrong time when the Hunters were getting slaughtered, making them believe it was the one attacking them... But really, he was the one that was trying to run away from whatever the hell attacked them.

"ARRRRRAAAAAGGHHHHH!"

A shriek was heard in the woods, causing him to turn around to see a pair of red eyes glaring brightly into the night, its eyes just staring at the Caveman before it made its departure, leaving Logan all alone when he had his sights on the ominous figure. Once Logan finished his stare, he began to make his departure as well.

And something tells me that whatever actually killed these people is something much worse than a mere grizzly.

Hours after he left the scene, the sun had already risen when police arrived on the scene. As they starting lifting the bodies out of the forest, Melita walked in to join the incident as she approached one of the officers.

"Excuse me, Melita Garner! I'm a reporter." She introduces herself as she shows off her badge.

"Well, that's odd." The officer said as he saw the badge. "We don't get many reporters up here."

"Well, I'm not like any reporter you met." She promised. "Can you tell me what happened here?"

"A tragedy, that's what happened." The officer answered as he saw the hunters getting carried out in body bags. "A grizzly attacked one of the hunting community's search party for one of their own."

"How? Weren't they armed?"

"They were, but apparently that grizzly that killed 'em somehow got into a fight with another grizzly, ended up on a rampage."

"Are you sure there's more to this? I researched this place, most bears don't normally come out into the open until it's springtime."

"Well, you're livin' in Canada, ma'am. Temperature's much different 'round here. Now if you have any more questions, ask whoever signs off the autopsy report."

The officer left to turn to his fellows while Melita sighed, turning around to leave the woods as Logan observed her, being on the top of a tree to get a better look.

---

Later, Melita arrived at the town's clinic as she walked over to the receptionist's area, meeting with the desk woman.

"Hi," Melita said. "There were a few hunters that were killed by a grizzly last night, I was told that they were taken here."

"Oh, I'm sorry, honey," The nurse said. "I'm afraid you'll have to wait for the doctor to finish his autopsy report."

"For how long?"

"Well, bear attacks are common 'round here, so it probably won't take long."

She nodded. "Thank you."

Melita walked over to sit on a chair, waiting for the doctor when Logan happened to be sitting next to her, much to her surprise.

"Hello there," Melita said, seeing the Caveman. "I guess this town is much smaller than I thought."

There was silence with the Caveman as Melita sees him just staring into the wall without even a response.

"I'm sorry... Did you know someone-?"

"I heard you at the bar yesterday..." Logan said, interrupting Melita without a second thought.

"Excuse me?"

He turned his head around, facing the reporter. "At the bar, you talking to the hunters, asking about their missing friend. You said that it had something to do with other people goin' missing for the past 6 months."

"Oh." Melita sounded like a child when she spoke. "Well, I said that it could be possible that it is connected to the other disappearances-!"

"What do they have in common?" Logan asked.

Melita blinked, having been interrupted for the second time in a row. "Well, from what I gathered, they all went missing by being alone in the woods, be it hunting or just simply going on a walk."

"What else?"

Melita just raised a brow having been asked that. "Pardon me?"

"What else was there?" He repeated the question. "Were there any people getting killed by a wild animal? Were there sightings of Red Eyes during the night? Sounds of disturbing howls?"

Melita just stared at Logan having been asked those odd questions. "I'm sorry, are you a cop or something? Because if you are, I just spoke to one of you, and you guys weren't exactly the most helpful when I asked about the bodies."

"Just answer the question, did people end up dead when others went missing?"

She just gave Logan a look after being told to answer his questions. "Well, someone's clearly demanding."

"That's because I'm not fucking around, now do people normally get killed during the past 6 months?"

"Tch... No! No one has ever been murdered before!" Melita answered.

"But?" Logan asked, leaving her to ponder the question as she began to think.

"But..." Melita began. "But there were always accidents just like this one."

"Like what for instance?"

"Like... Like wolf attacks for instance... And bear attacks, but nothing like this." She shook her head. "Anyway, who are you? Why are you interested in this? I was told that the hunters were killed by a bear."

"Bear didn't kill 'em." Logan corrected. "Something else did."

Melita just blinked having been told that. "Like what?"

"I don't know, that's why I came to you for info." He answered as he got up. "And you've just about given me everything you got, so I'll be out of your way."

He began to leave the clinic, leaving Melita behind as she was left confused by what she had heard.

"Hold on!" She demanded, getting off of her seat and joining Logan on his walk. "Do you know something that I don't? Because clearly you know something that no one else doesn't! And, what the fuck were you on about Red Eyes?!"

"Listen, just forget about it, lady," Logan told her. "I'm just some crazy hobo speaking nonsense, that's all."

"Well, you clearly have the look of it, but you clearly don't have the act for it. I know when people don't explain all the details, and you're clearly one of them!"

"Well, you're clearly mistaken."

"Am I?" Melita made it her way to stand in front of the Caveman. "Because it looks to me that you know something that I don't! What are you? CSIS?"

"Please, don't flatter yourself, I ain't got a fucking badge."

"Then what are you exactly?"

Logan sighed, looking at the reporter. "...A nobody." He shoved her out of his way. "Now do yourself a favor, leave me the fuck alone."

He walked away from her, leaving her to scoff at the rude behavior he has as she just shook her head.

"...Asshole."

She turned to make her leave, getting out her purse to get out her car keys... Which were missing all of the sudden.

"God damn... Where the hell are my keys?"

Suddenly, an engine was run loudly as she turned around, widening her eyes in disbelief as Logan was seen driving her car.

"...What the Fuck?!" Melita shouted in justified anger. "Hey... HEY! That's my car!"

She continued to shout, despite her best efforts as Logan drove right out of the street, leaving Melita behind right outside of the cold as cursed at the Caveman, shouting in anger.

While shouted the word, FUCK, loud enough for anyone in the nearest proximity to hear, Logan sighed as he leaned back against the driver's seat, driving to his next destination.

Well, what do you know? 20 years in, and I still got it.

As he drove in the snow, however, there were a pair of eyes watching from far away as Logan was being spied on through thermal vision, much to the individual's curiosity and amusing joy.

"...Well, I'll be damned." The individual said to itself. "That stubborn ass, Son of a Bitch is still breathing."

---

Later, Logan arrived at another bar in town. The one where cage fights occurred frequently as he saw a match play out before him, seeing the two men fight each other out while approaching the bartender.

"Hey," Logan called the server. "I'd like a beer."

"Sure thing."

As the bartender went to give him a drink, the tv began to play out a commercial for Trask Industries as it began to resume it's broadcast on live tv.

"20 years have passed since the tragedy that occurred in Dallas, and Trask International is, and always has been holding your hand together in service for the betterment of all Humanity... Trask International, solving tomorrow's problems today."

The commercial had come to an end, turning to sports as Logan peered his eyes down, two of the hunters walked inside as they seemingly enjoyed the fight happening inside.

"Damn, look at that fucker go!" One hunter said, raising his glass. "Crusher's really giving him a hard time!"

"Crusher?" The second hunter, a friend, asked. "That's his name?"

"That's right. Crusher Hogan what people call him in New York. He came all the way from the 5 Boroughs after winnin' three grand against Bonesaw."

"Seriously? I thought it was that other guy. The Spider-Guy."*

"Nah, he only got a hundred bucks. The host denied the rest and kept it as reassurance since the game was supposed to last against him for three minutes. And rumor has it that he conked him out in Two."

"Yeesh, that's gotta suck."

"Yeah, well maybe he had a good reason for it. The host probably thought of the last champion as a Mutant or something."

"A Mutant? Please, those things haven't been around for 20 years."

"Doubtful. I heard there were Mutant sightings going around in New York. One of them looked like a Rhino while the other was literally made out of Sand."

"I heard those were only Enhanced."

"Eh, Enhanced, Mutant, Inhuman, Alien, whatever. They're all the same, all of them freaks to me anyway."

As the two sat down, Crusher Hogan was seen nailing a punch at his opponent as he was flung right onto the mat with his nose bleeding as everyone booed at Crusher, having gotten Logan's attention while he was being served his drink.

"Damn... That gotta hurt!"

"Yeah... If only Lenny could see this shit play out."

At that moment, Logan turned to the hunters, having heard of the missing Hunter's name said out loud as they continued having drinks.

"Hell, it's a shame what happened to the rest of the boys lookin' for 'im... That goddamn Grizzly really fucked them up badly."

"Yeah... Good thing that they killed it before their wounds bled out. It would have driven me nuts tryin' to search for it if they hadn't done so."

"Hey."

The two stopped conversing to turn around, seeing Logan standing before them as the crowd continued to roar.

"Can I join you both?"

One of them nodded their head, approving of his company. "Sure. Have a seat."

"Thanks."

He sat down next to them, sharing a beer with the two as he stared out into the open space.

"So uh... I heard about what happened to the last group of hunters from last night. Such a goddamn tragedy that it happened while someone is missing, ain't it?"

The other hunter nodded his head, biting his lip in bitterness. "Yeah... Such a goddamn tragedy."

"Yeah... We lost two of our friends searchin' for Len... The guy who's missin'. He was out huntin' a couple of nights ago, but he never came back. I'm startin' to think that Grizzly might've-!"

"Oh, fuck that, Baptiste." The Hunter claimed, raising his voice slightly. "Fuck that. We can't give up on Len, not right now. He could still be in danger, we can't stop lookin' for 'im."

"Paul, just think about it for a moment. Len went out hunting, he never came back. A group went in search of him, and they ended up in body bags. How do you think this is going to lead?"

"I think that if they haven't found Len's body, then we shouldn't just give up and waltz back into our daily lives. The others, sure; we'll send our condolences, but Len? Fuck no! If there ain't a body, then there's still a chance in hell that he might be out there."

"But now that a whole of group of hunters is dead, people aren't going to feel up for a search party. In fact, they're bound to be scared to go lookin' after the bloodbath that went on last night."

"I don't see why people would do that, considerin' the Grizzly's dead."

"There's a dozen bears out here in Canada. There's likely a chance of another one showin' up after the last!"

"Then if we find another Grizzly, we shoot it until it's fuckin' dead!"

"Well, who else is going to help us? Because the party extension is supposed to consist of three people, Paul. And right now, there's only two of us."

"Well, what about me?" Logan asked, acting curiously. "I can come with ya, tag along to help find your missing friend."

Paul raised a brow, having heard an odd request from the Caveman. "Really? Are you a Hunter, sir?"

"...I'm considered to be retired, but I'm open to making an exception. See, I happen to have known these woods for a long, long time, and I know just about everything good and bad about the wildlife. In fact, I can your guide for wherever you need to go to."

"Is that so?" Paul asked with great interest. "You hear that, Georges? This guy is willin' to help us out!"

"I ain't sure, Paul. We hardly even know this guy. He's a complete stranger to us."

"Well, then let us be polite and introduce to each other! I'm Paul, Paul Cartier. This here is Georges Baptiste. And who are you, my good sir?"

"...James," Logan told them, raising his hand to offer a handshake. "James Howlett."

"Well then, James, it's nice meetin' ya," Paul said out of courtesy. "Say, since you're real good at huntin', are you real good in a fight?"

"You'd be surprised," Logan told him with a smirk. "I've had plenty of fights in a lifetime, I sometimes can't even count just how many I've been in."

"Well, why don't we see it for ourselves?"

"Paul, come on."

"No, no, I'm serious here! This guy says he's good at a fight, so I wanna see him fight."

"I'm flattered, but I'm gonna have to-!"

"Alright, who else wants to face the CRUSHER?!" Crusher Hogan's voice roared in the arena as the bar's occupants roared in the excitement of the fight.

Having heard of the Fighter announce his openings of another opponent, Paul made it his way to raise Logan's hand up. "He does! This good sir does, right here!"

"Paul, for fuck's sake, no!"

"And we have ourselves another challenger! Into the arena, good sir!"

"Fuck, goddammit Paul! How many have you had to drink tonight? Jesus."

Logan sighed, standing up with his hands raised. "Hey, guys, I'm sorry, but I'm gonna have to decline." The crowd moaned in disappointment. "I'm sorry, but this isn't really my thing-!"

"Hey!" Crusher Hogan shouted, pointing at Logan. "What are you? Some kind of Pussy?!"

Logan's brow started to lower, decreasing his calm demeanor as he turned to the wrestler.

"...What the Fuck did you call me?"

"You heard me, Pussy!" Crusher said in a mocking tone. "What the Fuck are you gonna do about it?!"

The crowd roared as many eyes diverted towards Logan, whose own began to cast down to a deadly glare as he sighed through his nose, not bothering to speak out the words that he wanted to say when he knew that words were not needed for this particular necessity.

"...Hold my beer," Logan said as he took off his coat. "I'm gonna be busy for a while."

Georges nodded as he held onto Logan's drink, watching him walk into the cage as he approached the announcer.

"Alright, this guy supposed to be a Wrestler or somethin'?"

"Both. Crusher Hogan is both! Now, do you have any requests?"

"Yeah. Tell this asshole in front of me that if he kicks me in the balls, I'm gonna take it personally."

The announcer blinked before nodding his head, having thought of it as a fair request as he approached Crusher Hogan, Logan continued to stare at his opponent as if he were mere prey to observe.

It's true what I said earlier... Cage fights were part of a gig prior to bein' an X-Men, so this was technically life long before I met Charles... Long before 7/15... Long before any of this Avengers shit started up, whatever the hell you wanna call it.

The bell began to ring as the two competitors fought, with Crusher landing the first hit on Logan, nailing a sharp hook in the face.

And at that moment, crowds begin to roar as Logan took a step back, having taken a punch for the first time in ages as he still held his ground with his face turned away, causing Crusher to cast a smug look.

"What's the matter? Can't take a hit, huh?"

Logan just breathed, remaining silent as he stood on the ring, reveling in that first hit that he's taken.

"Hey, midget!" Crusher shouted loud enough for his opponent to hear. "Midget, can you hear me still? Or did I knock out both of your eardrums-?!"

Before he could land another punch, Logan turned around and caught it with his bare hand, and grabbed his arm so he could flip him onto his back, slamming him onto the floor as the crowd shouted in reaction to that sudden surprise attack, witnessing Logan giving no chances for Crusher to even fight back as he pounded his face in with his own fists.

The thing about my Claws is; it takes a lot of discipline, a lot of concentration to hone them at bay... You see, whenever I'm pissed off and I don't really want to Snikt them out when I wanna beat someone to a pulp, I tend to hold back my punches... Because apparently, the key component to unleashing them at will is based on speed and reflex... And if I move at the wrong reflex...

Logan growled as he raised his hand up, pausing slightly as a small ounce of blood started to drip down on the ring... Then as he paused, his eyes turned to his raised fist, seeing just one blade barely popping out within an inch out of his fist as he panted, having regained some semblance of composure while blood dripped just from the tip of his Adamantium metal from the beatdown from moments earlier.

Well... Let's just say that if I don't hold myself together, then otherwise, shit really hits the fan.

Logan breathed as he turned his head down, seeing Crusher moaning in pain as he lies on the floor, hearing the crowd roared, pleased with this fight while he stood up, retracting that Blade back into his bone as the announcer approached the Caveman with an eager look on his face.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, the unthinkable has happened!" The announcer said while using his microphone. "Crusher has been Crushed! What an astonishing turn of events we have ourselves tonight! May I present to you the winner of the match..."

The announcer then turned around, muffling the mic's sound speakers as he faced Logan. "Sorry, who are you?"

Logan sighed as wiped some of the blood off his hand, shaking his head.

"...Fuck it," Logan said. "Just call me the Caveman, I don't give a shit."

The announcer shrugged, having heard his acknowledgment so he could release the mic and raise it towards his lips.

"May I present to you... The CAVEMAN!"

The crowd shouted in excitement as Logan walked out of the cage, rubbing his hands together while he approached Baptiste and Cartier, the sober being amazed by his fight with a Wrestler.

"Goddamn, you're good!" Georges complimented as he handed Logan back his drink. "Where did you learn to fight like that?"

Logan chuckled slightly, turning to the hunter. "You could say I've had a lot of practice."

"YAY!"

Paul shouted in a drunken haze as he turned around and wrapped his arms around Logan, cheerful of his victory while the sober were left slightly embarrassed of his action.

"You won the fight..." Paul said in blissful congratulation. "You're the Champion now... You deserve a big, shiny medal for it!"

Logan sighed as he patted on Paul's back. "Yeah, sure I do... Can you please get off now?"

"I got 'em." Baptiste began to pull Paul off of Logan. "Come on, man, let go."

"Aw, but I don't wanna."

He kept on pulling on Cartier until eventually the man gave into his drunken stupor and fell right asleep as Logan quickly moved in to help out Georges, the bar continuing the ever-growing noise that lives on throughout the night.

---

Later, the pair drove to Paul's home in the woods as they stopped in front of the house, stepping out of the car to bring in the unconscious man now awaking from his hazy slumber.

"Oh... God." Paul moaned as he was carried by one arm by Georges. "I'm not feeling so good."

"Yeah? Well, serves you right for drinking too much at the bar, you drunk moron." Georges said as helped him walk. "Now come on. We're bringin' you back inside."

"Uh... We?"

"Yeah, "We". Me and our friend that you had fightin' in the ring."

"Oh... You mean the Caveman actually came with us?"

Logan sighed as he looked at the two. "Say, you need help carrying his ass inside?"

Georges shook his head, waving his hand sideways. "Nah... Much appreciated, but I can handle the weight lifting." He then started getting out a pair of keys. "Here though. You can at least help me unlock the door, so I can set him inside the couch."

Logan received the keys, feeling the metal touching the skin of his palm. "You ain't putting him to bed?"

"Hell no. The last time I did that, he puked on the side of his pillow, he and got pissed off at me for it. I don't need to hear any of that tomorrow, so I'm putting him on the couch so that if he ever needs to pull off some of that stomach issues, he can do it on the floor."

Logan shrugged, making a small hum at that as he turned around and entered the front door, using the key to get inside the homestead. Once they set foot inside, they helped guide Paul into the cabin, leading him into the living room while he began to feel nauseated.

"Oh, Jesus." Paul groaned, covering his mouth. "I... I need to go... To the toilet."

"Fuck."

"Okay."

The two stepped away as Paul started to let go of Georges grip and stumbled into the bathroom, slamming the door shut right before the sweet, peaceful sounds of puke began to fill in the quiet vacant household, leaving Logan and Georges the only one to hear his beautiful "Singing."

"Does he always end his nights like this?" Logan asked, pointing at the bathroom door as Georges rubbed his face in embarrassment.

"Not all the time... But this has got to be one of the worst I've ever seen."

As they got acquainted with each other, there was a small knock on the door just loud enough for them to hear as Logan tilted his head, sniffing his nostrils.

Then, as he sniffed, he could feel a certain presence behind the door... As the air dust was sucked into his nose, he exhaled through his nostrils once more, blowing out the particles as the dust zoomed in onto the door, and into the open eye hole as Melita Garner was seen just standing right outside the front door.

Shit... Her again?

"Hey, would you like to stay here for a while? Talk about what we should do tomorrow?" Georges asked.

"Uh, maybe later. Meet me at Josie's in the morning; we'll talk more about it then."

Georges nodded his head. "Fine by me."

"Hey, is there a back I can get out of?"

"Yeah, there's the backyard. You could sneak on out from there while I have a chat with whoever's standing outside the front."

"That would be awfully appreciative, thank you."

"Don't mention it. You just stay safe out there, alright?"

"Will do."

Logan began to turn around and leave as Georges entered the front door and opened it up, seeing Melita standing right outside the house.

"Hi, Melita Garner, San Francisco Press. Sorry to intrude on this hour."

"Don't be. This ain't even my house anyway."

Melita smiled slightly, holding onto her purse. "...Is the owner home right now?"

"Uh, yeah, currently puking his brains out in the bathroom."

"Oh god, is this a bad time?"

"No, you're fine. Paul told me that you were coming sooner or later, so you may as well come inside."

He leads her into the house as Melita walked out of the cold, breathing in the home's A/C while Georges closed the door behind her.

"Paul gonna take a while to let the liquor out of the system, so if you can interview me if you'd like... Can I get you anything while we wait for our mutual friend?"

Melita shook her head. "Thank you, but I'm fine." She started to point at the couch. "Can I sit here?"

"Please."

Melita offered her gratitude and began to sit down on the brown leather couch as Georges sat down on a wooden chair.

"So um... You and Paul been hunting together long?"

"All our lives, actually. Our Fathers have passed it down to us as tradition way back in April of '73, and we haven't left the family business ever since."

"Really? Do you have any family around here?"

Georges shook his head. "No, ma'am. Our wives and children moved out of here a long time ago, moved to either one of the big cities like Toronto, or moved way down in the States."

Melita hummed as she nodded her head, writing down her notes, aware that Georges was still looking at her.

"...Pardon my curiosity, but... May I just ask what you're doing up here?"

Melita sighed as she finished taking notes. "Well... For 6 months now, there were a series of disappearances that have become widespread throughout the entire continent, and many of them have remained disturbingly silent."

"Disappearances based off of folks getting lost in the woods?"

"Yes, actually. Um, you see; many don't realize this, but it's starting to become a very odd pattern."

"Do many of them result in bloodbaths? Gettin' slaughtered by wild bears?"

"No, thankfully. This one was the only recorded incident involving a bear attack so far."

Georges leaned back, sighing. "So... In many of these disappearances... Did you happen to lose someone you know back then?"

Melita's hands began to pause mid-air as she lowered her eyes down. Her expression showing of loss and regret, even if it was hard to tell from just one stare at her.

"...Yes, actually, I have."

"Hmm... So I have reason to believe that this one is somewhat personal, isn't it?"

"...You could say that." She cleared her throat. "Okay, uh... Speaking of disappearances; do many often-?"

As she was in the middle of asking a question, a loud BANG erupted from inside of the bathroom as they turned around, hearing some gargled noise from just sitting in their spots.

"Whoa..." Georges turned around, raising a hand up. "Uh, 'Scuse me for one moment."

As Georges got up, he walked over to the door and made some knocks, asking if Paul was doing okay while Logan walked out of the house, sensing the two were busy at the time as he started to take his leave and venture out into the woods.

But just as he took a step, a stick began to snap in place, making him turn around to see what snapped, as if expecting someone to stand behind him. But no... No, all that was is a Raccoon just standing on the ground, making a soft squeak as it noticed the Caveman just staring at it.

Once Logan sighed, deeming it necessary to consider his walk, he turned around and began to walk in the dark, just in time for someone to walk out of the shadows and tail him from behind his own back.

While Logan continued the walk, he continued to face forward, taking in inhalation from his nasal glands to take in the scent of someone following him from behind.

Great... Either this is the guy everyone has been worried sick about, or maybe someone that wants a taste of me. Either way; he thinks I don't know he's there... And that works just fine with me.

After taking some distance away from the house, Logan made a sharp right turn behind three pine trees, making the silent pursuer retrace his steps and turn his hooded head around, only to find that the Caveman had suddenly vanished.

Looking around, seeing that it was too dark to even look around the field, he started to lower a duffle bag and get out a heavily advanced rifle, using it to activate night vision in order to find his missing target.

However, as the bright green vision began to light up, he found that Logan was still nowhere in sight as he kept looking sideways, trying to find the man he was looking for.

"Dammit... Where the hell did he go?"

As he took a few steps forward, he had failed to see that Logan was right there... Hanging above the tree right behind the person in question as the hooded figure began to turn around, he was moments too late as Logan pounced onto his pursuer, pinning him down into the snow as he lowered his hood down, revealing a dark-skinned man with dreadlocks.

"I'm only going to ask this once, and after that, you aren't getting any second chances," Logan told him, holding himself together. "Who are you and what are you following me for?"

The man in Dreads sighed, looking at Logan dead in the eye.

"...Lucas, Bishop." He answered sternly. "I've been sent to find you."

"Why?"

"Because I know who are you... Wolverine."

Logan began to breathe intensively, having heard that name in decades as his firm attitude began to turn into one of rage.

"...That's not who I am anymore."

"Really? Do you stealing a woman's car, beating up some wrestler in a cage, and pouncing me like a natural predator not describe the attributes of the Wolverine? Because the only thing that is missing are those sharp Adamantium Claws of yours, which I'm surprised you haven't used yet."

"...You wanna see some Claws?" Logan's hand began to bury themselves, gradually sinking his Claws out. "Here... I'll show you."

He raised his hand up, ready to cut him open when Bishop raised his hands up.

"Wait!" Bishop said. "Wait, stop! You have it all wrong, Logan! I'm not here to hurt you!

"Bullshit; why the hell are you tailing me for?"

"Because I wanted to talk someplace where there wasn't anyone looking! Now for fuck's sakes, can you just let me explain myself?"

Logan sighed, lowering his brow slightly as he started to stand up, letting Bishop go so he could get up onto his own feet.

"You have two minutes... Afterward, I'm gone, now get to it."

Bishop groaned, grabbing his weapon so he could put it onto his back harness. "Listen... You're not going to believe this now, but you and I are allies."

"Logan raised a brow. "Allies? Allies against what exactly?"

"Allies against Trask International."

"Why Trask International?"

"Because they're responsible for what happened on 7/15."

Logan blinked, raising a brow at that accusation as he listened to Bishop's words, causing a grin to form his lips.

"Oh? Now I've caught your attention? Good, 'cause maybe you'll stick around long enough for me to explain."

"...Trask International didn't do it."

"Yeah? Why's that?"

"Because they helped the world heal for the last 2 decades, they've done good things-!"

"Yeah, sure, I'm sure they did... At least, not until after Dallas, Mutants became the most hated beings on the face of the Earth. People died, the X-Men, the Brotherhood, all got turned into public enemies while Trask International was hailed as a hero. Kind of a weird coincidence, don't you think?"

Logan shook his head, turning around. "Alright, I'm getting out of here."

"Already? But I thought you'd give me 2 minutes, not 20 seconds."

"Look, if you want somebody's help, why don't you go find Captain America, huh? I heard he's such a boy scout, he'll do just about anything to solve all the world's problems."

"I can't do that, Logan." Bishop began to follow Logan. "See, I've spent 20 years of my entire life looking for answers, learning the details of what really happened, and the people responsible for it while you spent 20 years in a cave."

"Why? Because someone sent you to digging for some clues?"

"Yes, Logan, and someone was you!"

At that moment, Logan stopped right in his tracks, causing Bishop to cease his movements as well as he turned around, looking at the man with a gun.

"...What are you talking about?"

Bishop took a few steps towards the Wolverine, feeling the snow touching his forehead as snowflakes began to fall from the clouds. "20 years ago, right after the fireworks had ended, someone figured something shady was going on with Trask International, and that someone was you, Logan. It was you that sent me on this quest, that sent me to dig and dig with every fiber of my being to search for the answers. It was you that told me not to find you until we learned the answers, that we were ready to fight back."

"We?" Logan asked, taking some steps towards Bishop. "Who the hell is "We"?

"The Force, an X-Force... People who have been hiding in the dark, just like you." Bishop took another step forward. "See, you didn't spend 20 years inside of a cave waiting to die, you spent 20 years waiting for the right moment to rise from the ashes of Dallas, waiting for me to help you pick up where we left off, to enact justice on the people who wronged us all on both sides of this."

Logan just stared at Bishop as he took one more step closer, having become face to face with each other.

"...There are more Mutants?"

Bishop nodded his head. "There are others, yes... And they need you, Logan, now more than ever, because something's coming. And whatever that something is, you are about to be standing right at the center of it whether you like it or not."

Logan just turned around, having heard everything Bishop had to say as the snow continued to fall down onto their shoulders, feeling the cold breeze flowing through the air.

"...If what you say is true..." Logan turned around, facing Bishop. "How come I don't remember any of the things I told you?"

"Well, that's just it; when you told everyone to hide, you said that you couldn't be trusted to know anything about the Resistance... So..."

Bishop began to get out a pistol and unload the clip out of his weapon, getting out a bullet laced with Adamantium as Logan's eyes peered right at it.

"You had this gun filled with Adamantium bullets, and you had yourself shot in the head, wiping away your very memory, everything you had remembered the most from 7/15."

Logan scoffed slightly, seeing the bullets before him as he took one from Bishop's hand.

"...That can't be true... One of these bullets would have killed me."

"I know... That's why you trusted me to do the job for you."

Logan turned his head towards Bishop, having heard his confession right then and there. But before he could ask, there was a sound of screams coming from a distance as they turned around, hearing terror being unleashed from afar.

"What did you do?" Logan asked, facing the sounds of cries. "What the fuck did you do?!"

"This isn't me," Bishop admitted. "Trust me, I was only after you, not them."

"Shit." Logan started to run. "We have to help them."

"Logan, we don't have time for this-!"

"Look, you said that we're allies, right?" Logan turned around, facing Bishop. "So unless you wanna shoot me in the head again, you can either stand around and stay out of my way or you can help me fight whatever the hell is here!"

Bishop grimaced, curling his lips with a small scowl before putting his pistol away and grabbing his rifle ready in hand, seeing Logan running towards danger.

"Fuck it."

---

Earlier... Several Minutes Ago...

"I... I need to go... To the toilet."

"Fuck."

"Okay."

Paul was seen entering the bathroom, stumbling over to puke into the toilet as the side effects of the hangover began to take effect.

"Christ almighty, I had a lot to drink..."

He began to take his time unleashing his bowels from the liquor produce, puking just enough to get it out of his system. He sighed, flushing the toilet as he stood onto his feet, turning to face the mirror as he stared at his face, seeing a trail of vomit on his lips, causing him to wipe it off with a towel.

Soon as he did so, the doorbell rang, causing his head to turn around to listen to the noise, raising a brow.

"...Hey... Who's... *Coughs* Who the hell-?"

He started to cough some more, the feeling of a dry throat starting to etch itself into the body as he turned to the sink and lowered his head, coughing out air from his own lungs.

Then... That changed drastically into blood as his own fluids were spat down into the sink, causing his eyes to raise in grave concern.

"What the fuck?"

He continued to cough, covering his hands to prevent any more of his own blood to spill as he looked at himself in the mirror to notice something entirely different.

Before then just a moment ago, he had brown hair, on his head and arms... Now they've turned Snow White, much to his shock as he widened his eyes further.

"What... The fuck?!"

As he tried asking questions, the coughing began to mix with gargles, as if he felt like he was about to choke. Then he spent the next couple of minutes trying to get toilet paper to cover most of the blood, which at that point, things took a turn for the worst.

As soon as he tried wiping himself, he took notice that his eyes changed from his average human color into a pure shade of Blood Red, causing him to freak out momentarily before his whimpers turned into a series of growls. His skin replaced with more and more hair, becoming animalistic by nature as his clothes started to shred itself to pieces, Paul began to stumble around to a point where he began to fall onto the floor with a loud BANG!

At that moment, Melita and Georges turned around, having heard the loud noise coming from the restroom as concern flooded their thoughts, replacing anything about the disappearances that occurred in their previous conversation.

"Uh, 'Scuse me for one moment," Georges told Melita as he walked over to the bathroom door, knocking on it. "Hey, Paul! Is everything okay in there?"

The only response he received was sounds of violent growling as he sighed, leaning against the door.

"Damn... The poor fool must be drunk out of his mind, he can't figure out how to lay down in the bathtub."

Melita started to get up, raising her purse up. "Is he going to be okay?"

"Yeah, of course. This kind of thing happens mostly all the time-!"

The door busted right open, pushing Georges out of the way as Melita screamed out of freight, standing back as Paul, or what was left of him, crawled out of the bathroom as his very being was changed into something beyond human... In fact, it was actually in the form of a bizarre yeti having malice to shedding blood from anyone as Georges got back up, stunned by what looked to him to be a Beast.

"What the damn hell?!"

"Oh my god!"

The beast roared as it raised it's torso up, Georges ran to Melita and got out his shotgun, loading it with shells as he got the reporter behind her.

"Stay back!" Georges told it, cocking his weapon. "I'm warning you..."

"Help..."

Georges raised a brow, having heard a word utter from the creature. "What?"

"Georges... Help... Me..."

"...Paul?" Georges asked, seeing some shred of his clothing still attached to the creature's being as he lowered his weapon. "Oh, Jesus... What happened-?!"

The last thing he knew was Paul swinging his mutated arm and scratching his own chest, leaving bleeding marks on his skin as Georges was flung through the air, crashing down through the table as Melita screamed in pure terror, loud enough for anyone nearby to hear her cries.

"RAAAAAGHHHHHHH!"

She turned around, listening to the pale white Albino's roar as she grabbed the shotgun, scared for her life as she stood back, breathing shakingly at the monstrosity standing inside this household.

"Don't you dare come near me!" Melita told the creature, shaking her head with the loaded weapon in hand. "You even come close, and I will shoot your ass!"

Paul growled, having lost any piece of his Humanity that remained with him as he started to crawl himself towards the reporter, having no disregard about doing the same to what he did to his own friend.

Then in a matter of seconds, Melita pulled the trigger, causing the White Beast to fall down due to being shot in the leg as she fired another round, landing the shells into the shoulder as blood splattered onto the walls and floors. Paul wailed in agony as he lay on the floor, injured from the impact of gunpowder as Melita panted from the adrenaline, Georges got up onto his feet, moaning in pain as she took his attention.

"Hey... Are you okay?"

"Mmm..." Georges made mumbling, probably from the shock he's going through as Melita turned to her purse and started getting out her phone.

"Listen, I'm going to call the authorities, but I need your help containing that thing lying on the ground! Okay, I know you're in pain, I just need you to-!"

Without any warning, Georges yelled out of nowhere as Melita turned around, wondering what was wrong with him... Then out of the blue, came Red Eyes spouting from his eyelids as his nails became sharp as a knife, his skin turning into white fur, and his clothes also starting to rip itself apart as his body weight and size started to change drastically, stunning the reporter as she took a step back.

Soon, Baptiste began to let out a series of gargled animalistic growling, the same way Cartier did during his transformation, who speaking of which; his wounds began to heal rapidly, making the terror even fresher in her eyes as she stood back, having just witnessed what happened to these men... And what may also happen to her worst of all...

"Oh god..." Melita started shifting the gauge, attempting to fire another round when the gun started to make a clicking sound, signaling that it has no more ammunition, much to her horrified dismay as she dropped her only weapon now rendered utterly useless, being cornered by two mutated monsters staring at her with so much malicious intent.

As she began pleading for her life, one of the monsters resembling a look of a Yeti started to charge at her, making her scream as she raised her hands up, waiting for the nails to tear her apart when something unexpected happened...

The hand that would have possibly killed her was held mid-air by just one hand as Melita looked up, seeing Logan standing right above her while he used both hands to push the Beast from her, right before he turned around and faced the Reporter that was surprised by his appearance.

"You?!"

As she asked the question, more animalistic growling appeared in the background as the two White Monsters stood their ground, looking angry at Logan as he turned to them with mutual resentment.

"Whatever happens next, you get on your feet, you walk out of that door, and you run like hell."

Melita gasped, crawling back as she saw Logan's fists having three sharp blades sticking right out of his own skin, making her even more stunned at his being as she panted, the monsters roared, declaring a battle cry as Logan gritted his teeth in fury.

"GO!"

He launched himself towards the Monsters, unleashing his offensive as he cut at them, piercing their skinned fur while blood was shed on the floor, causing the creatures to howl in pain before smacking Logan right side by the head, launching him over against the wall.

While Logan fell to the ground, knocking over some pictures and a deer mantle, Bishop arrived on the scene, having born witness to the nature of the creatures as his eyes widened at the sight.

"Shit... They're here too."

Logan groaned as he got up on his feet. "Friends of yours?"

"No, Wendigoes. They're deadly and ferocious, infecting anyone via bite or scratch."

He raised a brow. "Wait, these things are people?!"

"They were. Now they're dangerous."

Logan nodded his head, letting out the Claws. "So am I."

"ARRRRRAAAAAAGHHHHH!"

A loud shriek was let out into the environment as Logan and Bishop covered their ears from the loud piercing scream while the Wendigoes tilted their heads up, hearing a command echo into their minds.

"WEEEEENDIIIGOOOOOOOO!"

As that name was screamed into their minds, the two Wendigoes in the house growled ferociously before crawling right out of the home, smashing through the back sliding glass as they disappeared into the woods, ending the scream as the two Mutants looked on at their sudden retreat.

"...Well, that was quick."

Bishop stepped out into the snow, looking out into the dark as the Wendigoes continued to make their prints on the ground.

"Shit... It's the Signal..."

"What signal?" Logan turns to Bishop. "What are you on about?"

He pointed his finger into the air, turning to Logan. "That scream is like morse code for these creatures. I've only ever heard it if Trask Industries Personnel were nearby."

"So what the fuck does that supposed to mean?"

"It means they know where we are." He turned to get back inside. "We have to leave. If they find you, everything we've worked for will be lost!"

"No." Logan his head, backing away from Bishop. "This is not my fight, this is your fight. I have nothing to do with this!"

Bishop started approaching Logan. "Logan... Everything that's happened with Trask has everything to do with you. For Twenty Years, I've been looking through their data, and it just leads the same data that I've read about, which leads directly to you."

"And just why the fuck would they want with my data?"

"It's just as I said; something big is coming, and you're about to stand right in the middle of it!"

"And I'm supposed to trust you because what? You shot me in the goddamn head?!"

Bishop scoffed, raising his hands up. "Well, for the record, you were literally asking for it."

Logan shook his head. "Okay, just stop! Just fucking stop for a moment, will you?" He pointed at Bishop. "I don't know what the data says about me, but whatever it says, it clearly hasn't made a formal update because I'm not the same person that I was 2 decades ago, not anymore! So whatever fight you have to put up with, you can put it up without me, because I'm just done with this shit!"

"Tell that to Trask Industries." Logan scoffed, turning around to leave. "I'm not lying about the Wendigo Signal! If Trask is here, then they know that you're not as dead as you want everyone around you to think! What do you think is going to happen when they show up pointing a gun at your face?"

"That's easy; I'll make 'em regret it within every second of their life."

Logan then left the household, leaving Bishop to follow him right as he entered the road filled with tire tracks.

"You realize I'm here for you, right?" Bishop questioned, watching him walk away. "I can't leave this town without this you."

"Then that's your problem, not mine."

Bishop sighed, shaking his head as Logan continued to walk away, venturing into the woods. "Dammit... This is not how I wanted this to go."

As he continued to follow Logan from a distance, Melita was seen running through the snow trying to run away from the household after having been attacked by two vicious creatures as she continued running along the road, spotting two headlights from the distance as this caused her to raise her hands up in immediate urgency.

"HEY! HEY, STOP, PLEASE!"

The vehicle in question began to pull over on the side of the road as she stopped by the driver's window, seeing him and at least 5 more passengers.

"What's the trouble, ma'am?"

Melita gasped, shaking in her coat. "There's... There's a house not far from here! There's been an attack, I-I-I don't know how to explain-!"

"It's okay! It's okay, look. We're working with the Canadian Mounties, we've overheard a disturbance not too far from here, so we're here to check it out."

She sighed out of relief, thankful that help has arrived. "Thank you! Oh my god, thank you!"

"It's no problem. Now, could you tell us where you last saw the Mutant assailants, Mrs. Garner?"

At that moment, Melita's blood ran cold as she turned back to the driver, hearing the question she never thought she'd hear at the moment.

"...What?"

"Yes... The Mutants that are attacking... You did see them, didn't you?"

"No... No, I saw people turned into White Beasts, I... I never said anything about a Mutant..."

Suddenly, the radio broadcast inside the vehicle began to communicate at a frequency that did not sound like any local Canadian channels.

"Targets have been shown to have to exit the household, heading to your direction. Proceed with caution, the boss says targets are highly dangerous. Approach with extreme caution, deal with any witnesses in your way."

At that moment, she started backing away, having heard something about witnesses as she gasped, mortified about the "Help" that she had just begged very recently.

"...You people aren't working with the Mounties... Are you?"

The driver sighed, getting out of his car. "Lady..." As he shut the door, he held out a gun in his hand, which triggered Melita's nervous system to a T. "I think it's probably in your best interests that you cooperate with us, make it really easy on yourself."

She gasped, standing back before tripping on a rock, falling back into the snow. As the mercenary began to approach her, her hand grabbed a pile of snow and flung it right into his eyes, making him stagger back as she got up and ran right into the woods, with everyone else pursuing after her.

"Damn!" The Merc got out a radio receiver, moving along with his men. "Styker Units, we have spotted a Witness on the field! Remember, the Boss is paying a bonus for acquiring live subjects, so do not terminate! I repeat, do not terminate!"

She continued to get chased after by the men with guns as she ran down deep into the woods, desperate to escape from her pursuers as she sprinted down into the snow-covered forest as fast as she could.

She ran for what felt like hours of running through the pine trees when Logan was seen looking at her from hiding on a tree, watching her desperately try to getaway.

I meant what I said to Bishop. I'm not the man I was two decades ago, I haven't been for a long time, and I'm not planning on going back this time around.

She tripped on a log, inciting a shout as she fell onto the snow, pulling herself back up when something caught her foot. Part of her foot is now stuck on a thick piece of wood, much to her horror.

"No! Oh god, no!"

Come on, take off the shoe. You can do it, just take off the fucking shoe already.

As she struggled, the men going after her finally caught on to Melita as lights flashed from their flashlights, all ready to apprehend her.

"Witness is in sight! Preparing to detain!"

"Cuff her!"

"NO!"

She screamed as the men started to grab her, pulling her arms behind her back as she started to scream in terror.

"NO, STOP! OH MY GOD, PLEASE STOP!"

"Hold still, lady!"

"HELP! PLEASE, SOMEBODY, HELP ME!"

At that most critical moment, the word help echoed into Logan's mindset as he was flung right back into Dallas, finding himself standing amongst the ruined streets as the parade for Mutants and Humans United was completely torn apart by an attack so merciless many would absolutely deem it as damning as it's allowed to be.

Help us!

Someone, help me!

How could this happen?

Somebody do something!

LOGAN, HELP ME! HELP ME!

The memories of the voices echoing into his mind as he shuddered at the mere thought of the tragic event, even possibly at the sound of Melita screaming for help at this very moment.

"HELP ME, PLEASE! SOMEBODY HELP ME, I'M GETTING KIDNAPPED!"

"Someone shut this Bitch up! Gag her!"

Her screams began to muffle out from duck tape as Logan watched her just moments away from getting dragged away... With the only other person capable to do something about it just sitting on his ass on a tree just watching...

...Ugh, goddammit.

Soon, Logan stood on the tree, getting his Claws out of his fist. And without further ado, he jumped off the tree, yelling like a feral animal as he sank his Claws into the man holding her arms behind her back, pushing everyone else back as the man let out a death cry, gasping shortly after he pulled his Claws out.

Soon after, he turned around, facing the mercenaries as he watched them stare at him, afraid of his very being as many of them aimed their weapons right at the Wolverine.

"Oh, fuck, it's him!"

"All Stryker Units! Subject X is on sight, I repeat, Wolverine is in sight! We need reinforcements ASAP-!"

His call for back up was slightly interrupted when three sharp blades cut right into his flesh, letting out a blood-curdling scream after having his own hand getting dismembered.

Soon after the brawl began, Melita was pushed right onto the ground as Logan went on a frenzy, cutting each mercenary without mercy as he cut someone's chest, another's a leg, and finally, when the last platoonmate was left, he kept firing bullets at him, hoping to kill the Mutant with a Healing Factor as he was pinned to a tree, Logan let out a growl and stabbed him right in the skull.

Once the deed was done, blood began to pour from the back of the stabbed tree as the diseased merc fell onto the bloodied snow, allowing Logan grunt before shaking off the bullets as he looked around at his own handiwork while sheathing his Blades back into place.

Okay... I can't say I missed getting shot at, but I can say I missed the thrill... Maybe just a little bit.

Once he turned around, he looked at Melita lying on the ground, having witnessed his own battle in action as he knelt down, raising a hand up to show non-hostility.

"It's fine... I'm not going to hurt you, I'm just going to get you out of these binds." His hand was raised up, taking up one blade, but the rest remain unsheathed. "Hold still."

He moved behind Melita, cutting the wires off her wrists, setting them free as she stood up, taking off her gag as she panted, looking at Logan in shock as he stood up, looking at him perplexingly.

"...The... These men, they... They called you a Mutant." Melita stammered, to which Logan only shrugged.

"Wouldn't be the first time... Though I have been called worse."

She circled him around for a brief while, observing his body as Logan just stood there, sighing while being slightly annoyed.

"You know, you're more than welcome to stare at me all night. I mean, it's not like we have more company coming right for us, so take your time."

She continued to walk around him until she stopped, looking at his chest full of bullet holes as she rubbed on his chest, seeing no blood bleeding out of his wounds as she looked astonished by that fact.

"You're... You're not bleeding." Melita said. "You were bleeding when those bullets hit you. How are you not bleeding still?"

"...Healing Factor... Works for me most of the time, especially in situations like these."

"They also called you Wolverine." At that moment, Logan began to feel a bit distressed by that name. "Why does that name sound so familiar to me all a sudden?"

He sighed, gently taking her hand off her chest. "Look, I don't have a lot of time on my hands, so if we could just wrap this up-!"

A shot rang out, impacting Logan by the shoulder as he shouted in pain, more men arrived with armed weaponry as they flashed lights on Logan, who started firing more shots at him.

"Stay down!"

He pushed her down, moving to confront the mercs as they were slashed away in a matter of seconds, leaving no room for survivors as he cut, gutted, and mauled on every last one of them until another group arrived, shooting bullets that somehow made Logan bleed.

Logan screamed at that, causing him to be pushed down as he growled in pain, pulling the bullet out to see a familiar metal that he has grown accustomed to for all his life...

Adamantium... Shit, these assholes are packing Adamantium in their fucking Bullets.

As he laid on the ground, the mercs started surrounding the incapacitated Mutant, knowing that they had the upper hand which made him pissed off than he was at the moment.

Dammit, if I make one wrong move, they could put another bullet right into my skull.

"All remaining Stryker Units, we have Target X apprehended, I repeat, we have Target X apprehended!"

"Shut it. All other units have been killed by this freak, there's no need for radio anymore."

"Jesus, we're the only ones left?"

"Yeah, no thanks to this lonely fuck over here."

"Wait, what about the other target?"

"What other targets?"

"Didn't anyone say anything about a second target on the field?"

"Who cares? That Ugly Mutant probably crawled right out of here before-!"

A grenade was tossed gently on the ground as the men looked down on it before a red blast knocked them all away, leaving none to spare as Bishop arrived with his own personal Rifle. As they got back on their feet, Bishop used his Rifle and shot blasts of Red Energy, taking them out as Logan got back up, seeing the Mutant displaying his own set of powers.

As Melita got up, one of the soldiers released one of their own grenade's pins, throwing it at Garner as Logan quickly grabbed her to provide cover, Bishop shot the last soldier and did the job for them as the grenade exploded.

As it did so, the energy that was expelled from the grenade was starting to be absorbed by Bishop as Logan and Melita turned around, seeing him absorb the explosion without harm coming his way as he gritted his teeth, letting him take it all in until it was completed. The grenade finally emptying out its heat as Bishop sighed heavily, shaking his head smoothly.

"You both alright?"

Logan nodded, pointing at him. "So... That's your Superpower?"

"Kind of." He used his energy that he absorbed to charge his Rifle. "I mostly savor them for my Weapon."

Melita stood back, rubbing her head. "Okay... Can somebody tell me what the hell is going on here? Because I don't remember there being any kind of mercenaries dressed up as the Canadian locale trying to abduct me while trying to escape from... What, white furry Big Foot?"

Logan shook his head, turning to Melita. "Look, this story of yours you planned on doing? You probably should just bail, because this ain't something San Francisco should be worried about."

Bishop raised a brow. "San Francisco? What are you on about?"

"What? She's part of the San Francisco Post."

Bishop chuckled, shaking his head while Melita noticed his expressed amusement.

"Is there something funny you'd like to share with the rest of the class? Because I can call my editor about how Mutants aren't entirely as dead as we have believed them to be!"

Bishop sighed, shaking his head. "Yeah, and I'd shaking in my boots if I didn't figure out you were nothing more of a Blogger rather than a Reporter."

Logan raised a brow, while Melita just blinked, having heard Bishop made such a bolding remark about her.

"...What the fuck are you on about?"

Bishop turned to Logan. "What? She's part of her own website. MelitaGarner dot net? I'm guessing you never heard of it, which ain't that surprising, to be honest." He started walking away. "Jesus, man. I thought your nose had a truth detector on it."

Logan looked down, turning his head over to Melita as she started looking at him in return.

"...Is that true?" Logan questioned her. "Is what he just said about you all true?"

Melita sighed, shaking her head while feeling Logan's accusing stare on her. "As much as I'd love playing the judgment game, I still have no clue what your story is up here in Canada."

"My story..." Logan hissed, leaning his face close to Melita. "Is none of your fucking business. As a matter of fact, all this shit you brought up questioning about earlier, is none of yours either, so what the fuck is your story, huh?"

"She's looking for her friend."

The two of them turned around, witnessing Bishop kneeling down to take a glimpse at the Adamantium arsenal that these men had in their inventory.

"My sources in the X-Force tells me that her friend, Charlie, went missing sometime back 6 months ago, back when she was stating concerns about Trask International."

Melita gasped, taking a step back. "Trask? You're serious? These..." She looked around at the bodies. "These men, they worked for Trask?"

Logan scoffed, shaking his head. "Oh, hell no. No, I'm not doing this shit, not anymore." He started walking away, much to Melita's surprise.

"What, seriously? You're leaving already?"

"You can't leave, Logan."

"Yes, I can, watch me."

Melita started following him, despite his silent response in the matter.

"These people, they're connected to this, are they? The disappearances, the White Big Foot looking creatures, you? They're all connected, are they?"

Logan sighed, annoyed by her questioning. "Don't you have puppies or kittens to blog about?"

Melita scoffed, shaking her head. "Oh, don't you keep using that Blogger bullshit on me! Just because I don't work in some big shot place like the Daily Bugle or WHiH Newsfront doesn't mean that I'm not here trying to learn about the truth, because I'm here to report the truth."

"For what? Your missing friend, Charlie?"

"Yes, exactly! I'm doing it for her! Happy?"

"Only when you're six feet away from me, sure."

She stopped, watching him just walk away. "Wow... You really don't care, do you? For someone who seemed intent on saving my ass twice, you don't seem to care about anyone who gets hurt all around you!"

At that moment, Logan stopped, freezing his movements Garner watch him halt in his tracks. Then in a fracture of seconds, he started turning around, facing Melita dead in the eye as he held silent anger glinting in his own eyes.

"What makes you think that I don't care?" Logan asked her, forming his fists, but not letting out his claws. "What? Just because I'm walking away from this drama of yours, doesn't mean that I didn't have people in my life that I cared about? People who depended on me, only to die when they needed me? You really think that much of me, do you?"

Melita let the air out from her nose, feeling the cold breeze move around their warm bodies as she continued staring at Logan. But just as they continued the conversation, Bishop caught up with the both of them.

"As much as I love to listen to a good old fashioned argument, we have bigger things to do... Trask International is going to send more of their people here, probably to cover it all up. We should be long gone by the time they get here."

Logan nodded his head. "Fine by me... You do whatever you have with your beef with Bolivar Trask, and I'll do whatever the hell I please."

He turned around while puzzling Melita, having heard the name speak out in their conversation.

"I'm sorry... Bolivar Trask? As in the founder of Trask International?"

"Yeah. Clearly, you have your issues with him, so do something about it."

"...We can't."

"Why not?"

"Because he's dead."

Logan stopped once more on his tracks, turning around as he looked at Melita.

"What do you mean, "He's dead"?"

Melita sighed, rubbing her shoulder. "Don't you know? Back in 7/15, he was killed, along with his brother, Simon. All of them perished in an explosion, their bodies weren't found until a couple of days later."

"Alright, then who the hell is in charge then?"

"Some... I don't know, someone that suddenly took up control after their deaths... Someone that goes by..."

"Creed."

Logan's blood began to chill internally as the word Creed echoed into his mind. Memories of past encounters flashing by as he was once seen on the Stature of Liberty brawling with a Mutant that had animalistic tendencies just like he does.

"Victor Creed." Bishop continued, walking towards Logan as he continued to stand there frozen. "Current CEO of Trask, Former Member of the Brotherhood, AKA Sabretooth." He stopped right in front of him. "But you already knew at least most of that, don't you?"

Logan sighed heavily as his hands shook, familiarizing with that name as he felt so many bad memories flooding into his brain, the word Creed just being pixelated as the figure with sharpened fingernails lingered in the shadows like a ghost that haunts you in your deepest darkest nightmares.

"Our Score ain't settled yet, Bub."

That sentence was echoed repeatedly until Logan breathed the cold air, turning his eyes over to Bishop who stared at him in turn, waiting for the question he figured that Logan would eventually ask him.

"...Are you bullshitting me on this?"

"Never in a time like this, nor at any time or place... I remember that you had... A long history together..."

"...Did I know?" He pointed at his own head. "Did I know... Before you shot me?"

Bishop sighed, folding his arms. "You had your suspicions... I can say that for sure."

Logan sniffed the air, not to breathe, but to smell Bishop's scent as he felt the truth flowing out of him as his hands were let loose, disturbed by the information that was delivered to him after all these years.

"...Dammit." He started walking in the other direction, shoving past Bishop along the way. "Next time, lead with that instead of wasting my fucking time."

Bishop turned to face Logan. "Does this mean you're coming back?"

"What the hell do you think? You comin' or what?"

Bishop nodded his head, having gotten him back to some semblance of a fighting spirit. "Yes sir."

Bishop started following him while Melita just stood in the snow, watching them leave.

"Wait..." She began tailing Bishop. "You know about Charlie? About Trask?"

"If you're asking where you can find her current location, I'm afraid I can't help you with that."

"But, you can help, right?"

Bishop stopped, turning to Melita. "You care about her that bad, huh?"

Melita bit her lip, standing in the snow before turning to Bishop. "Charlie, she... She helped save my life... I owe it to her to save her as she saved me."

Bishop lifted his weapon up. "You realize this is going to be dangerous, where we're going, right?"

"I don't care... As long as I find my friend, I'll cross hell and back just to find her."

Bishop sighed, nodding his head as he started walking back to follow Logan. "Your funeral."

She sighed out of relief, walking behind Bishop as they re-entered the road she was just chased out of, seeing Logan hotwiring one of Trask's thugs' vehicles as he noticed Melita tagging along with them.

"Oh? She's coming too?"

She nodded. "Yeah... You got a problem with that?"

He grunted, activating the vehicle's engine as he held the wheel. "Just as long as you don't keep annoying me to death."

"With you? I doubt dying is an issue in your case."

She sat in the back while Bishop took the passenger seat in the front, sitting next to Logan as they shut their doors, allowing him to drive away in the snow.

"Alright, Bishop... Since you know things more than the rest of us, care to tell us where we're going?"

"Somewhere you won't like it..."

"Try me."

Bishop turned his eyes over to Logan. "Dallas."

Logan groaned, shaking his head. "I'm already getting excited..."

He started driving out of Alberta as they all sat comfortably in the car in their journey together while Logan had one person in mind during the drive.

Creed, you son of a bitch... How the hell are you still alive after all these years, you cold-blooded bastard?

---

Chicago, Illinois... Trask International Headquarters.

The city of Chicago was seen lit beautifully in the dark as a dark figure in the darkened office watched from above, holding his own glass of Whiskey in hand as someone entered his office, knocking on the door.

"Hey, boss... There's been an update in Canada, concerning the Wendigo Project."

"Yes?" The man's hands gripped the glass. His nails digging into it, scratching it without care. "What of it?"

"Well... Our men failed, everyone has been listed as part of a casualty, but... They found someone you've been interested in for a long time... Target X?"

The man's head tilted up. His eyes risen in animalistic lust as his hand began to grip on the glass, though not tight enough to make it shatter.

"...Do you have proof?"

The bodyguard withdrew his hand, unleashing some kind of metallic tentacle as they withdrew satellite images of Logan as they fell neatly on his desk, causing the Boss to turn around an approach his desk while gently placing his scratched glass on the table.

There, he took a good look at Logan's picture, seeing his Adamantium Claws unleashed as his eyes stared into the image... Obsessed with it as if he were holding his own prey at his mercy while the pale white servant observed his client.

"Boss?"

He withdrew a breath, clutching on it instinctively. "Do we have his whereabouts?"

"Not quite... But the Trask R&D department is tracking their destination down to Texas."

He chuckled, laying the photo on his desk. "Dallas... How typical."

The Guard folded his arms. "You want us to intercept him?"

The Man's eyes peered into Logan's face before turning away. "...No, Omega." He turned around, facing his Bodyguard. "Let him stroll around in Memory Lane for a bit, make him feel nostalgic for a while... Trust me, it'll make breaking Logan a lot sweeter with due time."

---

Hi! It's me, Deadpool! In case you haven't noticed, I just hijacked SOB99's keyboard after I just locked him out of his own bedroom! Can you believe how silly that sounds? I mean, if you guys read my previous One-Shot that just got posted way before this one, I'm pretty certain you could say this is payback for interrupting me in mid-sentence.

Wade, what the hell?! Open the door!

Shit! I don't have a lot of time! Listen, if you read this first Episode and you liked it, good for you! That means you're somewhere at home jerking your dick off about good old Wolverine! But you know what else might be arousing? Me! In this Season, no fucks given! How horny is that, right?

Wade, come on! Don't make me change my mind giving you your own show, now open the door!

Okay, okay! You know what? He's right. This is a Wolverine Fanfic, not a Deadpool Fanfic, so you know what? I probably shouldn't hog all of the spotlights, am I right?

WADE. OPEN. THE. DOOR!

But, but don't go anywhere yet! If you really, I mean, really want to read all about me laying in bed with Logan, then please give this fanfic a shit ton of Reviews/Comments!

WADE!

Ah, okay, maybe not a shit ton, you know? Maybe just a few. It makes him feel supported, you know? Considering that it's actually his birthday today? And that he never really gets paid for any of the content he writes? Not to mention me of all people! I mean, come on! My net worth is over $150 Million! I should be paid for this shit right now, come on!

Okay, that's it! I'm gonna call Thanos and he's gonna Snap your sorry ass out of existence if you don't open the goddamn door!

Oh, crap! That Italic Font in the last sentence implies he's walking away right now! That's probably my cue to leave now, so I should probably scaddle before I suddenly don't feel so good, you know what I mean? Hehe! Right! So; thanks for reading this, feel free to check out Spider-Man, he's also a Cutie! And uh, also check out Transformers, especially Fall of Cybertron. I've actually read some of it, and I can already tell shit's gonna get real!

Wade! I have Thanos on the phone, and he says he's got all Six Infinity Stones right now! Better open the door!

Fuck me, I should go! Please, please convince him to include me in this Fanfic! Seriously, if you don't convince him to invite me, I'll come over to your house and burn it down while castrating your balls with the same Chainsaw I used on those Sony/Disney dicks back in What If? Chapter 15! See how you like it when you don't have any milk to jerk off with!

Five, four, three...!

FEEL FREE TO WISH HIM A HAPPY BIRTHDAY, HAVE A NICE DAY!

BYE!