He’s Been It All, A Freak, A Soldier, A Weapon, But She Finally Made Him….A Protector.
He was better off on his own, that was his motto.
Besides the regular good old fuck off or fuck you.
He was an asshole that pissed the fuck out of people, and that meant making enemies.
Which leads to the shithole he ended up in.
He was doing fine held up in his little cabin up in the forestry of Alberta, nothing to do but drinking, smoke his cigars, chop wood, fight some poor fucker that was stupid enough to get in a cage fight with him, eat. Rise, wash, repeat.
That was until he woke one night to his instincts screaming attack, his head might be scrambled eggs but at least he still had his instincts to fall back on. Teeth bared into an impressive snarl showing off sharp incisors hat can easily tare through flesh, inhaling through his nose scenting the hostile scents surrounding his cabin.
Gun powder clung to them mixing with scents of nervous sweat and the tang of malicious intent. Not some drunk unhappy rednecks than, who ever these fuckers are their trained, and on a mission. Now it’s just up in the air if that mission is to eliminate or capture.
So sue him, he ain’t feeling up to being hospitable right now.
He can’t be blamed though when they kick down his door, tracking the winter snow in with them. He also shows them just how much he doesn’t appreciate that by shoving his claws straight through the first fucker’s throat.
The soldier dies gurgling on his own blood, his buddies open fire not giving a shit if their shots hit their dead teammate. Roaring as bullets rain down on him using the dead man as a shield he rushed armed men throwing the dead body at the men knocking some off their feet.
Squiring a guy, his claws piercing through ribs and lungs like butter. The soldiers machine gun goes off as he dies with his finger squeezing the trigger, using it to his advantage Logan turned the gun onto the invading men.
One…two…three…four…five lay dead in his trashed cabin, releasing a breath sticking to the waiting by the door for the others he heard them making their way around the cabin. Hissing under is breath as three bullets push themselves out as his body heals, that never gets old.
Light shines through the broken doorway from the incoming soldiers, haven’t these guy learned not to give away their position in what ever shithole they crawled out of?
Striking at the right moment slashing through the knee dropping the fucker to his knees and then a nicely timed claws through the throat. Growling lowly when probes of a taser hook into his back sending a voltage that would incapacitate a man without his healing factor.
Tarring the wires out, he lunged at the final soldier slashing his claws neatly through tactical gear and into the soft flesh of the stomach. “Haven’t you heard the sayin’ of never bring a taser to a knife fight.” He snarled, blood pooled onto the snowy ground. “You wanna to tell me why you fuckers c’monin’ after me, bud.”
The soldier scoffed, causing him to almost choke on his own blood. “Orders are orders.”
Logan snarled grabbing the soldier by his tactical vest to bring the dying man closer to his face. “Listen bud, patience isn’t exactly my strongest suit.” He growled, shoving his silver claws in the man’s face. “So why don’t ya tell me before I stop being so nice.”
“They won’t stop until they have you back, Weapon X.” The dying soldier chuckled, that turned into a hacking cough as blood spilled on the white snow. “In others words….you’re fucked.” The soldier used his last strength to spit blood in Logan’s face.
Logan’s nostrils flared, as he stared down the soldier watching as his eyes widen in shock when claws stabbed through his jaw killing him.
Rubbing his knuckles as he rose off the snow covered ground, looking at the carnage that was his cabin. He needed to lie low, he needed to go somewhere no one would look for him. This was why he was better off alone.
That’s how he ended up driving across Canada, hitching a ride on a boat heading to London, England.
He blended in on the streets, those fuckers found him because he was too predictable, so he stayed in the cities bouncing around London always on the move.
He let his constantly growing hair to grow, it was easier to hide from surveillance when he didn’t look like him self. Just another homeless guy on the street.
Making his way down an alleyway that lead to the Main Street, smoking the last bit of his cigar when a scent caught his attention.
Sickness, pain, anger, acceptance filled the alleyway with their stench, they almost made him miss the underline scent of earth, cleaning supplies, some sort of flower, and youth.
It’s surprised him that it caused the cigar smoke to go down the wrong pipe, drawing a ragged cough out of him. The pain healed instantly, as he focused on that scent.
It was a kid.
Now kids on the street ain’t shocking or new to him, but this cub barely smelled old enough to lose the scent of its mother’s milk.
Moving closer to the cub, he could pick up the cub’s heart speeding up. The little thing had heard him he could now tell that it was a girl, but just looking at her, he wouldn’t be able to tell with how she swam in her clothes—clothes that were worn down that offered no warmth and faintly smelt of another child— the cub didn’t lift her head to see who was coming closer even though her heart was jack-rabbiting in her small chest.
Her mop of hair was a mess on top of her head, he could tell she was laying in wait of something the scent of anger and acceptance strengthening. He waited her out to she if she would do something.
He waited…waited…waited…and waited, Okay fuck this.
He crept closer to her, so she couldn’t ignore him, he heard her heart pounding, but he couldn’t smell any fear only a bitter acceptance. Her frozen body tensed and curled up protecting her head and stomach, in a way that screamed she had practice protecting her little body from blows.
Stopping a rumbling growl from rising up from his chest, no need to scare the cub any more especially if this was an abused cub. He could handle her fine if she ended up attacking, but he really didn’t want to provoke her into the need to defend herself. Even corner cubs could do some damage, not that it mattered with his healing factor.
He waited for her to speak up, in the silence of the alleyway but the cub was holding her silence heck the runt was even holding her breath in hoping he would mosey on his way leaving her to her own devices.
He knocked his booted foot against her soaked sneaker, taking extra care to be gentle so not to hurt her fragile bones. The cub huffed in annoyance, he smirked at her attitude even when she was sick and tired as she was.
The cub struggled to lift her weary head, her emerald eyes piercing him with her near feral defiance but in those depths he could see how bone tired she was. She was dangling from an edge, and for some fucked up reason he was the only one around to pull her back up to stand on her feet.
He studied her just as she studied him, the cub was small—the kind that came from sickness and hunger, he bet under those baggy clothes that were made for an obese child he would be able to count every fragile bone in her body— she was swimming in her large plaid shirt with a t-shirt under that, she wasn’t able to store any warmth with how big and worn her clothes were. The cold winds cut through her body, chilling her tiny body to her brittle cold bones. Her jeans were only held up with a cracking belt pulled tight as it could go, even then they were still too big.
The cub looked starved, a little wild child with her pitch black birds nest she called hair curled and stuck up in every direction, he didn’t know if it was from being unkept or just how it grew. Her frostbitten nose and cheeks were rosy red against her tanned skin, he could tell by the way she was paling that sickness and hypothermia was setting in. He was gonna have to talk some sense into the cub, wasn’t he?
“Hey Kid, what ya doing out in the cold.” He demanded, his voice as gruff as ever. He watched her face with a razor focus, the same way he did with his opponents, his nose twitched as she grew hostile but amused.
The little runt’s near goddamn blue lips pulled back into a snarl, but it could’ve been a smirk, she looked like she didn’t know when to shut her mouth. He was proven right when she croaked out her reply. “Minding my own business, you should try it, Old man.” He was right the runt was a little shit, her tone was as sharp as a knife and quick as a whip.
The wolverine in him growled loudly at the challenge the cub was putting out, he stared her down. The Wolverine wanting to make the little runt summit but knew she was trying to scare him off the only way she could. He watched as she fought her own instincts that screamed to cower and hide, to brace for a beating. No, the smart—or stupid depending on whom you ask—little cub stared right back into his eyes, unknowingly barring her bruised throat to him.
The dark blotches and spattering decorated her breakable throat—god he could easily crush it with one hand, no super strength needed—he and the Wolverine bristled and growled at the hand shaped bruising curled around her throat like a collar or a brand.
He scoffed-huffed at the shit he found himself into, he stalked away from the cub following his nose to around the alleyway bend to a convenient little coffeehouse.
Pushing the glass door open as a cheerful ring of a bell chimed above him welcoming to the overpowering smells of coffee, cinnamon, ginger, pumpkin and all little different baked goods. The barista watched him wearily as he stalked over to the counter, her fake smile strained as she leaned away from his looming form.
“H-How can I help you?” The girl stammered, looking as if she’d faint.
He snorted at the trembling girl, wondering how the sickly little cub had more backbone in her frozen and weary body then this girl. “Hot chocolate.”
The girl stared at him as if she never heard of the drink before. “W-what?”
“Look Lady ya got hot chocolate in this joint or not.” He demanded, growling drawing a squeak out of the girl. She nodded her head frantically rushing to get his order, scrambling and tripping over herself like an overexcited pup or maybe a headless chicken.
The girl shook handing him the drink, he huffed at her slapping down some bills on the counter grabbing the warm drink heading back out of the door, hearing the girl slump over the counter in relief when the bell signalled his exit.
He turned back around the alleyway the cub was slumped against the stonewall her dark eyelashes resting on her alarming rosy cheeks. His nose scented the salt from tears, but he bet if anyone had a reason to cry it would be this little cub too small and sickly.
She jerked out of her head as the ice crunched underneath her boots, those piercing emerald eyes snapping to him watching his every move he slowly stalked closer to her so’s not to alarm her any more than she already was. He crouched down in front of her, so he would be looming over her. She was so tiny that even crouch he still towered over her, and he wasn’t the tallest of men.
Hold the warm cup out for her to take only for the cub to blink those large emerald eyes of hers up at him not getting what he wanted her to do. Heaving a sigh at the cub he reached for her tiny hand to put that steaming cup in her hand himself.
The scent of fear burst out of her for the first time as she jerked out of his reach uselessly as her back was already pressed against the stonewall. Her jackrabbit heart back at least it wasn’t slowly crawling beat it was, this cub needed to get out of the cold and soon.
“Not gonna to hurt ya, Kid.” He soothed gruffly, a soft rumble came from his chest the Wolverine in him hoping the rumble would help calm the cub instead of scaring her further.
Slowly he clearly reached for that tiny hand again making his acts as obvious as possible. She watched him wearily, jerking in surprise as he placed the warm cup in her freezing hand. His own hands dwarfed hers, but those tiny hands were rough from callouses and scarred over from old scraps and scratches that got infected or were never treated.
Her fingers offered no grip or strength with how long they were exposed to the cold. Minor frostbite was setting in from how rubbery her skin felt, he wrapped his own hand around hers helping her hold the cup. Wolverine rising to surface with the need to take of the sick cub.
“It’s okay, Kid.” He rumbled, helping her lift the warm cup up to her lips a whine left her lips when she felt the steam on her chilled face. Even with that she eyed him suspiciously over the top of the cup, his lips twitched pleased that she still had it in her to not give her full trust. “C’mon, what are ya waitin’ for.” He dared her, knowing that a little runt like her wouldn’t be able to deny a challenge.
He could practically see her steeling herself to rise to the challenge, she tentatively sipped at the hot chocolate her body lost all her all tense all but melting against him. Shifting to adjust the drink, so she would spill it all over her self, when she snarled lunging into his chest gripping at the cup of hot chocolate like it was the only kept her alive.
Shushing her snarled and whines, he wrapped an arm around her tiny back—his hand splayed the width of her back for god’s sake, just another strike to an already shitty world—he brought her closer to him letting her freezing body soak in his body heat, her skin was like ice he needed to get her warmed up yesterday.
“Shh Darlin’, I wasn’t takin’ it from ya, I thought you needed to breathe that’s all.” He hushed her softening his voice in hopes of soothing her. “It’s yours, take your time Kid, it’s not going anywhere.” He watched as she drank from the warm cup, like a starved wolf pup. Both he and the Wolverine agreed there was no force that could pull him from the little cub in his arms, they’d find out how serious he was at the end of his claws.
Come on then, you cowards.
Haven’t you heard of the saying never come between the Wolverine and his cub? No? Well then you better learn quick because he had some bones to pick and some fuckers to kill.
But that can wait until he got his cub warm and fed, then it was on.