Feral
Wade stood in a pool of blood, bodies all around him. Arms outstretched, and katana’s in hand he inhaled deeply as if taking in the most crisp mountain air. With a loud exhale he said “god, I love the smell of dead pedophiles in the morning” then looked down at the bodies at his feet and kicked one as hard as he could, delighting in the wet snap of the corpse’s neck as he did so.
He was a tad choosy when it came to his merc jobs, but anything involving pedo’s and child abusers was an automatic yes. Every single one he brought down with his sword made his heart skip a beat and a massive smile to make its way across his face. Because every time he killed a pedophile, it was like he was killing his father and scoutmaster Kevin over, and over and over again. After all, who needs therapy when you can just kill monsters for a living?
Wade skipped through the blood and corpses like a child frolicking through a field of flowers. He felt euphoric, he felt……oh. Wade’s jubilant mood waned as he caught sight of his beau and the absolute carnage that had been left in Logan’s wake.
On all fours, and surrounded by mutilated corpses, was Logan. A man's arm was in his mouth, and he was dragging the rest of the body behind him as if it were fresh prey. Loud snarls echoed throughout the warehouse and blank eyes stared ahead. Looking down, Wade noticed claw marks bisecting the corpses and deep bite marks on what was left of their torn out throats.
It wasn’t as if Wade cared what happened to these scum that were masquerading as human, he really didn’t, but this level of cruelty and violence was so unlike his Wolverine. Logan never drew out the suffering of others, he never relished in wonton cruelty - especially when it came to humans.
Wade observed for a few moments longer. That look of pure rage and sadness, the blank eyes…. with an exhausted sigh Wade muttered “Weapon X.” Not good.
Logan’s feral mind had two distinct selves. There was Logan’s default feral self, the one that took over sometimes due to his mutation, or appeared when he was in an environment that he felt safe in or with someone he felt safe with. It was the protector. It was kindness, vulnerability and trust.
And then there was Weapon X. Weapon X was all of Logan’s misery, pain, fear, trauma and anger. It was a weapon. It was cruel. It was unrelenting, and it was extremely dangerous. The appearance of Weapon X meant that something had triggered Logan, and whatever it was must’ve been very, very bad. One question then remained: what was the trigger?
Unable to tear his gaze away Wade watched as, with a sickening crunch, Weapon X clamped down on the arm and bit through it, causing the nearly dead man to cry out in pain with what little energy he had left.
That small cry of pain caused Weapon X’s instincts to go into overdrive. He dropped the arm and turned, then pounced on the man with all 300 pounds of his weight, shattering ribs and knocking out what precious air remained in the man’s ravaged lungs before ripping out his throat with a snarl.
Weapon X spat the man's flesh onto the ground then extended his left leg back and shook it as if something was stuck on his foot, then he did the same to his right. When whatever he was trying to get off wouldn’t budge he threw his head back, let out a terrifying roar, then resumed roaming.
It was like watching the worlds most fucked up game of hide and seek. Weapon X slowly moved, nose to the ground as he went, sussing out any survivors. The warehouse they were in wasn’t very large. It had two levels, one set of stairs and shitty lighting. Two old mattresses rested in the corner alongside a large dog cage and some camera equipment.
One thing Wade had learned, after working with Logan on their first few missions, was that he wielded his incredible sense of smell like a weapon. When Logan wanted to track someone down, they were as good as dead. Didn’t matter where they hid, or how careful they thought they were being, or how far they ran, Logan would always find his prey.
“Nononono p-pl-please!” The man hidden under the stairs cried, but it was futile. Weapon X dragged him out by his leg and shook his head back and forth, maiming the leg beyond repair. Then, like with the other man, he bit through the appendage, dropped it, broke ribs and then ripped out his throat.
“Jesus fucking christ!” Wade blurted out.
And then, much to Wade’s horror, Weapon X’s attention turned toward him.
Wade had re-designed Logan’s entire costume and hand sewed it himself. It had taken weeks of labour and many sleepless nights but the end result was nothing short of amazing. The design was inspired by the John Byrne suit, but with some minor changes. The yellow remained the same but the brown was switched with black and the belt was blue instead of red.
His boots and gloves, however, had been given a massive re design. A few well placed lines on the toe cap area gave the illusion of paws and the sole’s were given a wolverine paw pad design, so he’d leave wolverine tracks everywhere he went.
When fighting, Wade observed that Logan tended to propel himself forward on all fours by extending his claws into the ground, pushing forward, then retracting them all within the span of a few seconds. To help circumvent that, Wade had added toe beans to the palm and fingers of his gloves. The beans were grippy and allowed him to propel himself forward without using his claws, thus saving precious seconds and energy.
It made Wade’s heart skip a beat when he had presented Logan with his new costume and the latter had given him the most beautiful smile he had ever seen in his life, along with the most heartfelt thank you he had ever heard. He felt like a million bucks and was riding that high for weeks.
Weapon X walked through the puddles of blood on all fours, slowly advancing toward him, and leaving bloody tracks in his wake. Wade was struck with a profound sense of confusion. Weapon X was looking at him like the pedo’s, as if he were prey. But why? Logan knew him. He knew he was safe.
But did he? Wade sheathed his katana’s, deciding that he’d appear as less of a threat with them put away, and was taken aback by the disgusting stench that wafted from his costume. He smelled horrendous.
Wade’s suit was covered in blood and viscera, none of it his own. It was the one major downside of his suit. The bad guys couldn’t see him bleed, but he couldn’t see the bad guys blood on himself either. Christ, he smelled pungent, bloody and…..oh no.
Weapon X’s nose twitched and his lips were pulled back, exposing his sharp canines. He let out a deep rumbling snarl and walked ever closer.
Careful not to make any sudden moves, Wade knelt down, removed his gloves, pulled his mask up half way, then held out a hand. He made sure to stay absolutely still knowing that one wrong move could set Weapon X off.
Weapon X’s nose twitched as he slowly sniffed Wade’s hand, then moved ever closer - cautious and sniffing up the entirety of Wade’s arm as he did so.
The growling subsided and a spark of recognition finally appeared in Logan’s eyes. With Weapon X finally gone, Wade took Logan’s face in his hands, removed the cowl and scratched Logan’s mutton chops with a relieved smile.
He patted Logan’s head like one would a child and then said “what has you so upset, Lolo? Can you show me?”
Wade had to quicken his pace to keep up with Logan, as the latter had his hand in a light grasp between his teeth, least he end up being dragged behind like a rag doll. Wade’s eyes narrowed. He could see something small and still in the distance but couldn’t quite make out what it was.
As they moved closer, the shape became more clear. It was small, curled up, and was laying still. A dog? no.
Oh.
A child.
Logan let go of Wade’s hand and nudged the body with his nose, trying to make the boy wake. A pained keen rose from his throat and he looked at Wade as if to say ‘help the pup.’
A single glance at the body told Wade all he needed to know. Too big clothes on a horrifically small body, the barely visible streaks of blood on the inside of the thighs, the kid was dead long before they got there. Just didn’t know it yet. Wade removed his mask and held it close. He anxiously played with the material as memories long ago made their way to the forefront.
A party. Grown men passing his small body between themselves. His father counting money, a smile on his face. A scream. So much blood. One man too big. One boy too small. Pain. Tears. Pain. Pain. Pain. It was the first and last time his dad looked at him as a son instead of a paycheck.
With a shaky sigh, Wade knelt down beside Logan and rubbed his back “Too late Peanut, I’m sorry.”
Logan stared at him for a moment, then went back to nudging the corpse. Wade knew that in his feral mindset Logan understood death, but in this instance it was as if he truly couldn’t comprehend that the child was dead. Or perhaps, he didn’t want to.
The confusion was understandable, the child had seemed fine when they got there. He was walking around, talking, seemed alert and then just dropped dead. But Wade knew that if they had, had the time to look at him for more than a second, they would’ve realized that the walking was confused wandering, the talking was gibberish and the child was so far gone that any semblance of alertness was just the body on autopilot doing one last hurrah before it ran out of juice.
Wade pointed to his abdomen, hoping Logan would understand “He was hurt inside, there wasn’t anything we could’ve done.” He paused, hoping the words would sink in “he’s dead, Logan.”
With a roar, Logan knocked Wade to the ground. Crouched and bit his neck, then laid down on top of him and licked at the wound, making a sad sound as he did so. It was nothing more than a light nip, but the message was clear.
Wade’s voice shook and he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out unwanted memories “you’re mad at me. But it’s not my fault…it’s not. I didn’t lie.”
He felt a rough tongue licking the tip of his nose, then his cheek. He pushed his face into Wade’s neck and let out a melodic coo. Wade wrapped his arms around Logan and squeezed, as if to ground himself.
They stayed like this for several minutes.
“Lolo, off.” Wade whispered, still feeling like dog shit but well enough to function. Logan got off and began to pace, never wandering too far away from Wade’s side. Every so often he’d shake his body as he usually tended to do after a shower, then resumed his pacing.
Wade’s eyes narrowed as he observed this strange behaviour. He called Dopinder for a pick up, then watched Logan for a moment longer before corralling him outside. While they waited, Logan once again shook his body then paced. Rinse and repeat.
Every minute that passed felt like an eternity. Wade allowed his mind to wander. He just wanted to go home, get into bed, and go to sleep.
“DP!”
Oh thank christ.
Dopinder waved from the drivers side, and patiently waited for Wade and Logan to get in.
Logan extended his leg back and shook it. Wade finally understood the actions for what they were: overstimulation. Wade pinched the bridge of his nose. Just what he needed, an overstimulated Lolo.
Unlike his ‘human’ self, feral Logan was much less shy about certain things. One of these said things was nudity, as his feral self sometimes got into moods where even a single article of clothing would horrifically overstimulate him. An overstimulated feral Logan was also a very naughty and difficult to control Logan. It was like trying to wrangle a fucking cat.
Wade opened the car door and pointed to the backseat “get in the car.”
Refusing to budge, Logan sat on his haunches and looked away.
“I know you’re overstimulated and want the suit off, but that’s not an option right now. Get in the car.”
Logan ignored him and started gnawing on his gloves.
“Get in the fucking car!” Logan’s brows furrowed and he hopped into the backseat. Wade forced him into a proper sitting position and buckled him in. He growled at Wade, who simply stuck him with an unimpressed look and bit out a harsh “behave!”
Feeling like shit, Wade got into the front seat, barked out “home” and stayed silent the rest of the ride. Thankfully, Dopinder didn’t pry and Wade used the precious time to calm himself down a little, knowing that once he got Logan home, the real battle would begin and he’d need all the patience he could possibly spare.
—-
By the grace of god, or some other higher power, Wade had managed to corral Logan out of the car and into the apartment without much fuss. With a grunt, he picked Logan up like a cat, got him into the bedroom and locked the door.
Inside was a queen sized bed, covered in knitted blankets and green Ikea bedding. Closest to the door was Althea’s side, her purple bonnet neatly folded and placed on her pillow. Her medications were labeled in brail and lined up on the nightstand. Wade’s side was closest to the wall and covered in so much plushies, that they would frequently fall off the bed and onto the floor. Next to him, and sandwiched between the wall and the bed, was Logan’s nest.
Books in Japanese, Spanish, Farsi, Korean and English were neatly organized in the bedroom bookcase. All second hand and all very well read. Books were one of the only luxuries that Logan ever afforded himself as he preferred to either spend the money on Althea and Wade, or place most of it in savings. Even then, those precious few luxuries were never ever brand new. Wade didn’t really understand why everything had to be second hand until he had caught Logan sniffing one of his ‘new’ books and giving it a sad, wistful, smile.
”Everythin’s got a story, Red. Ya just gotta listen.” Logan placed the new book in Wade’s hands. It was in Korean, and so old that it’s spine was well cracked and the pages were loose and close to falling out. Logan guided Wade’s hands over said pages and inhaled “S’been in so many hands, n’been enjoyed by so many people…s’like s’got a story all s’own.”
Like with everything he owned, Logan treated the books very well. Which is why Wade loathed dressing Logan while he was in this overstimulated, feral, state. It always got rough, and it always resulted in something or someone getting damaged. Wade wasn’t going to let Logan’s feral self destroy something he cherished so deeply.
A very unhappy Logan was in the corner, on his back and trying to bite at his boots. Wade walked over with a sigh and took them off, then carefully removed everything, the task made slightly easier by Logan who had figured out what he was doing and promptly stopped his struggling
Once naked, Logan calmed a little.
Wade closed his eyes, inhaled deeply and let out a long exhale, readying himself. He opened up the bottom dresser drawer and got out a pair of underwear and pants. He briefly considered just giving up and allowing Logan to run around naked, but knew that Logan would murder him if he ever allowed him to saunter around like that with Althea in the house. Something about manners and being respectful. Ugh, what a pain in the ass.
With Wade distracted, Logan made a mad dash for the bedroom door on all fours. Sneaky little shit.
“Oh no you fucking don’t!” Underwear in hand, Wade tackled Logan to the ground and they hit the floor with a loud bang. Face down, Logan writhed and snarled under Wade who was trying to unsuccessfully get the underwear on him.
“You said that just because Al’s blind, doesn’t mean we -“ he grunted “get to walk around with our dicks out. Fucking disrespectful, you said!” Wade panted, and Logan snarled “so, stop fucking struggling!”
Logan howled, managed to turn himself over, and kicked Wade with just enough force to get him off. Wade was knocked back and hit the bookcase with an oof. It shook, and several books fell. The biggest and most valuable in Logan’s collection hit him right on the head and then fell to the floor. Wade loudly swore then picked it up and examined it.
It was a Japanese language copy of Heike Monogatari. Logan was an avid reader, but this book in particular, above all others, seemed to be his absolute favourite. Wade carefully opened it and frowned when he was greeted by dried tear stains that littered the first few pages. Wade didn’t know why Logan was so attached to this particular story, but he had a hunch that it had something to do with the name Logan sometimes called out in his dreams: Mariko.
Thankfully none of the books had been damaged, nevertheless Wade had, had enough. He stood, fists clenched, stomped his foot and screamed “STOP!”
The effect was immediate. Logan let out a pitiful whine and got onto his back, exposing his stomach in an act of submission. Doing that always made Wade feel like shit, but it had to be done.
His tone sharp, Wade muttered to himself as he dressed Logan “can’t do shit the easy way noooooooooo gotta make things tough cus fuck me, right?”
Wade stood back up when he was done and started to change out of his suit. He kept one eye on Logan, the latter of whom was no longer on his back, but instead had curled up on the floor. Once finished, Wade set about putting the books back, and a very remorseful Logan padded up and licked at his hand. Still cross, Wade ignored him.
Logan made a sad sound and his nose twitched. He made a curious chirping sound when he spotted the copy of Heike Monogatari laying on the floor. He pawed at the book, as if trying to open it.
Wade sighed again, for the umpteenth time that day, and said, with a slight smile “Ok. Fuck, fine. Go get Pup.”
Logan let out an enthused chirp and ran to his nest.
It was when he was laying on the bed, the brick of a book resting on his chest, and waiting for Logan, that Wade realized that his memories had finally gone blissfully silent. He supposed that as much of a pain in the ass as Lolo was being, caring for him was a welcome distraction.
Logan hopped up on the bed, carrying pup by the scruff. On all fours, he walked in a quick circle then curled up with his head on Wade’s lap, gently letting Pup rest near his head. Wade opened the book and read out loud.
“The sound of the bell of Gionshoja echoes the impermanence of all things. The hue of the flowers of the teak tree declares that they who flourish must be brought low. Yea, the proud ones are but for a moment, like an evening dream in springtime. The mighty are destroyed at the last, they are but as the dust before the wind.”