X-Men Unlimited #39 - August 2006

Editor’s Notes: This issue takes place long before M2K’s cut off point.

You ever read one o’ those old time comic books?

Y’know the ones I mean. With the hero with the secret identity and the big, and I mean BIG, mansion with the built in hide out. The one ya expect to be swingin’ around the dark city, sayin’ things like chum and fiend. Now take what ya got from imaginin’ the stately manor and mix in a heapin’ scoop o’ Tony Montana high end style. If ya can imagine that one, then yer about halfway to what I’m lookin’ at through the binoculars that I brought along fer the occasion.

I gotta give it to ‘im - Radiata knows just how to be a big bad mafia boss right down to the place he hangs his hat. Just by lookin’ at the place, I can tell it’ll be tough to get in and I’m still pretty far from the place next to my cursed cab. ‘Course, I ain’t sneakin’ into the joint. No, I think I’ll be makin’ my own door tonight.

That said, it’s gonna be one hell of a night…

Like I was sayin‘, I can see the Casa de Radiata and it don’t look like Radiata likes uninvited guests. Got about two patrols o’ from what I can see are three men, all of ’em armed with some o’ the best weapons money can buy. Ain’t no average hit man gettin’ past that, but they never dealt with someone like me before.

Looks like they’ve even got a few dogs with ‘em, and that ain’t somethin’ I’m happy about, but I’ll deal. None o’ this is enough to keep the ol’ Canuckle head out, even if I didn’t bring alone my ride. That ain’t up fer the testin’ tonight…

I’ve got myself a plan, and fer a change I plan on doin’ my best to stick to it. It’s pretty damn simple. Not one o’ slim’s expert tactical plans, but it’ll do fer what I’m doin’.

Anyway, let me lay it on out… First off, I’m gonna take this ol’ cursed cab that Bluujay was kind enough to give me and crash her right on into the side o’ the buildin’. If I set everything up just right, the C4 in the back seat won’t go off and all o’ Radiata’s guards will come runnin’ to see whats goin’ on. Then I’ll set her off, takin’ out the guards and blowin’ a big enough hole in the wall.

After that, well… well, I’ll do what I do best. Gonna be a long night, but this time I’m dressed fer the fight.

It’s been a damn long time since I wore my ol’ threads, but they still fit like a glove. I open up the trench coat I borrowed from Mickey and look down at the ol’ brown and orange uniform. It’s worn and stinks of that ol’ familiar sweat, blood and death… Had some big fights wearin’ this thing. Speakin’ o’ fits like a glove, I pull the gloves from my pockets and slip ‘em on. Under the light o’ the moon I raise my fist in front o’ my face and pop all three o’ my claws with an air cuttin’ SNIKT. The light reflects off o’ them and a grim grin crosses my face as memories o’ past fights come back to me…

Yup, I think this’ll be a good place to retire the ol’ suit. I retract my claws with a SNAKT and take off the coat, tossin’ it back into the cab. It’s almost time to get this show on the road, so I better get the ol’ game face on which means puttin’ on the mask and lucky me. It still fits even though I’ve got a bit more hair these days.

Pickin’ up the binoculars restin’ against my chest, I look out over Radiata’s homage to the mafia ideal. I hope the fuckin’ scum bag is ready fer a civilized bloke like me to come crashin’ on in. Hell, I bet he’s got the fine China out, just waitin’ with some buttered dipped lobster.

Well, I better not keep ‘em waitin’… like I said before, I ain’t rude.

I get back into the cab, get her started, and drive just a bit closer to the manor. I’ve got to keep outta sight o’ the guards, but get close enough to send this cab right down their throats. Once I get to a good spot, a clear run from entrance to manor, I get out and put her in park. Outta the back, I unload my “foot”… otherwise known as a chunk o’ concrete fer weighin’ down the gas pedal.

Hadn’t thought this one completely out, but it should do what I need, and so I lug it over to the driver’s side. This’ll be the weight to keep the pedal to the metal, makin’ sure that the car ain’t gonna stop till it hits.

Settin’ the block down, I take a few seconds to give the grounds one last good look. My eye sights damn good and I’m just close enough to see that all o’ Radiata’s goons are patrolin’ away from the gate. Now that’s what I call a lucky break… Hell, the first one I got durin’ this whole fuckin’ escapade. Not one o’ them is in range to hear the car yet and when they are it ain’t gonna matter. Well, let’s get the show on the rode.

I make sure the steerin’ wheels locked before pickin’ up the block again. I set it down slowly, right there on the gas peddle. The car revs up as the tires start to spin kickin’ up dusk and she’s almost ready to go. I count to ten before reachin’ in to take the Cab o’ Death outta park. Once she’s free, she shoots straight forward right toward Casa de Radiata at break neck speed.

Ain’t no way the fuckin’ high-tech special op flunkies are gonna miss this one… Hell, I doubt anyone’s gonna be missin’ this. The cab speeds straight fer the manor just clippin’ the huge God damn fountain and takin’ a chunk off the marble. A tall statue o’ Alexander the great looks wobbly for a moment and the globe he’s holdin’ falls outta his hands and crashes on the ground.

I head forward myself, keepin’ my eye on the cab as it races forward right until it crashes with a savage, thunderous, grand slam of a BANG into the wall. The wall’s strong, but it breaks in under the impact. Wood splinters, insulation shreds, and plaster goes flyin’ outta the hole. A huge window pane shatters and another above cracks and breaks inward. I can hear the sound o’ the glass fallin’ on the ground and on the ruined metal o’ the cab. The cab’s front is crushed in and looks like from here, thanks to the binoculars that the glass is all broken, but there ain’t no boom so far.

The crash didn’t set off my surprise… This is good.

“What the fuck was that!?!” came a voice from around back.

“Are we unda attack?” answer’s another voice, high and reedy like a cat screechin’. “Who the hell would attack Mista Silverburg?!”

“Shut the fuck up, Don! The crash was from the front o’ the house!” says yet another thug. “Rally up everyone and let’s show these shit faced assholes who the fuck they’re dealin’ with!”

“Fuck yeah, Ronny!” yells out the high pitched son o’ a bitch named Don.” Everybody, let’s fuck these bastards up!”

Well, these punks ain’t professional like Radiata’s friends from earlier in my trip… At least Don and Ron aren’t, but just the same I can see ‘em coming around the house. The dogs are yappin’ and barkin’ as they follow along. Soon, I got about twelve or so men and about three or four dogs around the cab. They look edgy, unsure o’ what’s goin’ on, but hell if they can figure it out…

What I don’t see, o’ course, is any o’ the punks in full tech gear. Might be hidin’ or might be protectin’ Silverburg himself. Or they mightjust be in camo and I ain’t down wind from ‘em or close enough to smell ‘em out. Who knows and who the fuck cares… Just got to let ‘em surround the cab.

“Hell, Don, looks like some idiot got into a wreck!” Ron says, scannin’ the grounds around him while his buddy Don and the rest start lookin’ around the cab fer the “driver.” “The boss is gonna be God dammed pissed off, but least it ain’t an attack.”

“Well, if it’s a wreck, Ron, where the hell is the guy drivin’ it?” one o’ the other guys says, obviously one o’ the brighter men in the patrol. “Should be dyin’ around here somewhere or whatever… I don’t like this.”

I think I’ve waited long enough, and my doorway just ain’t big enough yet so I unclip the detonator and with a wide grin I press the big red button. After a few seconds the duffle bag in the back o’ the cab starts to beep, I know cause that’s what its supposed to do.

“What the fu..!?” yells out Ron and Don right before the C4 goes off in an explosion o’ metal shrapnel, burst cushions and car parts. Shredding the goons all around in a rather gruesome display. The bodies get flung back and I hear screams o’ pain cut short and the sound o’ dogs yelpin’ out. The explosions pretty damn big…well not that big but it takes out more o’ the wall and the window’s shatter apart. Ain’t a single guard left alive and I think its about time I got down to doin’ what I came here to do.

Slippin’ off the binoculars I drop ‘em on the floor before movin’ quick but quietly toward the remains o’ the cab and o’ the well armed flunkies. I pass onto the ground after a short jog and I take in the scene before me with a soft chuckle which cuts off after a min. I get some o’ my first bad news o’ the night…there’s about ten cars, a limo or two parked off to the other side o’ the fountain. One or two got chunk’s o’ shrapnel in them and as I pass the fountain…what’s left o’ the thing…Bloody metal chunks o’ twisted metal shattered half o’ Alexander’s body and the globes seen better days. One o’ the thugs shattered, burnt and bloody carcass is impaled on what’s left o’ the arm. That ain’t the only body or body parts layin’ around. Thick bloody burnt limbs lay about and other burnt corpses are spread out. A few o’ the dogs or what I’m assuming’ to be the dogs are stuck in one o’ the trees. Well, ain’t this just a bloody mess…the dogs diein’ I ain’t happy about but was necessary. Place smells like a charnel house, burnt flesh, and hair is in the air but I ain’t got time to wander aimlessly, better get on with it.

Glass covers the ground and crunches under my boots as I head around the broken cab toward the nicely sized hole in the wall. The Manor itself shook but don’t look to worse fer the wear if ya discount the shattered windows and the hole…Well, they can’t say that Wolverine can’t make one hell o’ an entrance.

Steppin’ through the hole, and over a bit…hell, a lot of debris I enter the library o’ the stately Manor. You remember the old show with the rich guy and the sidekick? Well, the library looks just like theirs but a hell o’ a lot more disheveled. Wall blowin’ in took out the desk, breakin’ it right in two and smashed up a few shelves o’ old books to. Another marble statue…looks like Napoleon bit the big one and lays shattered on the polished wood floor. The books are strewn about and an Edison bust is damn close to fallin’ off its pedestal. Makin’ my way past the remain’s o’ the wall and pieces’ o’ the car I reach the Edison bust and tip piece o’ crap over. Thing shatters with a heavy crack but I’m already headin’ to the door and goin’ out as it does.

Place is fancy I’ll give Silverburg that but he has a fucken’ obsession with the movie Scarface. Right in front o’ me is a huge replica o’ “The World is yours” Glove statue/neon sign from the mafia movie. The thing sits dead center in the middle o’ the wide carpet…Damn, definitely gives the Mansion a run fer it’s money. Lookin’ around from my spot outside the library I see that Radiata’s got glass cases against both walls, each one filled with different suits o’ armor worn by conquerors. Must be one hell o’ a pricey collection. I’ll sight see later…From what I can see, the rooms only got two exits, the front double doors and the double doors at the far end. The floor creaks under my feet and I can hear the confused yellin’ a people and the sound o’…slots runnin’? Well I wasn’t expectin’ that one. I ignore it fer now and move quickly around the room searchin’ as fast I can under the gaudy paintin’s and over the smooth walls. Not a God damn thing, no secret doors or hidden fuckin’ staircases…looks like I’ll be headin’ into the far room.

Not to sure what I’ll find in the next room and ain’t to sure why the hell no ones come runnin’…well, I’ve got an idea why….I’m about to walk head long into an ambush. Just the same before I kick in the doors I take a minute to put my ear against the solid chestnut doors and listen fer any hint o’ how many are waitin’ behind the doors. I can hear people yellin’ out bets, cards bein’ put down on the felt tables and chips bein’ pushed around. Got a roulette wheel goin’ and dice bein’ tossed. Under all that I hear guns bein’ cocked and I can guess there’s some big time crime bosses in there. I ain’t got the time nor the inclination to knock so I kick the door right on in and get my first look at what I’m guessin’ is Silverburg’s pride and joy.

One hell o’ a casino…

I wasn’t expectin’ somethin’ like what I’m lookin’ at right in front o’ me. The place is bigger than I expected and down right fuckin’ hell on the senses. Bright lights, and a mess o’ sounds assault my senses but that ain’t to hard to get past. The casino matches up with ones ya expect but it’s a bit grander. Even with all the noise, I got an eye fer detail and I take it all in. Above me I can see that massive chandeliers hang from a mural painted cielin’. Under my feet the carpet matches the design o’ a roulette board, complete with the numbers and the colors. From the door there’s a short set a stairs that lead up to the gaming floor and I gotta say he spared no expense on this one. Old men and young punks surround a poker table that’s silver lined and has gotta be made from some mighty fine wood. Chips are stacked high in the air, high rollers playin’ tonight and looks like a few mil dumped in the pot. There’s about three poker tables and about two black jack tables with each o’ ‘em lined in silver and gold. Right in front o’ those to my left are two roulette tables, made outta the same material with gold fuckin’ wheels. Same types o’ guys man the tables, dressed in bright suits and tryin’ their best to be slick. Behind the tables are a long row o’ slot machines, and everyone o’ ’em is manned.

Full house from the looks o’ it and that ain’t countin’ the mass amount a low-rent punks floatin’ around with badly concealed guns or the well dressed staff o‘ waitresses in the short skirts. A long bar is to my right against the wall, made o’ strong mahogany wood lines with gold and is fully stocked. Hundreds o’ bottles line the shelves, lights set behind ‘em which make’s ‘em clearer to see. About a thousand glasses hang from above the bar and rows a shot glasses sit on a spinnin’ stacked shelf. The bartender is beautiful, absolutely stunnin’ with flowin red hair and a body some o’ my hero friends would kill for, Heh. All the way to the left is a spiral staircase next to a stage o’ some kind. There’s a mess a round tables in front of it and its on a lower level then the game section. Must be the show area…What don’t this guy got? Least I know where I gotta go…That staircase looks like it leads straight to the big man himself. There’s also another door near the stairs that leads into another room, ain’t sure where that one leads.

Now all I gotta do is get to the staircase and I can cut the big bad boss’ head right off…Course that ain’t as easy as it sounds since I got about a fifty-five to seventy-five thugs lookin’ right at me with guns at the ready. The waitresses look a bit more surprised by my entrance but I can tell they ain’t that surprised or worried. Well ain’t this one hell o’ a situation to walk into…Ah well, looks like things’ll be as messy as I expected.

By the time they set their sights on me I’m already runnin’ forward across the floor and up the stairs. My claws pop out with an air cutting SNIKT just as the first shots are fired at me, one or two knick me with the rest hittin’ the wall behind me and the floor. They weren’t expectin’ me to charge right into ‘em so there aim ain’t even close to spot on. Gives me an advantage over them that I doubt I even need but I ain’t here to give ‘em a fighting chance Bub.
A few o’ gunmen get lucky and a bullet clips my shoulder tearin’ out a chunk o’ flesh but nothin’ that’s goin’ to slow me down. They try and track me but I’ve already closed in with the first group o’ them. Wastin’ no time I slash my claws out to the sides, feelin’ ‘em cut deep into flesh and bone. Two o’ the thugs fall to the sides, one with his chest cut wide open and the other holdin’ his guts in while his right arm hit’s the stairs. Usin’ my weight I keep the charge goin’ and slam head long into the gut o’ another punk….With a crunching snap I hear ribs give and without even pausing’ I slash across the chest o’ the thug to his right while punchin’ my claws into the throat o’ the one to his left. Pushin’ the asshole in the middle away I wrench my claws free in a thick spray o’ blood and watch the two guys I just cut crumple like paper to the ground.

Fights just startin’ and bloods drippin’ off my uniform…God damn it…At least it ain’t a waste, that mighty fine carpets wrecked too. The airs fillin’ with the stench o’ blood and its pourin’ out o’ the unlucky assholes who just happened to be first in my way. I ain’t got the time to be idle so I move forward and grab the punk whose ribs I broke and spin him around before throwin’ him at his buds. They fall back, the punk was a heavy bastard and made one hell o’ a projectile that take out three o‘ ‘em and knocks a roulette table right on over. I got the advantage here since they’re all packed in together with half o’ and there ain’t much high ground fer um to use against me plus they have to deal with the fat idiot on top o‘ three o‘ ‘em.

The sounds o’ guns goin’ off fills the room as the front liners fire at me as I’m turnin’ to head right into a large group o’ the mafia wannabes. I feel ‘em cut into my chest and shoulder with a bullet cracking into my forehead that sends my head snappin’ back. All in all, I get hit with a maybe a dozen or two bullets out o’ about a hundred or so they shot at me. Behind me three o’ the men playin’ poker are punched full o’ holes and slumped onto that fine table. About another two or three are bleedin’ out from a few more bullets. I stumble back to the first pile o’ bodies but regain my footin’ well enough to charge ‘em. They ain’t organized so they ain’t ready to fire at me again from the front line. The group I’m hittin’ looks to be about ten to fifteen at a total around the tables.

I jump up onto a table fer a minute after usin’ a chair as a steppin’ ladder and then jump straight across it into the first o’ the cheap suits behind it. Tacklin’ him to the ground with all my weight behind it gets me more broken bones and he ain’t gonna be up fer a long while but me I’m already to my feet…Hell, I cut one guy up from crotch to head, nearly cuttin’ him in half. Not missin’ a beat I pivot on my heel and cut across the neck o’ the closest thug removing’ his ugly head from his shoulders. Around me waiters and waitresses are screamin’ and theres still plenty o’ killin’ to be done. They realize that I ain’t goin’ down from the bullets and some o’ ‘em are startin’ to take out knives. I ignore ‘em and kick back to shatter a punks pelvis and as I’m doin’ that I stab my claws deep into the guts o’ two more o’ Silverburg’s men. They full tryin’ to hold in their guts and I’m already turnin’ to cut open two more with a sweepin’ slash across the heads and necks. They spiral out away with blood gushin’ out and reflectin’ in their lifeless dead eyes. The last two are pushed back tryin’ to catch their dead friends and I use that time to plunge my claws deep into the chest o’ each dead man, the blades go right through ‘em and into the punks tryin’ to help ‘em. Ain’t a clean death but they don’t deserve any mercy.

Some o’ the bastards are tryin’ to shepherd some o’ the big boys outta the room, ain’t my problem since I ain’t here to take care o’ the mafia problem in NY. I’ll leave that to the Punisher this time around…Me and him got enough problems as it is. Either way the guns are firin’ again and there’s still plenty in my way.

Movin’ quick I leave the dyin’ behind and dodge around the tables cuttin’ down two more and their boss as I near another small group. They’re startin’ to spread out but it ain’t doin’ much good against me since there just ain’t enough bullets left to take me down. I pile straight on into the next group but I wasn’t expectin’ the rest o’ the thugs to pour in on me. I can hear all the mini-bosses yellin’ at their boys to kill the short freak.

The air reeks o’ blood, smoke and gunpowder as I get surrounded by I’m guessin’ about thirty or so men wieldin’ a whole fuckin’ assortment o’ weapons. Everyone’s yellin’ out curses and oaths o’ vengeance fer all the people I killed already, must be all the best o’ friends. There ain’t strategy to this, none o’ them are workin’ together and its just one big pile on. If I was anyone else, well I wouldn’t stand much o’ a chance but this is just my kind o’ situation . I give in to the rage as my vision goes red, lettin’ the berserker inside me free. I feel a piece o’ wood snap over my back but it barely slows me down as I open up a shit head’s side. The more they push in, the faster I cut them to pieces with quick slashes. I barely feel the jabs o’ daggers as I tear apart another two and when I say tear apart well, I don’t leave much behind. Every slash o’ my claws tears open another guy, removing’ limbs and leavin’ chests shredded wide open. Slashin’ back I take off the legs o’ someone I vaguely recognize from the hotel and with a snap kick I snap in the side o’ the henchman next to him. Bones are snappin’ around me and men are startin’ to pile up under my feet.

As they start thinnin’ out I throw one asshole headfirst into the slot machines burnin’ it out and breakin’ him at the same time. By the time the rage in me calms down all the mooks to stupid to run are dead or close enough where it ain’t gonna matter. The carpets soaked through with blood…Shit, looks like nearly everythins covered. A few tables are broken and the place is a slaughter house. Heh, looks like I got a bit carried away and cleared the room. All in all it looks like about forty to fifty wannabe Mafioso are layin’ dead around the casino. Now that, was one hell o’ a fight.

Lookin’ back I see that the gorgeous lady behind the bar ain’t there no more and the waiters and waitresses cleared out. If I’m lucky no one died that didn’t deserve to…and if I ain’t lucky, well that’s another death on my soul. Either way I move toward the stairs and finally o’ this whole fucken’ situation.

Radiata better get his affairs in order, the Wolverine is comin’ fer his head and he ain’t gonna quit till he’s got it…but first…

I stroll back toward the bar and without wastin’ a step slide right on over it. Lots o’ drinks to choose from, some o’ the finest beers I’ve ever seen and after a bit o’ searchin’ behind the bar I find a decently aged bottle o’ single malt scotch alon with a finely aged bottle o‘ bourbon. I grab a bottle o’ Labatt Blue and set ’em all out on the table. Grabbin’ two whole glasses I pour myself a glass o’ bourbon, one o’ scotch and pop open the beer. Like one o’ my favorite ol’ George Thorogood songs I down ‘em in that order. Each o’ my drinks I take a minute to relish. The Bourbon goes down nice and smooth, the scitch goes down harsh, warm and damn good. The beer well, hell its beer and it just ain’t ever bad. Lookin’ out over the room I take it all in and I gotta say Bub, a fight without drinkin’ just ain’t worth havin’.

After I finish my drinks, about two rounds fer the ol’ Canucklehead I jump over the bar and walk toward the stairs. Lookin’ to the side I check out the door and through a porthole I see what I’m guessin’ is the kitchen. If there were anymore guards in there they would o’ come out to take me down. Puttin’ it outta my mind I head up the stairs toward the second floor. Each step I take I’m catchin’ a few familiar scents…Looks like some o’ my new friends and my oldest friend are waitin’ fer me. Sorry Vicky, ya ain’t getting’ the drop on me.

I’m ready fer the ambush when the stairs come out into an art room, got paintin’s linin’ the red walls and the floors solid mahogany. Spare no expense eh? I give the paintin’s a quick glance and they look like some o’ the big named pictures ya see in the museum. You got yer Monet’s, yer Van Goghs and some original Japanese prints…Hell, the whole lot of it could be original. Though I’m guessin’ that the Mona Lisa ain’t one o’ those. Sniffin’ the air I’m catchin’ the scent o’ all my pals except Creed ahead o’ me. There’s only three doorways and two lead down halls o’ guest rooms I’m thinkin’ or studies. The halls are on both sides and the doors to the front are double door and lined with silver. I’ll give ya one guess where that leads Bub, and it ain’t the janitors room. The sound o’ a toilet flushing comes from one o’ the doors to the left and I hear the sound o’ water runnin’ a minute or so after followed by some o’ the worst singing I’ve ever heard…Fucker’s butcherin’ Turn the page by Bob Seager.

Steppin’ back I wait fer the water to stop and the door to open. I already know whose comin’ out and I ain’t surprised when Sabertooth steps out in his full cat suit minus the gloves with that ridiculous frikkin’ mane o’ his on. Least its fittin’ since I got all dressed up fer the occasion. Speakin’ a which…the mask pretty fucked up, torn off in places and pieces o’ the uniform is shredded and the whole things covered in wanna-be Mafioso blood. Well, the ol’ suit ain’t gonna survive the night.

“Hey Creed, I see ya ain’t figured out how to carry a tune yet.” I say, clenchin’ my fists and lettin’ my claws pop out. “How about I take a look and see if I can help ya with that singin’ voice? A little surgery should work wonders.”

Creed turns to me, glaring’ with those sadistic eyes o’ his before smirking wide. He flexes his hands and stalks forward slowly, muscles tensin’ and its clear we’re set for round two.
“You wouldn’t know good singin’ if it came up and ripped yer lungs out through yer back runt.” Creed said, chuckling as he stops in front o’ me. “You look a little off Wolverine, ya catch a beatin’ while ya we’re facing the flunkies?”

“I ain’t even begun to get goin Vicky.” I say, watchin’ his every move, waitin’ fer him to spring. “We can’t all lose to punks like you Creed, some o’ us ex-Weapon X can actually kick some ass.”

“Ya see these hands runt?” Creed says, holdin’ up his hands, the light gleamin’ off his claws. “ I’ve torn apart better fighters then you, tore open some o’ the best that the worlds got and I’m gonna gut ya and stuff ya like a turkey.”

“ If yer gonna be usin’ those mitt to gut me ya had better have washed ‘em.” I said, motionin’ him forward with my left hand. “Lets get this goin’ I got an appointment with yer boss.”

“ We been pals awhile Logan, ain’t ya got more to say to the man about to finally end yer long miserable fuckin’ life.” the Son of a bitch says. Can’t say he ain’t the longest lived pain in my ass but he ain’t goin to be the one to end my life. “ Ain’t ya gonna make some threat on how yer gonna get revenge fer yer chippy Silverfox, or maybe ya wanna tell me all about how yer a man and you ain’t the animal I know you are?

“I ain’t got nothing to say to you Vic!” I yell, deciding’ its best to make the first move and end the witty banter. I ain’t that web covered idiot Spider-Man.

Movin’ quick I charge forward and slash across his stomach. Punk pulls back though, makin’ the cuts deep but nothin’ to bad. His blood pours down over him but the cuts close up as he counters with a slash across that I duck right under. This ain’t an ambush and it ain’t somethin’ I wasn’t expectin’. I’m ready this time and I ain’t goin’ down without takin’ him with me. As I ducked under his slash I cut out to the sides with both sets a claws and bite deep into his knees. They buckle and as he falls forward with a snarl I punch my claws up into his stomach and lift him up into the air…hey I may be short but I’m one o’ the strongest bastards yer gonna come across. Usin’ my legs I slam him into a wall, listenin’ to the ribs crack and I feel the blood wash out over my hands. I pull ‘em free and start tearin’ into him with deep slashes and cuts but he’s healin and outta nowhere his hand shoots out and wraps around my throat. I feel the claws cut into my neck and my feet leavin’ the ground…This feels fuckin’ familiar…

His hand clenches tight, tryin’ to cut off my air but it just ain’t that easy and I show him by backhand slashin’ my claws across his face earnin’ a loud growling cry o’ pain. I also earn myself a hard throw across the gallery into a wall o’ originals and prints. They crack under my impact before fallin and breakin’ on the floor while yers truly bounces off and lands on my feet.

Creed wipes his eyes clean and glares at me from his spot against the wall. Most o’ the damage I’ve done looks close to healed but his knees ain’t to strong and I maybe caught a bit o’ luck, just might o’ ripped out an eye. Either way he ain’t done and if he ain’t done then I ain’t getting’ through those doors just yet. So I take the fight back to him, chargin’ right in but he’s ready and catches me with a slash right across the chest pushin’ me back. He uses the momentum to make a charge o’ his own and cuts into my face…Fuck, like my mug needs this kinda flamin’ treatment. I take the hit, steppin’ back with blood goin’ in my eyes but not enough to blind me so I snap out a kick at his side and knock a few inches off as he goes fer a second swipe. I follow it up with a slash across his back aimin’ to cut his spine and then as he moves forward past me I slash up from his waist to his shoulders. The cuts leave his spine near in view up ol’ vicky back hands me away. Floors gettin’ coated with blood and we stare each other down fer a few moments. I ain’t to hurt but Victors healin’ factor is working hard. Me? Well I ain’t perfect but I’m winnin’ the fight.

Launchin’ forward I catch him with a shoulder slam and push him back into one o’ the walls. I use the wall to hold him in place as I begin takin’ chunks outta his stomach with gouging slashes but it don’t last as he catches my wrists and with one hell o’ an effort throws me toward the office doors. Now, Vic’s hurt but his healin’ factors good and strong so this fight ain’t done just yet. Plus it don’t help my side o’ things since Creed’s throw sent me tumblin’ into the wall by the door with a sick crack.

I’m up just in time to see Sabertooth chargin’ at me but not quick enough to move so I get slammed back to the wall and that ain’t all since Creed’s hackin’ away at me with his claws. He picks me up with his claws in my gut, wormin’ around and tearin’ me up before throwin’ me into the doors. They don’t give and the impact definitely didn’t feel like crashin’ into a feather mattress. I stumble to my feet, one hand on my stomach to keep my guts in and the other restin’ against the wall. I hear Victor laughin’ before he charges me again and this time the impact o’ him slammin’ into me sends both o’ us through the doors.

We crash through the doors and land on a hard wood floor in the office where I Radiata was waitin’. Kickin’ Sabertooth off me I scramble to my feet and look around quick. The office is big, with a mahogany black cherry wood floor and what looks like a mural…Michelangelo’s Sistine Chapel covers the walls and cuts off at the huge set o’ windows. it’s a quick enough look around cause I’ve got to keep my eye on Sabertooth but I know whose in here with me. Behind me sittin’ behind one hell of an expensive lookin’ desk is Radiato Silverburg himself flanked by my new pal Protocide and his Apache friend. This ain’t a room filled with folks friendly toward the ol’ Canuckle head.

I spare a glance back to make sure I ain’t about to catch a shield to the back and hear Sabertooth makin’ his way back into the room. Well, I can’t complain since everyone I’ve come by to see is in this room.

“Well what fuck have we got here? The distinguished gentleman Victor Creed and the rapid dog who hasn’t been put down yet.” Silverburg says, a chuckle in his voice. “I really did think you we’re smart enough to stay the fuck away from my home but it seems like I’ve overestimated you…Protocide help Mr. Creed kill this little punk.”

“Nothing I would love to do more sir but…” Protocide said, the sound o’ his shield slidin’ off his back reaching’ my ears as he moves around the desk before stoppin’. “I just can’t do that.”

“What do you mean you can’t kill the son of a bitch in front of me?” Radiata said, no playful tone in his voice this time…only that Iron hard edge I heard last time he tried to kill me. “Last I checked, you work for me because I paid for you and your expensive squad who did not even accomplish what I wanted…Now explain to me what the fuck you mean.”

“First off, my men were worth every damn dollar you paid us and you will not talk about them with disrespect and second I just don’t work for you anymore bossman.” Says Protocide and I spare a second to look back to see what the hell is happenin’. This ain’t what I expected but at the moment it ain’t a bad turn o’ events. “Just hired myself and Joe here out to a friend of yours, hell I think he should be here any second now.”

While I’m watchin’ the drama unfoldin’ behind me Sabertooth tackles me to the ground and we tumble toward the desk. Before I went down I heard the sound o’ a door to the right open up…Must mean the newcomer to the party just arrived. I’m to busy to look over but I could swear I smell grease…the hell is goin’ on?

“You!” Radiato snarls out, his calm gone for a minute. “What the in God’s Holy name are you doing here?”

Me and Sabertooth are tearin’ into each other while all this goes on around us. My claws bitin’ deep in his chest and sides while he shreds my shoulders up something fierce. I’m a bit split between tryin’ to figure out what the hells goin’ on and takin’ care o’ Sabertooth. Focusin’ on the fight as best I can I kick the big cat man off o’ me and send him back a bit givin’ me time to get to my feet.

“How could I not come Silverburg? It would be impolite to not be here when you receive what it is you most deserve.” says a heavily accented voice, one just heard a few hours ago…Damn it…what the hell is he doin’ here… “Do you not agree Mr. Silverburg?”

“Mikhail Jagonof…I thought you would be smart enough to stay away, and to do what I told you after all, your family is still in my very capable hands.” Says Radiata with his voice laced with obvious threats. Punk confirms what I knew already about the new comer. “Now you will explain whats going on, why the hell you’re here and what this pompus ass soldier boy is talkin’ about or you won’t ever see your family again.”

“Mr. Protocide was it? Tell me, have you done all that I have requested of you?” says Mickey as I hear him walk further in.
“Everything is just as you asked Mr. Jagonof, your son and grandchildren are safe with my men and we’ve even taken the time to finish off the dishonorable bastards who took them to begin with.” Protocide says, his accent showin’ a bit, southern boy after all. “Even took the time to get you the gun you “lost”.”

“Wonderful…now shall we deal with business?” Mickey says, walkin’ forward toward the desk. I hear a gun get drawn as I leap at Sabertooth, claws rending deep into his shoulders. “Radiata, did you think for a second I would let this go? What you did to my family…no, this is something you cannot simply get away with….”

Me and Sabertooth are still goin’ at it but I hold off the rage fer now, wouldn’t do to lose it here and now. I start getting’ clearer shots as he starts to go wilder and I’m startin’ to do more and more damage to ol’ Victor. With a hard series of rippin’ slices push him back to the door but he knocked me back and charges again to send me flyin’ past the desk toward the windows.

“ Never expected to have to deal with traitors…traitors who I paid so well but you do what you must in this business.” Silverburg says, takin’ a gun from a hidden place while Mickey and Protocide are watchin’ me and ‘tooth fightin’. “Should have just killed you and been done with it but at least now I can correct that little error.”

Radiata takes aim but the sound of a blade bein’ drawn from just next to me by Joe there. He throws it easy and quick sendin’ it through the air to cut deep into the hand o’ Silverburg who drops the gun, screamin’ in pain. Blood sprays out and I get up slowly lookin’ to Sabertooth who stalks forward wearily.

“Ahhh! Mother Fucker!” Silverburg screams out, clutchin’ his hand and lookin’ at Mickey. “Look what you did to my hand you dirty red skinned bastard!”

“May want to watch the mouth there son, might just get you killed…well sooner that is.” Protocide says, chuckling and handin’ Mickey the hand gun.

Me and Sabertooth meet in the middle this time, again we go at it tearin’ and cuttin each other till the floors slick with blood. While we fight it out I barely hear the sound o’ a gun bein’ cocked. Wasn’t expectin’ this at all Bub…

“For what you have done to me, my family and my daughter-in-law…I must regretfully say goodbye Radiata Silverburg may hell keep you warm.” Mickey says, drawin’ the gun up.

“Now Mikhail…I’m sure we could work this out like gentlemen right I mean we aren’t dogs like these two here after all…” Radiata says, backing’ up toward the glass.

“One of these animals is a valued friend…I had forgotten that…I am sure he wished to do this, but since he is busy…” Mickey says before takin’ aim and pullin’ the trigger with a loud sharp bang. I get a second to see it hit Radiata in the face, blood sprayin’ out o‘ the hole in his forehead. There’s a splat as blood bursts out the back o’ his head to decorate the window in crimson. Radiata hit’s the window, nearly breakin’ it before slumpin’ to the floor leavin’ a trail of blood. Glass didn’t break and that means it ain’t regular glass…I’m guessin’ bullet proof…its weaker now though and I’ve got an idea.

Sabertooth looks over to the dead Radiata smirkin’…to bad he ain’t goin’ to be smiling’ after this one. I grab him by that mane o’ his and pull him forward as I fall back while kickin’ my foot into his gut. As I move I flip the bastard back toward the window and send him crashin’ through the weakened glass to the waitin’ ground below. I hear the satifyin’ o’ metal crushin’ in and bones breakin’ before I get my ass up and face Mickey, Protocide and the Indian Joe.

“Ok Mickey…boys, how we playin’ this?” I snarl out, my claws drippin’ with blood. “You ready to throw down with the Ol’ Canuckle head?”

“No matter how much I want to kick the crap out of you again soldier, I can’t tonight…after all, I’m still following’ Mr. Jagonof’s orders and since he’s payin’ fer all this…” Protocide says, smirkin’. “Well I just don’t think goin’ against orders is acceptable. Next time though…well I think you know what’ll happen.”

“Yes my old friend, we are indeed done here…the injustice done to my family has been dealt with. I owe you much for this…Thank you again Logan.” Mickey says, smiling’ that big grin o’ his. I finally notice something that was different about him, he’s wearin’ a fine Italian suit. “Let us leave this place before the police arrive.”

Protocide and Joe are already headin’ out by the time Mickey finishes sayin’ we should be leavin’. Fuckin’ hell…I ain’t happy about it but the wannabe Captain America will have to wait this time. Me and Mickey follow after them to the secret door they used, my claws retracting into my forearms.

“Mickey, what the hell just happened here?” I say as we step through. “Bub, you got a lot o’ explainin’ to do about all this…”

“It is what you American’s call a long story yes?” Mickey says as we head down the stairs. “I will tell you over a burgers and drinks at the diner.”

THE END

MARVEL 2000 PRESENTS...

“There Ain't Always A Next Time”

Featuring Wolverine

by Kristi Manchester

MARVEL 2000 PRESENTS...

“There Ain't Always A Next Time” Featuring Wolverine by Kristi Manchester

“There Ain't Always A Next Time”

Featuring Wolverine

by Kristi Manchester