**02.30 GMT-6, 14 February 1996, Somewhere in Canada, preferably a long way from Alkali Lake, Wade failed his geometry class…**
WADE
He ran until the cave was a good distance away, until the only sound was the crunch of snow under his boots and the frantic hammering of his own heart. Wade finally skidded to a stop, leaning against a thick pine as he tried to catch his breath.
(Okay, breathe. Just breathe. That was... a lot. For both of you.)
/Well, that was a masterclass in emotional maturity. And you still think yourself as an adult in child body./
"I don't know why I did that…"
(Okay, so just to recap: we went for a chat, picked a fight with a living can opener who happens to be our dad, lost spectacularly, and then ran away into the frozen wilderness.)
/Solid life choices, dude./
He replayed the last hour in his head: the stupid jokes, the constant poking, the fight... He'd just wanted to talk. To fill the silence. To feel something other than the crushing weight of his father's quiet, pitiful eyes on him.
He hated it.
He didn't need a pity party.
At least, he got to teach him he didn't need a pity party.
/We really are not in the places to challenge him, we did kinda teleported/kidnapped him out of the blue without warning and say we are his children he lost at the same time./
(I mean I can't fault him for feeling a little awkward, especially with all the chattering we did.)
He really didn't know why he acted like that. The confusion was a physical ache in his chest, a tangled knot of embarrassment, fear, and a desperate, stupid hope that if he was annoying enough, maybe Logan would… what? What the plot here! Fuck! He really should have read the whole draft before…
"OH SHUT UP! FUCK!" he muttered into the bark. "I should've known! Its in the fucking title!"
/Oh, Now you are telling us to shut up! Yep! You are his kid!/
"No! It's all happening 'cause the fucking author wanting to write a fight scene between us!"
/Yeah, yeah, blame the author!/
(Two peas in the pod! Speaking of peas, I'm getting hungry. Now, are we gonna stand here feeling sorry for ourselves, or are we gonna do something useful? Like hunting? I am craving a steak right now!)
His stomach growled, a sharp, hollow pang cutting through the silence of the forest. Right. Hunting. He could do that. He pushed off the tree, his senses stretching out, filtering the cold air.
There. Downwind. The musky, thick scent of a large animal. A moose. Big, probably a bull. Perfect.
"Maximum efforts,"
(Hot damn. That's a lot of steak. Let's fucking go.)
He took a step, then cursed. Shhnikt. His claws slid out, gleaming in the dim light.
/Oh, brilliant. You're going to take down a quarter-ton animal with just these? You even left your katanas back at the cave, you genius./
(So we'll get up close and personal! More fun that way! Adds to the challenge!)
"Well, we could just do some wolverine-ing! He could have caught one of those easily, right? I mean how hard is it gonna be?"
/Famous last words./
He crept to the edge of a small clearing. There it was, a massive bull moose, its head lowered as it browsed on a shrub. Wade tensed, ready to spring.
A low growl to his left made him freeze.
Not one growl. Several.
From the tree line, a pack of timber wolves emerged, six of them, their grey coats blending with the twilight. Their leader, a massive male with a scar across its muzzle, fixed its yellow eyes not on the moose, but directly on him. They'd been stalking the same prey, and he was the intruder in their territory.
The moose, sensing the new tension, bolted and crashed away into the forest.
(NOOO! MY STEAK!!!)
/Welp. There goes dinner./
"Ruh roh, Raggy!"
The lead wolf bared its teeth, and the pack fanned out, surrounding him.
Then it was a grey blur of teeth and muscle, suddenly slamming into his back. Pain, sharp and bright, erupted as fangs sank into his shoulder. Wade roared, more in surprise than agony, and swung blindly. His claws caught the wolf across the flank, opening it up in a spray of red that painted the snow.
"Arrggh!!! Get off me you overgrown fleabag! Bad dog!"
Two more emerged from the trees, circling him with low, menacing growls. He was surrounded. One leapt for his throat. Wade phased, the wolf passing through him in a disorienting shimmer. As it landed, confused, he solidified and drove his foot into its ribs, hearing a satisfying crack.
"HAH! YOU LIKE TREAT? I'LL GIVE YOU TREAT!"
/Watch your left, you moron!/
Too late. Jaws clamped down on his left calf, teeth grinding against bone. He screamed, a raw, furious sound, and brought his elbow down on the wolf's skull. Once. Twice. It fell away, whimpering.
"FUCK!!! I like that leg!!!"
Two more wolves lurked around him. Their growls were low and menacing, their eyes reflecting back his own terror. One lunged straight for his throat; Wade phased right through it—a sickly green shimmer followed by a sudden sting as the wolf fell onto the snow, unsteady.
He slammed his foot into its ribs; the sound of bone snapping filled his ears like a guitar solo gone wrong. He lifted an elbow and crushed that beast's skull with an earth‑shattering thud that sent sparks flying through the air.
He stood alone in that small patch of forest for a heartbeat before three more wolves emerged from between trunks and trees, circling him with intent sharp enough to cut glass.
One leapt at him again; Wade sidestepped with lightning reflexes. He opened his hand—the inner blade flickered—and shhnkt sliced through its jaws until it collapsed in an unconscious heap on the ground.
The last wolf was massive—bigger than any he'd ever seen—its shaggy fur mottled with white veins like rusted iron. It charged head‑on; Wade met its momentum head‑first and rolled over it in a chaotic tumble. Their bodies collided like two storm fronts colliding under gray skies: claws clashed, fangs bit into exposed muscle, and blood sprayed everywhere—like someone had bled all over them with thick oil paint.
They tumbled in the snow, a whirlwind of claws, teeth, and gore. Fangs tore a chunk from his forearm.
"Ah, come on! That's the good arm! The one I use for... important things!!! Like jerking myself off when watching Gossip Girl or Mean Girl!"
/Dude! Details!/
(Well, I never pegged you as Regina George fanboy,)
"I have a spectrum of type okay! Its either tall goth girl or Elle Woods but they all someone who like to dominate me…"
/AGAIN WITH THE FUCKING DETAILS!/
He answered by shoving his free hand into the beast's mouth, forcing it open. "Open wide, say 'ahh'!" he grunted, driving his claws up through its palate. The adamantium points erupted from the top of its skull in a grisly fountain.
Silence.
Wade lay in the bloody slush, panting. His body was a patchwork of torn flesh and deep punctures. The healing factor was already at work, steam rising from the wounds, muscles knitting back together with an itchy, wriggling sensation that never got less disgusting. He was utterly drained.
"I really need some weapons, preferably some guns, lots of guns, and a flamethrower… I can't just rely on my knife knuckles to fight. I am not Wolverine!"
(And some katanas! And baby knives for throwing! And some saber!!!)
/A bazooka also would be nice and some C4 for explosive…/
Plip.
Something warm and wet landed on his forehead.
"Wha...?"
Wade looked up.
And up.
The creature's massive head was directly over him, blotting out the sky. Its jaws were slightly parted, strands of drool webbing between its teeth. Its breath was a hot, rancid fog that smelled of old blood and rot. Its eyes, small, dark, and impossibly intelligent, were fixed directly on him.
It was a fucking polar bear.
But not just any polar bear. This thing was a monster, easily half again as big as any bear had a right to be. Its fur was tinged with a strange, almost metallic silver sheen, and its eyes held an unsettling, predatory intelligence.
He started to slowly regret his decision to go walk on the wood…
"You have GOT to be kidding me," Wade groaned.
The bear didn't kid around. It swiped. The paw was the size of a dinner plate, tipped with claws like ivory daggers. Wade tried to phase, but his exhaustion made him slow. The tips of the claws caught him, ripping his left ear clean off and opening a deep, gashing wound across his belly.
"FUCK FUCK FUCK!"
SHHRRIP.
"NO! NOT THE FACE!!!"
He screamed again, this time a true shriek of agony as his own intestines threatened to spill out into the snow.
(GET UP! GET UP OR YOU DIE HERE!)
"Motherfucker!"
He rolled, clutching his stomach, as the bear brought its full weight down where he'd just been. The ground shook. This was no ordinary animal. This thing had to be a mutant. There was no other explanation.
/You just want to tell the reader that you are cool huh? I think that's a perfectly normal polar bear!/
(I don't know, it is a little bit bigger than a normal polar bear…"
"Not helping!" Wade gasped, rolling away as the bear slammed down where he'd just been, the impact shaking the ground.
He fought on pure, feral instinct. He was smaller, faster. He ducked under another swipe and lunged, driving his claws deep into the bear's thick neck. It roared, a sound that felt like it was shaking the trees themselves, and threw him off. He flew through the air and slammed into a tree trunk, his vision spotting.
He saw it coming for the kill. With the last of his strength, Wade pushed off the tree and met its charge, leaping onto its back. He wrapped his legs around its torso and started stabbing. Over and over and over. The bear bucked and roared, trying to dislodge him, but he held on, a vengeful, blood-soaked tick.
"This is for my face, you overgrown ice cube! I wanted to savor it until He finally make me look like dried avocado crossed with a Shar Pei!"
Finally, with one last, brutal thrust up through the base of the skull, the bear shuddered and collapsed, pinning Wade's legs beneath its immense weight.
He lay there, trapped under the weight of a dead mutant bear, his body screaming in protest. He could feel his ear regenerating, the weird, tickling sensation of cartilage re-forming. The gaping hole in his belly was slowly sealing shut.
He closed his eyes, listening to the frantic beat of his own heart slowly return to normal.
When he was whole again—or at least, as whole as he ever got, I think he lost a kidney somewhere—he shoved the dead bear off with a grunt of effort. He stood on shaky legs, looking at the carnage around him: the dead wolves, the colossal bear.
"Well," he said to the silent forest, his voice hoarse. "No way that moose is gonna come back again, at least the bear is full of fat. I hope Laura and Ken like their first meat taste…"
He hoisted the massive carcass onto his shoulders, the weight making his knees buckle for a second before he steadied himself. He took a deep breath, put on a mental mask of casual indifference, and started the long, painful walk back to the cave.
"Ohh the thing I do for faaaammiiillyyyy…"