“Logan. This isn’t a good idea, sugah.” She glanced around the fog-ridden bar, not that she could really see anything. Not with the only lights in the place being pointed at the massive steal cage sunken in the middle of the room and his wide back blocking any view in front of her.
“I never said it was,” he threw back over his shoulder to her, his brow now permanently locked in a scowl. “Just don’t wander.”
He wasn’t sure why he was warning her. After all, he met her outside a fight bar, so she probably knew the ropes. But the Minot Nightmare wasn’t a typical country fighting bar. He’d only been there one other time himself. It was the only place that They weren’t waiting outside for him afterwards.
But sometime while he was aimlessly wondering around the motel waiting for the girl to decide to live it woke up in him again. The room, the car, they all starting to feel more and more like cages, trapping him. He could feel the animal in him, making the claws restless inside his arms, trying to force them out while he fought to keep them in. The beast cursed him for running, not fighting, the loud crack of it snapping its teeth together echoed inside his head along with a muffled chant he knew only by his anxiety meant kill.
When the Wolverine’s bloodlust boiled over Logan became terrified for the girl, Rogue, that was her name. They were still three hundred and sixty miles outside of Minot and he was quickly losing control of the beast. The car was trapping him too much, it was more open than the mustang but it hadn’t seemed to help. The claustrophobia increased with the animal’s control and the girl was the only one within miles.
All he could think about was how easy prey she was. Lying there asleep, all her defenses down. It would be nothing. He could run her through and she’d be dead before she could even scream. But what surprised him was that those thoughts came from him, not the animal. Wolverine didn’t seem to have a problem with her. He didn’t like that she forbids being touch, the animal didn’t understand that. But she was not the answer to his aggression. Wolverine reminded him it was man that was chasing him, wanted to impression him, and it was man that had to suffer the consequences.
So he did nearly ninety on the abandoned North Dakotan highway until he got to Minot. It didn’t take him long on the road to find out fight bars were the only place he could beat countless fuckers to bloody pulps without someone jumping on his back or asking questions. Hell, they fucking paid him for it.
The bookie was easy to spot. Sitting in the corner, a chick with huge breasts and a few pathetically hidden hundred years under her belt on his arm, and some stumbling drunk idiot handing him a fist full of money, the usually characteristics.
He strode up to him, pushing the others out of the way so they knew ahead of time who the alpha male was. Humans aren’t that far removed from the animal kingdom because they could tell and let him pass. They usually relented easily; they weren’t as bold on the floor as they were in the cage for some reason.
What surprised him was that the girl came out from behind him. She stood at his side, on hand on her jutted out hip and a scowl across her brow rivaling his own. Her other hand, though, was tightly curled into the side of his jacket. He could even feel the gloved tips of her fingers as they poked though the knife hole and grazed against his side.
“You here for the fights?” The bookie’s sick and chalky voice snaked out. The question was asked although everyone there knew the answer. There was no other reason to be in the hell-hole.
He snarled back a ‘yeah’ and tried to ignore that leering blonde, who now that he was closer made even him feel young.
“What’s your name, son?”
“Wolverine,” he growled honesty. The Wolverine was now more in control than he was, sensing that they were in his territory. A quick, wavering fear hit his nose almost instantly and he almost purred from it. It was the perfect cure for his alpha ego. He looked forward to wallow in it the rest of the night.
“This what you’re betting?” His beady charcoal eyes racked down the girl, indifference set in them.
Before he could answer him the tiny hand in his jacket twisted the material even tighter. If it had been any other girl he would have taken it as a sign of fear. But she never smelled afraid, nervous, frustrated and worried sometimes, but never afraid. And the fact that the hand twisted so that now four little knuckles were digging sharply into his side also hinted otherwise. It was probably suppose to be her way to warn him to not even think about it but the scowl on her face never faltered. He had to admit, he was a little proud.
“No. Just cash.”
The man nodded, obviously could care less what went on. “Its four hundred per bet minimum, two hundred to play.”
He was slightly put back at the six hundred floor. The prices really hiked since the last time he came through here. All these dumb fuckers in this shit-hole had that kind of money? Crime was certainly paying better than it did a year ago.
Moving to his jacket he had to pry her hand away to get into his pocket. He grinned when it immediately moved to his shoulder. For not liking to be touched she certainly did a lot of touching. Not that he was giving himself credit. She probably just wanted everyone to see she was with him. And had she just come out and said she wanted protection he would have beefed up the performance or something. Stubborn little brat.
He pulled out his entire wad of cash and could see out of the corner of his eye the blonde nearly drowning in her own drool. Counting out the six hundred he tossed to it to him, not wanting to make actual contact.
“You want to bet on yourself?”
Why was he not surprised the damn fights were rigged? Well he had a nasty surprise for whatever asshole they all had picked was his turn to win tonight. Because none of them were leaving with all their bones intact, let alone the money.
“Yeah.”
“Fine. You’re up the fifth fight; they should go pretty quick tonight. First round starts at eight.”
Fifth god damn fight?! At least an hour of drunkards falling all over him and trying to bum a fucking light? Half the bar could be dead by then. “How much to make me first?”
The bookie shuffled through the cash, evidently just moving his hands and not really counting. After some deliberation he made the most annoying licking noise as he moved his tongue across his front teeth. “For another six I might be able to shift some guys around.”
Beside him the girl let out a quiet huff that only he could possibly hear, but otherwise remained silent during the entire transaction. With her track record she probably didn’t think these losers’ lives were worth another six hundred dollars. And they weren’t from what he saw walking in, but it’s not like it really mattered. He was going to get it all back and more of the end of the night anyway.
He settled the amount with the bookie and rested the urge to spit on the blonde as he turned away. The girl dropped her hand off him but followed behind him again, still silent. That was until the second he sat down at the bar.
“Beer.”
“Have ya fuckin’ lost it?” She hissed at him in a hushed tone as soon as the bartender turned around.
He kept the pattern, seemingly ignoring her until the open beer was in front of him and the bartender was somewhere down near the other end.
Taking a long drag from the bottle he let it run slowly down his throat, concentrating on the cooling effect instead of the growing noise around him. Finally with half the bottle drained he set it down. “No, but I’m getting close.”
“Ah thought tha whole point a havin’ a fuckin’ liquid time bomb in tha back of tha camper was so we wouldn’t have ta stop. Isn’t that tha shit ya’ve been feedin’ me tha whole time? Stoppin’ meant gettin’ caught?”
“You don’t understand, kid.” He shook his head, emptying the rest of the bottle and waving it at the bartender. “If I don’t do this... fuck, I have to do this. I don’t have a fucking choice.”
A new bottle arrived and he reached for it but it was snatched by a gloved hand before he could get there. He could only watch in mild shock as she lifted it to her lips, watching her throat constrict as the liquid moved down it.
Satisfied she wiped her gloved forearm across her mouth, then quickly licked her bottom lip. “Ya don’t have a choice?” She raised a eyebrow at him, “Jus’ cuz ya a little antsy ya gonna risk ya damn life?”
He snatched the bottle back away from her. “I’m more than ‘just a little antsy’, darlin’. I thought about killing you in the car. Did you know that? While you were asleep. Thought about putting my claws through that pretty little chest of yours.”
She narrowed her eyes at him and he hoped he’d finally get to smell fear off her. Even Wolverine was excited by the prospect of that beautiful aroma that she’d kept elusive from them.
But he didn’t get it, he didn’t finally win. Her corner of her mouth turned up into a little smile and then she just fucking giggled. “Jus’ that one time? Damn, sugah, ya like me a lot more than ah that ya did then.”
“Listen, kid. All the running, Wolverine see it as having my tail between my legs, don’t make him very happy. It’s better I let him take the fight out on these dumbasses then do something stupid like take on the whole damn government. Don’t matter how angry the beast is, I can’t beat ‘em on my own.” He sighed, starring into the pissed color liquid n the bottle.
She settled onto the stool beside him, leaning her back against the bar so she was facing him. “Ya ain’t on ya own anymore, though. Ah meant it, sugah, when ah said ah’d keep tha big bad hunter from gettin’ ya.”
He snorted, lifting the bottle to his lips again. “Yeah, well, he ain’t real happy with the idea of being protected by a little girl neither.”
“Fine,” she signed and jumped up quickly. “Gimme ya jacket.”
Narrowing his eyes he turned around in his seat toward her. “Why?”
“What did ah say about tha ‘why’ thing? Jus’ give me tha damn jacket.”
Again his body obeyed her instead of himself. He shrugged the jacket off and handed it over to her. As soon as it was in her clutch she dug into the inside pocket and for the wad of money.
“Is ah-hundred enough for whateva ya boozin’ for tha night?” She asked, her attention on the cash she shifted through her hands.
He wanted to tell her to get her damn hands off his money but instead he nodded, half expected the Wolverine to snap for being placid with her. But he remained silent as well.
“Good,” she nodded. She handed him a folded packed of money, which he assume was the one hundred. She finally had his attention when she slipped her arms into the jacket, letting it swallow her up. He jumped to his feet right as she pulled the keys out of it.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing,” he snapped.
“There’s a little town south a here called Logan, ain’t that cool? Looked maybe fifteen minutes away on tha map. Ah wanna go check it out, buy me some clothes an’ stuff. How long ya gonna need here, ‘bout three hours?”
He blinked at her a few times slightly put off by how crystal clear and carefree her green eyes were, like she was just telling him she was going to the bathroom or something.
“You think I’m just gonna to let you take my truck and leave without me? With all my damn money? Kid, you must have gotten some brain damage after all,” he huffed, crossing his massive arms over his chest.
“What? Ya said ya had to do this so ahm lettin’ ya. Ah figured while ya here ah can go get this done so we won’t have ta stop for that.” She looked behind her; the crowd was getting thicker in around the cage and more restless for action. “Besides, what tha hell am ah gonna do here? Get hit on an’ groped by these morons while ah wait for ya? No thanks.”
She had a point about that. For a girl who didn’t like to be touched sitting around in a bar for a few hours was not the best way to go about it. And as much as he didn’t want to admit it he would probably be looking out for her the entire time, which would just be a distraction. And he was sick of those nasty blue gloves...
“Fine,” he grunted. And she immediately broke out into a grin. “But let’s get things straight. You aren’t ‘letting’ me do shit, got that, kid?”
She nodded, a big grin still on her face.
“Do not use you powers to ‘shop’,” he went on. “And do not spend all my fucking money. Bare essentials only. Do not purposely run the truck into a tree or otherwise intentionally damage it. And your ass better be back here at nine-thirty, got that? That’s two hours. I swear kid, a minute later and I will hunt you down. We clear?”
She rolled her eyes, “Yes, daddy.”
“Safe that shit for the bedroom, darlin’.”
A loud crash of glass sounded from behind the bar. The bartender tried to cough to cover it up, but he had everyone’s full attention. He turned away and nearly fled to the back, his face bright crimson.
She started giggle and bit her bottom lip. “Logan, that was ya first joke! Ah think ya ‘bout gave that poor pudgy little man a heart attack, though.”
He turned around and couldn’t help but smirk as he watched the still violently blushing man sweep up his mess. When was the last time he smiled? He could still feel the Wolverine pacing, but it seemed he fed off sexual tension just as easily as he did aggression.
“Who said anything about a joke?” The words left his mouth before checking with his brain first but when those pouty lips of hers formed that little ‘o’ it was worth it. Her silence was validating and he swore at all the smoke and cheap cologne and perfume in the room that was blocking him from being able to smell her.
“Well, um,” she still giggled again, but this time was looking at her feet. “Ah guess ah betta get goin’. Only havin’ three hours an’ all.” She flashed him another grin then turned around bouncing towards the door.
He watched her go, pony tail bouncing and his jacket nearly reaching her knees. Suddenly he realized how big of a mistake he could be making. He didn’t even completely trust himself and now he was giving his keys and nearly all his money to a girl he’d know for a few days and was completely insane.
“Wait,” he quickly grabbed her elbow before she could get any farther away. “Two hours! Damnit, kid, I’m not screwing around with you! Two hours!!”
“Rahght. Two hours. That’s what ah said. Ya gotta learn ta trust me, sugah. Ahm on ya side, whateva side ya on, kay?”
He stepped in closer, bringing his nose to her neck. She flinched and stepped back, but he got enough of her scent to tell she really believed what she was saying. It didn’t mean it was true and she wouldn’t screw him over in the end. But at least right now, this very moment, she thought she was with him.
He wasn’t a really trusting person, though, so all he could do was nod, just to appease her. And it seemed to work, the seriousness left her face and she giggled again and he noted he’d have to remember that noise for fuel in the fights.
“Alright, ah’ll be back in a bit. Give ‘em a good ole Mississippi stomp kick for me.” She gave him a quick wink and then disappeared nearly instantly in the now pack crowd of the bar.
*******
The bookie was right; the fights were going awfully damn quickly. He had to about fuck himself over just to keep a good appearance. The goal was to bleed as much as possible, people didn’t ask so many questions that way. Blood stayed on the skin, stuck in sweat, well after the cuts had healed. So he did things like putting his face straight into their punches or never blocked the brass knuckles that rednecks seemed to like to much.
He always let them get a few good shots in. The pain actually soothed the beast, or perhaps wore him out quicker, whichever way you wanted to look at it.
And the newest fucker when straight for the downstairs kick.
He hit the cement floor of the cage hard, snarling in pain. The heavy mohawked man sashayed over to him, laughing and waving at the crowd, who was now loudly cheering. Usually he gave them a minimum of two good hits, but this asshole had made the wrong first one.
When Mohawk’s foot came down to stomp him further to the mat, he quickly turn, grabbing the muddy monstrosity. A sharp twist of his wrist and the sweat ‘crack’ of the man’s ankle breaking flowed into his ears followed by the even better high-pitched scream.
Logan as on his feet before the other man hit the ground. He smirked down at him, crying and rolling around, clutching his ankle. Wasn’t such a tough son of a bitch now, was he?
Out of the corner of his eye he could see the announcer starting to get up, probably to call the match, which meant he didn’t have a lot of time left to teach mo-head a lesson.
He grabbed the front of the man’s shirt and hauled him to his feet. He didn’t stay, of course, and tried to buckle with a little whimper but Logan held him up. The other man made no noise when an adamantium fist collided with his nose. Cartilage just didn’t have the same satisfying sound as bone did when it shattered.
Just as the announcer had the door open he grabbed the whining man’s shoulders and bent him over his thigh, ramming his knee into the man’s groin. He let the dead weight fall to the floor, the metal bars of the cage shook from the impact.
Glancing down at his chest he was very glad he kept his undershirt on. It was now clammy and stuck to his skin from not only his own sweat but now the blood that was freely flowing out of Mohawk’s nose. Further inspection revealed clear spit or bile on the pant leg of his jeans and he cringed. He got in one final kick to the man’s ribs before the tiny announcer man ran up and grabbed his arm, declaring him winner.
“Wolverine, ladies and gentleman. Your round two winner! Let’s see some fire boys! You ain’t gonna let this outsider take your money are you?!!”
Jerking his arm away from the announcer he returned to his vodka bottle he had set up in the corner of the cage after the first round. Behind him four guys came in to drag Mohawk away, leaving a trail of blood on the cement as they went. The crowd booed and hissed but it was hard to hear over the vodka worming its way through his system. Eight fights down and at least him and the beast were on a level playing field, hopefully by the end of the night it would be satisfied enough to give him complete control.
Suddenly his system locked up and the bottle was out of his hand and shattered in pieces on the cage floor. His nose twitched in time with the claws buried beneath his muscles and the heart inside his chest. He was trapped, caged, and could smell gun powder.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Don't worry about the cliffhanger too much, k? This was one big chapter but I decided to break it up and work the second part a little differently. So no worries, it'll be up soon. :D