**Chop, chop, chop, engine of destruction
Chop, chop, chop, a perfect killing machine**
One quick spin, claws gliding through the air in a gracious arc, sliding through skin, bone and muscle. Sick little grin, fast step to forward and stab, tearing through ribcage. Dodge hail of bullets turning, balls of feet digging to the ground, seeking leverage before lunging forward hands spread wide, claws cutting through bone and sinew, tearing tendons and cartilage.
Torn carcasses littering the ground, sound of lonely applause echoing from the walls.
**Some people call me the Creeper
'Cuz they don't know my name or face
I got 'em running in circles
Because a homicidal genius never leaves a trace
I'm a lonely hunter **
“I told you my team could handle this!”
“Right, Cyclops. Sure didn’t look like that when we got in here…” Logan snorted, wiping his palms dry from the splattered blood and other bodily fluids, smearing them rather to his thighs than feeling them slippery between his fingers any longer than it was necessary.
“We? Where the fuck is your team, Logan?”
“They’re waiting in the jet. Wasn’t going to let them play in the shooting range.”
“What about this? Was this… This savagery absolutely necessary?”
“Savagery?”
**Some people call me the Ripper**
He stood in the Xavier’s study, trying to mute Scott’s nagging voice to the background. Tried to think about nicer things than threats and accusations both men were spewing at him. Nice things. Marie-Nice-Things. Every nice and downright nasty thing she had done to him in her room at the previous day and night. Every nice, nasty and dirty thing he had done to her.
“…some kind of modern day Jack-The-Ripper! We can’t tolerate this kind of behavior…” Xavier.
“…Homicidal creep! You’re grounded for a month…” Scott.
‘Would you let me suck you?’ Marie. She was in her room, probably already showered and stripped down to bare skin, sprawled on her bed buck-naked.
“Logan! Are you even listening?” Xavier. He nodded. No use to aggravate the telepath any more.
“He isn’t, I know that look!” Scott. Nice guy but he should really shut up.
‘For Christ’s sakes, just fuck me already, Logan!’ He couldn’t stop the smirk from spreading on his lips from the memory of his last night’s activities. He could still smell and taste her. Marie. His Marie.
**She had a black leather skirt
That was tight to her hips
And an anklet with a name**
She had been wearing a skirt she had borrowed from her friend. Tight, black leather, gleaming and sticking to her curves, sliding deliciously over her thighs and hips when she straddled him. She had had an anklet. Small strap of silver with her name spelled on silver letters on it. He had bought it for her last Christmas when he hadn’t yet been entirely sure about his feelings towards her.
**Chop, chop, chop**
“Logan. Logan! Wolverine!”
“Yes, professor?” He’d better snap out of his daydreams before professor turned nasty.
“Have we made our policy clear?”
“Yeah, yeah. No killing and maiming. Can I go now?” He asked. Professor nodded and he walked out, pausing briefly when he heard Scott clearing his throat in the professor’s study.
“You do know he only said that to get out from here?”
“Yes, Scott. I’m not stupid, you know. I know what he’s capable of, and you of all people should know what happens when he gets cornered. I rather let him out than pay workers to renovate this office. And those paintings aren’t cheap either… Nor our lives.”
Chop Chop Chop
by Alice Cooper
Some people call me the Creeper
'Cuz they don't know my name or face
I got 'em running in circles
Because a homicidal genius never leaves a trace
I'm a lonely hunter
City full of game
Walkin' in the neon lights
Chop, chop, chop, engine of destruction
Chop, chop, chop, a perfect killing machine
Chop, chop, chop, it's a symbiotic function
Chop, chop, chop, I keep the city so clean
Chop, chop, chop
Some people call me the Ripper
Stole my modus operandi from the movie screen
She's just a celluloid stripper
Just another bloody player in my splatter-filled dream
Women on the streets
Want money when we meet
I take them for a little ride
Chop, chop, chop, engine of destruction
Chop, chop, chop, a perfect killing machine
Chop, chop, chop, it's symbiotic function
Chop, chop, chop, I keep the city so clean
Chop, chop, chop
She was standing on the corner
With her bright red lips
Her face was so white and pale (so pale)
She had a black leather skirt
That was tight to her hips
And an anklet with a name
It spelled M A R Y..... Gail
Gail Gail Gail Gail
Gail Gail Gail Gail
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Homicidal!Logan strikes again. But there's already Horny!Logan approaching, so I'm changing the rating for this fic in advance. Oh, and text inside '....' is logan's memories from the previous night.