It wasn’t big of a problem to stop Enoch once rest of the carnival had rolled on, and he had purposefully chosen slower pace. No problem at all. In fact, Enoch looked almost relieved when Logan stepped from the woods and told him to stop the wagon before he blew Enoch’s head off.
“I was expecting you sooner, Wolverine,” Enoch said, stepping down from the wagon and tied the reigns of his horse.
“You knew me?” Logan asked, surprised but none too pleased. Enoch let out a dry cackle.
“I never forget a beast. What is it that you want? A chat with your cub?”
“I came to finish it.”
“Ah-ha… So it is the man that I’m speaking with… Found a cure? I’m impressed!” Enoch said.
“And I have some questions for you as well.” Again Enoch laughed, making Logan cringe. This wasn’t going as this should have been.
“Ask away, my boy!” Older man cackled, clapping Logan’s shoulder as if he wasn’t pointing a heavy revolver at his face.
“How many?” Logan asked. Enoch pointed at his wagon.
“That is the only one. I tried…” Logan cut him off with a hard shove, nearly crushing the man against the wagon.
“Don’t lie to me, Enoch. You’re one greedy bastard, and if there was a way to make money with me, you took it! How many?”
Enoch was barely breathing, clearly scared now, barrel of Logan’s gun digging under his jaw.
“I tried! I tried more often than I care to remember! You killed most of the women that I brought to you! Rest of them backed off when they saw you! That boy is the only one! I swear!” He rasped. Logan tilted his head and eyed him for a second, then threw him to the ground at his feet, keeping the gun trained at his head.
“I don’t believe you. Where there’s a one, there’s another lurking somewhere… Start talking before I forget why it was such a good idea to just ask politely instead of torturing the answers out from you…”
“Aren’t you supposed to be a man of God?” Enoch whispered, pointing at the silver cross that hung on his chest. Logan grasped the cross.
“This is between you and me Enoch. God has no business with me anymore; I carry this cross as a mere weapon. I’ll ask you once more. If I don’t get an answer, it’ll get ugly… How many more of those creatures you bred?”
“There isn’t more, just that one…” Enoch started to scream when he cocked his gun.
“Not the answer I wanted to hear!”
“But it’s true! It’s tru…”
Enoch was rolling on the ground, clutching the stump of his mangled left hand and screaming. Logan walked to him and held him in place with his foot braced over his chest, letting him see the smoking barrel of the gun.
“I have enough bullets to blow you to pieces, Enoch. I know how to make it last. I suggest you tell me the truth before I really hurt you,” Logan spoke with a hushed tone, his face only inches apart from Enoch’s. The old man smelled of blood and sweat. Wild animals. Onions and beer. And for a moment Logan felt like tearing in to him anyway, to hell with his quest, to hell with the rest of the world, this man in front of him had hurt and humiliated him in the past on unspeakable ways.
Enoch turned his head and bared his throat, closing his eyes.
“Go ahead. Do it.”
He could feel and hear the blood pounding at his temples. Bitter saliva pooling at the back of his throat.
“Do it!”
The gun fell from his suddenly numb fingers and he threw back his head, stepping away from Enoch, horrified yet victorious scream bubbling inside of him.
“Just do it! You might as well kill me!”
He could feel the all too familiar pain gathering to the base of his skull, spreading through his whole body from there as every bone, muscle and tendon groaned in agony. Enoch kept speaking, but his voice sounded awfully distant. Over the old man’s voice echoed much older and primal call of the pack. The boy was howling in his cage in the wagon, calling him, calling Wolverine.
Then it was over, as suddenly as it begun. Everything came rushing back. Enoch on the ground, no more begging, but smirking and pointing Logan with the gun he had discarded.
“Well, well… It looks like you’re not as cured as you thought you were…” Enoch cackled.
He fell heavily on his knees, scrabbling his second revolver. The gun in Enoch’s hands went off and he could feel the burn piercing his left shoulder. The boy in the wagon started hollering again, but now he was crying. It wasn’t the sound of a beast.
His fingers brushed the handle of the revolver just as Enoch shot the second time. Bullet wheezed past him, near enough to scorch the skin over his cheekbone. He gave up, and instead of trying to pull the revolver he launched towards Enoch, his fingers curling around the old man’s throat.
“A beast you were… A beast you will be for the rest of your days…” Enoch whispered before Logan’s grip crushed his windpipe.
The Wolverine & Rogue Fanfiction Archive
Barely Legal Since 2000