Having touched Logan, Marie knew exactly how fine the line between rational man and feral mutant actually was. This creep, whoever the fuck he was claiming to be, didn’t seem to realize how far gone the Wolverine had retreated from his morality. The tense, sweating, angry mutant crouching over her was deadly, as well as unbelievably pissed at being taken by surprise.
Absolutely lethal.
“Easy, old man,” the youth Daken said laughingly, “Wouldn’t want to toy with this, now would you?”
Marie’s eyes widened as Daken pulled a long, menacing sword out of a sheath strapped to his back with a thin piece of braided leather. The blade was pewter gray, almost black in color with a thick metal ridge running from tip to hilt. Along the tang of weapon, oriental glyphs were engraved deep into the metal, each character glowing red with its own inner fire.
“You think you can take me down with that pig-sticker?” the Wolverine scoffed, eyes narrowed cunningly at his supposed son.
“Worth a shot, don’t you think?” Daken growled, patting the flat of the blade against his muscular shoulder.
Marie shrank behind Logan as he crouched precariously on the mattress, claws extended. As he crept closer to his opponent, she gingerly wiggled her fingers out of their gloves. If the Wolverine needed help, she was more than willing to suck this fellow’s soul slam out through his skin.
Almost faster than her eyes could follow, Daken lunged towards Wolverine with a fearsome snarl, sword gripped tightly between his three-pronged bone claws. Roaring, Wolverine leapt to meet him, neatly dodging a swipe from the sword, sinking adamantium claws deep into Daken’s torso. The youth roared in pain, and the two of them crashed over the landing to slam into the tattered sofa below. One howling swipe from Daken’s wickedly sharp blade split the couch in two as Wolverine’s adamantium slammed into bone claws, snapping the extensions off with a wicked crack.
Daken howled, and the claws were sucked back into his skin quickly, an obviously hereditary healing factor knitting the flesh around the claws back together in seconds. The Wolverine cocked one eyebrow upwards in surprise. Perhaps they were related. If so, it was about time “Daddy” gave his son a spanking.
“The hell do you want?” Wolverine snarled, and pounced, growling viciously. Daken barely moved away fast enough, three equidistant slices opening in his right boot.
“Dammit, I liked these boots.” Daken hissed, and a bone-claw right hook skinned the side of Wolverine’s face. Bone met adamantium once again and shattered, Daken cursing in pain as the wound exposed Wolverine’s skull.
“Seems like we keep running up on your inadequacy, kid.” Wolverine laughed, turning just so to reveal his wounds in the sunlight pouring in from the windows. One rough finger tapped the bone as flesh reknit itself around it, “Adamantium versus bone, son? You’re gonna lose every time.”
Rogue, who had been gingerly creeping down the stairs towards the fight, bare hands and skin ready to rumble, gasped at the glimpse of Logan’s skull, shining silver.
And Wolverine turned at the sound, took his eyes off of Daken for just one second.
Daken seized the opportunity and struck.
The sword he held ran the Wolverine completely through, a full foot of blade protruding from his back and slicing cleanly through his spine.
“NO!” Rogue screamed, propelling herself into flight and slamming full force into Daken, superstrength hurtling him into the stone fireplace. A son-of-Wolverine sized crater opened, stone crashing down around him, locking him in as Rogue rushed to Wolverine, who lay gasping on the floor. She shielded him from the ceiling, falling in due to sudden structural instability, invulnerable skin protecting him as his hands, slick with blood, scrabbled to grasp the handle of the katana.
He jerked it out with a hoarse yell, and Rogue panicked as blood poured from the wound. Something was clearly wrong. Logan faded in and out of consciousness, the wound refusing to heal. Rogue ripped off her shirt, exposing her bare chest and wadded it into the wound, placing pressure to try and stem the worst of the bleeding. The sword lay forgotten, glittering in the light streaming in from the hole in the roof.
“M’rie, hurts.” Logan panted, voice faint, eyelids fluttering, “S’not healing.”
“It’ll be okay, I’ll get some help.” Marie whispered, eyes tearing up.
“Don’t cry, least not for a jerk like me” Logan said, a half-assed smirk on his face, “...always knew this’d happen...’ventually.” he coughed, blood burbling up, trickling from between his lips and into his mutton-chops.
“Logan, I’m not going to let you die!” Marie shouted.
Turning away, she leapt up and managed to wrangle one of the worn blankets from underneath the remains of the couch. She whirled around, and growled unintentionally as a tattooed arm reached out to grab the bloodied sword. She should have broken the damn thing when she had a chance.
“I’m going to drain you dry, Daken!” she hissed, clenching the blanket so tightly the fibers began to stretch and tear from the pressure of her hands. She gulped as the tip of the sword rested precariously on Logan’s neck. His breathing was becoming more and more labored with every passing second. Blood bubbled out of his mouth with ever exhale.
“Oh, I don’t think so.” Daken said, a toothy grin on his face. He leered at Marie, and she jerked the blanket over her exposed breasts. “Nice rack, by the way.”
“Fuck you!” Marie snarled, taking one step towards him.
“Ah, ah, ah!” Daken laughed, wagging a finger at her, “Don’t move, or I’ll chop his goddamn head off.”
Marie watched as the blade slipped a fraction of an inch, a fine line of blood appearing on Logan’s neck. “Stop!” she yelped, frozen in panic.
“That’s what I thought.” Daken said, an audible purr rumbling out of his bare chest. “You know, father-figure problems and all it’s not him I want Rogue.”
“What do you want then?” she whispered, shaking.
“You.” he laughed, and the blade jiggled against Logan’s throat.
Logan growled, “Don’t listen to him, M’rie...heal, I always do...”
“Hah!!” Daken crowed, running one hand through his mohawk topknot, “That, my dear father, is where you are wrong, fatally so. You see, this is the only weapon in the world that can permanently put you down, Wolverine. This is the Muramasa sword, and its entire, sole purpose in life, is to kill you.”
“Now, Rogue, or should I call you Marie?” Daken smiled, “You’re going to do exactly what I tell you to, like a good girl, right?”
“Yes.” Marie stammered, “Please, please don’t kill him.”
“Here,” Daken said, refusing to step away from Logan’s neck. He chunked a small pill towards Marie, she caught it easily. “Eat this.”
“Why?” she asked.
“Don’t fucking ask why bitch,” Daken growled, claws sliding out, “just do it, or he dies.”
Marie gulped, trembling hands placing the pill in her mouth. She choked as she downed it dry, gagging on its foul taste. As soon as it hit her stomach she felt her senses shift and roll. Her head felt completely empty, as if it was full of air. She collapsed on the floor, coughing violently, her body trying to retch up the pill.
“The fuck did...you...do?” Logan snarled, managing to halfway lift one arm towards Daken. His legs were paralyzed, useless. Pain riddled his body to the point that he could no longer concentrate on anything else, every heartbeat poured precious ounces of blood onto hardwoods that greedily drank the dark fluids.
“You see, old man,” Daken said, crouching down and patting the side of Logan’s cheek in mock sympathy, “I wasn’t really here for you, I was here for her.” Daken nodded his head towards Marie, who was halfway tangled up in the blanket she had grabbed, trying to crawl on all fours towards the two of them.
“Pity you won’t get to use her anymore,” he chuckled darkly, “She’s mine now, don’t forget it.” He leaned closer until his lips touched his father’s ear, “It’s a pity you won’t get to hear her screaming my name from now on.”
“Fuck off.” Logan snarled. Daken’s foot had strayed too close to his limp arm. Claws shot out spontaneously, slicing through leather, bone, and flesh.
Daken hissed and gritted his teeth. “Bastard,” he spat at Logan.
“That would be...you, Daken,” Wolverine laughed, eyes glazing over, “I don’t have a son.”
“Have it your way, douchebag.” Daken growled. He stood up, staring in disdain at the dying man on the floor, slid his foot off its adamantium bear trap with a “FUCK,” and slammed the sword blade home.
Marie screamed as Logan’s head separated cleanly from his body, arteries spewing blood across the floor. His decapitator kicked his face callously, and his head lolled, jaw open, eyes unseeing to lie on the kitchen linoleum.
“YOU!” Marie screamed, planning to pummel Daken into non-existence. She leapt up, staggering across the space between them. Her bare hand slapped onto Daken’s blood spattered chest. She waited for the pull of her skin, to suck his mutation up, up, up, and out of his body.
She wanted him to die.
And Daken laughed, laughed in her face as nothing happened, as she pummeled him with her fists weakly, strength gone. Laughed when she tried to fly, to disappear to get anywhere, anywhere but here.
“So, Marie,” Daken said, grinning toothily as she stumbled away from him, desperately trying to make the front door, “How do you like your first taste of cure?”
He leapt after her, dragging her by her foot into the kitchen. Daken pinned her to the remaining kitchen wall as she cried shamelessly, his foot knocking into Logan’s head again.
“Now, let’s see,” Daken purred, his tongue sliding from her breast to her ear, teeth nibbling suggestively, “How about we defile the impromptu tomb of the Wolverine with a quick fuck?”
His lips slammed into hers. Marie’s head swam as it slammed into the wooden wall behind her, dizzying her. She slapped, she bit, she screamed bloody freaking murder. Her teeth ripped a chunk out of his ear and tore into his lip and tongue, attempting to dissuade him from his current course of action. Marie’s fingernails dragged bloody scratches down his chest. She kneed him in the groin.
“Fucking bitch!” Daken shouted, hand, claws extended, slamming into her face. Marie collapsed, the left side of her face split from forehead to chin with a bloody gash. Daken could already tell he had ruined her eye. She lolled, unconscious in his arms.
“Well where’s the fun in fucking someone whose comatose?” he grumbled. Marie’s limp form was slung over his shoulder, somewhat wrapped in the tattered blanket. He slammed open the front door, picking up the Muramasa sword and wiping the blood off onto his pants. He sheathed the weapon, then stalked out into the snow with his hostage.
Magneto would be very pleased.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
A/N: Please be warned this chapter contains lots of violence and some dark stuff. Daken is a sociopath, just want to break it to you now! It will get better later! Temporary character death warning!! (temporary, I promise! don't worry!!!! >_
Chapter End Notes:
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