There's nothing here.
There's. *Nothing*. Here.
Alkali Lake, the military compound that Xavier said- that Xavier *promised* was here- is nothing but an empty metal shell. Weeds and wildlife growing rampantly, cracks in the walls and steel tinted red with rust. The roof is falling apart, and the floor-what remains of it-is so torn up that even I dare not walk across it. With the lack of people, nature has taken over and it is almost impossible to distinguish the outside forest from within. Birds have made their nest inside, along with many other animals. Plants-the sturdy kind that take root even in winter- have flourished, growing up and winding around what might have once been tables. I think there might have been a fire here once, some of the walls...what I can see, anyway, are stained black. Icicles longer than my claws hang in abundance. It's obvious that if there had ever been an important facility here, it had not been active in a long, long time.
I hear the crackling sound of snow and smell fur, warm blood. A skinny white wolf, ribs showing and a copper tail appears from the open door. Hunting for food, probably. There's a moment when the creature looks at me, steadily, measuring. I feel a closer kinship with him than with most humans I meet. The wolf gives a slight deferential whine, turns, and leaves me alone.
The disappointment is a crushing, squeezing fist around my chest. It hurts.
The Wolverine wakes up, from the box in my head where I usually keep him,and growls, frustrated and enraged. I want to yell. I want to curse. I want to sink my claws- those metal knives *they* gave me- into a body, cut bone and flesh. I want to cry.
Days go by. A week, and then a month. Two months. Time has never meant much to me. My nights are the same, one after the other. I guess I was hanging on to this lead of Chuck's more desperately than I thought.
I'm angry. I get fewer opponents in the cage, reputation preceding me as being more ruthless than ever. I man near Lethbridge tried to rob me. I broke his arm. In three places. The barflies appeal to me less and less. Women who talk in shrill, twanging voices and eyes hardened by disenchantment. They've started to look alike, too. Blond or black or red or brunette.
I haven't sent anything to Marie in awhile.
I blame the Professor. Not completely- the better part, at least, of me know that Alkali Lake was along shot in the first place. And it's that part that's telling me I'm actin' like a petulant kid. A petulant, cage fighting kid. With side burns. But, well, I'm not always ruled by my reasonable half. I guess I thought meeting Xavier, and all of them, would change things.
(*...i'll help you find what you're looking for...*) He'd help me, like he'd done with all the rest of them. That was stupid. I know. My life never changes. It's the same bag of repetitious crap I've been dealing with for -haha- as long as I can remember. I don't change. And what did I think, that Chuck was some goddamn Father Christmas, gonna restore my memories, just like that? Shit. It was probably just some ruse. A ploy to get me to put on their little leather suit and join the X-Fuckers.
I don't wanna go back. Not to a house of idealistic freaks who think they can change the world. Who don't understand that bad shit can happen to people, over and over. And there ain't no reason for it, no way to make it better. But that's alright. It doesn't matter. It doesn't.
The TV didn't work. The sign outside the motel said *"Cable TV! Color! 98 Channels!"* It promised *"Cable TV! Color! 98 Channels!"*. I payed ten dollars extra for *"Cable TV! Color! 98 Channels!"*......But there's nothing but humming, pepper static filling the screen.
In retrospect, it occurs to me that I over-reacted. Perhaps the room did not need quite so many claw marks. I did not need to break that television set. And, just possibly, the mattress springs could have remained inside the mattress.
Too late now.
Thirty miles outside Yellowknife-- four months, eight days and seventeen hours since the School gates closed behind me -- I watch The Blond pop an olive in her mouth and smile at me over her drink. Her breath is gonna smell. I don't say anything, because she looks anorexic. Maybe that olive is the only thing she's had to drink today.
The barkeeper has given me the purse for tonight's fight. My share came to about six hundred dollars. Not bad.
The Blond is talking. Can't remember her name. Selena? Stephi? Sheri?
--She doesn't come here that often, do I? Her ex-boyfriend like drinking six pack at home. He never took her out anywhere. Wouldn't even let her in on those card games with his friends, and does she look like the kinda girl who deserves that? What a jerk......Shirley? Sonia?...She says I don't talk much. She likes my belt buckle. It's big. Am I a cowboy? Do I always wear my hair like that? It's different. But not in a bad way. She laughs. It's kinda hot...Sheri? Shannon?....She's a nonconformist too. Do I have any tattoos? How long have they called me King of the Cage?
Sharlene. That's it. I lean forward and ask if she wants to get out of here. "I might be King of other things too." It's a cheap line, but she blushes and gives me a flirty grin. There's lipstick on her teeth.
This motel has a TV too. It works. I checked. I'll watch the hockey game later, when The Blond - Sharlene - leaves.
She's kissing my neck, licking. She asks why I wear so many shirts, undoing the buttons with manicured nails. I'd prefer to leave them on and just unzip, but it's not worth debating. Her sweater comes off easily. She has a birthmark on her left breast. It kinda looks like Florida.
She's got the bedsheets clenched in one fist. Her leg is wrapped around my hip,
"Mmmmm...mmmh...So what's your...real name, anyway?" Jesus. Is she still talking? I nip at one of her nipples. The right one, not the Florida one.
"I mean, it can't...oh...be..mmmh...Wolverine...I mean, what kind of name is Wolverine?"
.........
"Hey-hey, what's wrong? Why'd you stop?....What are you doing? Where are you going? Wolverine? Wolverine? What the fuck?"
......."Who's gonna drive me back to the bar?"
Four months, eight days, and eighteen hour after the School gates closed behind me, I get on One-Eye's bike and start driving East. South East, if you wanna be picky about it. Towards New York.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
The rating is up a tad bit in this one, folks. All day I've been dying to post this. I hope you enjoy it.
Chapter End Notes:
I want to thank everyone who reviewed the story so far. You have no idea how happy a few clicks on your keyboard makes me. I'm still new enough to fanfiction that one line of encouragement has me walking on air all day. I check it like three times a day. (Yeah, that's real subtle and dignified. I know.) That being said, if you have any comments on the preceding chapter, I would love to hear them. The reward of magical cookies and a poodle still stands. :)