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Elsewhen, (in the past)

“Uhn,” groaned the prone figure on the rocky floor of the cavern, deep in the Canadian Rockies.

“Shit,” The mutant-man Logan or as he was better known in his ‘social’ circle, Wolverine, cursed both mentally as well as audibly as he exhaled and poked his tongue out to wet his dry lips, only to get a mouthful of dirt.

His body and mind going through the usual waking up processes, Logan realized when and where he was and with whom…..or in his case, was with whom.

‘I hate this,’ he tried to lift his head, only to have it flop again onto the hard rocky ground with a slightly echoed thud, an action which elicited yet another fuck from the still recovering Logan.

“The girl….shocked….kill…..her,” were the disjointed thoughts running through his still half unconscious mind as he recalled the events that had led to this situation.

---

After having escaped the now destroyed secret military base cum Weapon X laboratory, Logan quickly made his way to his truck, hidden away about three miles from the base, the woman/girl/whatever he rescued along with him, either on his back or in his arms. He said, whatever, because, from her psychical situation it wasn’t clear how old this freaky chick was. With her half gone, quarter chopped off and quarter matted white hair, her ‘for a black woman’ oddly colored and currently dilated blue eyes and her one time lustrous but now dull and dried mocha colored skin covering what was essentially a bag of bones, this Ororo, whatever kind of name that was, could be anywhere from say sixteen-seventeen to around twenty one-twenty two years old.

Like a good rescuer, Logan not only carried her properly, well except for the time he bopped her knee and lower legs against that tree. Hey, so sue him. He was in a hurry to keep HER alive, not to mention get his, ‘currently’ lead-shitting ass some healing time.

Once he got to the truck, having hidden his tracks and masked his scent, for any who might try to follow him, he put this ‘Roro, he dumped the first ‘O’ of her name for ease and less tongue rolling. Hell, if he kept her long enough, he was liable to dump the next two alphabets too, leaving just a short and ease to say, ‘ro. He put this ‘Roro into the make-shift bed at the back of the truck’s cabin, and drove like crazy to his safe spot. Having surveyed the surrounding area of the base as he always did, Logan found and prepared a tactically solid hiding spot, Just in case he needed to lay low for some time, especially given the injuries he usually suffered while gutting a few dozen or hundred of these excess-weight-on-the-earth assholes.

----

The safe spot was a hidden cave in the mountain side, one that was deep, closed and with only way in or out, well, except for the small, just fit for one person, stream that passed through it, on its way to the river flowing close by.

Carrying miss drooling at the mouth fellow mutie into the cavern, he rested her on the only sleeping bag he had, himself falling on the bare ground next to her. With the shit those Weapon X fuckers pumped into the veins of their experiment ‘subjects’, something that Logan remembered from first hand experience, it would be quite some time before she even made a move, let alone be lucid enough to walk properly on her own, especially given the whole living zombies from the X-zone look she was sporting right now. Unless, she possessed a healing factor like his, she wasn’t going to ask for a ‘hall pass’ to even go answer nature’s call anytime soon.

Still recovering from his own injuries, Logan awakened a few hours or many hours later, a faint but irritating scratching rubbing and jarring at his sensitive eardrums. At first, he disregarded it as so wild critter who might have come to find shelter from the cold weather outside. That was until he remembered, he wasn’t alone. ‘Oro, boro, toto, fuck what her name was,’ chick was with him, or was the last time he laid eyes on her or more like where she had been when he lolled off.

“FUCK,” he growled as lifting his sleep raddled, healing stiffened body; he gave a couple of testing sniffs to find and place her scent. Even with all the crud and the muck flowing through her and hence oozing out through sweat and other bodily secretions, and the damp shit smell of the cave itself, there was something good about natural her scent, like fresh rain good. ‘Maybe that’s her power,’ Logan thought to himself as he lumbered along, his one hand resting against the cave walls for support. He knew about mutants who possessed this freaky power of giving out pheromones to scare, arouse and do other things to their vict….uh, targets.

“Hey, where are you…?” Was all he could get out on seeing his errant good-deed-of-the-decade recipient, before everything went white and damn, painful.

----

‘The bitch shocked me,’ the thought ran through Logan’s mind as he finally got up the second time. ‘She shocked ME. Like that was something that was missing in my metal boned life.’

“What the…?” Were his next words, ones coming out not because of his own eau-de-burnt-skin smell, but because of what his instantly awakened and saucer wide eyes were seeing.

Lying next to his feet, her upper body curled around one leg was the same nut-frying Ororo. That he had not expected, especially after she sent what seemed like a million volts through his body. Had it not been for the Admantium in/on his skeleton, Logan would not have been hurt so much. ‘Yeah well,’ he corrected himself. ‘Had it not been fer yer healing factor, ya woulda been Wolverine shish kabob by now.’

Unable to decide what to make of her, Logan carefully freed his leg from Ororo’s arms and soundlessly moved away from her. The way she was curled up in a foetal position made Logan think that maybe she was cold, which, given the sub-sub-zero temperature and the fact that they were just a few away from the cave opening, was a completely understandable situation. Heck, she should have frozen to a Chocolate Popsicle by now.

“Yeah, well, maybe Ms. Nut-buster doesn’t feel the cold,” said Logan, cradling to check on his afore-mentioned nuts. When Ororo had struck him, and just before he passed out, he could feel not only his external appendages cooking, but also a couple of his internal organs, his continuously ‘jump starting’ heart one of them.

“Shit darlin’, the first date and ya already done playin’ with my heart,” Logan spoke to the unconscious Ororo, draping his jacket over her before going back deeper into the cave to retrieve their, HIS, other belongings.

‘Better not move her again,’ he concluded perceptively, not wanting a repeat performance of Christmas tree ala Wolverine.

----

“Hey, hey, get up, get up,” Ororo felt a gruff voice reaching out to her and pulling her through the drug and sleep induced haze that clouded her mind. Even in her state, she could comprehend someone was making some sound, but what and who, she did not know.

“Mmmmph...Ughn,” her moan turned painful, as her body seemed to be caught in an intangible web of pain.

“Wake up,” Logan called again. He had sensed the woman waking up, both due to her increased heart rate and the sounds coming from her. She as barely moving, which, given the shape she was in was completely understandable. Hell, he was surprised that she even made it this far by herself. Getting somewhat impatient with staying in this place for too long, he wanted her to get up so that they could make a move, so that he could get her something to eat, find out where she lived or wanted to go and get rid of her. It was not he was interested in. His mind was more occupied by the markings of two claw slashes that was imprinted in his memories. There was someone out there like him, and he wanted to find her. He knew it was a her because he had been able to salvage bits of paper from the almost completely destroyed and burnt out base he found those claw marks at.

“Uhn...” the snowy chick’s painful moan brought him back to the present. Given their last interaction, he kept at a comparatively safe distance from her. Moreover, given the time of the year and the naturally volatile climate, he did not make too much of the sudden change in the weather conditions visible just a few feet away from them. Not much, but it was as if, all of a sudden, the fuckin’ sun just blinked off, with deep grey clouds gathering in the previously, comparatively clear sky.

‘Storm,’ he remembered reading her name on one of the two dog tags hanging around her neck. The other had given him her name. He did not care much for that either, mostly because, just as it had been for him, he assumed that it was the Weapon X’ers who gave her that splashy name. ‘Musta been ‘cause of her hair, or what’s left of it.’

---

“Hey Ororo,” no sooner had the woman in question managed to pull herself up into a seating position, did she push away from him, her liquid blue eyes suddenly watering over as she stared wide eyed at the man in front of her and at her surroundings. The last thing she remembered was being fitted something over her face and then being drowned in water.

“Nnnnnnn….Nnnnn…..” Logan’s hackles rose at the way Ororo reacted. Her reaction wasn’t that of a human but that of a cornered animal, reminding of the way he might have been when he broke free himself, all those years ago. That part of his life was still a bit of blur for him, and he liked it that way. As it was, he knew too much, remembered too much.

“Hey,” putting on his best ‘Concerned Good Samaritan’ look Logan started; his hands on his side in a show of peace. ‘Like with a wild animal,’ he told himself. “Look, uh, Ororo. I ain't gonna hurt you. See, got nothing in my hands.” He wiggled his fingers to draw her attention to them, her eyes instantly snapping to the dancing digits, but only for a second, before returning to his face. Fear and suspicion shone clearly in her twin sapphires.

“Eat?” Logan offered, making no move except to tilt one hand and point one finger at the open box lying in between them, nearer to Ororo than to him. At getting no movement, he thought that maybe she couldn’t talk or something, or worse yet couldn’t hear.

“Eat,” he repeated, once again pointing to the food he had laid out just as soon he caught the first signs of Ororo’s rise from sleep. Offering food, got animals to calm down too, well, at least for sometime if not completely and hopefully would do the same with Ororo here. Too supplement his words, his also made an eating gesture by bringing his hand to his mouth.

As if catching his drift, Ororo’s glanced at the food, a part of her mind recognized it and within a flash, especially given the state her body was in, she wan onto it, literally grabbing it before retreating to her corner….her territory. Just like an animal.

‘What did they do you darlin’?’ Logan thought, anger rising in him as he watched Ororo wolf down the semi solid food. She paid no attention to the fact that he hands were coated with dirt. Using her fingers as a spoon and fork replacement, she soon finished with the broth. It was a mixture of the frozen canned soup that Logan carried along in his truck and week old bread. Logan hoped that it would be fine for her and that her, gone to hell, digestive system would be able to keep it down and use it.

Once finished, she wiped her mouth with the front and back of her palm, managing to get a bit of the soup in her hair in the process on her hair.

----

SNAP!

The way she jerked her head when he experimentally snapped a finger, told Logan that at least her ears were working fine.

“Can you talk?” He stayed on his ‘comforting’ voice. Not that it mattered to him, but, if he was to…. ‘What the hell?’ he stopped mid-sentence. ‘What do ya mean if, when, yeah when.’ When he was supposed to drop her off, he needed to know where do it and for that she would have to either speak or write it out for him. If she couldn’t talk, she hell as sure couldn’t write shit.

“Can you write?” He asked the question nevertheless, growling at the muted stare he got in return.

“Wrrrrr…..”

“Well, yer not dumb either,” he answered at Ororo’s try to form the word write. “Well, I am Logan.” Again, that stupid stare, although by now, the suspicion levels had gone down a notch or two, allowing Logan to himself settle down, his hands resting comfortably at his sides on the cave floor.

“Lllll….”

“Lo-,” Logan started slowly.

“Lo-,” Ororo repeated.

“-gan.”

“-gggggun.”

“Close enough.”

-----

“Here, eat.”

Opening the driver side door, Logan pulled himself into the truck, jerking a plastic bag towards Ororo. His seemingly white powdered hair was a testimony to the snow falling outside.

They had been together for about three days now and in those three days, Ororo not only seemed to have gained strength but also relaxed and somewhat started to trust her savior. She still did not speak, well except for the few words Logan managed to teach her. Logun, food, watuh were the only three words she used, the fourth, ‘Rrrrooro, a caricature of her own name although present in her limited vocabulary, was not used.

Logan had given her some of his clothes, which, given her utter ignorance and naiveté, he had change for himself. He had cursed under his breath almost the entire time he was doing it, not because he had to do it, but because of the innumerable nicks and cuts spanning Ororo’s entire back and quite a lot of her front side. Tentatively touching a tube-hole, his heart clenched at the way Ororo whimpered from the pain. That alone, made him want to go back and kill all those fuckers, all over again.

At his ‘eat’ command, Ororo near tore through the plastic and cardboard packaging to get to the food. That too had been a learning experience for both of them. The first time Logan had done this, Ororo had nearly started to chew on the plastic bag itself. Logan, in his haste pulled the bag from her, regretting it instantly at the lost puppy look she gave him. He then explained and showed her that the bag was not for eating, nor was the cardboard boxes. It was what was inside the boxes and other plastic bags that was to be eaten. The bags and boxes were to be thrown away.

He watched from the corner of his eyes as Ororo chomped down on a handful of French fries, while gobbling up what seemed to be some sort of chicken preparation with the other. After two days of semi-solid food, Logan had finally started her with complete solids. Even now, she used to spend most of the time sleeping, much to her chagrin. That was because, just as a young child would, she was fascinated by traveling in the truck, and used to mash her face against the passenger side window to see outside. Once Logan made a mistake of opening the window for her. Mistake because, as soon as the window went down, Ororo practically leapt out, sticking her head out to breathe in the clear, clean mountain air. ‘Mutt,’ Logan had cursed jokingly.

----

What he hadn’t told her was about his and her being mutants, something, given her situation, she wouldn’t have understood anyway.

“Hey, ‘Ro,” at his grunt Ororo stopped mid-chew, her trusting eyes instantly zoning in on him. She knew that ‘Ro was her and Logan calling her that meant he would be making more noises with his lips.

“What’s this?” Logan held up a small plastic package. He had not seen it before, because he had not bought it and yet it was there. It was some sort of sweet that Ororo had urged him to buy, but which given its useless nature, he had not. Yet it was there in the truck, sticking out of Ororo’s jacket pocket.

Grabbing the packet, Ororo turned away from Logan, as if hiding her face like a child.

“Hey, hey, look at me,” Logan reached forward and turned her face to him. “You lifted this? You stole this?”

The blank look that Ororo tried to give him was one that he was used to by now. It was a, I know I did wrong, or I know you are angry, but I am going to act as if I don’t understand, look.

“Did you? Yer a thief?” He asked, feeling like slapping himself for his own stupidity. ‘Dickwad, she doesn’t even know her own name properly. How do ya expect her to know what the fuck stealing is and that it could get ya into trouble?’

----

What Logan missed, almost until it was too late, was the effect that his last spoken word was having on Ororo. Letting go of the food, the packet sliding from between her legs, her eyes widening, she seemed to go into a fit.

“What the fuck? What’s happenin’ to…..oh shit,” all that came forth as Logan saw the previously clear blue eyes turning to a shining white. He had seen it happen once before, experienced its result. He wasn’t in any mood to go through that….ever again, and especially not in a truck.

Pulling over instantly, he pulled Ororo to him and managed to move just about ten feet from the truck when.

KKKRAAAKKK-BOOOM!!

One final thought went through Logan’s mind before he lost to the darkness.

‘Fuck, fried nuts again.’

-----

Present time,

Two pairs of eyes watched in awe as a tall, dark skinned man easily handled and disposed of a bunch of teenaged gangster wannabes. The object of their chase a young woman, a clearly visible mutant woman, lay on the ground behind the man.

“Do you think it is him?” Leech looked up to his older companion.
“Don’t know kid, but he kinda fits the bills, ‘cept for,” Marrow trailed off, her eyes noticing the man’s headgear. “Come,” she gestured for Leech for follow her as the three boys ran, more like stumbled away.

“Are you hurt?” They heard the man turned to the young woman, seemingly oblivious to the two strangers coming towards him.
“What do you think?” The girl snapped at him, her tail wrapped around her left leg as tightly grasped at her bleeding forearm.
“Uh,” the man seemed to be put off, almost ready to walk away. “I can help you with that. Do you want it or not?” He asked, his softer tone giving way to a harder, no nonsense one.

For a second it seemed that the woman was about to make yet another biting remark. Instead, she very intelligently opted to remain silent and mutely nodded her head.

“Can you help us?” The six-foot plus man stopped mid bend looking over his shoulder at the new arrivals.
“We-we are also mutants,” Marrow put forth her best lost and needy face. “I am Marr…Sarah and this is my friend Leech. We-we are new here.”
“Get lost,” the still on the ground girl snarled at them, secretly afraid that the man might leave her and help them instead.
“No, wait,” the man reached out a hand mid-way in a gesture to stop them. “I will help you….all of you,” he added, for the benefit of his first find.

“Thank you sir,” Leech smiled hesitantly.
“No, don’t thank me,” the man shook his head. “And don’t call me sir. That’s a white man’s name.”

“Yeah, well, I am Maria, Maria Callasantos,” the firebrand introduced herself. “Just call me Feral. What’s your name hunkie?” She looked up to the mystery man.

“I am John Proudstar. They also call me Thunderbird.”

Note: New character introduced and their descriptions.

Maria Callasantos (Feral): I had planned on using this character as one of the Morlocks, finally giving her spot to Leech. Her powers include heightened strength, speed, agility, stamina, and reflexes, hyper-keen senses, prehensile tail and razor sharp claws. Mostly from the main Marvel timeline, with a bit from the Age of Apocalypse series. (Age: Early to mid twenties…..21-24)

John Proudstar (Thunderbird): Known as Thunderbird (I) in the current Marvel (616) universe. Haven’t decided if he will be playing a major part. Mostly own making, with whatever I can get from the old Uncanny X-Men issues. (Age: Late twenties to early thirties…..29-32)

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