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Chapter 8: The Danger Room pt. 2


Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters
The Danger Room Control Booth
Late Morning…


Silence reigned in the Danger Room’s command post during Logan’s Gauntlet run. Each trap averted, every ambush foiled, every death-defying feat performed seemed to build the anticipation that was brewing inside of everyone in the room. It was even so that Scott Summers no longer cared about the title he held for so long, but instead he was more interested in seeing if the new guy, if this Wolverine could really pull it off.

“Son of a bitch,” Scott whispered to himself quite astonished as he witnessed the Wolverine cross the goal line. Not only did he beat his former time, but also the Wolverine beat it by fifteen seconds. Granted Scott didn’t know much about the guy much less liked him very much, but he would admit that he had a grudging respect building for the feral from Canada.

“Well done, Logan,” Charles Xavier’s warm voice congratulated, while taking hold of the intercom, “How are you doing up there?”

He watched as Wolverine paced around the stone platform he was located on. He constantly rolled his broad shoulders; his thick arms swinging back and forth, the adrenaline in his body from the Gauntlet run still pumping through every one of his veins. He looked anxious, ready, as if the power of a hurricane was being precariously held back in check. “Tah be honest Chuck,” his raspy voice responded, “I’m gettin’ a bit bored. I thought Cykie said he’d show a ‘fella a good time,” he shouted back a bit indignantly.

“Professor,” Scott grinned while pulling up alongside the older man, “I’m sure we can accommodate our golden boy here,” he offered while punching in another program. His fingers traced through a few screens before he came to the one he was looking for.

Xavier lowered his gaze to see what the younger man selected. “Very well,” Charles nodded in agreement, “Logan, how would you feel about a little bit of company?”

“Let’er rip!” the Wolverine eagerly shouted back. At the end of his call, he noticed the area where the Gauntlet was formerly placed slowly started to fade away into the normal metallic gray background. The pyramid he was currently standing on and the towering steps that led to its climax was all that was present in the room. Suddenly, at the bottom of the first set of stairs, wide huge doors with cast-iron rings for handles appeared as well as a passageway that led up to the pyramid.

“Logan,” this was Ororo speaking, “Are you familiar with the battle practice called, King of the Hill?”

“‘Course…” he answered back confidently. He might not have remembered all of his military background but basic warfare games such as that were common place.

“Well now you’re the King,” Ororo responded, not thinking.

The Canadian grinned while looking up directly at the camera that was focused on him. It looked as though in that instant he was looking directly at Ororo when he said, “Didn’t have’ta tell me that darlin’,” he returned slyly with a slow deliberate wink. Storm stared open mouthed at his blatantly his bold statement while everyone else supplied a few amused chuckles. A moment later though a small smile had the audacity to form on her face, although after a moment she realized its presence she quickly schooled it away.

…Back inside the Danger Room.

Logan’s ears twitched. In an instant he was at the side of the pyramid, he looked on. A long drawn out creak echoed below him as the twin doors that were located at the bottom of the ramp suddenly parted open. A chorus of battle cries echoed from inside as a swarm of armored men started to race up the stairs.

Each of them wore steel helmets with a single incision down the front to allow their sun kissed faces to be in view. Flaring red capes blew from their broad bronze shoulders, while silver and golden chain mails were strapped to their chests that lead to a metallic skirts that ended at their waists. Their legs were bare till the loose armored padding that stretched from their kneecaps to the sandals on their feet. Spears and swords were their weapons, as well as a golden circular shield. All of them were toned as if they spent a lifetime in combat. They moved as one, one unit, one organized army, an apparently with one goal.

Defeat the Wolverine.

OoOoOo

A vicious grin dared to split Wolverine’s face in two as he eyed the approaching mob. “Now ye’re talkin’,” he encouraged, while taking a few steps back. For a moment he contemplated his actions. The approaching group was a little more than half way up the pyramid, which gave him four, maybe five seconds left to ponder before they were on top of him.

After weighing his options, he just said, “Fuck it…” He moved back a couple of paces then raced towards the edge. The Wolverine leapt hurtling down the side of the pyramid, both set of claws extended, a battle cry roaring from his lips. His advance was much like a dark tsunami approaching a coastal village.

Upon impact his knees slammed down colliding with the two leading soldiers bowling four more of them, which then caused even more of the group to stumble back down. The commotion caused a chain reaction that completely destroyed the whole unit’s coordination and the Wolverine just used the chaos to do what he did best.

A bladed-spear came from his left impossibly fast, but the Wolverine was faster. He deftly dropped underneath its pathway then launched himself forward. His body glided up along side the trail of the weapon’s wooden shaft as he moved; one set of his claws tore through his attacker’s chest, the other set maiming the soldier next to him. He then tore his claws free, whipping his body around, his arm snapped out catching another soldier in the throat.

He then leapt plunging both sets of claws into another soldier’s chest that hadn’t even begun contemplating on attacking. The Wolverine then dropped all his weight rolling himself backwards, tossing his victim’s corpse behind him into the main body of the group. That massive projectile was soon followed by a three hundred pound yellow and blue ball of six adamantium blades that blasted into their midst slinging death with each swing of his powerful arms, making every single one of the simulations wonder what god did they all collectively piss off to have such a creature rain down upon them.

In the center of a sea of bodies the Wolverine landed down into a deep crouch, his arms cocked to his sides as his steel gray eyes swam around him. He watched while the remainder of the artificial army started to regroup. In seconds the small band fully enclosed the Wolverine, spears pointed towards him, shields raised in defense. An eerie second of silence passed between the two groups as each was trying to feel the other out.

Slowly a sinister smile crossed Logan’s lips as he viewed the situation. Then like a bolt of lightning he exploded in motion, limbs flying free during his murderous raid. A trio of spear wielding men tried to press an attack. The Wolverine threw a wide dropping hook kick that locked their spears away from him, he then dove right into the three a double snap kick hit the two on the outside square in the chest while his claws sank down into the one in the middle’s sternum. He roared then flipped the corpse’s body into a sideways spiral that whirled him into the spearman on the right while snapping a swipe to the soldier on the left. The Wolverine then pivoted dropping low in a spin for a rising double “X” slash that tore that remaining soldier to shreds.

It just continued on like that, the Wolverine proceeded to systematically tear through the soldier’s ranks.

OoOoOo

“The guy’s good,” Scott Summers honestly remarked, “Real good.” He shared an even glance with Jean Grey, while the two of them observed the Wolverine’s work.

Every moved he made was expertly executed. Every move he made was a killing blow. It was very easy to see how he managed to best Sabertooth. The two of them also shared the thought that they were fortunate that he wasn’t a person they had to name as an enemy. Indestructible skeleton, unbreakable claws; heighten senses not to mention amazing regenerative powers, it seemed like the guy was completely bred for war.

Jean nodded from Cyclops’ words then turned to Storm who had been strangely quiet. “Don’t you agree ‘Roro?” But the Doctor drew up short when she saw the deep transfixed look on Ororo’s face. Her sapphire eyes constantly followed all of the Wolverine’s movements, seemingly mesmerize by the sheer brutality and grace of his dance. His broad chest heaving, the coordination of his actions, the thin sheet of sweat that covered his sinewy muscles as they flowed in and out with all of his motions… He was simply beautiful to her in his power and fury.

A smile found its way to Jean’s face, while she continued to look at her friend. She mentally noted that the two of them were going to have to have a long discussion later on, one that was sure to be a bit more honest than their last one about the Canadian feral. “He seems happy,” Ororo solemnly whispered, breaking Jean from her thoughts. The African Windrider noticed the content even jubilant expression on the Wolverine’s face as he continued to boldly throw his body into the middle of the carnage.

The Professor who was sitting beside Storm silently nodded, drawing the same conclusion. “It makes me wonder,” Charles spoke somberly, while drawing all of their attention, “What horrors has he gone through where he feels almost utter contentment in battle.” No one could begin to respond to the heavy impacting question, each of them now looking at their newcomer in a completely different light.

“Professor, are you sure about this?” Cyclops asked, Xavier noticing the change in the man’s mood. His tone, there was a more serious even deadly edge to it. This was the true face of Cyclops.

Charles Xavier knew the man that was Scott Summers. The older man always knew the type of man Scott was from the very first moment he walked through his institute’s door. Honest and loyal to a fault. It was because of these two virtues that Xavier placed Scott as leader of the X-Men. The older man knew that one ill-word or even a brief hesitation with his reply now would send the younger man on a course of action he deemed correct, even if it may prove to be his own destruction. Not because he was soulless follower, but because Scott was able to believe. Xavier knew Scott’s greatest strength lied not in the power held in his eyes, but was his ability to believe in something greater than himself.

Charles considered all of this before he answered, “Of course,” he said, his voice sounded more assuring than he really felt. A brief glance to Jean, said that the woman knew what was brewing through the older man’s mind but she decided not to comment. Xavier then returned to view screen. “The program’s completed. Why don’t the three of you go down to him,” he encouraged, besides the small break would give him some time alone with his thoughts.

OoOoOo

The trio of Storm, Jean, and Cyclops entered the decimated display that was inside the Danger Room. The defeated crimson-cloaked soldiers shimmered back to the silver and steel forms of their robotic origins. The pile of broken circuitry and scrap metal seemed endless and in the center of a maze of calamity stood the Wolverine.

The bright orange ember of a Cuban cigar burned brightly from his lips as he chewed it around in his mouth. His golden and black hood was off, freeing his wild mane of black hair; a defined swagger marked his walk as he approached the three. His steel gray eyes took a brief look around then room before returning to them, “Danger Room, Eh?” he chuckled darkly while taking a long drag from his stogie, his deep gravelly voice sounding like rolling thunder. He exhaled in a ring of smoke, then looking up to the control room, Logan tapped a two finger salute to Charles who was watching behind the glass; “Ya, might wanna rename it Chuck or ya might get sued for false advertisin’!” he called out.

The three of them shared a brief glance before a few chuckles erupted from the group. Cyclops went to his side and gave the shorter Canadian a companionable clamp on the shoulder. Upon the impact, Logan’s head instantly whipped around, staring at the amused Cyclops who held his hands up in surrender meaning no harm. “Not bad,” the X-Men leader admitted honestly, wanting to congratulate him. Jean slowly flanked around Scott equally impressed by the Wolverine’s performace. A brief flare of arousal flamed around her like the sun, but Logan hardly acknowledged it. His eyes fell on the silent African Windrider, who was quietly observing the interaction.

A sly grin appeared on Cyclops’ face as he considered the Canadian. He then looked up to the control center. “Professor, maybe we should let him take on Goliath,” Cyclops suggested, while both Jean and Ororo just shared a look.

“Pulling out all the stops, eh?” Xavier’s voice replied through the intercom.

“I just want to show Wolverine everything we have to offer,” Scott replied confidently.

Logan considered the conversation between the two and just sighed. “Aww, jus when I got a good smoke in,” he grumbled to himself a moment before he used a claw to clip off his cigar’s burning cherry.

The three of them watched as the mammoth stone pyramid behind them started to sink into the floor then wink out of existence. In its place a circular ring formed and then stretched out, expanding till it stretched out to about forty yards in diameter. A large fountain of green light appeared on the ground some distance away. From the glow a physical form started to appear. Very large, very big and green, it was crouched down face towards the floor, with an enormous spiked mace in front of it.

The Wolverine separated from the trio and approached the ring. His keen gray eyes instantly went to the large hulking figure the moment he stepped into the ring.

Upon his entry the colossal being stood, growing to it full height; a staggering eight feet tall and at least half that wide. Its head was small in comparison to its body. It was a flat plane that ended in a point, which was flanked by two shoulders that were so broad they looked as though each were a foot and a half in width. Its tree trunk-like arms dangled down into fists there were the sizes of anvils. Its chest was so broad it looked like he could easily smother the mighty Colossus in its embrace. Jagged spikes protruded from spiked rings that adorned its hands, kneepads and boots, as well as a large crimson “X” that was stretched across its chest.

It then bent forward to reach for its weapon. In the small amount of time, the Wolverine noticed that there was a smooth flow with it a motion. It wasn’t cumbersome or slow, which would be the norm for a figure of such girth. Logan then took note of its choice of weapon, a wicked spiked mace that was easily four feet in diameter.

This was the Danger Room’s Goliath.

OoOoOo

Logan’s hands drew up and slowly draped his cowl over his face.

Smooth, agile like a jaguar the Wolverine stalked towards the towering opponent. Goliath was big, green, and looked tough. There was something vaguely familiar about this whole scene but Logan couldn’t put a pin on it. His shoulders lowered, his senses sharp as he slowly paced back and forth in front of the giant, his eyes glancing over every tidbit of the titan. The thick digits of his gloved hands rhythmically clenched and unclenched into fists, till finally he slowly withdrew his claws with a long quiet *ssssshhhnikt*.

Then Goliath moved.

It took an even step back, while equally distributing its weight to each of its sturdy legs. The massive head from its two-handed mace was raised till it equally leveled with Goliath’s own head, in a neutral defensive stance. “You may begin whenever you like Logan,” Xavier stated through the intercom, but the Wolverine had not heard him. His mind was already listening, patient, sharp. He would act, not because he was told to, but because at that precise moment presented the perfect opportunity to.

The Wolverine hunched down low, resting on the balls his feet as he schooled his breathing to ease. A silent five minutes passed between the two, it was even so that the three onlookers that were inside of the room were starting to get worried. They needed not though…

‘NOW!’ was the Beast’s cry.

In a flash the Wolverine was there, his thick leg whipped out a flying snapping kick that crashed across Goliath’s face. To any normal opponent a three hundred pound body hurtling itself at them at breakneck speeds would have completely bowled the individual over. Goliath merely budged…an inch.

The Wolverine dropped down to his feet. He immediately threw himself down lying flat on his belly, because out of the corner of his eye he spotted that mammoth Warhammer head of Goliath’s killer mace coming through slicing the air above him. He could literally feel a rushing roar of wind overtop of him as it passed. The Wolverine scoped inward and propelled off his feet diving into a roll that pulled him along side of those giant legs. Goliath stomped down in a fruitless attempt to try to swat the nimble Wolverine but the feral was too fast. The ground beneath him rumbled under the impact, but Wolverine managed to curve his dive enough that when he shifted back to his feet, he spun with an outward slash that bit in deep.

The Wolverine was then behind the giant and outside of its range, an opportunity he planned to exploit. He dashed in fast and leapt high. Three stabs brought him to the top of Goliath’s shoulders, he then growled as his claws viciously blazed and cut at the giant’s skull. But a massive hand, that seemed to have the combined strength of a hundred men behind it, took hold and ripped Wolverine from a top his perch, slamming him to the floor. A second later the head of its two-handed mace crashed down into his chest, caving in the floor beneath him.

If adamantium hadn’t been galvanized onto the Wolverine’s skeleton so many years ago, all of his vital organs now would have been destroyed.

The Wolverine wearily scrambled to his feet. The combination of the pain from most of the major muscles groups on his chest being bruised along with the wind completely being knocked out of him, made his vision blurry for a few moments. But a single moment was all Goliath needed. The giant darted forward, dragging that deadly mace along the ground with it. It completed a raking upper strike that popped Wolverine’s body into the air like a fly ball; Goliath then continued its momentum taking a step forward bringing that deadly mace around with battering whack that sent Wolverine careening into one of the adjacent walls.

“LOGAN!!!” a velvet-kissed voice shouted in distressed, but he didn’t hear her. The Beast’s roars inside of his head were getting louder and louder by the moment. He grimly wiped the blood that poured from his mouth, before springing back into the mayhem.

His body collided with Goliath, but this time the added momentum sent the giant stumbling back several steps. Wolverine was on it like a raging storm. His claws stringed a flaring number of slash attacks that arcing in and out of the titan’s reach. Wolverine then double-stepped inside as Goliath tried flattening him with that gigantic mace. Wolverine made sure to time it just right so he’d bring himself up short a few feet from where the mace landed, then raced up the giant’s arm. He leapt, then doubled flipped bringing him up again to the titan’s shoulders. The Wolverine wasted no time this effort though, in a flash he moved, cutting across with a lightning swath that separated Goliath’s head from its shoulders.

The Wolverine smoothly dropped down from up top of Goliath’s shoulders. He snorted indignantly before confidently walked away, sheathing his claws in his trek. He never took one look behind him, so he never noticed that the decapitated body of Goliath never fell and he also never saw the ball of the spiked mace coming…

The ball of Goliath’s mace sprang out from a long chain that cracked into Wolverine from behind sending him colliding into a wall. As soon it as met the wall, Goliath recoiled its heavy mace and sent it slamming into that spot again and again and again. Each slam sounding like a mountain was cracking. After three successful battering slams with that half a ton metallic ball crashing into the Wolverine, his body laid real still.

OoOoOo

“LOGAN!” The heels of three approaching feet clicked fast against the Danger Room floor as the trio of Ororo, Jean and Scott ran fast to the sight of Wolverine’s fall.

“End program!” Cyclops frantically ordered to the Danger Room computer repeatedly, “End Pro…”

But he stopped in mid-sentence as the most horrifying blood curdling howl thundered inside of the whole Danger Room. “WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRGGGGHHH!!!!” In a flash a yellow bullet shot off from that ruptured crater. That yellow blur struck Goliath low corkscrew spinning the giant around. There was a flash of silvery light a moment after as the Goliath’s leg flew from its body.

Goliath stumbled with its unbalanced weight for a moment before trying to reach for whatever deadly foe that had just attacked him. But there was another silvery flash of light and Goliath was short, four fingers. This creature that wore the yellow and blue garb of the mutant Wolverine, curled for a moment than shot up through Goliath’s body bursting through its torso, serving the titan a felling blow.

The giant fell, but that didn’t stop the creature’s; this Beast’s rage. Another howl rang through the room as the Beast viciously rend and slashed through the still body. His sharp teeth salivated as it tore through the artificial flesh. His limbs furiously moved, slashing and cutting the remains of the Goliath program to shreds.

“Wolverine, stand down! Stand down!” Cyclops shouted. He quickly tried to move in an attempt to sedate the berserk Canadian mutant. As soon as the man moved, the Beast’s head snapped at attention taking note of the trio for the first time. Wide vacant eyes stared at the group as it started to reevaluate its situation.

Jean quickly shot out front putting a restraining hand on Scott halting him, “Stop Scott!” she hastily warned. “I don’t sense anything from him.”

“What’s wrong with that?” he asked, clearly not following, “I thought you said you couldn’t sense his thoughts anyway.”

Jean nodded. “Yeah, I can’t because normally he has strong mental barriers shielding me from his mind. But usually I can still feel faint traces that manage to skim through,” she tried to quickly explain, “But I don’t sense anything now; it’s devoid of all thought. He’s running on pure instinct,” she tried to explain further, “He’s totally primal!”

“Logan…” Ororo whispered, while her eyes strayed to the feral Canadian that did not know her.

OoOoOo

The Beast didn’t recognize these people.

It issued a low growl as it smoothly slid down from its catch. It kept itself low prowling back and forth on all fours as it decided how to best deal with these potential threats. It could smell the overall tension radiating from the three, especially the male. His eyes were unreadable, but the slight thinning of his jaw marked his apprehension. The rigid stance he held not to mention the tightening of his fists proved he would be the first to act and fast.

The Beast’s upper lip curled as it growled a warning to him, showing a set of razor-sharp incisors, but the male didn’t back down, his stance stiffened even defiant. The Beast grumbled at such an undignified act. His powerful body curled ready to strike, but then a deep bellowing roll of thunder crashed with in the room. The Beast turned and saw one of the females step forward.

Her hair was gleaming white like a star, caramel dipped with mocha colored skin, her blue eyes flashed then lost their pigmentation as it changed into a milky white radiating with such awesome power that nearly everyone in the room trembled. “No!” her voice thundered, the dark cape that was draped around her statuesque body fluttering violently as an unfounded tempest of wind coursed around her. “I will not allow you to harm my friends,” she vowed while stepping forward. The rolling crash of thunder bellowed in each of her steps.

The Beast, seeing the challenge being issued, drew to its full height then stalked forward as well. Its powerful broad chest heaved with the deep breaths that blew from its thick nostrils. The woman’s head cocked slightly to the side as the winds surrounding her became more violent. It pounded into the Beast harrowing every one of its steps, almost halting him entirely. But the Beast was strong and determined, shouldered through her onslaught till he was within a few feet of her. It fixed a piercing stare on her then a howl that rang from the four corners of the room roared from his lungs as he met her call of challenge.

Intrigued, the woman’s arms slowly rose from her sides, calling upon whirling screams of tyrannical gale winds that equally met his roar. “We are not your enemies…” she called through her winds. Flashes of lightning sporadic flared and coiled around her body. Her thick hair was wild, blowing free in the throes of her own tempest.

The Beast wearily eyed her. This female. This beauty. This goddess seemed to be power incarnate. She enticed him. She bewitched him. Dominance and want brewed through his body down to his loins. The Beast wanted this female; it wanted her for its mate. It took another step towards her wanting consummate the act, completely ignoring the other male and female in the room.

Misreading his intent, a shower of lightning bolts flashed in between them. Surprised the Beast sprang back a step, it’s shot a dark look to the woman, who merely shook her head. “I am not your enemy,” she whispered softly, “I am not your enemy,” she called again, before the strength of her winds lifted her off of the ground. Her flashing eyes never left his nor did the dark soulful stare of the Beast leave her.

OoOoOo

Ororo was no longer there. She had fully given herself over to the power and benevolence of her gift. This was no longer was about protection or even defense for her friends. This feeling, the energy that brewed through her was the soul of the world, the song of the planet. This feeling that she never could seem to share with anyone else seemed to echo with this beast…this being…this man before her. A communion of souls to the planet they were children of.

She was the storm. She was Storm.

OoOoOo

The Beast continued to growl and call through the storm, through her storm. But no ground could be made. Unable to bear it any longer the Beast finally let go and embraced it; her power, her fury, her storm. His eyes closed, allowing the wind and rain to wash over him, purifying his body and soul. He breathed in deep of her storm, the air, and the breeze and instantly he felt as though he were in his homeland. The clean brisk air that clung around her, reminded him of there, the only place he ever truly felt at peace.

Then all in once the fury, the rage of the Beast left him. He fell to his knee as the exhaustion from the act drained him. His body rocked, hands reflexively twitched forcing him to ball them up in tight fists. The gale of wind that carried Storm subsided as she descended right next to him. “Logan?” her warm voice whispered to him, while placing a gentle hand on his trembling shoulder.

“Don’t touch me!” he barked out immediately shrugging off her touch. He instantly cursed himself, “Please…” he softly added, while looking up to her. “I jus need a minute…” he muttered weakly. She nodded somewhat understanding. Ororo then watched him for several minutes as he paced long controlling breaths to calm his body. His claws slowly returned to their sheath a moment later and then he wearily drew to his feet.

His steel colored eyes briefly glanced over the three before he settled on Ororo again, his mind drawing back to their earlier episode. As much as there were differences amongst the two of them, for that short amount of time there was a connection that was stronger than the bones in his body. There was diffidently something there that neither of them could define nor deny.

“Are you ok?” Jean stepped towards Ororo, breaking her stare with Logan.

The African Windrider sighed then nodded her head, “Yes, yes, I’m fine,” she answered genuinely. She made a brief smile for her friend before, her eyes searched for Logan again. She saw the retreating form of his broad back exiting the Danger Room. Ororo frowned briefly before she turned back to her friends.

“Perhaps we should finish for the rest of the day,” Xavier’s calm voice proposed seeing the dismal events the morning had brought.

Ororo just gentle shook her head while turning away from the exit. “No, Charles,” she said, her eyes looking up to the Control booth, “Let us continue without Logan.”

OoOoOo

Charles Xavier observed quietly as the remainder of the X-Men went through their usual Danger Room training regiments. Ten minutes later, he heard the silent hiss of the door to the control booth open behind him. His eyes didn’t stray from his observation, nor did he look over when Logan slowly walked into the room and stood beside him watching the group as well. Several moments of silence passed where neither man said a word. But eventually Xavier was the first to speak; “Are you ok?” the old man’s bright blue eyes settled on the troubled man, his voice breathing true concern.

Logan took a moment to ponder the question and finally just shrugged his shoulders, “Yea,” he muttered, withdrawing the cowl from his uniform from off his head. His wild thick mane sprang out from out of the confines, in total disarray seeming like his life at the moment. He ran a tired hand through his hair before continuing, “Jus needed a few minutes, ya know,” Logan then paused, “Sorry,” he added softly.

Xavier shook his head. “There is no need to be sorry, no one was injured,” Charles warmly replied, trying to alleviate the man of any guilt he might have had, “We attend these training sessions to make sure of that fact.” Logan’s eyes went to the older man for a second as if he was trying to discern any deceit. A moment later he simply allowed a small grunt and a nod in acceptance.

The two of them fell into another calm of silence. Logan’s eyes fell across the sights of the various rigorous training methods of the X-Men. He looked on but wasn’t really paying attention. His mind reeling over, how again the Beast nearly took over. It was uncontrollable and dangerous. He was dangerous. ‘Charles, he’s an animal!’ The words of the African woman from days before suddenly come to him in a maddening flash.

His gaze then went to Ororo in the midst of her elemental work. He saw the African beauty commanding the elements to her, whirling winds and flashing lights of thundered rolled through the artificial skies. Storm that was her codename, she seemed to be able to command the heavens herself, the ultimate combination of strength and beauty. His body shook from the realization, she was right.

He was an animal.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Charles turned to ask him, breaking him from his dark brooding.

Logan cut his eyes from his observation to address the older man, “’bout what? It took over, what else can I say?”

A troubled frown bore its way to Xavier’s face as he continued to look up the troubled man, “Logan, despite what you may believe I have been monitoring you for these past few days,” he confessed honestly, “Do you know what I’ve seen?” Logan narrowed his eyes but shook his head. Taking a small breath, Xavier steeple his fingers in his lap before speaking, “I’ve see an honest man, a proud man, a strong man,” Charles voice continued to gain strength the longer he spoke, “Someone that has endured a harsh tragedy, that has only relied on his strength and will to get him through it all. I see that same man that has relied on his own strength and character for so long that he now refuses to allow anyone to help him...”

Logan peered into Xavier for a moment before cocking a bittersweet grin “So now ya able to peak into my head too huh?”

“No, Logan,” the older man shook his head determined, “On the contrary I haven’t used any of my powers of mental telepathy on you since you began staying with us.”

The Canadian frowned, “Then how ya know so much?”

And then Xavier turned to him, for a moment Logan did not see the successful world-renown psychologist or teacher. He did not see the powerful psychic that seemed to be limitless with his gift. For that instant in time Logan saw simply Charles Xavier a man that was had flaws that had erred and still somehow prevailed, “Because,” he began, “I too have been guilty of such thoughts. For the longest of time I believed there were no people in the world willing to help my cause and that I would forever be forced to fight this battle alone. It wasn’t till I made the acquaintance of another young mutant that I released there were other people in this world willing to help.”

Charles remained quiet for some time to allow his words to sink in and then he began again, “I had hoped that you would have come to me on your own accord,” he then sadly smiled while shaking his head, “But I realize that is not your way.”

Anger brewed inside of Logan that he didn’t know its source, but for whatever reason he had heard enough. “Whatcha think a few minutes on yer fuckin’ couch gonna solve anythin?” Logan barked out while stomping his way to the door, “My shit is my shit to deal with, no one else’s.” he called back angrily as he punched the buttons to open the door. It parted with a slight hiss.

“The burdens that you bear my friend, you do not have to carry them alone,” Charles calmly returned. At this Logan didn’t respond. He stood silently in the doorway, while Charles pondered for a moment then began at another angle, “If not for your self, why not for Marie? You don’t have to leave to protect her or the rest of us from you.” Xavier noticed the pause in the feral mutant’s step, instantly realizing he hit a deeply troubled nerve with in him.

And when Logan turned around to regard the older man, Xavier breath ran short. The haggard look on the feral mutant’s face was so deeply pained that even Charles felt wounded. “Chuck, I honestly wish I believed that,” he said truthfully, but still unconvinced. Without any more words he simply left.

The Wolverine exited the room nearly colliding into Ororo as he made his way to the elevator. The two of them briefly shared a look while in the hallway. But Logan quickly looked away as he entered the lift; the only thing he could feel was shame for his actions. “Logan…” she called after him softly as the doors closed between them.

To be continued…





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