Post by ls34 on Jun 8, 2013 23:13:57 GMT -5
All-Star Wolverine #1
Old West Logan
Old West Logan
He sat silently in the building lobby, smoking his cigar while taking in the sights beyond the great glass windows. Taxis bustled by, people crowded the side walks, nothing he hadn't seen before, but he still didn't like it. Since arriving in Manhattan , he'd felt out of place. Amongst high class yuppies, a five and a half foot tall, angry, cigar smoking alcoholic tends to do that. He rubbed the side of his face, feeling thick, uneven stubble against his palm. Even not shaving for a day left him with facial hair you could see from across the room, making him look more like a wild beast or vagrant than a well travelled man of the world. He put his boots up on the coffee table as he sniffed the air, trying to get familiar with his surroundings. He could smell the receptionists perfume as she typed away on the other side of the marble floor, trying to avoid eye contact with the mysterious man as much as possible. As she looked up he shot her a smile which wasn't returned. He shrugged.
"Logan?", an elderly voice called across the lobby as an elevator door opened up. Logan looked up to see a slightly hunched over man with greying hair wearing a black suit smiling towards him. Logan nodded as he stood up and walked across the lobby towards the man, stubbing out his cigar on the table and leaving it there as he went.
"Mr Adams?", Logan said in a harsh, gravely voice as he extended his hand.
"Jack Adams", Jack put out his hand and shook Logan's. Despite his small frame, Logan had to hold back his strength so as to not crush the elderly man's hand in his grasp. He could tell that Jack was in his late-eighties and, judging from the suit and cologne, he wasn't in desperate need of money. Logan could tell that the man had a non-monetary reason for taking his case the second he didn't ask for expenses to be paid up front, but he decided to chance the meet anyway.
The elevator took them straight up to the fourteenth floor office which belonged to Jack. A fine red carpet covered the floor, and various pieces of beautiful artwork adorned the walls. Jack sat behind his grand mahogany desk, and Logan followed suit by sitting on the other side in a matching chair. "Glad to finally meet you, Mr Howlett", Jack said as he pulled a pair of glasses and a bottle of scotch out from his desk. "Drink?"
"If you've done your job right you should already know", Logan joked with a smirk as Jack poured him a glass.
"You know, this job was quite unusual for me", Jack said as he swirled his own drink.
"How so?"
"Usually, clients want to know about other people. Ancestors, lost loved ones, untrusted spouses, that type of thing. Your request was..."
"Did you get what I asked for?", Logan interrupted as he finished taking a sip of his drink.
"Yes, yes", Jack pulled a thick, leather bound book onto his desk and slammed it down. "Everything I could find on you, with only a few gaps. A man such as yourself does tend to stand out, so it wasn't hard scouring through old records and working out what you were doing and when. And it's all here", Jack patted the front of the book. "But before I hand it over, just one question".
"You wanna know how I've been around for so long?"
"No, not that. I'm just wondering why you need me to do all this".
Logan looked the man up and down and sniffed the air. He hadn't started sweating, and he didn't look uneasy at all. If he was lying, or trying to string him along, he was doing a good job of it. Deciding that the old man was most likely harmless, Logan sat up in his chair and leaned in. "During the eighties, I found out that everything I thought about myself was wrong. False memories, lies, and I didn't exactly have an easy way of piecing it all back together. I tried to live my life ignoring it until not long ago, but at some point I realized I couldn't just bury it all and pretend it didn't happen. So, I needed you to find out the truth. It's all still in there, I just need my memory jogged".
"Interesting", Jack licked his finger and opened the book. "So, where would you like to start?"
"From the beginning. When was I born, where did I grow up, that sort of crap"
"Ah", Jack announced, waving his hands dramatically. "Well when I said a few gaps..."
"What's missing?"
"The first records I could find were from the late eighteen-hundreds, down in Arizona at the end of the old west. Before that, though? I can't dig up anything on you".
"Do you at least know how old I was?", Logan asked, knowing the answer before he got it.
"Thanks to your condition, so to speak, there's no way to know. Every account describes you as looking the exact same as you do now". Logan grumbled to himself as he finished his drink and took the liberty of pouring himself another. "I don't know if I have details on most of your life, or only a tiny fraction of it".
"It'll have to do. Arizona, hmmm?", Logan cocked his head back.
"Canyon Diablo ring any bells?"
"A few, but I'm not remembering much".
"What about James Howlett?".
"Who's that?"
"You, Logan". Logan's eyes widened in surprise as Jack looked down at the book. "Every record of you up to when you specified lists you as James Howlett. Same physical description, same mannerisms, same weapon, but different name".
"I think you may be right", Logan thought back, his mind becoming more clear.
***
-1890-
"Welcome to Canyon Diablo", the rickety board above the entrance to the bar read. "Stay the fuck out if you know what for". James Howlett smiled cockily and adjusted his holster as he stepped through the saloon doors, welcoming him into a room full of every vice he could imagine. The piano player played a jolly tune as men and women danced on the tables, waving guns and drinks around over their heads. In the corner a drunk man laid asleep, having had his clothes, money and dignity stripped from him before he even hit the floor. A poker game at the back of the room was the only calm element thanks to a group of bouncers keeping the riff raff away from their bosses, each man armed with a shotgun. All eyes were locked on the young man wearing a duster coat and a tipped hat as he strutted across the saloon to the bar, taking the only empty seat next to a woman clad in a long white dress. She shot a smile at James, who didn't return the favour and instead signalled for a drink from the bar tender.
"You new in town?", the bar tender asked flatly as he shoved the beer into James's hand.
"Could say that".
"I know your type son, just from looking at you. I can tell you think you've got something up your sleeve that'll lead you to good fortune in Canyon Diablo".
"Could say that as well", James sipped his drink and wiped the foam from his stubble covered face.
"Well look", the bar tender leaned in to James. Up close, James could smell years of unwashed dirt on the man's skin, between the wrinkles in his elderly face. "When a gun fight goes down in here, I tend to lose customers. And when I lose customers, I can't pay protection. Now I don't know if you know Canon Diablo's reputation, but you should know that if I can't pay protection, I'll lose my bar and probably my life. So don't mistake it for me giving a shit about you when I ask you to not get gunned down in my bar, understand?"
"I'm not getting gunned down", James muttered out of the side of his mouth, "all I need is for you to tell me who Billy Washington is".
The bar tender's face lit up with fear instantly, as he reached across, grabbing James's hand. "How about we make a deal. This fine woman sat next to you who you so rudely slighted? I'll pay for you to spend a night with her. Hell, I'll pay for you to spend a night with a woman in any of the brothels in this god forsaken town, if you drop whatever idea you have and leave".
"'Fraid I can't do that", James squeezed the bar tender's hand back hard as the woman next to him gave James a disproving, possibly disappointed look. "Billy Washington. Where is he, bub?"
"The young fella, playing poker", the bar tender grabbed the bar to stop himself from screaming as James let go of his hand. "In the chequered shirt". James turned to see, sure enough, a young man in a white and red checked shirt playing poker, laughing as he pulled a pile of chips towards himself. "I'm warning you now son; if you walk over there, that man will kill you without batting an eye lash. Yah hear?"
"Thanks for your help", James handed the bar tender a wad of bills as he stepped off of his bar stool and walked over to the poker table. James's heavy boots pounded against the floor as he pushed his way through the crowd to the back, coming face to face with a man of at least six and a half feet, flanked by similar sized men. They wore typical cowboy gear bar the hat, what with spending most of their days stood inside, and clutched shotguns. All three looked down at James from at least a foot up, smiling at the much shorter man. "I'm here tah talk to your boss, Billy Washington".
"You don't talk to the boss", the man in the centre started as he swung a tree trunk sized arm at James. Instantly James reacting, twisting to grab the man's arm with one hand while driving his elbow into the man's ribs with his other, making him drop his weapon. The other two guards went to raise their guns but found themselves being struck with a series of strikes by James, catching them by surprise and dropping them to the floor. One of the two tried to stand up, receiving a leather boot to his jaw for his troubles. His two companions had better sense or more severe injuries, and decided to stay down. The five men sat at the table calmly laid their cards face down and simultaneously slid their hands into their holsters while eyeing up James carefully. The rest of the bar was mostly hushed as they watched the young newcomer challenge the most feared men in Canyon Diablo.
"I thought I heard my name mentioned by you, fella", Washington laughed in an unsettling tone as his eyes widened. James could see his hand at his waist. It would take him maybe a second to pull out his gun and shoot. James knew that it would be possible for him to beat his target on the draw, but in a crowded saloon it wasn't the kind of risk he was willing to take.
"You heard right, Washington", James pulled out a chair and sat down at the table. Even without heightened senses, you could have heard a pin drop as every head in the room turned. James kept calm, placing his arms on the table in front of him and leaning over towards Billy. James knew that at that point, at least four guns would be aimed at him under the table, as well as the gun belonging to anybody in the bar looking to get in good with Washington via saving him from an attack on his life.
"What is it you want Mr..."
"Howlett. James Howlett". James always enjoyed the few seconds after he gave his name, just watching the different reactions. One man on the left side of the table appeared to reach into his holster and pull out a second gun to aim under the table, while a man on James's right pushed his chair back, putting distance between him and Howlett. "I think you know what I want".
"Do you think I'm scared of a god damned bounty hunter?", Washington smiled, exposing a row of jagged black and yellow teeth. "The last bounty hunter who came to catch me left down the river in a pine box, Mr Howlett. With a hole through his chest. I don't know what killed him first, his gunshot wounds or the water filling his lungs. What I do know, is that if you get up and walk out back with me and my friends here right now, I can put a single shot in that thick Canadian skull of yours and make this easy for everybody. What do you say?"
"I'm gonna have to turn down your kind offer, Billy", James reached over the table, grabbing the drink from right out under the nose of one of the poker players.
"You think you can take me in alive?"
"Who said you need to be alive?", James finished the drink and shoved the glass back into its owner's hands.
"Well, the sheriffs in the good state of Arizona ain't too keen on this whole 'dead or alive' thing, and if you come back with just my body I don't think they'll be giving you much of anything".
"This isn't about money, Billy", James's statement seemed to shock Washington as it made the young man splutter on his drink.
"Oh? Then enlighten me as to what it is you're going to die over, Mr Howlett?"
"Few towns back you and your boys ambushed another gang, killed every single on of 'em in cold blood. Now I couldn't care less how you scum deal with each other, but it seems you fellas got a bit too excited with yourself".
"A man can't get drunk to celebrate a victory?", Billy leaned back in his chair and grinned. "I thought this land was about freedom?"
"Not how you did it", James spat. His face had gone from one of zen like calmness to an expression of anger, with his teeth bared and his vision focused into a stare. "That girl you and your boys took with you was just a kid. Her daddy had to drag her out of that river himself you son of a bitch. I'm not a saint myself, but there's some people I can't allow to carry on walking around free. So now you're either coming to jail, or I'm going to have to put you six feet under".
"I know you won't start a gun fight in here, Howlett. The whispers about you? They always say the same thing: He doesn't let innocent people die. You think you can just gun me down, in my town, without anybody opening fire? The second you raise a gun in this place there'll be so much blood on the damn floor it'll look like a slaughterhouse. Not just you either. That pretty little woman sat next to you at the bar? The old bastard pouring the drinks? Anybody in this shithole's liable to go home with a few more holes in them".
"But I know you can't let a bounty hunter sit across from you like this and then walk away still breathing, huh? It'll hurt your reputation of yours. So how about we settle it like men?"
Bill smiled his crooked smile once again. "The centre of town, two hours from now". James nodded and stood up from his chair, tipping his hat to cover his face as he left.
***
"Thought you wouldn't show, boy", Billy Washington called across at James Howlett. The two stood in the centre of town, with hundreds looking at them from windows and the nearby board walk. Some were praying for Billy to die, so they could move in on his turf. Some wanted to see a bounty hunter get gunned down, due to unjust treatment they suffered from almost unregulated vigilantes like Howlett. Most just wanted to watch a gun fight; Canyon Diablo's main pass time.
"Why? 'Cus of the goons you sent to my hotel room?", James laughed at Billy, which made the outlaw grit his teeth in rage. "It almost scared the woman I had with me when I beat them to a pulp, but she was tougher than any them boys, and she's seen worse. Now, we gonna do this?"
"Back to back, ten paces, turn, shoot", Bill stated bluntly as he stepped forwards. James followed suit, the two men turning back to back. Both men took one step forwards as the entire town fell silent.
Two steps...
Three steps...
Four steps...
James heard the sound of Billy moving for his gun. His hand slapped against the gun handle, causing James to turn to face his enemy, who already had his gun drawn. James had learnt a lot about guns over his time in the west. He knew how to load one in seconds, his muscle memory allowed him to draw faster than most, and his aim was as good as most outlaws. What he also knew, was that a six shooter wasn't a sure thing. On the off chance your gun didn't misfire, backfire or outright break, you'd burn your hand every time you fired a shot, and your chances of hitting your target were little to none. Knowing this, and that his opponent already had his gun out, he made a split second decision.
James dove forward, a shot whizzing past his head by a few feet with an ear splitting bang. He reached out towards Billy's neck, seeing the fear in the outlaws eyes. And with a quiet grinding noise, a trio of long claws made from bone ejected from the back of each of James's hands, each about a foot long and sharpened at the end like a spear. James launched his right hand at Billy's gun wielding arm, piercing through it at the wrist and disarming his foe. With his left hand James swung at Billy's neck, slashing open his throat with a swift strike and sending blood spraying onto the ground. The gathered crowd stood in stunned silence as James withdrew his claws from Billy and retracted them silently. Billy dropped to the ground at James's feet, squirming in pain while trying and failing to speak. Not wanting to have to watch a man bleed to death James picked up Billy's gun from the ground.
"You didn't leave me a choice, Billy", James sighed as he put the gun to Billy's head and unloaded the four bullets left into him, showing even a man he found entirely despicable a small amount of mercy. James threw the gun back down onto the corpse as he turned to the crowd.
"Who's the law in this town?". The bystanders stood in silence, staring at James with a mix of fear and intrigue. ""I said, who's the law in this town?"
"There is no law", one man shouted out from a store window, causing other towns people to chime in in agreement. James sighed as he looked down at the corpse of Billy Washington, cursing his own nature silently.
"What if I wanted to change that?"
***
-Present day-
"How long did I stay in that town?", Logan asked Jack with a certain level of intrigue.
"'Bout six years or so", Jack replied. "You just upped and left, then the town died off soon after. I found some accounts of a big fight between the town sheriff and a group of outlaws around that time. Can you remember anything about that?"
"A few things", Logan took another drink as he racked his brain, eventually coming across the memory he was looking for.
-The End-
Next: Wolves At the Door