A Random Wolverine Adventure [Female Needed]

[FrankieDupraz]

"I told you to stay away from the girl, bub."

The dark alley seemed to shrink around the two shadows still standing tall.  The man hulked over ever so slightly, watching the three corpses now failing to move, not even releasing a small, hushed breath.  The man's name is James Howlett, yet he goes by many others.  Wolverine is one.  Logan is another, and sometimes, his preferred alias.  Once upon a time, he went through horrible experimentation that implanted his bone structure with a metal coating.  So durable, some say it is near-indestructible.

He has tested that fact many times, and no one has been proved wrong - yet.  But these three punks certainly weren't going to do him much harm.  A small knife was harmless compared to the six that extended from his forearms.  His senses so heightened they stood no chance.  Logan ripped them to shreds, and stained the floor of the alley a permanent puddle of maroon.
The girl looked to be young, perhaps just out of her teens but still a smell of innocence about her.  She shouldn't be walking around the streets like this at night, and certainly not using these kind of shortcuts.  Perhaps it was merely coincidence that Wolverine stumbled across the scene of the crime, just in time.  Or there could have been a different body lying at his feet right now.

Maybe there was a reason for her strange trek in to the night?
"You alright, kid?  What's your name?"

( I have no real direction with this.  Probable romance.  She can be human or mutant, either OC or canon. )

[jouzinka]

The moonshine was apparently too busy to play and paint on the strands of her auburn hair as the night breeze ruffled them for a moment, only to abandon her and carry her thoughts and wishes onward... It was all over as quickly as it began and now she was only reduced to a violent tremble and a slow shifting of her feet that was moving her towards a shadowed area inch by inch as the scene in front of her died and nothing, but an eerie silence, ruled the alley yet again.

One hand at her throat holding the jersey together to protect her throat from the wind, the other hugging her torso to preserve some warmth as she stood there, half in the shadows, rendered motionless with fear, save for the tremor that shivered her body from within. The serenity of the moment was cut abruptly by the sound of two iron surfaces grazing one another. The claws. Her eyes fell close at the sound, while at the same time a stray breath of wind carried to her an unfamiliar scent of sweat, leather and wood that woke her senses exactly as a first rays of Sun wake carpet of blossoms in the palest of springs.

Betrayed by her own self she opened her eyes, realizing how surreal a moment it was when whole words were getting an entirely new meaning.

Petrified.

The blood pounding in her ears, echoing the mad race of her heart, made it impossible to make out what he was saying; and even if she were able to make out what had been said, her mind and soul was fixed on only one line of her own...

"Is this where you... take on... me?"

Merciful breeze took the last word of her barely audible whisper from her trembling lips and carried it down to the valley, to ever listening oaks and beeches, as her emerald eyes met the look of the stranger, the moonshine baring to his gaze the endless horror, mirroring on her face.



Hi, Szymanski, nice to meet you. :-)

I just couldn't resist; I found your post way too... inspiring. I'm probably not the best player available right now (time-wise); that said, I'd love to play this out with you if you'd be inclined so.

Good luck with your approval, by the way. ;)

[FrankieDupraz]

He was still sweating.  The cool air tickled against the droplets, his shirt stuck to his torso with natural glue.  The claws retreated without a sound, and his brows furrowed downwards in to a frown.  She looked frozen on the spot, whether that was simply from the temperature in the air or from her terrified bones, Logan correctly guessed the latter.  Soon, there would be nothing but the sound of sirens, rubber grinding against the street flooring, engines wailing over chattering teeth.  It was the last thing he wanted, to be here when the cops began asking questions.  Blood on his shirt, blood on the ground, and three dead bodies staring accusingly up at the mutant.  Body parts galore.  And already they stank.

Was she confused about what he had done?  That he had saved her?  Her playing the role of damsel in distress, Logan as the saviour - jumping from the shadows in his adamantium armour?  She declined to answer his questions, instead expecting a similar suffering to one which her attackers just received.  It was followed by a quick shake of his head, unsure whether she would flinch and hurt herself if he dared reach out to touch her.

Her fragile state looked worrying, as if even a piece of bad news would send her to an early grave.  The mutant could have walked away, turned his back and blended in to the blue backdrop of the dark midnight hour.  Instead he cautiously held out a hand to touch her arm, to beckon for her to trace his footsteps.  "Come on.  I'll get you somewhere safe."

( Thanks for joining.  I hope I get approved soon, guess it's going to really test my patience.  I really loved your post. )

[jouzinka]

My pleasure, really. Your posts inspire me. ;)

The thing about approval is... to stay active. Answer questions, hang around and the result will eventually come up... :-)



A shuddering breath left her as she watched the man come closer. Every instinct told her to run, run and don't look back, but her legs defied obedience, they even willed her to stay still when he approached. The willful breeze reminded her of the scent yet again when it blew gently into her face in another wind gust. Her body tingled as her senses ran wild, throwing her deeper in the spiral of her inner turmoil. For all she knew he still could have saved her only to make sure he got to have his way with her.

The calm exterior only suggested so.

Like a Siren luring her victim.

Her green eyes dropped to the hand that reached out to her and then back to his eyes that beckoned her to follow him. She felt so small under the piercing look, but then again... she was. Despite knowing that any attempt to escape was futile, after all he was faster and stronger than her, her eyes diverted right and left before they returned to the captivity of his gaze, but dropped back to the hand swiftly, before he could read too much doubt, suspicion and guilt in them. Before he could read her thoughts like an open book.

Her hands tightened for a moment around her and the jersey at her throat, yet her half opened trembling lips spoke loudly of her struggle. Concentrating on parting the hand from the jersey on her throat and then on controlling the tremble in it she slowly reached out, her eyes fixed on his hand.

When their fingers brushed slightly, a feathersoft touch or butterfly's wings, an electric impulse ran up her arm and she withdrew a little, surprised by the reaction. Pushing herself into it again she warily placed her hand into his.

In spite of her supposition his hand welcomed hers with warmth and certain softness, tenderness even, as his fingers curled around the tiny white palm of hers. How easy would it be to forget how deadly a weapon it could turn into? How tiny her hand seemed in comparison to his... willing herself to move on her unsteady legs she made a small step, then another...

As she got closer with every move she was more and more engulfed with the scent; sweat, leather... and to some extent wood. Her head was spinning from all the things that were going through her mind, threatening to overwhelm her.

[FrankieDupraz]

They had started to move, soles of shoes clapping against the cobble stones of the alleyway.  The safe place he mentioned turned out to be a warehouse at the edge of town, not a working light to be found, although it was clear that no man or woman had occupied it for some time.  The roof had begun to leak, drops of water crashed towards the ground from a tall height, large amounts were filled with puddles, soaking the carpets and floorboards under their feet.

It wasn't the first time the building had been graced by Logan's presence.  Stacked in the main room were rusted crates, their insides filled with cheap imports from China and Hong Kong.  Toys, shoes, clothes that had never made it to shops.  Either no one wanted them, or the business had closed down before they could even make a quick buck flogging the items in a sale.  There were times he expected to come in and find junkies sprawled out across the floor, intoxicated with a faint pleasure, in a dream world where their current states were never frowned upon.  But Logan never found even one syringe.

The office was still in good condition, obviously a thief had removed the computer from the desk, but the filing cabinets and drawers remained untouched, still overflowing with shipping details and other useless information.  The wind ran its unwelcome fingers along the skin of their cheeks, and anywhere else it could touch.  Wolverine never cared for the cold, he had been through worse.  But he offered his young companion a jacket.

"Who were those guys?  Why were you down that alley by yourself?"

(( Sorry for the slow replies, it's been a busy week so far, and it'll probably continue for the next one as well.  ))

[jouzinka]

Moving her feet regularly and obediently she had to concentrate on walking at all, shutting everything out, but her legs. Right. Left. Right. Left. Right…

Only after some time did she come to think about what the hell she was doing. Going hand in hand with a complete stranger, her stride slacking a little. Only then did the lethal hand around hers tighten and she realized what little choice she had.

They walked silently, hand in hand, foot by foot. She didn’t even realize where they were going; after all, this was an unknown town to her. The girl then hesitated again when they   approached a half-decomposed warehouse. Stopping in her tracks she looked the building over warily, but was prompted by a pull and a low growl.

It was a strange choice – to decide if she was more afraid to follow or not to follow.

Once she entered the pitch darkness, she was expecting a fist or a pole to come down on her and then the darkness to continue. There was a damp stench of mould, occasional rays of moonshine lightening the vast hall, but the man still drew her behind him into an office, only there did he let go of her hand.

Taking a deep breath her hand returned again to her throat, protecting her against the chilly breeze that still found its way to the warehouse.

Finding herself a three-legged chair she sat down carefully, realizing it was probably time to start answering questions. After all, he saved her life. Didn’t really matter if it was out of the goodness of his heart or… well, those were still better odds. He was one, they were three.

“They followed me from Daisies’ Bar,” she whispered, “I was heading for the bus station at the end of the alley.”

[FrankieDupraz]

"And they come and attack you, just like that.  See a little girl, think it's an easy score."  Obviously, they didn't count on Logan coming to attack.  No one would, really, but their luck had run out this time.  Who knows how many young women they had attacked already, how many young girls were left crying in an alley way as they sprinted off with their recently-acquired loot?

It was just one of a number of questions he would have liked to ask them before he had impaled their skin with his adamantium claws, but the rage and fury had taken over.  There was no time for questions, Logan never asked questions at the right time.  Always waited until they were already gone.  The story of his life, never finding out answers.

There was a small window in the office that allowed him to look out at the darkness surrounding the town.  The sky had blended in to an unusual bravado of purple and navy, he wondered whether some mutant was out using their powers or the night time painter had used the wrong shade tonight.

"You want to get some sleep, kid?  I'll keep watch, we can find somewhere else in the morning."

[jouzinka]

The girl gave the man a long and inspective look over as he stood there in the moonlight that protruded through some cracks in the walls and the small window to the side, offering his jacket, still finding it more than suspicious that he took so much care about her. Sweat and leather. The scent tickled her nose and quivered her senses now more than before as he held the jacket so close to her face she could feel the warmth of him still emanating from it. The confusion made her nervous. HE made her nervous. In an attempt to get him out of her personal space she willed her hand to uncurl from around the jersey at her waist and gently pushed the hand holding his jacket back to his body with her icy cold fingers.

“I’m fine, thanks,” she said softly, managing the weakest of smiles, meeting the piercing look of the man for a mere moment before swaying her gaze away.

She knew it wasn’t her money the trio of guys was after, but she also knew it wasn’t very wise to hint it to the man. Too many times did men take that particular remark as an open invitation.

Silence spread through seconds… minutes…

In the darkness every sound was amplified as the heightened senses took over sight. Dripping water from the roof, howling wind that played in the corners, a mouse scurrying across the floor… the pounding of her heart hammering against her chest.

Desperately trying to calm the violent shiver she realized she was scared as never in her life. Well… she was more scared earlier, but this buildup, all this anxiety was tearing her apart; ready to jump to her feet and start screaming should he move ever so slightly, the clutching need to cry… she cursed him already.

Good God, she was frightened. In a way unable to move, yet ever so prepared to go running… where? He probably knew this den inside out and would catch her once she fell tumbling over some garbage. Why the wait? It would take place, she was sure. It was never a question of ‘if,’ but always a question of ‘when.’

Sleep? She almost snorted, but she kept still and her eyes seemingly downwards, yet still squinting to him, prepared to scream, to run, should he make any fast movement. “I couldn’t sleep,” she whispered, carefully standing up from the chair, not to flip it over, too afraid the sound might shatter her. As soon as she got to her feet she slowly started to back up from him. Just a few steps, just to put a little more distance between them.

She just wished she could have thanked him and go, but how does one thank someone for saving one’s life? How do you walk out on someone who just saved your life? Where do you go? To the dark night where you just almost lost it?

“I…” she started, her voice sounding so fearful, “You…” damn, it was so hard to talk, “I have… money… at the station. I can take care… you don’t have to look out for me.”

And where was the ‘Thank you for saving my life!’ she asked herself. But even thinking of saying it aloud sounded so much like a cliché she couldn’t bring herself to say it.