NOTE: This story takes place at an undetermined point in the past before Wolverine lost his healing factor.

Wolverine in…

DEAD BEFORE DAWN

By John Wick

In the master’s chambers
they gathered for the feast
they stab it with their steely knives
but they just can’t kill the beast.
-The Eagles, “Hotel California”

Arizona Desert
One hour before sunset

The heat from the road threatened to melt the wheels beneath him. He had been traveling for days cross-country stopping only to refuel when needed. Sleep had been restless under the stars. It had been nearly two weeks since he’d had any meaningful contact or carried an extended conversation with anyone.

And this is how he liked it.

Looking down at the speedometer he noticed he’d been holding a steady 90 mph for the last two hours. In the distance he could make out the city. The music of The Eagles blared through his headphones. The waves of heat undulated before him on the highway.

~*~Lighten up while you still can don’t even try to understand Just find a place to make your stand and take it easy~*~

A smile grew across his lips. He couldn’t help sensing the irony this song had as a reflection of his own life. No matter how long he traveled or where he stopped it would always end the same, eventually: he’d have to make a stand.

The sign on the road was faded, weathered by the elements. Like the rider, it had seen better days.

Welcome to Swansea
Population: 89 Elevation: 4540

Guess that number’s about to grow by one, he thought to himself.

The accelerator shook as he pushed the bike to its limits. Lowering his head to reduce wind resistance, the lane line passed beneath him in a steady stream. The sun was about to set. Though he didn’t care much where he slept and he loathed being around people, he did feel the need for a drink.

Outskirts of Swansea
Last Night: 11:40 PM

The wind blew through the empty streets. Plumes of dust rose from the ground and swirled like an angry mob bent on the destruction of all things manmade. Somehow the buildings had managed to hold against exposure to decades in this extreme environment.

The town was quiet—the residents had barricaded themselves for the night. Everyone locked their doors and windows. They checked the flue of their fireplaces and placed extra wood inside to burn hot and bright through the night. It’d been like this for six weeks now, ever since the first disappeared.

Sheriff Mike Spacey walked alone, his own deputies too afraid to accompany him on his routine patrol, but he was damned if he was going to let some fool-hearted superstition stop him from keeping his town safe. Ten people had disappeared in six weeks. He was certain that in a bustling city like New York no one would notice a number as small as that disappear but here it was nearly a tenth of the population.

Every disappearance occurred on the outskirts of town and tonight he steels his resolve to patrol this area. The cacti cast eerie moonlight silhouettes on the ground before him. Each step he takes is with the firm belief that the problems of the last several weeks all have a rational explanation. The beam from his Mag-light cuts through the night’s shroud like a dagger through tender flesh.

The evening has passed without incident and he wonders why in God’s name he’s even still on patrol. Spitting his toothpick onto the ground he grips his radio attached to his shirt by his shoulder and speaks to the headquarters located a mile away.

“This is Sheriff Spacey do you read me? Over.”

“This is HQ Sheriff, we read you loud and clear. What’s your status? Over.”

“All’s quiet, ’bout the only thing moving in the desert tonight are the two armadillo’s humping each other by my car. I think I’m gonna call it a night. Tell Erin to warm my dinner. I should be back in about fifteen minutes. Over.”

“10-4, we’ll keep the home fires burning. Over and out.”

Sheriff Spacey couldn’t help laughing to himself. If they were keeping the home fires burning it wasn’t to light his way back home, it was to keep their superstitious belief in the Boogieman out.

Chuckling to himself he walked back to his car and nudged the two amorous armadillos away from his vehicle. Least someone’s getting something done tonight, he thought to himself. He tossed his flashlight into the car and began to pull himself inside.

That’s when he heard it. It sounded like a young girl screaming in pain. Quickly he grabbed his flashlight and rushed into the night towards the cries.

After running for about a thousand feet the flashlight went out. Sheriff Spacey stopped in his tracks and banged the metal cylinder against the palm of his hand. Sweat dripped from his forehead. His pulse raced and his chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath. Once more he began banging the flashlight against his hand suddenly it came to life and a bright beam of pure light shot forth before him. In the instant of newly found vision his life changed forever.

He saw its face.

He let out a cry of terror.

The Mag-light went dead.

The armadillos continued humping.

And the night went quiet once more.

Swansea Tavern
Present Day
Half-hour before sunset

The room was dark and filled with a thick cloud of smoke. The bartender stood behind the counter wiping a glass with a white towel. Two men played poker in a barely lit corner of the room.

An old man sat at the bar. His hair is long and sandy white. His face was covered in a thick beard and mustache of equal color. He silently held his head down as if its weight were too much for his neck and shoulders to handle. Nodding his head up and down, he hummed a tune.

The relative quiet inside the bar was interrupted by the sound of a motorcycle. The sound grew louder as it approached and then died in silence. The two men playing poker continued to concentrate on their cards. The old man shifted in his seat. The doors opened, spilling in the fading light from outside and a silhouette framed the doorway of a man as he walked towards the bar.

Without a sideways glance he sat on a stool, threw his keys down and wiped the sweat and dirt from his face.

“Beer,” he said without looking up.

“I’ll give you a beer, stranger. But you better be quick and you better leave right after. I’m closing in fifteen minutes.”

“Just pour the damn beer, pops, and we’ll discuss closing time when I’m through.”

The bartender slammed the glass down before the stranger and leaned in close. “I ain’t kidding, we close in fifteen minutes.”

The stranger lifted the glass and drank the entire pint before the bartender’s eyes. Slamming the glass back down, he lifted his eyes and gave a crooked smile. “How many of these can you pour in fifteen minutes, pops?”

The bartender looked in disbelief at the stranger and began to pour a second drink. The old man at the bar turned his head, sizing up the stranger.

“You look like you got something to say old man, what is it?”

“We don’t get many visitors in these parts. Especially not ones like you.”

The hairs stood up on the back of the stranger’s neck. He pushed himself away from the bar and flared his nostrils.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

The look from the stranger was strong enough to shatter solid steel. People with powers beyond that of the old man had wavered and cracked under its glare. The old man simply smiled.

“Don’t get your panties in a wad. I just meant we don’t get any visitors ’round here. And the few who wander in ’cause their car broke down don’t know how to drink beer like a real man.”

The old man picked up his pint of beer and downed it in the same amount of time it took the stranger. The stranger smiled as the bartender slapped down two more pints.

“You got a name, old man?”

“Name’s Frank. Lived here all my life. What about you?”

“Name’s Logan, and I don’t usually live in any one place for too long.”

“Well, if you stick around here and go out at night it’s likely you won’t be living too long at all” the bartender interrupted.

Logan’s eyes shifted towards the bartender with a look of cold steel. “That a threat?”

The old man suddenly spoke up, “it’s no threat, friend. People have been disappearing ’round here lately. They go out at night and they don’t come back. Sheriff disappeared last night. You won’t find many folks willing to stay out once the sun goes down.”

“That’s right,” said the bartender, “which is exactly why I’ll be closing in five minutes. Its been real, having you here but if you value your safety you’d best get out of town while there’s still a little light left to see the road by.”

“I ain’t finished drinkin’ yet.”

“Well you’ll have to find someplace else to do it ’cause I’m not about to stick around long enough to drive home in the dark by myself.”

“I’ll make you a deal. You keep the bar open, hell, barricade yourself in if you want and I’ll take care of whatever is causing your lil’ ol’ town so much worry.”

“And what makes you think you can do anything about it?” the bartender asked, laughing.

“I need a drink more than anyone on this goddamn planet. If its just some psycho that’s keeping me from a cold one and got you crawlin’ with a skirt between your legs then I’m the one who’s gonna put an end to it.”

The bartender let out a hardy laugh and began coughing to the side. The old man joined in and put his head down. Logan slammed the beer down on the counter and walked out the door. The two men continued to laugh until an old Apache man sitting in the darkness walked towards them.

“You should not laugh when strangers come to help.”

“Oh come on Chuck! You know he ain’t gonna do nothin’ except get his fool self killed” said the bartender.

“I think there’s more to him than you realize.”

The Apache pointed with a steady outstretched hand towards the bar not taking his eyes off of it. The bartender and the old man continued laughing. Then, the duo of laughter suddenly became a solo act as the old mans hearty laugh faded and his drunken eyes focused on the bar.

“Hey…Joe…I think I had one too many.”

The bartender continued his laughter and began to reply, “You always have one too…” Then his eyes focused on the bar and suddenly the room was very silent. “For good or evil… he walks among us again” said the Apache.

The men looked at one another and then back at the counter top of the bar, which had three distinctive deep gashes taken out of it resembling claw marks.

The old man wiped the sweat from his forehead and grabbed the bartender by his shirt. “Joe…I need a drink.”

Joe picked up a bottle of whisky poured a shot and gave it to the old man. Then, he picked up the bottle and began to pour the stuff down his own throat. After swallowing the alcohol non-stop for thirty seconds he slammed the bottle on the counter.

“Me too, Frank… Me too…”

Main Street, Swansea
Nightfall

The bike roared to life beneath him. With a quick motion he gave the motorcycle all the gas he could and headed off down the main highway. Within two minutes he traveled the entire length of the main downtown road and already he found himself rocketing towards the ever-growing darkness beyond.

The air was thick as the day’s heat radiated into the night sky. He pushed his bike to the outskirts of the town limits as darkness fell. Logan brought his bike to a screeching halt and sat quietly in the moonlight. He could hear the creatures beginning to stir. He could feel nature taking over and there’s a part of him that desperately called out. It wants to be let loose upon the world, to roam free in the night air, to give up all forms of civilization, to embrace the feral instinct that screams to him from within the cage of his genetic code.

Slowly, Logan pushed the kickstand down and walked a few feet away from his bike. The night was inviting to him but he tried to remember that he’s on a hunt. Shifting his weight from foot to foot, he sniffed the night air but sensed nothing out of the ordinary. He wiped a strand of his hair from his face and looks up at the stars.

Been out here nearly an hour and still ain’t found nothing, he thought to himself. Guess there ain’t nothin’ out here but the bats. In a short fit of frustration he kicked a rock hard and watched with his keen eyes as it bounced into the distance. He turned away ready to ride back to town when he hears the distinct sound of the rock as it hits metal.

The ground was loose beneath his booted feet as he walked in the direction of the sound and he nearly fell over when he steps on the cylinder of a flashlight. “DAMN!” he yelled out of frustration into the night. Under his breath he continued muttering as he retrieves the flashlight.

“Damn…Hippie…can’t find…fascist…Energizer bunny…” Shaking the flashlight in his hand he clicked the button and a beam of bright light expelled on the landscape before him. Three feet away in a little ditch, a human head lay without a body. The only things nearby were an old car wreck, broken metal pipes, a badge and two armadillos having the time of their lives.

“Guess I found the sheriff” he said to himself. That’s when every fiber of his being began to burn. If he didn’t know better he’d say he was Spider-Man and his damn spider sense was tingling. He hunched down, turning from left to right, in a quick erratic manner, lips went wide exposing teeth ready to tear into any intruders. From behind he heard a sound in the darkness. Whatever was waiting in the darkness heard a sound too…

*SNIKT*

Six retractable claws sprang forth from his arms. Stooping down ,he picked up the sheriff’s badge with one of his claws and pinned it to his chest. “You want trouble? Well now you’ve got more than you can handle!” he whispered into the night.

A screeching yowl began to echo in the night air. It sounded like a strange mix between a barn owl and a bat that had been tortured for hours. A hulking mass jumped at Logan from behind, He had just enough time to turn and thrust his claws into the stomach of his attacker. To his surprise his attacker returned the favor by slamming six equally sharp claws into Logan’s abdomen severing his spleen and intestines. The flashlight fell to the ground rolling towards the armadillos then went out. The only light now came from the town several miles away and from the moon above.

“I’ve awaited your return for nearly a century, Wolverine.” The voice was as cold as Ice and held a malice that sounded familiar.

“How” *scrrrit* “do” *sccccrrrr* “YOU” *shunk* “know my name?”*Splat* Wolverine yelled as he pulled his claws through the creature’s stomach tearing out chunks of intestines covered in a thick green blood.

The creature laughed menacingly. “I know more about you than even you do, beast man.”

From behind, something impaled Wolverine through his back working its way back and forth inside his body. Logan let out a scream and his claws instinctively retracted. Within moments he felt himself being lifted into the air by two hands only to be dropped on the piece of metal that impaled him.

Slowly Wolverine fell to the ground. The creature slammed the metal steak through him into the ground and four feet of it protruded into the night air above Wolverine. Logan could feel his body go into shock. He felt his central nervous system overload on sensory information. Every synapse in his body screamed to his brain warning of the damage and the eventual loss of consciousness that would occur. The creature looked down at its prey and smiled.

“You’re weaker than I remember you. Seems this modern living has made you soft.”

Logan’s body began to convulse. He coughed up a mixture of bile and blood splattering his face with the thick viscous liquid. A deep and menacing laugh cracked through the night air. Logan’s body began to heal around the metal spike like a tree limb that grows around a telephone wire.

*SNIKT*

He severed the metal pipe six inches above his abdomen and the remaining length crashed to the ground. With a singular motion he launched himself from the ground causing the recently healed wound to reopen. Fighting the intense pulsing pain that surged through his system He crouched down close to the ground, one hand low and to the side claws extended, the other held part of his lower intestines and pushed it back inside of his body.

“Pal, I don’t know what the hell you think you are but I sure as hell know what you’re gonna be.”

*SNIKT*

The claws on his other hand sprang forth cutting through the flesh of his hand.

“RRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAaaarrrrrrrGGGGGHHHHHH!”

Wolverine let out a bestial growl and pivoted on his low center of gravity just in time to plunge both of his claws deep into the chest of his attacker. Continuing the pivot he managed to move his arms in their arc and split open the chest of the creature that fell to the ground coughing and spilling more green blood onto the desert sand.

“Let that be a lesson Pal—either you take a bath or you learn to never attack down wind.”

“HAHA! Perhaps not as soft as I thought.” The creature retorted. “But you think I am governed by your rules. I have killed for centuries. I have captured every prey I have hunted in my existence, all have fallen before me—all but you.”

“The important thing to remember about me—if I fall down I get back up.”

The creature in the darkness let out a laugh. The little light that filtered down from the night sky suddenly went dark. The atmosphere grew thick and the smell of brimstone filled the air. Logan had been in situations where his sight was impaired before but this was the first time he actually felt it could be dangerous.

“So do I,” the creature replied. “So do I.”

9:30 PM Ten feet away

The night went dark. The two silly bipeds fought each other for no apparent reason at all. In the darkness the air changed and grew hot. Neither of them could tell if it was because of the fight, taking place before them—or if it was just the heat from their own involved activities. Either way it didn’t matter for the two mammals involved under the cloak of darkness, this was a night for love.

9:32 PM Darkness

Logan didn’t like this. He didn’t like this one bit. He had ridden across country trying to find some sort of peace and meaning to his life. He had driven through some of the most intolerable climates, through dense forests, thick swampland, and arid desert only to find himself once more wrapped in combat with a menacing presence stalking and killing innocents. He didn’t like it, but he was going to make sure that as much as he despised it, his enemy was going to like it even less.

“You can cut the theatrics, Gramps. You may be older than I am but all that means is that you’re closer to dying than I am.”

“Think again,” a voice whispered directly behind Logan’s ear.

Logan let out a growl twisting his body with his arm outstretched. His claws cut only the air.

“I’ve learned from our last encounter. How are you going to catch what you can’t see?”

“Listen bub, I ain’t ever met you before, so whoever you got me confused with you’d be saving yourself a lot of trouble by walking away now.”

Three claws slammed into Logan’s chest and the creature let out a scream of pain that echoed in the night. Logan let out a small grunt then began chuckling under his breath.

“Did I forget to mention I’ve a few tricks of my own? If you don’t want to get hurt I suggest you avoid my bones.”

Claws tore across Logan’s throat spilling torrents of blood into his esophagus. As he fell to the ground he managed to tear across the creature’s leg causing it to let out a howl of pain. Logan instinctually let out a laugh but found it only caused more blood to fill his windpipe. Wincing in pain he pulled himself to his knees holding his hand over his throat. He could feel the wound beginning to heal.

“You’re fast, Wolverine, but you can’t keep this up forever and I have the advantage.”

Logan let out a cry of intense pain as the creature shoved its claw deep into Logan’s eye. He could feel the pressure against it as it happened. He could feel the soft tissue tear and the warm blood and fluids dripping down his face from the wound. The attack cost Logan his right eye but it cost his attacker its left arm.

“You can take my sight all you want, but I’m gonna shred you a piece at a time.” Logan felt his eye already beginning to join together and the fluid beginning to fill it again.

Logan knew that his rage could only carry him so far. Shaking his head from side to side he began to realize that he was more than likely facing his demise at the hands of an enemy he couldn’t see. Hunching down close to the ground He listened for his attacker but heard no sound. Flaring his nostrils he tried to catch his assailant’s scent on the wind but the amount of blood spilled already and his shocked nervous system denied him the clarity of his olfactory senses.

A cool breeze blew across his face and suddenly he was awash in light and before him the creature’s face was rapidly approaching in attack. In the light Logan could finally make out clearly what he faced it had the head of a wolf with tendrils of snakes that seemed to shower down the back of its neck. One of its legs was missing along with an arm. In the mere millisecond it took him to commit his assailants image to memory he launched himself forward and severed its head with three more than razor sharp claws.

Its head made a solid thud as it hit the ground and rolled away. Logan took a minute to shake the dirt from his coat. Standing up he surveyed the scene—severed body parts, blood, decapitated creature…this was definitely turning out to be a road trip he’d not soon forget. Kicking a rock next to his boot he looked at the creatures body spewing green blood into the dirt. His eyes followed the trail of blood towards the source of the light. The head of the creature lay in the dirt, mouth agape, and already it was beginning to decompose. Next to it laid the flashlight shining its beam in Logan’s direction illuminating the scene. He cracked a smile as he watched the two armadillos separate and walk away from the flashlight into the darkness.

“Thanks,” he said, “…glad I’m not the only one who had fun tonight.”

Stooping down he picked up the head of the creature and tossed it into the bag on his bike. Leaning down he picked up the Mag-Light and fed it through his belt buckle. Moments later the scene was covered in darkness and the only light that filled the night air came from his bike as it raced towards town.

Swansea Tavern
10:00 PM

“Is that true?” Frank said as he tried unsuccessfully to shake off the inebriated state of his mind.

“My people have passed this story down for generations. Everyone in my tribe knows the tale. It happened as I have told you,” said the Apache.

“So, every hundred years the demon returns to feast on the living while growing its powers of darkness. And every time he shows up he’s doomed to die at the hands of a stranger possessed by an animal spirit? It sounds to me like you’ve been drinking too much of that fire water.”

The doorway to the bar flew open and everyone inside cringed thinking that the devil himself had come. They were only half right. Logan stood in the doorway covered in blood and sweat. He didn’t look wounded at all just tired. Frank lost his lunch when he saw it. The other patrons who had decided to stay the night after placing bets on the stranger’s demise sat with their mouths agape.

Logan held in his hand the head of what appeared to be a wolf only it appeared that large dead snakes were part of its body. Green blood dripped from the severed neck through the exposed veins and tenuous matter. With a grunt He heaved the head though the air and it landed on the bar next to the claw marks he had made earlier.

Logan walked straight towards the bartender and stared him in the eye. “I don’t think you’ll be having problems with disappearing acts any time soon,” he said. “Now… I want a beer and a room for the night.” The bartender shook with fear as he handed Logan a tall pint of thick dark ale.

“You can have as much as you want. There’s rooms upstairs,” he said in a nervous panic.

Logan only grunted and walked slowly up the wooden stairs, which creaked and cracked under his weight. It had been decades since anyone had ever stayed in the hotel. Logan was just grateful he could now take a shower and relax.

Downstairs the Apache picked up the head of the beast and placed it in his backpack. “What the hell do you want that thing for” Frank said?

“If I do not dispose of it properly it will return sooner than a hundred years from now. I cannot let that happen.”

“Well I think you’re crazy old man, but if you want it by all means take it.”

“I don’t care what you or anyone else in this place thinks. But I do want my money.”

Each of the patrons in the bar slapped down a hundred dollar bill before the Apache. Solemnly he placed the bills into his pocket swung the backpack over his shoulder and began to walk out the door. He couldn’t help smiling to himself. He had been the only one to bet that the creature that stalked the night would be the one who was dead before dawn.

Epilogue
Four months later

“Dammit! I prefer the disappearances to this,” said the new sheriff.

“I think we all do, Bill,” Pete said as he took his broom and pushed something heavy out the front door. Noises came from inside the walls of the building.

“Well guess you can’t have everything. Make the call,” said Bill.

“Hello? Department of agriculture? We got a problem…” The line suddenly went dead and Pete slammed the phone down. “Dammit! They ate through the phone lines again!”

The new sheriff and Pete walked to the window of their office and looked at the street before them. The entire town was overrun with amorous armadillos.