Well, this is a bit weird.
This thread has disappeared out of the fanfiction section for some reason, yet the link still works. So I figure I'll bump this thread and post a new chapter, and then see if it reappears.
If it does, I hope you enjoy this new chapter. Sorry about the delay!
And this is an extra-long chapter, so any reviews/responses/whatever would be extra appreciated!
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Chapter 33: Falling
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Now:
Logan hung there in the air, arcing outwards from the building for an eternal millisecond, the sunlight glinting off his claws and the shattered glass floating around him.
The moment passed, and he dropped like a rock.
He twisted wildly in the air, spinning around to watch the ground rush up towards him.
Or was that the wrong idea? Would it better to land on his back?
Blood blinded his right eye, streaming from a healing cut on his cheek from the glass.
Probably didnt matter either way. Sides, hed rather see it coming.
He pulled in his clawsthis was going to be messy enough without having to deal with digging his own claws out of his gutsand bared his teeth.
Screams from below. Hell, he hoped he didnt land on anyone. That could get messy.
This was going to hurt.
He was going to kill her, that *****
THUD!
Flesh and muscle bent around unbreakable bones as he hit the ground, and dirt mixed with blood, grinding against metal.
Logan saw white, and then red.
Then nothing.
Darkness.
Logan gasped, lifting his head from the dirt and rearing up. Snapped rosebush branches caught at his skin, but he popped his claws and ripped them away, staggering out onto cement. He fell to his knees, a dribble of blood leaking from his mouth.
Sergeant!? Sergeant
Logan wiped the string of blood from his mouth, turning his head aside to spit blood into the dirt, climbing back to his feet.
Keep goin, he growled, shoving the concerned soldier away. A bomb blasted into the earth just yards away, and Logan ducked, holding up an arm to shield his face. Dirt blurred his eyes, and the bullet thatd buried itself in his side worked its way out, falling in the dust behind him as three more slammed into him, turning his vision to bloodturning his blood to fireblinding him . . . . Thunder, deafening him.
Logan gasped, blinking wildly. His face was wetbut where the blood was coming from, he couldnt tell.
He couldnt
see.
Where were the shouts? The screams? There was nothingonly dead silence. Not even his own heartbeat.
Hecouldnt
hear.
Deaf? Blind?
Vibrations in the cement, under his hands.
The stink. The stink of blood. He spat again, still blinkingat least he could. Both eyes were there, but burning, stinging. Mashed in his eye sockets, the nerves screwed to hell, or something. Healing, but slowly.
He spat again, trying to smell beyond the blood. Cigarette smoke. Menmen, leaving. Running. Terror. Exhaust.
Gun oil.
He jerked his head up, reeling off-balance, but keeping his hands planted on the cement to ground himself.
Bombs. Had to get upget to his men. Keep going . . . .
No! Not bombs, dammit. Just a 20-story fall and a crappy landing.
Thunder. Bombs all around him, flinging blood and bodies and mud, caking him. Gunshots whizzing through the air, and grunts of men fallinggoing down for good. Bullets shooting through him, taking down the soldier next to him. Just a boy. All just boys . . . .
Something cold and metal pressed against the back of his head.
Gun!
SNIKT!
His arm shot out as his throat ripped in a snarl he couldnt hear. His claws snagged something wildly, but he couldnt tell whatcouldnt see. He smelled hot copper, mixed with fear and pain like rusthed caught somebody. How bad, he couldnt tell.
No! Dammitthis wasnt then. This wasnt
then.
When was he?
Tightness, grabbing at his chestpanic setting in, making him gasp. Nojust blood. Crushed airway.
Just breathe. Slowly, slowly. Think.
Gun oil. Lots of it, now. And people, againstinking of sweat. They smelled grim, like bodies hot under uniforms so used their scents had been sealed into every stitch of the fiber, even beneath the various soaps theyd used that morning (except for a couple who he wasnt sure
when they had bathed last . . . . ).
Damn.
Police? SHIELD?
He just cut off some bastards hand?
Blood clogging throat. Rage risingpain wanting to strike out.
Breathe.
Dammit!
Nonot enough blood. But they were angry, now. Theyd stepped back, but were waiting. Waiting for a pin to fall, though, by the smell of them.
What were they doing? Probably shouting at him to get down, put his hands in the air . . . .
Logan turned his head, spitting out a mouthful of blood and a couple shattered teeth on the cool cement next to him. The taste of copper made him gag.
He kept his head down, retracting his claws slowly. Listen, he tried to say, gritting the words between his remaining teeth. Speaking felt like gravel on an open woundmustve smashed his throat. Hoped they could hear himhoped they could understand. Hoped it was loud enough. He raised his voice, just in case. I cant hear Stop. Pant. Breathe. a damn word youre saying . . . so shut it. Probably too loud, now. Could be shouting for all he knew. He stopped to spit again. Someones scent behind him drew closer, and he turned sharply to face him, baring his teeth. Touch me, Ill kill ya, he snarled. He didnt need eyes
or ears to do that. S long as he was breathing, he could do that.
He could almost feel the restless shuffling. Feel it like he could feel his organs crawling back together, inch by agonizing inch. He bit down on a gasp of pain, choking it off and swallowing it as he clutched a hand to his chest.
He hissed between his teeth, then inhaled, bringing in a new scentthis one familiar. Irritated. Up-tight, but with an unshakable foundation of confidence, and a thick, unmistakable scent of cigars.
Fury.
Could almost hear him. Could almost hear him shouting, over the bombs, over the roaring of the planes.
Nick. He shook his head slightly, straining for the slightest sound. The gasp of his breath, the growl of his own voice. Nothing. You Stop. Breathe. Blood like water clogging his lungs. You sic your men on me and IllIll take em down.
Yeah. That was convincing.
You think I cant? He had to stop again, panting for breath. Try me, bub.
Pause.
Heal, dammit.
What were they doing now? Laughing? Could be. Smells were mixingit hurt his head as he tried to keep them separated, but he wasnt about to pass out on them. He did, there was no way of knowing where he might wake up.
This isnt . . . . what it looks like. Jusjust gimme a minute, will ya?
He spat again, rubbing his eyes and feeling glad he had lids enough to do so, even if his whole face was still slick with blood and he could feel the puffed flesh receding. His lungs were peeling away from where theyd wrapped around his ribs, his liver was crawling back into place after crashing and scrambling with his diaphragm.
POP.
know its you? a womans voice asked.
Engines, voices, honks sounding angrily above it allthe never-ending murmur of the noise of New York City.
It came down like a wave, and Logan flinched, immediately toning it down. Hed been listening so hard, having it come all back at once was like running into a wall.
Scent, Furys voice replied. Seen him track a platoon three days ahead of him, through mud and rain. Stumped me how he did it, that first time.
Damn. Logan felt his nose cracking as it crawled back into place on his face. The lady made a soft sound of disgust. Well, thats disturbing.
Give him a minute and hell be back on his feet.
A noncommittal noise from the lady. Were not taking him out now
why?
Logans brash, but hes not half as stupid as he looks. And to be honest, Im not sure what wed to with him if we did detain him.
Chuck him in a cell?
That wouldnt solve the problem.
Shock me, she said dryly.
Fury didnt reply, but he shifted suddenly.
BAM!
Logan jerked sideways, his ears ringing as a shot clipped his cheek. Dammit! he snarled, or at least tried. His throat cut on blood halfway through and he choked, sputtering as he leaned forward, spitting onto the sidewalk. The cement beneath him tilted, and he threw out a hand, catching himself. He lifted his head, looking blindly towards Furys voice and scent. Wha thell sat fer? Yep, hardly understandable. But it was enough.
I was going to ask you the same thing.
Logan blinked, squinting to see somethinganything. Furys voice was fading forward and back like waves against the sand, and it was making him dizzy to try and hold onto it.
Damn, his head hurt. Felt like itd been filled with cottonor maybe his brains turned to mush on the sides of his skull from the impact. His heart pounded in his forehead, ricocheting around like bullets.
DiI dint do anthin, he slurred. He turned to the side, spitting out another tooth. Yeah. Real convincing. He cleared his throat, and grimaced at the feeling of a knife slicing down his neck.
Hated being blind, on the ground. Helpless. Gotta get up, stare them down. Hide the weakness.
He let go of the ground with his hands, balancing unsteadily on his knees.
He bared his teeth, growling softly. The soldiers closest to him shiftedhe could hear the rustling of their clothes, smell their wariness.
Not enough. Up. Face-to-face. Stare them down, blind or not.
He rose slowly, keeping his hands in front of him and in sight. Like that mattered.
A short, plaid-wearing, bloodstained hairball surrounded by dozens of sweating elite SHIELD operatives. It was almost funny.
No one moved. Logan climbed his way to his feet, his hands out for balance as much as anything.
What the
hell are you doing here, Wolverine?
Was always weird to hear him call him that. Came out wrong, when Fury said it.
His voice was like water, swaying back and forth. Made him sick, made the sidewalk beneath him rock beneath his feet.
Turbulence. Logan gripped the side of the plane, his teeth clenched tight as the freezing wind cut through his uniform, curling up next to his skin like ghosts of ice. He pushed away, and he was falling, bodies falling around him
Falling. He was still falling, falling with glass and bodies and blood, and he couldnt see the ground
Still falling . . . .
You have 60 seconds to tell me why my men shouldnt shoot you to hell and lock you away for the rest of your life.
Logan flinched backwards, but immediately bristled. He braced himself, feeling the firm ground beneath his feet.
What the hell is going on?
He shook his head, burying it all. Deal with it later.
Guns sighted on him; he could feel them like eyes.
You know itd take a whole lot more than this to take me down, even now, he growled slowly. Fury wouldnt try it.
Special ops team, Logan. You know what they deal with. Forty-five seconds.
He thought he could bully him? Screw that.
Go thell.
Forty seconds.
Logan bristled, and he swore he could smell the slightest smugness leaking into Nick Furys scent, even through the clotting scent of his own blood and the mix of gun oil and New York filth. But hed bet the seasoned soldiers face betrayed nothing.
Fury wouldnt do it. Too much danger, here. Trying to take him down like this would be like firing a cannon blindhe wouldnt know who he would hit.
And Logan wasnt going to let them take him.
Logan hunched his shoulders.
Let them try.
Twenty.
He could almost see Fury raise an eyebrow.
Wait.
The school. The kids. Storm. A fat lot of help hed be to them if he was on the run from SHIELD, and Fury knew it.
Dammit.
I didnt do a freakin thing, Logan snarled, taking a sharp step forward. The guns snapped to follow him, and he cast a dark glance towards the scent of the nearest soldier. There was a spike in fear, quickly stifled. Smelled barely more than a kid. Well-trained, though.
Fury wasnt impressed. Ten seconds.
Logan silently cursed him, but continued, holding out an arm as his balance wavered beneath him. Went ttalk to the *****, and she threw me out the window. Sure it sounded like bull****, but damn him if Fury expected him to plead for him to believe him.
Fury didnt move. Logan gritted his teeth, but then immediately stopped at the shot of agony down his jaw.
Dammit. Teeth were the worst to regrow.
His flesh crawled. He could
feel Fury still watching him.
Or maybe that was just the scrapes of his skin growing back.
Logan spat again, but it was thick and drynot even bloody, except for the taste. Damn, he needed a drink.
You went to talk. Furys voice was still deadpan, but damn him if it still didnt sound as dubious as it could.
Logan folded his arms, waiting.
Was that an edge of grey leaking through his vision, or was he imagining things?
Still waiting. Heart pounding in his earsin his brain. Wish itd shut up.
He didnt have time for this.
Finally, Fury barked: Back to positions. Move out. Agent Carter, I want this place cleaned up.
Yes, sir.
You, Wolverinewith me.