Mar 10, 2008 19:07
If it is once again one against forty-eight, then I am very sorry for the forty-eight. >> Margaret Thatcher
Logan never had a problem with violence. In fact, it was safe to say that he thrived on it. He was built for it, after all. And maybe Stryker had been right. Logan had always been an animal, and the only thing that psycho had done was give him claws.
Speaking of which…
The claws released from between his knuckles with their trademark, snikt! And he watched with more than a little pleasure as the flunky feel to the floor in a puddle of blood. His nostrils flared as the scent of the crimson liquid hit him, but the sound of footsteps off to his right had him whirling around and meeting the enemy head-on.
Numbers didn’t mean much to Logan, either. He didn’t much care what the odds were supposed to be because he knew he’d come out on top.
Only time he hadn’t had been with Jean.
Although, he had to concede that stopping the Phoenix was probably more of a win than a loss.
His anger faltered for a second as grief threatened to well up inside him but he pushed it back down again, keeping it locked up as he went back to what he did best.
Killing things.
Wolverine
X-Men (movieverse)
Words: 203
[entry] narrative,
[verse] open