Wolverine--The Next Generation

Something's Wrong...

*Logan’s Point of View*

Images flashed through my mind, like a sneak peek into my past. But I wasn’t looking from my point of view. It was like I was looking from no particular point. It was similar to the viewpoint of a movie. There were people around me, mainly blacks. But there was another group of people. I had no clue who they were, but they looked like trouble. They all had guns strapped to their backs and ammunition belts. There was one guy in particular that caught my attention. He had a buzz cut, dog-like canine teeth, and the fingernails of a bag lady. He looked so familiar… I, on the other hand, didn’t even look like myself. I had a full, short beard and longer hair. I had a 12-guage shotgun strapped to my back and dog tags, but not the ones I have now. There were two tags on one metal strand.

I wasn’t standing with the men. I was walking away from them. Buzz Cut was looking straight at me, yelling. But he couldn’t have been yelling at me. He was yelling, “Jimmy! Jimmy!” I turned back to look at him. “We can’t just let you walk away.” I saw myself scowl as I tore the dog tags off my neck. I read what they said before I threw them down on the ground in hatred and anger. One had “Logan” imprinted on it, and the other had “James Howlett”. Even though I wasn’t looking through my eyes, I knew what I was feeling at every moment. I turned away and continued walking through the woods, leaving Buzz Cut with the last word, “Jimmy!”

I blinked my eyes open, but closed them instantly when I was met with bright light. It was almost blinding. “Ugh! Jean…” After a short moment, I heard her quietly say, “You can open your eyes now, Logan.” I opened them slowly to find that the light had dimmed and Jean standing above me, “How are you feeling?”

“It’s hot.” There was a small breeze in the room. I looked to my left and there was a floor fan directed on me. “You overheated yourself working out. I just don’t understand why your mutation didn’t keep you cool.”

“I don’t know. I know it can control body temperature because,” I paused for a moment to take a breath, “because when I went to Alkali Lake, I wore nothing but my leather jacket for warmth. I didn’t get frostbite and I just felt… cool. It was well below freezing the whole time I was there.” Her expression went from concern to curiosity. “If it can control your temperature in the cold, it would only make sense if your temp could be regulated in the heat, too,” she said matter-of-factly. She didn’t say anything for several seconds before she continued, “I wonder…” She really didn’t say it to me. I think she was talking to herself. “Logan, I want to try something.” She reached over to a table that was near my bed and grasped a scalpel. I instinctively tensed up. “What do you plan on doing with that?” She rested her hand softly on my shoulder, “Logan, relax. I’m just going to make a small incision on the tip of your finger.” I squinted my eyes and furrowed my brow, “What for?”

“It’s just a theory, but I don’t want to throw you into a scare.”

“I can handle it.”

“Logan, I know you. You’d throw a fit if I told you.” I rolled my eyes, trying to hide my irritation, “Fine, just do it.” I hate being experimented on without knowing the sole purpose. She pinned my hand down by my wrist and told me to hold still. I did what she asked and she proceeded to slice a small cut into my finger. It didn’t hurt; it just stung. In the end, the incision was about a half an inch long. She released her hold on me and set the scalpel back on the table. I raised my hand into my view so I could look at it. I expected the gash to close up and heal over, but didn’t. Blood dripped slowly down my hand and it didn’t stop. I looked at Jean, “Jean, what the hell is going on?!” I exclaimed, fear starting to surface. I knew something was wrong, but I wasn’t entirely sure what.