The Daughter of the Wolverine (An X-Men Fan-Fic)

Chapter 7

A/N: It's been a while... a long while. In the time since I last was on here, a lot has changed... Personally and on this website but I hope I can get back into the swing of things and start updating this story for you all. I hope I still have some readers after all this time but I guess we'll see right? If you have been with me since the start, thanks for sticking around. If you recently started this series, don't worry, here comes the rest. Please also look for the semi-edited chapters as I slowly work on blending young Abby's writing with Abby, whom is more experienced in writing. Thank you everyone.

~Logan~

"You've got to be f*cking kidding me!" I shouted as I tossed one of Striker's men to the side, unconscious. This had been the 7th base we had raided hoping to find Tatyana. The search was dragging on because none of the agents we've caught or tried to get information from knew anything. I hated this whole situation more so than ever. "Jean, did you get anything from any of the bastards here?"

I glanced over at the red-headed beauty, just in time to see her shake her head, scattering slight ribbons of her scent throughout the room. As it hit my nose, I calmed down, but only slightly as her notion reminded me we were still stuck at square one. I cursed again before taking off, looking through the base for any clue where Striker could have been hiding her. I had marched off in such a rush that I forgot my claws remained exposed and I shook my head trying to calm myself as I let them slide back in, letting the bones in my hand, return to where they belonged, easing the pain that danced though my hands when I was using those things. I could hear the footsteps of Jean behind me so I just continued forward, looking for anything that could help us located Tatyana.

"Logan, we'll find her, the professor is still attempting to find her with any of his contacts. Striker can't hide forever." Jean tried to say but was cut off with a grown from me before she was able to say any more. I may not have met this kid before but I knew Striker, I knew what kind of monster he was and I didn't want any kid to have to got through that, especially not someone with the same DNA apparently as me. Jean and I checked another room, thankfully it was empty... except for the very large computer set up. I grinned, and although I knew nothing about computers, I knew Jean would. I didn't even have to say before she stepped passed me and headed straight towards the console.

As she typed away, I pulled out a cigar from my pocket and chewed on the end. A few short moments later I heard her muttering under her breath. "Project XIII.

Species: Cured Human. 

Status: Deceased.

Date of Death: July 7th..."

I could smell saline dot the air before I could process her words. "We... we didn't make it in time."

An animalistic growl ripped through my lips as I bit through the cigar, spitting it out in anger. "I am not stopping until we at least find her body. She deserves a proper burial. What else does the file say?"

"They burned her body and it sounds like melted down her adamantium coating on her bones."

Thoughts raced through my mind. I didn't know where to go from there... other then back to the school and try again another day.

~Tatyana~

Days slowly turned into weeks and weeks turned into months as I continued to sit in that cell. At first, when my hand had broke, held hope that my abilities would return... but as I rotted, I could feel the last strands of my power dissipate. I no longer healed in a few days, but sometimes it would be a whole month before I could use the arm that Striker had broke during an experiment, or the leg that was shot when I refused to move. Something was wrong though, I could feel a sort of sickness running through my body. The worst part was the fact that it felt like it was coming from my bones, like I was being poisoned from the inside out.

I wasn't the type of mutant to let physical injury get to me... but now... as I sat there as a minor human, there were some days where the physical pain alone had me questioning why I stayed alive, but then images and dreams would pop into my head. Like one day meeting my father, or sitting down with Rouge, Scott, and the others to learn about them. Learn about why they fight and why they opened their arms to me so rapidly.

My father... was he looking for me? Did the others tell him I existed...? I sure hope so. That hope, that my father was out there looking for me, was part of what kept me fighting. I fought because I needed to know that one day... one day I would see him and at least get the chance to notice if I had his eyes or his hair color... I needed to know if I looked like him or if I looked like my mother whom I never have even seen.

If I could keep staying strong and staying alive, then there would be a day I could see them all again. And until that day I just had to fight...

My thoughts sharply ended with the clanging of the doors to my prison being torn open by who I could only guess was Stryker and a group of his demonic men. His voice rang out just as he stepped into view. "Time to turn you into a mutant again Thirteen, but this time, I'll make sure you don't remember your past."