by Misty

DISCLAIMER: I don't own the characters mentioned in this piece. And there's some bad language and *ahem* "graphic mutilations" within the context of the story. But if you have a strong stomach (it's not as bad as, say, 'Aliens' but still) and wish to read on I suggest you do so without delay.

As the blood-drenched claws ripped into the hunters throat, he tried to call out for help, but the effort was in vain. The only sound escaping his mangled voice box was a small gurgling noise. The sound of his body hitting the floor alerted his partners to his fate as his voice could not, even as his killer began to feed on them as well.

They were an elite force, trained over a period of three grueling months just for such an occasion. They were the best there was at what they did, and proud of it. But as they turned to into the deadlights coming from the beasts eyes, all of the extensive training and decorum left their bodies with the puddles of piss forming in their boots.

"Holy shit, it got Billy."

"Oh, my God. . ."

"Get me outta here!!!"

"Don't just stand there, shoot the damn thing!"

And, to the great amusement and fascination to the observers above, they did just that.

Semi-automatic machine gun fire swept across the tiny space, hitting both creature and comrade, not caring for either. And when the bullets found their mark in the changed and burning flesh and bones of the man-thing, it let loose a howl that chilled the souls of every man within hearing distance.


However, this thing had gone beyond the cattle in front of it in both body and mind. Wounds that would be fatal to a normal man were merely bee stings to it and served only to make it angrier.

With computer-like efficiency and deadly accuracy it attacked, leaving no room for failure. Claws ripped muscle to make way to the tender meat inside and dagger fangs forced that meat into submission. Powerful legs pushed the creature into the air for better angles. The screams of its prey were like a chorus of angels, urging him to new heights of blood lust. Their blood in his mouth a source of life and strength.

After the massacre, when the beast had time to lick its wounds and gorge itself on its victims, it surveyed its prison. A jungle of metal trees and sterile, plastic vines. The cold steel walls were a dull red with the drying blood, the smell of death and fear permeated the air, the door locked as always. Music drifted to its sharp ears from above, and the tune caught against something rough inside it and rang faint bells of recognition. Beethoven. Mingling with the concerto was the sound of human voices. It looked slowly up the wall opposite it until finding a glass observation window. The voices drifted from inside.

"Congratulations, Cornelius. This was a most successful test."

"Test?! That monster slaughtered those men Professor!"

"That was the point, Doctor. The ultimate prey is the only way to test the ultimate weapon."

"Um, Professor? Dr. Cornelius? Mr. Logan-"

"Don't call him that, Hines."

"Yes, sir. But Weapon X hasn't calmed down yet, sir. His read-outs are still in the red."

"What? That shouldn't be. . ."

The beast that was once a man didn't understand the human words any longer, nor did it feel any desire to. Somewhere in it's ravaged mind, that spark of recognition raged into a bonfire. It knew those voices...knew them very well.

Wolverine gathered his unusual strength into his legs and prepared for the leap that would take him through the double-sealed glass and into the company of his designers. He could almost feel the cold wind in his face again.


AUTHORS NOTE: I wrote this before I started to read comic books, but I thought that with a little amount of tweaking it could work very well for Logan's painful ordeal. . . and Wolverine's equally painful birth. You can feed my mailbox at [email protected] (It's very malnourished).