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An Odd Sense of Deja Vu --Logan Drama 1/2

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  • groovekat@aol.com
    Fic-An Odd Sense of Deja Vu -Logans POV Author-Kitty. Groovekat@aol.com Rating- All about the R for language and violence. Pairing-Rogue and Logan (just to be
    Message 1 of 1 , Jul 31, 2000
      Fic-An Odd Sense of Deja Vu -Logans POV
      Author-Kitty. Groovekat@...
      Rating- All about the R for language and violence.
      Pairing-Rogue and Logan (just to be original) non-romantic.
      Style: Drama
      Disclaimer: It's all Stan Lee's and 20th Century Fox. Blame/worship them.
      Feedback: I'm dying here! Do you guys like this???

      "Beer." Logan grumbled, placing some money on the table. He took off his
      jacket, shaking the snow from it, and hung it on the back of his chair.

      "You're back." Jim said.

      "Don't get your panties in a twist." He replied, lighting a cigar. "I
      need the money."

      Jimmy had been running fights for thirty years, never once had he seen a
      man win like he had, or heal for that matter. He searched his face. "That was
      one hard knock Mike gave you last night."

      "Which little girl was Mike."

      "The one who hit you in the face with brass knuckles. I coulda sworn he
      broke your jaw." Jimmy replied uneasily.

      Logan looked at the old man. "Ever heard the term don't look a gift horse
      in the mouth?" Jim nodded slowly. "Little girls don't hit hard, even ones
      with brass knuckles." Jim thought of the three hundred-pound man, the
      knuckles, Wolverines clear face, and hesitated. Then the image of the pile of
      money he had been bringing in for the past cleared it.

      "Right." He muttered. "Some guy from Montreal is coming tonight. He's

      "Not anymore." Logan said, gulping his beer. Jimmy walked away, shaking his

      "Hey there winner." A silky voice cooed. Logan turned in his seat and found
      himself looking into heavily made up blue eyes. Vylette was Jimmy's
      girlfriend, his junior by twenty years, and Wolverines' senior by about
      fifteen. He chewed the end of his cigar. Hell, he didn't know how old he was.

      "Vylette." Logan acknowledged, hoping she would leave. She took the seat
      next to him.

      "So how many guys are you gonna beat to a pulp tonight." She purred,
      putting one elbow on the table and leaning towards him. He glanced at her,
      and the low cut shirt with the view. He faced straight ahead.

      "However many your old man lines up for me." Logan answered brusquely. She
      pursed her bright red lips at the mention of Jimmy. She tried another tactic.

      "So what's your real name sweetie." Vylette asked, leaning even closer to

      "It's not sweetie, and it's none of your business." Logan replied, not
      bothering to look at her. Finally taking the hint, Vylette stood.

      "Save your shit for the ring." She seethed, storming away. Logan rolled his
      eyes and swallowed the rest of his beer. Women.

      By now the bar had started filling. Out of respect and fear, more the
      latter, no one came within a two chair radius of him. "You ready?" The
      bartender asked, setting a shot of whiskey in front of him. Wolverine downed
      it and slammed the glass on the counter, shattering it. The bartender didn't
      say a word, it was a nightly ritual. He was well worth a shot glass a night,
      so he stopped complaining about it after the first time. Logan got up, and
      rolled his neck, hearing the bones pop satisfactorily. He grabbed his jacket
      and walked through the crowd, which parted biblically. Logan threw his jacket
      to the table where Vylette sat and pulled off his shirt. She sighed and put
      them both on the chair beside her. He climbed into the cage-like ring, and
      went to his corner. When he fought, he wasn't Logan anymore. He was
      Wolverine. Still smoking his cigar he waited for Jimmy.

      "If any of you were here last night, the night before that, last week, you
      know what this man can do!" He hollered. "He's the strongest, nastiest,
      dirtiest, unbeaten fighter this side of Canada! Wolverine!" The crowd
      erupted into a new round of screaming agreement. "And to challenge him,
      Montreals' unbeaten club fighter, the biggest, the hairiest, the unbeaten
      Dirty Irish Malloy.

      Wolverine watched in contempt as a brawny man with red hair sprouting all
      over his body stepped into the ring. He looked about four inches taller than
      him, and about a hundred pounds heavier in muscle. Wolverine debated on
      whether or not to at least pretend to have trouble kicking the shit out of

      "You're my bitch tonight Wolfy." The man screamed. Wolverine decided
      against it.

      "Start the fight!" Jimmy yelled, backing out of the ring. Wolverine dropped
      his cigar.

      Malloy, confident of his own strength wasted no time charging at him.
      Wolverine stepped aside and brought his knee up, grinning as Malloy rammed
      himself into it. Malloy doubled over and Wolverine grabbed his head, bringing
      it down to his knee. Malloy fell back over. Wolverine waited for him to get
      up, snarling, "Is that all ya got Paddy?" Malloy got to his feet, wiped the
      blood off his nose, and swung at him. Wolverine blocked the blow with his
      forearm and Malloy screamed, grabbing his knuckles in pain. Wolverine threw
      an upper cut, cracking his jaw, and another to the side of his head. Malloy
      went down and didn't get up. The crowed cheered and booed to their hearts
      content. Wolverine spat at Malloys' prone body and walked back to corner.
      "Who's the bitch now, bitch."

      He picked up his still burning cigar and stuck in his mouth, turning his
      back on the ring. He paused and sniffed the air slowly. Though the lights
      restricted him from seeing anything past the first few rows of screaming
      people, he could smell them all. Their alcohol, their misery, their lives.
      But something new had just walked in. Something innocent, something scared.
      He heard Jimmy scream for anyone else who wanted to fight him but didn't pay
      attention. He sniffed again, and knew that whoever it was was behind him. It
      was a girl…and there was something different about her smell. Something
      familiar. Trying to figure out what it was Wolverine didn't even see the man
      coming. The blow to his back might have incapacitated any other man, but it
      just pissed Wolverine off. He let him get in a few hits to keep the crowd
      from wondering before he became really irritated. He turned and blocked the
      mans fist, grinning as bone came into contact with metal. A few punches later
      and the guy was out cold. He faced the crowd, breathing deeply. The girl had
      moved, and now there was another scent mingled in with hers. Her fear clogged
      his nostrils, and then a second later it was gone. She was gone. Wolverine
      shook his head angrily as Jimmy screamed for another man to fight him.

      He growled impatiently as a man, obviously drunk, swaggered onto the ring.
      Not even waiting for Jimmy to start the fight Wolverine stepped forward and
      knocked him two feet in the air with a vicious upper cut. The room erupted
      into raucous laughter and screams. In the midst of the deafening sound he
      heard something else, another cry. He narrowed his eyes and stepped out of
      the ring, ignoring Jimmy and the crowds protest. He breathed in again and
      headed for the door. He saw a girl thrown over a mans shoulder, struggling
      weakly. That was her. Logan started walking towards them when Vylette
      intercepted him. He almost unsheathed his claws in irritation.

      "Honey, you hafta get back up there! They're screaming for you!" She said,
      blocking his way. He looked over her shoulder and saw that the guy had left,
      and two other men were following them out. Logan knew from experience that it
      probably wasn't to help her.

      "Then why don't you get up there and fight." He growled, pushing past her.

      "Well aren't you going to need these?" She said, throwing him his clothes.
      He grabbed them and headed for the door, hesitated, and decided to go out the
      back way. He pulled on his shirt and walked through the dirty kitchen and out
      the door.
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