Same memories. Same blood. Who the hell am I.

| lowkey the best cyclops and wolverine too 🙂‍↕️

Pits of hell.

Weapon Plus Team in route. Keep asset contained.

Logan stood, his hands becoming fist. “I don’t think these guys are one for talkin’.” Another soldier took a step forth. Gun still raised. “Both of you, outside.”

“Shut the hell up.” One says. Another aims his gun towards Logan. “Up, on your feet —- move.” His off hand touched the walkie on his chest. “Asset confirmed. ID336, need extraction team.” There was a muffle and static on the other end that sounded a lot like:

Fuck.

| was snowboarding this weekend, home now, will try to reply today. So sleepy.

“For?” Just then —- before Logan could say another word, the front door of the bar is blasted off its hinges. Men in black armor and helmets invaded the space, with weapons drawn on both of them.

“. .friends of yours?”

I’m on no one’s team.

“I just think —-“ Then, Logan caught a whiff in the air. Metal and machinery, dog tags and lasers. The sounds of boots outside in mud. He knows that sound, that taste of iron on his lips. Military? Something else. “There’s someone outside.”

And you are?

Omg

Well, you must be at least crazy to go around dressed like that.

“So go get it.” Logan said roughly —- there was no need to get involved. He was already in hot water as it were. Some people were looking for him, and he didn’t intend on being found.

What the fuck.

Who the hell are you?

Logan shifts, almost uncomfortable.

He rubs at the space between his right knuckles —- a dull ache suddenly spazzing underneath his skin. “No.” He says, maybe too quickly, as if he were trying to forget something he doesn’t know. “No I don’t. Who are they?”

Creed.
There is a name. Who’s that name? Why does that name scratch at his throat like someone is trying to close off his windpipes. Why does it feel him with such fuel it turns his heart to a furnace of anger —- survival. Who is that name? (c)

Hm.

“Am I suppose to?” Logan says with gruff, now he eyes the other, setting his beer down. “Sure is a lot of questions. You got someone you’re tryin’ to run into? If so —-“ He jets a thumb in the other direction. “Leave me outta that shit.”

⠀
⠀
⠀
natalia alianovna romanova, 1928.

With a shrug. As if it didn’t matter. “Don’t drink the tap water.”

Logan gave a grunt, bringing his bottle to his lips. He wouldn’t stare, he had been stared at before. The fighting cage in Montana. Unstoppable, unforgivable —- some sort of freak for them all to watch. Kept winning so they booted him out of town.

“Been here once or twice.” He said (c)

Somewhere. Middle America.
—- @rxdscare.bsky.social

Six something deep. Another sleepless night —- there are memories of needles and wires, boiling water and cut skin. But he can’t place them. There’s a stranger next to him, large. Very large. “Jesus. Where’d they haul you from?”

*
This is an AU Logan, he’s just out of the Weapon Plus program ( 6 months ). No idea who he is, how he get the way he is. Temper. Violence.

Alternate Universe.

Six months ago the Weapon Plus program created a breakthrough, through trial and error they created the perfect specimen —- 𝖶𝖾𝖺𝗉𝗈𝗇 𝖷.

Six months ago. He escaped.

An AU portrayal of Marvel’s

𝙒𝙊𝙇𝙑𝙀𝙍𝙄𝙉𝙀.
𝖫𝗈𝗀𝖺𝗇 𝖧𝗈𝗐𝗅𝖾𝗍𝗍.

18.+
MDNI.
Artwork sourced from Marvel Comics.