A friend gave me the muse – and then persuaded me – to write this particular piece of fanfic.
Claw And Fang In Canada
Somewhere in a non-descript small town in Canada, a cage fighter was recovering from his last bout – which he had won by the skin of his teeth. Sweat ran down his body as his injuries slowly healed; he felt hot and just about ready to give in, but he knew the night wasn’t over yet. There was more to come. Opponents came and went; some accused him of cheating and others limped away howling in pain. Those who left abruptly were never seen again. He always won, but he had never killed. That wasn’t his job. His job was to entertain the drunken masses.
The door to the bar swished open. His swollen eyes were still almost closed shut, but they managed to register blond hair, a duster jacket and a swaggering gait. Whoever this was, he was cock-sure of himself – and rather in love with himself into the bargain.
He heard a voice – a London Cockney accent.
“How much for me to take this guy on?”
What was left of his heart sank. Really he’d already had enough tonight, but he was getting paid for this and couldn’t turn down an opponent.
The blond Englishman in the duster jacket entered the cage. He was so self-assured and arrogant.
“Well hello loser; I’ve come to take you down. But I’m a polite sort of guy and would like to know who I’m fighting before I kill you.”
“The name is Logan. Or Wolverine, if you prefer.”
The stranger raised his left eyebrow and offered a half-smile.
“Wolverine? Really? I’ll believe it when I see it.”
To answer that, Wolverine brought out his claws.
“Bloody hell” exclaimed the stranger. “You’re a fucking mutant!”
Wolverine growled. “And what are you? Are you worthy of my attention Bub?”
The stranger considered the question for a moment, and asked himself “What’s it worth to show this cocky little bugger what real fighting is?” He rounded on Wolverine.
“Call me Spike. I’m a bloody Vampire. And what’s with your hair? It’s bloody stupid and goes straight up.”
“So says Billy Idol. Don’t mess with me boy.”
“Oh,” replied Spike. “I wasn’t going to mess with you at all… boy.”
Spike fanged out, showing his true self, and launched himself at Wolverine with all of the Vampire power he posessed. This was new to Wolverine, who had never met a Vampire before and couldn’t anticipate Spike’s moves.
Spike jumped Wolverine in one swift move and wrapped his legs around Wolverine’s hips to maintain a grip upon his quarry. Wolverine responded by lashing out blindly with his adamantium claws.
“Ow! That was my coat you bastard. I loved that coat! I won it from the last Slayer I killed!”
Wolverine turned and punched Spike in the nose.
“Now have a broken nose to go with your damaged coat.” Wolverine had retracted his claws… for now.
“Oh, bloody hell that hurt!” Spike responded by pinning Wolverine to the ceiling. In the process he slashed Wolverine’s shirt, exposing hair and flesh.
“Fuck me! You really are a fucking wolf!”
“Let’s see what you’re made of then, Vampire.”
Claws out again, Wolverine slashed Spike’s t-shirt and sent him spinning to the ground. Vampires can’t breathe, otherwise Spike would have lain there winded for some time – Wolverine is super-strong after all.
Spike rolled over, cursing, and felt the entire weight of an angry mutant land on top of him. He couldn’t bite because nobody wanted a mutant Vamp. Especially one with claws. At least he knew that the flesh Wolverine had exposed was pretty buff and nothing to be ashamed of.
Spike and Wolverine wrestled each other on the ground, until Wolverine gave up.
“Neither of us is gonna win this one buddy. Let’s call it a truce.”
“No,” replied Spike. “Let’s call it a draw. For now. Until we meet again Logan. A worthy foe you are.”
I am sure that there will be a repeat performance between these two prime fighters.