So I just watched the movie X-Men Origins: Wolverine, and I'm totally hooked! So of course the first thing I do is run to my laptop and start writing! Although, I hadn't seen the original movies before writing this, so this is only from seeing the prequel.

Here's a little bit of info to help you understand the setting: Logan still doesn't have his memory, and has spent the last fifteen years wandering around and hiding from people who want him dead or worse. He makes his way back up to his hometown in Canada, where he runs into some new and old friends, including Kayla, who actually did live. Can he get his memory back and re-win his girl? Here's the beginning of the story:

Logan jogged silently by himself through the Canadian wilderness. It was early on an autumn morning, so the air was crisp and dry on his bare shoulders and arms. The only sound besides the rare birdsong was his dog-tags jingling around his neck—his only remains of his battle with Stryker. The sight of the leaves changing to their fall hues before retiring to the earth was brilliant through his dark eyes. He could smell the trees and ground around him with superhuman clarity.

But something else was tugging at his senses. At first he thought that it was his memories, which was haunted him like waking nightmares and bubbled up to the surface of his consciousness without provocation. It wasn't for another moment or two before he realized that it wasn't in his head. There was the awful stench of humans and weapons—never a wise combination—upwind, but also something else. It wasn't something that he regularly was exposed to: another mutant.

He stopped running and stood very still, listening for more information to the combination of scents. Then he heard distinct voices not very far in front of him. He continued to jog calmly in their direction, although his attention was piqued, and the anticipation of a fight nagged at him to hurry. He stopped again at the line of trees that led to a road and hid in the shadows.

In the middle of the road was a girl—probably only sixteen or seventeen—surrounded by five armed men. They all wore the uniforms of a certain government project that he knew all too well. They all looked very frightened and inexperienced, except for one. He seemed to be leading the group of soldiers.

The girl in the center was obviously the mutant he had sensed. She wasn't very tall, with a general teenage girl shape. Her hair was dark brown, almost black, and was made up of long wild tresses that reached halfway down her back. Even from his cover in the trees, Logan could see her icy blue eyes shine with fury. When she showed her teeth sneering at one of the guards, he could see that she had slight fangs. And on her fingers were curved, sharp talon-like claws.

She looked very familiar, and at the same time very distant.

One of the men stepped towards her warily, holding a small taser. The girl hissed and lunged at him, swiping a clawed hand in an arc towards his neck. He tried to avoid the assault, but she moved so fast he dropped to his knees, dead, an instant later. This caused the rest of the group to move in on her. Two more attacked her at the same time. One tried to hit her on the head with the butt of his rifle, but she carelessly stepped to the side and grabbed his arm, snapping his wrist in the process. The other man, trying to come to his comrade's aid, pulled out a knife and stabbed at her.

Teeth bared, she decapitated him. And without a second glance to the last man, moved on the next one. Being the fourth in line to die, he had seen the others get killed. He wasn't so eager to end up the same way. But his captain urged him on. He pointed his gun shakily at the girl, who smiled sadistically lunged at him. He collapsed just seconds later.

Logan watched the ensuing battle with little interest, until he saw the captain of the small squad creeping around to shoot the girl from behind. She was focused on killing the other men, and didn't watch her back. Logan walked silently around the clash and skulked up behind the captain. As he quietly prepared to shoot, Logan unsheathed the three blades on each hand.

Only the girl noticed. She spun around, only to look down the barrel of a gun prepared to fire. Knowing the outcome, she closed her eyes and waited for the loud bang of the gun firing, accompanied by the sharp pain of the bullet. But it never came. She opened her eyes again, and the human was still standing there, only he wasn't shooting, and all the color had drained from his face. He suddenly sank to his knees and toppled over. Now standing in front of her was a large man with blades sprouting from his knuckles.

She stared at him warily, chest heaving from the adrenaline and exertion. She kept her body tense to keep the shaking from becoming visible. Logan recognized this, and pulled the silver blades back under his skin and put his hands up submissively. "Who are you?" The girl asked, her voice steady and confident, though her shoulders were tense and her eyes raged with a fierce light from the fight that was still coursing through her.

Logan took a step back, and answered, "I could ask you the same thing." She narrowed her eyes at him and prepared to strike, and he put his hands up again and continued, "Logan. And I'm not here to hurt you. If I wanted that I wouldn't have killed the guy trying to shoot you."

Her breathing was becoming steadier, and she wasn't balancing on the balls of her feet anymore. Reason was making its way back into her head, and she recognized the truth of the statement. Though her body stayed rigid, she retracted the claws. To Logan's surprise, when she did that, her eyes changed color. They no longer shone a brilliant but dangerous cyan, but were now a soft brown, making her look more human and much kinder.

"What about you? I told you who I was." He continued, though he didn't demand. He didn't doubt that, even though she was half his size, she wouldn't hesitate to fight him.

"That's not important," she told him, still guarded. She crossed her arms over her chest, and, feeling the dampness of it, pulled them away. Blood covered the pale skin of her arms. She looked down at her white tank top, which was stained with blood. "Shit," she muttered under her breath, "how am I going to explain this to my mom?"

Logan regarded the girl with curiosity. "Anything I can do to help?" He offered halfheartedly.

"Not unless you have an excuse as to why I'm covered in blood. I was supposed to be on my way to school." She said angrily, mock amusement in her voice.

"I'm sure I could come up with something…" He pondered out loud, thinking of a few stories that might convince the girl's mother that it wasn't worth any trouble. As he considered a few, the girl had started to walk away. He jogged a few paces to catch up, and then fell into pace next to her.

"Any ideas? And I don't think she'll be very pleased with the fact that I'm missing school to bring back a complete stranger and tell her I've massacred five people." She mused.

"Four." He corrected her.

"What?"

"You only killed four of those goons. If it weren't for me that last one would've gotten you." He told her matter-of-factly, though he was teasing. She glared at him out of the corner of her eye, and he smirked to himself. He felt a lightheartedness that he hadn't known for a long time.

For the last ten years, he'd wandered about, hiding from and fighting Stryker's menacing government officials. Being the only one to survive had its cost.

"We're almost there, but she probably already knows. I have no idea how she figures it out." The girl mumbled to herself.

"I never did catch your name." He stated.

She glanced at him warily and sighed. "Fine. I suppose you aren't out to kill me. But if you try, boy, you'll regret it." Logan stifled a chuckle. "I'm Acadia."

No sooner had she said that, they left the trees behind and were on a long, winding road. In the distance, on the crest of the hill, was a small house. It was more like a cabin, with a wide front porch and probably only two rooms. The same nagging familiarity that Logan had been feeling all morning was back again, only stronger. He paused and took in his surroundings carefully.

Acadia noticed, and stopped as well. "What's wrong?" She asked, tucking some of her dark hair behind her ear.

Logan shook his head slightly and continued walking. "Nothing… It's just… this place is so familiar…"

She stared at him for a moment, obviously puzzled. "My mother doesn't let many people know where we are, for whatever reason. Strange that you of all people would recognize it."

"Yeah…" He agreed distantly. They continued up the dirt path, until they were at the base of the stairs that led to the porch. Logan leaned nonchalantly against the railing as Acadia continued to the door.

As she tiptoed up the creaky wooden stairs, Logan looked around, taking it all in. I know I've been here before, he thought, and it seems so important. He was brought back from his absent thoughts when the front door swung open. The woman that stepped out and grabbed Acadia's arm took him by surprise.

She had the same dark curls as her daughter, with striking grey eyes and slim figure. Logan looked away quickly to keep from staring. It worked… until she spoke.

"What in god's name are you doing here? You should be in school!" She obviously struggled with keeping her voice down. Logan looked back at them and watched as the woman surveyed Acadia. She glanced down at the red blotches on her white shirt, and her jaw dropped. "What—why is there blood all over you?" Her anger turned to concern at the concept of an injury. "Are you hurt?"

Acadia brushed her mother's hands away. "I'm fine! Just give me a chance to tell you what happened. I was going to school. But I was late, so I took the road."

"I told you that—"

"I know what you told me. I had no idea they'd be there. I didn't have any choice." Acadia said defensively, crossing her arms over her chest.

The woman sat down on the wooden loveseat that was outside the door and put her elbows on her knees and her head in her hands. "And you just… left it all there?" Acadia nodded. "Someone's going to find it. They'll send more of them here. I'll call the school and tell them you've become very sick; it won't be safe in town for a while."

As she got up to go inside, Acadia looked back at Logan incredulously, then said, "Although, I would be dead right now if it weren't for him." She jerked a thumb in Logan's direction.

"What?" Her mother stopped and turned around. For the first time, she looked beyond her daughter and noticed him for the first time. She didn't notice it at first, but then she realized who she was looking at. Her eyes grew wide, and she froze. Acadia looked from her mother to the stranger, who was no longer leaning on the railing, but standing up straight and staring straight back at her mother.

She decided to leave them alone and wandered inside, but she went to the window and watched intently.

Her mother still stared at Logan, although she had moved to the edge of the stairs. He was still matching her surprised gaze, but his was more confused than anything.

Her mother spoke first. "What are you doing here?" She sounded very distraught, almost in shock. "After all this time… what are you doing here?"

Logan shook his head in disbelief. He had no idea why he was being accused.

"You don't remember me?" her eyes shone with the threat of tears. She crossed her arms and leaned against the column holding up the porch's roof.

"Should I?" He said distantly. He climbed the stairs of the porch, until his face was only inches from hers. Her breathing quickened, while his remained at the same ragged tempo. "What's your name?"

"Kayla."

So.... You likey? Review if you do!