PRELUDE:

 

Wolverine v. Sabertooth

 

The Final Battle

 

I missed the hunt.  The pursuit.  The chase.  The thrill of the catch.  The killing took its toll, but the hunt: the hunt never got old.  Unfortunately, in this instance the killing is necessary.  Although, I have to admit in this particular case, I will take some pleasure in the act.  His name used to be Victor Creed, now he goes by ‘Sabertooth’; and for the first time in his life, he will be the prey. 

My informant at S.H.I.E.L.D. told me where I could find him.  It was exhilarating being back in the field, like the old days when Sabertooth & I worked together as a team.  For a period I’d gotten away from this line of work, from doing what I do best; from what came natural to me.  Deep down I knew the façade I was portraying would end, eventually exposing me as the fraud I was pretending to be: husband, father, domesticated.  An animal, I was wild, feral, untamed, and unabashed in my attitudes and emotions.  That part of me could only remain hidden for so long until inevitably the monster inside would rear its ugly head, and I’d be unable to control it.  Even when we were together, her & I, it was always there: dormant, simmering under the surface, patiently waiting.  She tricked me, making me think I was something other than I truly was.  So badly I wanted to be the man she saw in me, the man she believed me to be: but I’m not a man.  I’m something else.  

Not belonging in her world, it was only a matter of time before she came to that realization herself.  I wish it hadn’t ended the way it did, but make no mistake-it would have ended.  Who was I kidding, fooling myself into believing it was sustainable?  Who was I kidding telling myself I was happy?  Those weren’t the happiest days of my life, they were the most delusional.  Insanity must’ve taken hold of my mind; not the unbridled rage that fueled me, motivated me, to accomplish the feats I’d done.  No, this was a condition; an irrational mindset convincing me this lifestyle was everlasting.  For a brief moment I convinced myself this livelihood had a future, with an impetus on something greater than me.  But I was wrong.  About all of it.  All the hopes, desires, and aspirations I had for her, for us, were just that: dreams.  My life is a nightmare, not fit for the likes of her.  She was too good, too pure.  I’d corrupt her, turn her into something she wasn’t, something unnatural.  I only have myself to blame for giving her the false impression she could be content with a creature like me.  She used to call me ‘Logan’, but Logan no longer exists.  There is only the beast within, and now it’s time to unleash him; it’s time to unleash ‘The Wolverine’…

Tracking him halfway across the globe, The Wolverine came upon Sabertooth in a small village in Libya, outside the city of Tripoli.  According to Nick Fury, Sabertooth was dispatched to put an end to some uprising by some rebels against some foreign leader for the benefit of some political group somewhere else: the type of thing he & The Wolverine used to do on countless occasions.  Menacing as ever, his stature still looked intimidating, his massive figure standing tall above his countless victims, deformed and mutilated by the ravaging claws and dagger-like teeth of their assailant, begging and pleading for their lives in vain.  Pleas gone unheard above the blood-curdling screams of their fallen comrades.  This outcome was typical whenever the two of them got together; however, Sabertooth was on his own here, perpetrating this assault individually, with no signs of slowing down.  He always used to joke he was the more fit of the two: bigger, younger, stronger.  And though he may have been all those things, there was one thing The Wolverine was more of than him-‘nastier’.  No one could brawl, scratch, or claw the way he could.  When he chose to be at his most savage, he truly thought there was no one on this earth who could beat him; and emerging victorious from his recent bout with the brute known as ‘The Hulk’ only helped reinforce that belief.  Now, after all the years fighting as allies, it seemed he & Sabertooth were finally going to find out who was really the better warrior of the two.  

“I know you’re there,” he said with his back turned to The Wolverine, letting the last casualty drop to the ground in a mangled, bloody heap.  “What did you think?  Do you like what you saw?  Did you wish you could join me?” he smirked, his head now slightly spun towards his silent observer.  

Stalking his prey, the flood of memories came rushing back to The Wolverine as he watched Sabertooth dismantle with ease the human obstacles put in front of him.  He recalled those glory days when they would impose their will on their enemies, however manufactured those enemies may have been.  For a period they were brothers, albeit tenuous in their fraternal relationship.  But, like all relationships in The Wolverine’s life, theirs too had come to an end.  Yet, despite his best efforts to get away, there would always be something binding The Wolverine to Sabertooth; something no amount of distance or time could ever erase.  Even if Sabertooth hadn’t killed the love of his life, or murdered their unborn child, he and The Wolverine would forever be linked by their atrocities.  Bound by malice and enmity, the time had come to severe their already fractured union for good.

“So, this is where it ends?” spoke Sabertooth, now fully facing the harbinger of his impending demise, as drops of blood splattered to the floor, dripping from the sharp talons extending from his fingertips, trickling from his overgrown fangs down his hairy chin, staining his once bright blonde mane a dark crimson red.

“This is where it ends, bub.”

“Well, if we’re going to do this, lets do it right…” 

Following Sabertooth out into the desert, Wolverine’s gaze was transfixed on his soon to be adversary.  Eyes enraged, his pupils vibrated inside their sockets as his body trembled in anticipation of the battle ahead.  Never losing sight, they locked onto their target, holding steady as the two combatants channeled their way through the dimly-lit alleyways and rooftops of a city in crisis.  Neck-and-neck they raced undetected among the civilians roaming the shady streets below, both innocent and guilty alike.  Seemed like Sabertooth had gained some speed as Wolverine trailed closely behind, keeping pace, not wanting his back toward the one soldier on the planet he considered to be his counterpart, his ‘equal’ he might dare say.  The Wolverine had stayed alive this long by not underestimating his enemies, and he sure as hell, when this close to his objective, wasn’t going to start now.  Though he wanted nothing more than to kill this heinous creature within such close reach, he wasn’t going to allow himself to become overwhelmed with vengeance, distracting him from his ultimate goal.  

“Don’t worry, Wolverine: I’m not gonna try anything,” he shouts as they run full-throttle, jumping from one building to the next, making their way outside the city’s limits.  Out to a place where it’s just them, with no impediments to prevent finding out which one indeed can claim the rights to the title of ‘champion’.  “I’ve been looking forward to us reuniting.  We can finally reminisce about the past.  We haven’t gotten a chance to talk since I saw you on the mountain…”

‘Since I saw you on the mountain…’ he says so casually, like it was just another weekend spent together camping, fishing, hiking-not the merciless slaying of two decent, virtuous human beings; one of whom who had yet to make their impact on this world.  Sabertooth didn’t only take two lives that day, his actions having repercussions reaching far beyond what immediately transpired in that cabin the day he slit the throat of a righteous woman and the incubating seed inside her belly.  His seed.  The seed of the vaunted ‘Wolverine’. 

“I never found out whatever happened to your little girlfriend?” yelled Sabertooth over the roar of the wind rushing past their faces.  Staying stoic, Wolverine remained hushed as he focused on the task ahead.  No distractions.  His emotions would have to be kept checked, his mind clear if he was going to defeat this formidable foe.  While Wolverine felt like a monster inside, Sabertooth fit the part; but he wasn’t as brainless or vacuous as he appeared on the surface.  Engaged in combat he didn’t simply fight blindly alongside Wolverine, he studied him: his moves, his habits, his routines, his mannerisms.  A subtle facial gesture, a slight twitch, a grinding of the teeth, an exhale-these reflexes spoke volumes when noticed by the attentive eyes of an insightful enemy.  Keep your friends close…Familiarity breeds contempt, but it also breeds knowledge.  Their close acquaintance gave Sabertooth a mastery grasp of what Wolverine’s reactions really meant.  To him, Wolverine was transparent; like reading a book he knew cover-to-cover.  He tried masking his sadness with rage, but it was useless.  Wolverine’s pain was too intense even for him to disguise under the veil of simple retribution.  No, this encounter carried more gravitas to it than your average retaliation, this reprisal more personal in nature.  Sabertooth must’ve really done something drastic to The Wolverine.  He must’ve really hurt the man who feels no pain in a way that transcends the physical form.  Sabertooth was surprised an individual he once thought to possess no soul had been so spiritually wounded.

“What a shame,” he continued to taunt.  “If I remember, she was quite the looker: you know, when she didn’t have gallons of blood pouring out of her.  I could almost understand why you’d want to leave me for her.  I know I’m not as pretty as she is-or should I say was-but it wasn’t all bad between us, right Wolverine?  Or are you still going by that other name?”

The Wolverine wasn’t going to allow Sabertooth’s psychological ploys to prevent him from completing his mission.  Traversing the earth, Wolverine was going to finish what Sabertooth started that day he invaded their home, shattering Wolverine’s world.  Consumed with thoughts of revenge, the time for mourning would have to wait, action taking precedence.  Impartiality nearly impossible, Wolverine couldn’t let his judgement be clouded by the spiteful ramblings of a mutant psychopath hoping to evoke such strong and poignant recollections of his beloved as to veer him from his preordained manifest destiny. 

“Shut up.”

“Fine: there isn’t much more to say anyways.  Besides, we’re almost there…” 

They arrived at the predetermined site of their final duel, both parties agreeing upon this specific setting to best fit their needs.  Wolverine wanting to fight in the desert so no bystanders would be collaterally affected by the melee about to ensue; Sabertooth wanting their conflict out in the open, so there could be no excuses as to whom the victor actually was.

The moon hung high in the Arabian twilight sky.  Nearly midnight, the only thing lighting the sand they stood on was the twinkling of millions of stars overhead.  Their bodies sank deep into the desert dunes, weighed down by slaughter, sorrow, and skeletons comprising hundreds of pounds of adamantium steel.  Yards apart, they stared, each measuring the other, trying to decipher if their opponent had lost a step, grown soft, or was displaying some sign of weakness to be exploited.  Sabertooth already knew the Wolverine’s vulnerability, and how he was going to attack.  Since the absence of his partner, Sabertooth methodically prepared a mental plan for what he would do if, and when, they ran into each other again, seeing no reason to diverge from the strategy he’d formulated for how he would respond when confronted by his nemesis.  For years he contemplated every step he would take in his strike, eager now to find out if his bombardment would be as effective as he imagined.  Wolverine, on the other hand, had tried forgetting Sabertooth, tried leaving him in the past where he belonged.  Until the incident in the cabin he hadn’t given him much thought, if any, in quite some time.  The Wolverine wasn’t much for ‘plans’ or ‘strategies’.  Relying more on instinct, he relinquished all bodily control to intuition when embroiled in the fray.  Each held their own style, their own pseudo-philosophy when it came to this direct discipline; one they would enact against the other to finally ascertain once and for all who really had the upper hand.  Wolverine stayed quiet, breathing a heavy sigh at the behemoth opposite him.  

“Don’t do that to me, Wolverine,” Sabertooth continued, growling, growing increasingly frustrated with each inaudible retort.  “Don’t treat me like the others!  Don’t play the ‘strong, silent type’ with me: you owe me more than that!”

“I owe you?”  Wolverine couldn’t believe his ears.  Acutely attuned to the acoustics in the air, he knew he was hearing things correctly, but still couldn’t believe the resounding sounds of accountability resonating in his eardrums.  Insults & ridicules were words of derision The Wolverine could handle, but these accusations of wrongdoing on his part could not go unacknowledged.  

“You were only great when you were with me!” countered Sabertooth in furious fashion.  “Admit it: I brought out the best in you, Wolverine; like you brought out the best in me.”  

In a sick, twisted way it was true.  Coming up the ranks, always cognizant of Sabertooth’s looming presence, of his desire to trounce Wolverine in any challenge put before them, Sabertooth’s envy and hatred did drive him to compete at his best.  There would be instances Wolverine would want to pause, take a breath, or even stop, but he couldn’t allow himself to be overtaken by this newest contender to what he considered rightfully his throne.  Their competitive energy enabled his progression and ascension as he evolved into what would ultimately become ‘The Wolverine’.  

“How could you just leave?”  Acting more like jilted lover than a heated rival, Wolverine listened intently as Sabertooth exclaimed all the feelings and emotions he’d been holding in since their split.

“I didn’t want that life anymore, Victor-“

“Don’t call me Victor!  You may like your Homo sapien name, but I don’t!  You call me ‘Sabertooth’!” his deadly snarl sweeping above the sand in Wolverine’s direction.  “I am sorry I killed your boy though.  Couldn’t be helped.  Too bad: it would’ve been a thing of beauty seeing a little one of you running around.  Wonder if he’d be a killer like his daddy.  Guess we’ll never know.”

Wolverine had heard enough.  “Well, ‘Sabertooth’, I’m done talking: now it’s time for you to die.”

“We’ll see about that…”

The clashing of their claws echoed like giant church bells chiming loudly, tolling the top of the hour throughout the vast emptiness encompassing these two titans as they battled for supremacy one last time.  That, along with the grunts and exertions typically associated with fighting for one’s life, drowned out any ambient noise produced by the diverse array of desert wildlife witnessing this epic battle royale.  The two gladiators gave everything they had, extending every ounce of their well-being, leaving nothing to chance, nothing for debate.  This outcome would be final, resolute, with only one being able to call themselves ‘winner’.  There would be no question by the end of this conflict, no draw.  The result would come down to being dubbed either ‘survivor’ or ‘vanquished’.    Laborious, exhausted breaths were the sole form of communication between both parties, their panting and baying speaking volumes as they continued aggressions against the antagonist in front of them.  Chunks of soft flesh ripped from hard bone in what would have been fatal, mortal wounds on any other individual: but not in the case of these two goliaths of stamina, who absorbed repeated blow after lethal blow.  

Long into the night they fought, stopping periodically as a respite from the carnage.  The morning dawn slowly began to break over the horizon before their feud came to its deadly conclusion.  Veins protruded under torn skin, pumping what life remained within the worn, beaten bodies they inhabited.  Muscles flexed, mustering up what strength they could in hopes of overpowering their opponent.  Limbs flailed, looking to ravage the adversary in direct opposition of their longevity objective.  But, after countless blows leading them to death’s doorstep, the hour had come for the resolution of this campaign to finally meet its bitter end.

Each mission they went on, they always tried outdoing the other; but this wasn’t a mission, this was a war.  A war of attrition.  The tuft of yellow hair on Sabertooth’s chest was saturated, soaked with the blood of both him and Wolverine.  Collapsing to the ground, he refused to provide the satisfaction of any last words to commemorate the occasion, with Wolverine falling right beside him, waiting for daylight, and the vultures to pick whatever meat remained on his indestructible adamantium frame.  Their dual injections of adamantium bound them for eternity; as for the here and now, they simultaneously succumbed to struggle-the difference being one of them would eventually be revived.  

How much time passed he wasn’t sure, waking to the sound of buzzards circling overhead, and the sensation of his body being scavenged by the large birds where he lie, baking under the hot sun.  Next to him, Sabertooth’s body was being pecked apart by the beaks of the large avian.  Swarms of them descended upon the two decomposing, rotting mounds of meat, searching for their next meal.  

Having some sympathy for the devil, swinging his arm, Wolverine half-heartedly tried swiping the animals away from the carcass they craved, to no avail.  Razor sharp claws overmatched pointy bills as Wolverine liberated himself from their clutches, dragging his limp figure away from the frenzy, leaving his defeated competitor’s corpse for consumption.  For miles his beleaguered body skimmed along the grains of sand, now hot from the relentless ponding of solar rays.    

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