FicWad

A large figure loomed in the doorway cutting off most of the fitful light from the street lights outside. It strode to a barstool near by John and dumped some cash on the counter.

“Hey Runt, how much can I get for that?” came the rough voice.

“A lot less than if you hadn’t called me Runt, Creed,” Logan shot back unperturbed.

John carefully scrutinized the man called Creed. Another possible character? He didn’t know much about the man except that Rogue hated him and that Logan used to. Hmm.. A possible rival for Logan? They could use an antagonistic element to the story.

The man wore a biker’s leather jacket and matching leather pants. So he probably could ride a motorcycle. John made a note on the back of his hand with a ballpoint pen purloined from the bar to check that out when he left.

“Wonderful,” Rogue muttered, “first mah writin’ partnah goes a-wol on me an’ now he’s showed up.”

“Got a problem, Skunk Head?” Creed growled showing off large and pointy teeth.

“Plenty. Startin’ with th’ fact that yah exist,” Rogue tied her apron on with savage movements and went behind the bar to put the final polish on some glasses before the rest of the regulars began to stream in.

“Creed’s here and picking fights with Marie, the beer nuts are stacked, and Logan is sober. Looks like The Wolverine is open for business,” Exie said to John as the door swung open once again and the first wave of customers came in.

John looked them over surreptitiously. He hadn’t known that Bayville had more than five cops. There were twenty of them here and it looked like there were going to be more coming. Most of them were old and hard faced, they ordered their beers quietly and then went to sit at corner tables. A few were younger and slightly more energetic, but this just meant that they ordered their beers and went to corner tables to talk quietly amongst themselves.

A couple of the police men stayed at the bar, talking in low undertones to Logan, and occasionally Creed. One of the men raked his blonde hair with his hand and shifted uncomfortably.

“What can I do for you, Captain?” Logan rumbled.

Creed’s eyes swung to rest on the man, but his body stayed hunched over his beer.

The Captain shook his head, as if trying to dispel his thoughts. He cleared his throat and put on an absurdly official face, “Logan, the commander’s been making noises again. I have to warn you in an official capacity that should you,” he paused for a minute and looked down a slip of paper with something scrawled on it, “continue to use minors in the workplace where alcoholic beverages are sold, yadiyadah, you know the drill,” his official mask slipped off, “Basically, Trask just wants to shut you down as usual. Hey, I’m doing a survey people, is there anyone her who’s underage to drink here?”

“Mentally or physically?” someone yelled from the back of the room.

“Hmm, well Commander Trask forgot to put that down. I guess I’ll have to make the judgment myself. How about mentally today? Is there anyone out there who has a mentality less than twenty one years of age? No one? Good, sorry, Trask must be talking about another bar. Exie, could you get me a whiskey sour? Law enforcement is hard work.”

John grabbed one of Marie’s trailing sleeves as she passed, “Is he entirely sane?”

“Who? Captain Rogers? Yeah, just he’s under the command of someone who isn’t. Look Steve and Dad are old friends and we wouldn’t have stayed open in the first year if it wasn’t for his intervention. Hey, old Moonstar is waving me over, gotta go,” Rogue walked in the direction of a leathery old man and a fourteen year old girl.

John watched as she took the order. So, Rogue was right handed, interesting. John wrote right handed but his dominant hand was the left. He could write with his left, but it was slower and holding pencils in it was painful.

A tall old woman with silver hair and muscles on bull whip like arms walked into the bar. Anyone who was wearing a hat took it off and there was a general scraping of chairs to see the visitor.

“Ms. Danvers,” Logan smiled, “The usual, I presume.”

“Of course, Howlett. On the rocks this time, I don’t want to drink myself under the table,” she waited patiently for the glass to be filled, then she took the glass and raised it to the full room, “To old friends, may they always be remembered,” she downed half of the glass in one gulp, “To new enemies, may they always live in fear,” the ice clinked in the glass as she set it down again, “To Nick Fury, may he rest in peace,” a silence accompanied these words.

“Although, how he’s to do that when there’s all of these noisy kids running around I’ll never know,” Creed said after five minutes of quiet in the smoky bar.

Ms. Danvers raised her eyebrow at him, “Well old man, I see you have yet to learn manners when it comes to making toasts. If a lady makes a toast it is polite to let her finish it.”

“I’ll remember that the next time I see a lady, but those are getting rather scarce in this day and age, Grandma,” He smiled challengingly at her from his seat at the bar.

“Grandma is it? Well this grandma can shoot you under the table. Howlett, is the pool table back there open for business?”

“You’re on Marvel Woman,” Creed got up from the bar and walked over to the table.

“That’s Ms. Marvel to you, Kitty Cat,” Ms. Danvers followed the giant man over to the table.
Exie put an order to Logan and waited for it next to John. He bent over to ask, “Is she for real?”

“Yeah, kinda makes you wonder what the Rose Tea Shop was like if that is an example of their clientele.”

“That’s your little old lady with a mean umbrella?” John stared at her aghast.

“Yup,” Exie responded happily, “Like I said, it makes you wonder. She’s the only person I know who calls Dad by his last name. And if anyone’s ever called old Sabretooth Kitty Cat and lived it has to be her.”

“Sabretooth?”

“Creed. It’s his nickname from his army days. Dad was Wolverine, he was Sabretooth, Nick was, well, Fury, Nick Fury, y’know, like James Bond, and Rogers was Captain America. Dad said that in the old days Rogers was an amazing fighter, but a little too rule bound to be of much use. ‘Course having the command of such a ‘diverse’ company loosened him up real fast.”

Exie grabbed the two beers sent her way and walked off to the tables that wanted their drinks.
John stared at the notebook in front of him. He had an idea forming in his mind. There were so many new characters that he wanted to add. He put their names down on his character index page and then flipped to a new section.

They needed more info on Jean, and Scott, but he could already see the story unfolding in his mind. His pencil jittered across the page as the story started at a football game and began to play out to God knew where.