| Smell of Death | |||||
| |||||
| What: Logan meets up with a fellow soldier from the war named Hans | |||||
{{{logtext}}}
It started as a simple stroll through brooklyn. However, why a black suited blonde haired blue eyed man was here, that was anyone's guess. Still, hoodlums saw it an opportunity to get some easy money. "Gives us all your valuables chump!" They said, holding knives, and a couple even had guns. "You really do not know who you are threatening." The thick german accent says. And then it starts. A street brawl, gunshots firing and knives being used on the man, shot down before he even had a chance to defend himself. As he falls and they begin to try and loot him, something happens. The 'dead' man grabs one of their arms, almost snapping it in two as he stands up and begins to fight them off singlehandedly. As he was shot and cut and stabbed, he simply goes about killing them, not falling down dead this time.
Death was not a new smell to Logan. Fresh death wafted up his nose. The scent of red sticky blood mixed in with the smell of freshly exposed muscle and bone was too potent. Logan's stroll turned into a run. With each step forward something else struck Logan's nose. A whiff of something he couldn't place but he couldn't figure out who or what it was from. His brown leather bomber jacket clung close to him, a flannel button up shirt rested under the coat and tucked into dark blue jeans. There was no hat so his black locks and side burns were exposed to the world along with the blue eyes. Growling a little the five-foot, five, man pressed onward and stopped at the sight. Several guys were dead. Muggers but this wasn't the normal dead. Most people wouldn't have minded if a mugging went wrong for criminals, but this was more than that. The way limbs were broken and torn spoke of something savage, like the hunters were really the victims that happened upon the wrong monster.
"They thought themselves worthy adversaries, thought with their penchant for violence, they could use it to prey on others. Dogs pretending to be wolves." That thick german accent is heard as he walks from the shadows. His black suit was covered in blood, and bullet holes and stabs but he didnt seem to be bleeding, or even injured. A familiar sight for one like the canadian. "Well, if it isnt you. The Great Canadian monster." He says as he seems to recognize the man. "So many old faces, it does bring joy to mein heart." He says. He looks to be no older then early twenties at oldest.
"Who and what are you supposed to be, bub?" Logan said gruffly turning toward the man claws ripped from between his knuckles with two "Shnkts!". 'The Canadian Monster' was not the worst name he had been called. Hell, a lot of people could have been calling him that. The question was: Who was calling him it this time and for what reason. "Mind explainin' yerself?"
"Impressive, Herr Howlett. Still, it is disturbing you do not remember me. I thought I was not hard to forget. My name is Hans Gunsche, but of course you would probably know me best as Hauptsturmfuhrer Hans Gunsche of the Waffen SS, Of the third reich. As for what I am, I have been called many things. The Hessian, the Immortal Nazi, er unsterblich, the undying in english, and simply the war criminal and monster." Hans says as he takes a slight bow. "I am gifted in my blood with the power of life."
"Heh." Logan knew he had a past that crossed paths with World War II(And World War I for that matter). Whoever this blonde German monster was had to be the real deal. He said the name 'Howlett.' Only people in the war really knew that name. "Why not the Ubermench?" Logan asked. The question was legit since the Nazis were found of the Nietzsche.
"I was called that too but I never acknowledged myself as such, simply what I aspire to." Hans says as he shrugs. "You have fared well with time, Herr Howlett. You are practically unaged. Did you gain this power after the war, or before it?" He asks curiously as he goes about collecting the muggers weapons and once satisfied begins using their blood to write a message on the wall, the message being 'Where is Captain America?'
Staring at the collected weapons Logan warned, "Put back the weapons." Stealing from dead men wasn't a good thing in his book. His eye went to the message. Hopefully this Nazi didn't have any of Logan's blood in him. Both sides dabbled in genetics back then that's how Captain America came to be. It wouldn't have been out of the question that the Nazis tried to make Captain Axis.
"What for? When the police come, they will apprehend the weapons to be used or sold elsewhere. I atleast intend to return these to their relatives. But as you wish Herr Howlett." He says as he sets the weapons back with the bodies. "If you’re curious about why I am after the good captain you can ask." He says calmly as he finishes putting the weapons back.
Logan nodded waited for the answer to the question. The man was unnerving to say the least. Even by now Logan had to suppress the urge to stab him.
"Well there are numerous reasons why I am after captain America and those who work alongside him. Mostly because he has dishonored and insulted me and must pay the price. Surely you would agree those that disgraced you would have not been left alive." He says calmly.
"You supported a real monster. One that didn't even had the guts to honor those he slaughtered by standin' trial. You stood with a coward n' wanna talk honor," Logan scoffed a little and looked at the German, "Find a new side to support then talk. Til' then ya deserve nothin'." And Logan was ready to fight with the old soldier over this matter.
"Hitler I will not deny he committed many many horrible wrongs. I didnt agree with his methods on the jews, I felt they should have atleast been armed and allowed to fight for their beliefs, the man was half jew himself. Still, he brought my homeland out of a rather dark time and turned it into a powerhouse, that was why I was loyal to him. As for now, I wish to bring about a war so massive that will turn every denizen on the planet capable of defending themselves against any threat. Is that so wrong? So evil?" He asks Logan.
Saying nothing Logan walked up to the man. Suddenly another "shnkt!" cut through the silence that moved between them. Three claws tore into Hans's knee. As the man fell Logan punched three holes in the German's throat with the other hand, since the claws were still extended anyway. Then just for fun Logan snagged off a bit of the German's hair. Logan pocketed the hair as he moved. Fighting someone with aggressive healing powers would be stupid unless there was a nuke or some water around. Tactical retreat was what it was called. Besides creating distance was key to do one thing, he pulled out a communicator. "Fury. This is Logan. Problem. Dead Nazi didn't dead. Wants war. Old as me." Now it was just a matter of time before S.H.I.E.L.D. got involved. Sure there was a nut job every day claiming they wanted to start a war against the government. None of them were nearly a hundred years old though.
Hans feels the stab to his knee and he grunts in pain before his throat was ran through with claws. He falls to the ground, bleeding out as he seems to die right before Logan's eyes. Course Logan didnt stay to see the wounds healing almost as soon as he made them and before long, when police arrive on the scene, they find an extra blood pool with no body.