Ok, this a solo story featuring Wolverine. Give me some feedback (preferably by e-mail: ccseifert@csbsju.edu) as to how it flows, please. No known end in sight, so it's 1/? but this one looks to be big...

Wolverine is the property of Marvel Comics.

New York.

To the tourist, the city is a place of wonderful statues and buildings, even if it's a bit crowded and dirty.

To those of us who have lived here for years, it's just another hole in the earth.

See, I've lived just about everywhere throughout the years, so I can tell ya where the bad places are, where the dangerous places are, and where the places are that ya hope ya never end up. New York can be any one of the three at anytime, depending on who ya are.

Me, my name is Logan. People call me Wolverine on account of my nasty claws, and my sweet temperament. If I like ya, there ain't a problem. If I don't, well, let's just say that it don't matter where you're at, you'll wish ya weren't there.

I'd tell ya more, but ya see, I'm a bit busy right now. I'm tryin' to blend in with the rush-hour crowd here, which ain't so easy when you're a five-foot hairy mutant, with a mug as cute as mine.

Why am I hidin', ya ask? Farther up ahead is Michael McLaurence, twenty-something son of millionaire Quinton McLaurence. I'm followin' him. Again, ya ask why? Ya sure got plenty of questions don't ya? Well, fact is that little Mikey here is reportedly involved with the Anti-Mutant League, the '90s style KKK 'cept they've got a hang-up about mutants. Like me. Didn't I mention that? Yeah, I heal real fast. Makes doing what I do a little easier. I'm a super-hero. More accurately, I'm an X-Man, who, regretfully aren't always considered to be heroes all the time.

So why do I care about this little pipsqueak? Well, rumor has it that he's been funneling Daddy's money into mutant gene research, tryin' to figure out what makes us tick, and more importantly to him, what makes us stop tickin'. I'm here to find out what he knows. Doesn't sound too heroic? That's cause it ain't. My teammates are in England right now, with Excalibur, England's resident muties. I'm here on one of my "personal leaves," what I call havin' to get away from everything and just kinda kick back. Trust me, in my line of work, this is kickin' back.

Anyways, I've been followin' Mikey for a couple of days now, and I don't have a single clue as to how he's connected to the AML. Everyday, he gets up, has breakfast, goes to work at Daddy's company (he has some high muckety-muck title that basically means he doesn't do anything important, and gets paid for it), goes home and stays in for the evening. That's why I'm pretty curious as to what he's up to right now. Ya see, he's never been down this side of town, not in the past few days, anyways. Don't even know why I'm botherin' to blend in, I could follow him by the smell of that expensive aftershave that he's wearin' for miles. But for some reason, my instincts tell me that I should keep him in sight, and I never go against my instincts.

Mikey's about six feet tall, skinny as hell. This kid's never done a day of work in his life. He's lookin' around a little furtively, like he's expectin' somethin' to happen. He bumps into somebody goin' in the opposite direction, pretty hard. Big, ugly guy. Mikey keeps movin', but something's changed. He ain't as cautious anymore. Damn, I missed it. What the hell happened? Ugly walks by me, movin' pretty fast. The guy smells of Mikey's aftershave. Could be when they ran into each other, but I don't think so. They must have made a pass.

Do I go with Mikey, or go with whatever he passed off? No question, really. I've got to find out what was so important, he had to make a blind hand-off in the middle of downtown.

I give Ugly a bit of a head start, and then start tracking him. He's movin' fast for as big of a guy as he is. He heads down the stairs to the subway. When I get down there, he's nowhere to be seen. I follow the scent down the platform. This guy is really moving, now. I pick up my pace, as I keep going down the path. Is he gettin' on a train or not?

Damn. I get to the end of the line, and he's not here. Didn't get on a train either. I can smell him in the train tunnel. I hop down onto the sub-track, careful to avoid the power track. That's the one that powers the sub, and can send enough juice to barbecue ya in less than two seconds.

I creep along the tunnel wall, real quiet like. The tunnel is dark and wet, smelling of oiled tracks and subway train exhaust. I can hear the rats burrowing in the walls around me. I see a dim light up ahead, in the wall, possibly a doorway...