[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/STnMnpz.jpg[/img][/center][indent][sub][color=ffff00][b]AGE OF MARVELS:[/b][/color][color=#1C86EE] Wolverine[/color][/sub][sup][right][b][color=ffff00]ISSUE #1:[/color][/b] [color=#1C86EE]Logan Goes to Washington[/color][/right][/sup][/indent][hr][indent][color=ffff00][sub][b]Lion's Head Pub [color=#1C86EE]♦[/color] Greenwich Village, New York City[/b][/sub][/color][/indent]
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Logan sat alone at the bar counter as he nursed his eighteenth [i]Rheingold[/i] beer. He had decided it was shit three sips into his first glass. When the big man behind the counter recommended it Logan had felt an itch at the back of his mind at the name, like hearing a long dead friend's name said for the first time in twenty years. Yet when he finally put the glass to his lips it tasted wrong, somehow. Funny, considering he couldn't remember what it used to taste like; all he knew was it was better than this piss water.

The Lion's Head Pub was obnoxious busy that night. Near half a hundred people were stuffed together like sardines on the main dining room floor. All the tables and chairs were gone so the crowd could better stand around and listen to some speech. Logan was doing his best to tune it out, enhanced hearing be damned. He'd been here first and he wasn't about to go wander the streets of Greenwich looking for a different middling bar to drink a different shitty beer in. 

"What's that all 'bout, anyway?" Logan asked the bartender, motioning with his glass toward the crowd at the other end of the pub. There were posters up on tri-pod stands with some woman's face on them looking stern and defiant and bright, bold text beneath her picture declaring [i]'say no to hate.'[/i]

The man behind the bar turned around with a cloth in one hand and a clean glass in the other. Even with all these people around the bar itself was practically dead; everyone had either been served already or were only here for the rally. He was a tall man, broad as he was in the shoulder as he was in the gut. Logan was shorter, denser, and hairier, like the human embodiment of a badger.

"Congresswoman Cooper's an old friend of the owner. Seems like she's been here every other week since that bill hit the floor."

Logan had heard about the Mutant Control Act on the radio a few times, though it never much interested him. People being scared of his kind wasn't new. Ever since he woke up in the snow he'd been treated more like a wild animal than a man. What difference did it make if the government acknowledged what the rest of those pricks thought? "Sounds like a waste of oxygen." Logan admitted, finishing his glass.

The man behind the bar stopped to glare at Logan. "Its important, man. You can't ignore stuff like this just because it doesn't effect you. People are going to get hurt."

The grin Logan gave the man only seemed to agitate him more. He rolled his eyes and walked away to pretend to work somewhere else.

Unable to secure another drink and tired of brooding, Logan paid his tab and wandered over to the dining room side of the Lion's Head Pub. It was a bit larger than the bar portion, especially with the chairs, tables and other furniture removed. The place still felt cramped for a meeting of this size. There was a small stage up against the wall where a young woman in a suit stood giving an impassioned speech on the necessity of opposing bigotry in all its forms. Logan had to admit she was a compelling speaker. The subject seemed personal to her, and she was informative without getting lost in detail. 

"We know what discriminatory legislation like the Mutant Control Act leads to because we've seen it happen before right here in our very own city. In the 80s the city government- citing baseless fears the 'Brotherhood of Mutants' had a foothold in our streets- cracked down on our mutant population. [i]Any[/i] visible mutation was treated like a danger to the public. Innocent men and women were violently attacked by the police and imprisoned for the crime of being born [i]wrong[/i]."  

Her passion spread through the room like a wildfire. The crowd was visibly angry, many people shouting their agreements loud enough to drown Cooper herself out at times; but the woman had some pipes of her own, to her credit, and she never stayed unheard for long. Part of him wondered if all that fury was coming from self-preservation. Wouldn't be the first time a mutant tried to hide who they really were. [i]'What else could it be? S'not like there's money to be made defending dangerous freaks.'[/i]

Something caught Logan's attention, dragging his thoughts to his surroundings for the first time. He sniffed the air, sifting through the smell of sweat, cologne and alcohol. Gunpowder. There was armed security on either end of the stage so that shouldn't have been surprising. Still, even as he tried to watch Cooper, that scent nagged at him. Slowly, casually, he made his way through the crowd, sniffing like a blood hound on the trail of a downed bird. There were the two guns nearby on the hips of both bodyguards, and...something fainter. Further away.

Logan stopped at the window next to the door to peer outside. The street wasn't particularly busy tonight. There was a van from a local news station parked outside, and a small group of protesters on the sidewalk making sure they could be seen in the background of the news caster. But the scent was coming from further up, on the other side of the street. Police sniper? No, the NYPD used a specific finish on their rifles.

"Shit. Get down!" He shouted at the top of his lungs, turning on his heel to charge at the stage. The security man nearest him was caught off guard by the act and failed to draw his pistol. Clambering confusion turned to panicked screams as a bullet tore through the window and into Logan's back just as he reached Cooper, shoving her to ground to kneel over her.

Two more shots rang out, another into Logan's skull and a second into the bodyguard closest to the window, who dropped like a sack of potatoes. People ran for cover, and the door, or went nowhere at all and stood in stunned silence at the unexpected violence.

By now the other bodyguard had drawn his gun and returned fire, though he didn't seem to know what the hell he was shooting at. Logan grabbed the back of his bleeding head. "That's an apartment building, dumbass. Stop shooting." He managed to groan. He either went unheard or was outright ignored.

"Jesus, are you okay?" The congresswoman looked up at Logan with a mixture of fear and concern on her face. She attempted to grab him and push him out of the way of further gunfire, only to find it was harder to move Logan than a fully stocked fridge. 

"Just peachy, bub, now stay down." He yelled over the din, trying to get an eye on the sniper. A flash came from the third window from the left on the top floor and something dinged against Logan's forehead. There was a metallic [i]ding[/i] as metal collided with metal and a gout of blood poured down his face. He had his target.

Logan grabbed Cooper by the shoulders and all but dragged her across the stage to where her guard was taking cover. She offered a word of thanks as she crawled into safety, making sure to keep her head well away from the line of fire. Once he was sure she was good Logan took off at a sprint. He moved faster than a man of his weight had any right to, barreling across the pub and leaping through the pane glass window before the sniper had even adjusted from the recoil of their last shot.

"You picked the wrong bar, asshole!" Wolverine roared as his claws burst out of his flesh and he barreled through the building’s front door.
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