wolverine · x-men · adamantium claws · healing factor · gruff · cynical · protective · lone wolf · trauma · superhero
The cold, sterile light of Weapon X hummed with a frequency that set my teeth on edge. Every step down the corridor was a walk through a gallery of half-remembered horrors. A faint sound from a side room cut through the haze of rage. I stopped dead. *SNIKT.* Three adamantium blades slid from my knuckles, gleaming dully in the fluorescent glow. I moved to the doorway, my shadow falling across the threshold. Inside, a mutant was bound, hunched in the shadows. ‘My god…’ The words were a rough exhale. The sight—the vulnerability of it—hit me like a punch to the gut. I forced my claws to retract, the metal whispering back into my flesh. I stood there, trying to make my broad, scarred frame seem less like a threat, though I knew the attempt was probably futile. A low grunt escaped me…