Hello! This is the second story I will be writing for Twilight, so I hope I do a good job of entertaining you guys. Now I know that Bella is not exactly like Wolverine, but I wanted to make her story more original. I'll try to stick close to his character just because I think he's a total badass.

I hope you enjoy the first chapter of Wolverine. Any confusion will be cleared up in flashbacks or long rants by a ticked off Bella.

Just putting this out there, wouldn't it be cool to write a story in which Bella has Gambit, A.K.A Remy Labeau's abilities? I'm just saying; it would make a good story.

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight or Wolverine, but I do take credit for Bella's awesomeness in this story.


"I don't carry no grudges, bub - I work out my aggressions on the spot!"


Bella's POV

It's September 13, 1912. It's my eleventh birthday and I'm in pain. My mom is in the bedroom with a man who isn't my father. I can hear them even though I have my hands over my ears. The man who isn't my father is groaning and panting. When he leaves, he'll give my mom some money and then she can go to the store to buy me some medicine for my pain. I love her so much. She's so beautiful and when I grow up, I'm going to look just like her.

Another sound, maybe four or five blocks away, catches my attention. I recognize the staggering feet as those of my father, a man I hate. I try not to whimper too loudly. He hates it when I make noise. I try to get out of bed to warn my mother, but I end up on the floor, crying. The pain is deep inside my bones. The world goes black for a minute and then the door is opening. My father hears the noises and he goes into the bedroom.

He yells. I hear mom screaming and then I hear a gunshot, and the screaming stops. I hear another shot and I'm on my feet. The pain is forgotten and I'm running into the room. The door is ajar and I smell the rust and salt scent of blood. My mom is on the bed. The stranger is next to her. Their clothes are off and they're covered in blood.

I scream and my father grabs the collar of my nightgown. He slams an empty beer bottle into my temple and I fall to the ground. My fingernails dig into the floor as he begins to pull my nightgown off. My hands begin to hurt and bleed. Something begins to poke out from between my knuckles. They're white like bone and it burns.

They push through and they're long like claws. I twist around and plunge them into my father. They push through stomach, crushing the bones and tearing the flesh. I scream, this time in anger and rip them out of him. The door is open and I escape into the darkness. I run as fast as I can. My bare feet are immune to the glass and rocks beneath me. I run faster than I've ever run. The burning pain in my legs disappears as I run through the city. No one can catch me. I run even faster than a horse, or even an automobile.

I keep running because something is after me, it's going to catch me it's-

I jerked out of my dream with a startled shriek. My seatbelt kept me from going out the windshield as Charlie slammed on the breaks. He looked over at me, silently asking if I'm all right. I nodded my head, feeling guilty that I freaked him out. He has enough problems without having to worry about my mental health.

It was January 10th, 2010 and I was on my way to Forks, Washington.


Charlie was a nice guy. I've been around long enough to know how to spot them. Charlie didn't ask me stupid questions or prattle on about how much fun it was going to be with me around. He also didn't comment on the fact that I was going to be a huge interruption in his solitary life. When I'd decided to move to Forks, I'll admit I was worried about how Charlie would receive me. It's not as if I go out of my way to be horrible, but oftentimes, people find me to be…difficult.

Charlie was my new foster mom, Renee's ex-husband. That alone made me feel like a jerk. If it weren't for the fact that I'd visited Charlie over the summer when I was pretending to be seventeen, (really, I was a hundred and seven), I never would have considered asking him if I could stay.

True, I would be gone by the end of the school year, but still, that's six months. Despite the elderly talking about how the years flow by, I never got to that stage. Maybe if I didn't have to keep repeating high school I would be a little more laid back about time.

To me, six months is still six months. After that, I could go off to college again, get a job again, and, finally, disappear so that I could start the whole miserable cycle over again. It could be worse. I just need to remember that.

Charlie parked his police cruiser in the driveway. Charlie had a nice house. It was a lot better than some of the other hellholes I'd spent my nights in. He even had a room all made up for me.

I hoped it wasn't pink.

Renee was an okay foster mom. Honestly, I think I was just a passing phase for her. She had a tendency to be impulsive, but she wasn't horrible to me like some of the other families I'd lived with. Contrary to popular belief, most foster parents aren't in it for the money; most of them really want to help kids like me.

Not that I needed any help or anything.

But, Renee, she probably felt guilty and relieved when I told her I wanted to finish my school year in Forks. I think she got tired of my after she realized I didn't like doing the whole "girl's night out" thing. Renee was looking for a friend, not a kid. She'd found her other half, Phil, and suddenly I wasn't so interesting. I didn't mind. She's a good person. She deserves her happiness.

And I don't.


Forks, Washington; Population 3120. I've killed more people than that.

"Your hair's longer," Charlie commented, glancing over at me.

"Yeah," I replied. "I haven't cut it in a while." That was a lie. My hair grew abnormally fast. It was irritating for the most part, but it was also helpful in disguising my age. I knew how to looking fifteen or twenty depending just by giving myself a haircut. I knew how to make my cheeks look rounder to give me a more baby-faced look.

Truthfully, I was scrawny, and no matter how much or little I ate, my weight stayed the same. I'd always been skinny, and it was hard to gain weight in the army, especially when supplies were low and you knew that the guy next to you was going to die of starvation if he didn't eat something.

"Oh," Charlie replied. "It looks nice like that."

"Thanks," I said. We slipped back into silence until we arrived at Charlie's house. It was just as I remembered it. It was big and white. Charlie was the chief of police, which meant he had the highest salary. I would have to remember not to eat him out of house and home while I was there.

Charlie, like a true gentleman, helped me with my bags. I couldn't remember the last time anyone had done that without me asking first. He led me up the stairs into the guestroom. It was my room now. Luckily, it wasn't pink. It was purple. I could deal with that. Paintings covered the walls. That was a benefit. It made the room look lived-in.

"You have pretty good work-lamp," Charlie said, motioning towards the desk where an ancient computer hibernated. "The saleslady picked out the bed stuff. You like purple, right?"

I smiled at him. It could be worse. "Purple's cool."

"Okay." Charlie looked around the room once more before leaving. One good thing about Charlie, he doesn't hover.

I finished unpacking my bags in record time. I was very fast. I wondered what the radio signal was like around here. I hoped I could find a decent station out there.

I heard the loud approach of a truck. It parked in the driveway and I set out to investigate. I opened the curtains and nearly jumped the two-storey drop in my excitement.

I rushed down the stairs and opened the door. I grinned as I spotted the visitors.

"I could hear you coming from down the street," Charlie was saying.

"Hey Billy! Jacob! How are you?" I announced, sprinting towards them. Billy and Jacob were definitely nice guys as well, Jacob especially. "Holy crap, Jake, did you get a leg transplant or something? You're like, six inches taller!"

Jacob laughed. "You're looking pretty good too, Bells," he replied. I tried to remember that he was only sixteen, and that sooner or later he was going to start noticing girls. It was only natural that I'd be someone he'd find attractive. My mother had always been beautiful and she told me that I looked just like her. Still, it was sort of heartbreaking when I thought about how doomed any romance I might have would be. That was one reason I didn't like to get too close to people.

Instead of letting myself get all miserable, I spun around, showing off my jeans and t-shirt with a flourish. "I know. I was just getting ready to visit this really hot prince from Europe. Do you think he'd mind if I forgot to brush my teeth before we started making out?"

Jacob laughed again. "I wouldn't," I heard him mutter, quietly enough that no normal person could hear. I forced myself not to sigh.

My eyes took in the monster of a truck they'd just rode up in, and my breath caught. There, lying in the back was my black and silver motorcycle. It was a 1963 Harley Davidson DuoGlide FLH. In other words, it was a seriously bitchin ride.

I squealed excitedly and rushed around to pull it out. Jacob, like a true gentleman, gave me his unnecessary assistance as we set it down on the driveway. I ran my hands over it, savouring the familiar feel of it.

"Oh, thanks you guys! You didn't have to pick it up for me," I gushed.

Jacob seemed only too pleased with my enthusiasm. "It was no trouble."

It lifted the seat up and found the compartment inside. I used it to hold my belongings when I was on the run. At that time, it contained my unnecessary, but still stylish, black helmet. I'd purchased it after Renee had expressed her fears about my somewhat risky driving. If she had any idea what I did when she wasn't looking, I'd never ride anything faster than a bumper car.

Charlie, of course, was looking at us all with displeasure. The poor guy had seen far too many accidents involving motorcycles and teenagers. I made a mental note to drive carefully when I was around him.

"Hi, Bella," Billy Black piped up.

I grinned at him and bent over to hug him in his wheelchair. "That was so nice of you guys. It's great to see you again, Billy."

He laughed. Once upon a time, Billy's laugh had probably sounded exactly like Jacob's. "I'm just glad you're here. Charlie hasn't shut up about it since you told him you were coming."

"Keep it up Billy and I'll roll you into the mud," Charlie replied.

"Or I'll ram you in the ankle!" Billy then proceeded to roll after him as Charlie put up his fists mockingly.

"Are they always like this?" I asked Jacob.

He nodded, rolling his eyes. "It's getting worse in their old age."

"I told you she'd appreciate it," I heard Billy say to Charlie. "I'm down with the kids."

"Oh, yeah," Charlie deadpanned. "You're the bomb."

"So," I began. "Where's the school?"

"Uh," Jacob looked around, uncomfortable. "I go to school on the reservation, but I can give you directions."

"Damn," I muttered. "It would've been nice to know one person."

Jacob grinned at me. "I'll visit if you want. I know a few good trails for our bikes."

I looked at him, surprised. "You have a motorcycle?"

"Yeah." He tried hard to hide his smile, but I noticed. "Honestly, it's kind of dangerous to drive around on the wet roads. You should be careful."

I laughed. "Don't worry, Jake. I can take care of myself."


If there was one thing I loved, it was riding my motorcycle. It was just the road and me. All of my problems just blew away. Too soon, I reached my destination. I was lucky that Jacob's directions were so good; otherwise, I would have missed the high school.

I'd been to a lot of high schools, and this one was just weird. It was red bricked and only two-storeys high; another testament to how small Forks really was. The school was made up of separate buildings that made you walk outside in the rain to get to your next class. I do so love intuitive designers.

My first day at a new school. That was always the hardest. Nobody knows you, and what they do know is that you're a foster kid, which means that your parents are either dead or abusive. I wondered what rumours had started circulating.

I pulled into the parking lot, smirking to myself as I saw dozens of gapping faces. I do know how to make an entrance. Maybe I would go with the bad girl cliché. Nah. I didn't want to freak Charlie out.

I found a parking space next to a blue van and shut off the engine. I climbed off my bike and lifted my helmet off. My hair cascaded down to my waist and I heard several intakes of breath.

"It's a girl?" I heard someone from behind me say.

"Dude, come on. Her name's Isabella. Of course she's a girl."

Damn it. I really hated my full name.

I lifted up my seat and fished out my backpack. I dumped my helmet inside and pulled out my class schedule. I had English, History, Gym, Lunch, Biology, and Calculus. Why the hell did I take history? And Gym? God, I hated gym! There was only so much patience I had for people who weren't as strong and fast as I was.

It could be worse.

"Hey, you're Isabella Swan, aren't you?"

It was worse.

I turned around and found a dark haired boy standing there. He was probably of Asian descent. He was smiling at me. He continued talking before I could correct him. "I'm Eric, the eyes and ears of this place. Um, anything you need; tour guide, lunch date, shoulder to cry on, I'm your man."

"It's Bella Logan, and thanks, but I'm really more of a suffer in silence kind of girl." I watched his face to make sure I hadn't offended him. His smile widened.

"Good headline for the feature." My confused expression spurned him on. "I'm the head of the school paper, and you're news, baby."

Oh, do not call me "baby."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," I said, holding my heads up in surrender. I shook my head. "Please don't. I really don't want to draw anymore attention to myself." Not to mention that some shmuck might one day find a picture of me forty years down the road and realize that I haven't aged. That would be just my luck.

"Whoa, chillax. All right, no feature. Are we cool?"

"Yeah," I nodded. Maybe he wasn't so bad after all.

I adjusted the collar of my brown and gold leather jacket and headed inside.


English and History sped by, but gym was just as bad as I'd imagined. We had to play volleyball. Call me a feminist, but I preferred games that were a little more extreme. Football was always fun. I mystified everyone around me when I tackled boys who were twice my height and triple my weight. Oh, yes. Football is my game.

I stayed near the back and tried not to make too much of a spectacle of myself. The last thing I needed was for the ball to crash through a wall or something. After a particularly good spike curtsey of moi, a boy approached me from the other half of the gym.

"Hey, I'm Mike," he said. Mike had short brown hair and an eager smile. He gave me a once-over and I wished like hell that I was allowed to keep my jacket on while I played.

"She's got a good spike, huh?" A girl with brown hair piped up as she noticed me. "I'm Jessica. You're from Arizona, right?"

I nodded.

"Aren't people from Arizona supposed to be like, really tanned?" She took in my pale skin.

I shrugged. "Maybe that's why they kicked me out."

The two sycophants broke out into laughter and I realized that Jessica was looking at Mike almost the same way Jacob was looking at me the day before. Unfortunately, Mike had his eyes trained on me.

Damn it! How do I get myself into these situations?

The bell rang and Jessica promptly invited me to sit at her table. I accepted. One thing I've learned is to never turn down a chance to sit with someone. Bullies hunted down lone wolves like me. Luckily for them, I don't bite…too much.

The cafeteria was blasé. Rows of flags adorned the windows and several paintings hung on the wall, but otherwise it was nothing special. The walls were white.

Mike held a seat out for me. I sat down obligingly and began to eat. Honestly, I didn't even have to eat. I once went for weeks without food and didn't suffer at all because of it. The only thing I noticed was that I healed more slowly. You never know when you'll need to recover from a severe wound, so it's better to be prepared.

"Hey, Mikey, you met my home girl, Bella," Eric said.

"Your home girl?" Mike asked.

Then, to my extreme aggravation, another boy leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. "My girl," he said, before pulling Mike's seat out from under him. I considered the possibility of where to hide his body. Jacob would probably lie me an alibi if I told him the reason for the teenager's demise.

The boy began to race across the cafeteria as Mike took off after him.

The girl's at the table began to giggle helplessly. "It's like the first grade all over again. You're the shiny new toy." Jessica giggled again.

"Smile," the other girl said in a singsong voice. She snapped my picture. I flinched and blinked my eyes at the afterimage. "Sorry. I needed a picture for the feature."

"Feature's dead, Angela!" Eric told her, rather rudely in my opinion. "I got your back, baby," he told me, patting my back.

I swear to God, if you keep calling me baby, you'll be sharing a grave with Mister Kiss and Run.

Angela sighed. "I guess we'll just run another editorial on…teen drinking," she said, sounding disappointed. I immediately felt guilty.

"You could always write about eating disorders," I said. Jessica arched an eyebrow in my direction, so I changed tactics. "Or, Speedo padding on the swim team."

The girls laughed. "Actually, that's a good one," Angela said, surprised.

"That's exactly what I thought," Jessica piped up. "We're talking Olympic size."

"There's no way. He's so skinny. It doesn't make sense."

I was distracted from their chatter by a sound. My ears picked up two sets of very soft footsteps. I spun around in my chair, fascinated and spotted two ridiculously beautiful kids entering the cafeteria.

"Who are they?"


You may now commence into cursing. Yes, I did end it right there. I hope you'll notice the changes I made. Sorry about the long-winded explanation at the beginning. I'll try to minimize those in the future. I said I would have this up in five days, and I finish it in one. I should get a medal.

Check out my one-shot. It's really good, I swear.

Adieu, faithful readers.