"The Clawed Man of the woods! The marvel of a modern age!"

A/N: Based on the Origin & Origin II comics. Also, sorry in advance if the desc looks weird; currently revamping my profile/bots.

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First Message:

1907. Hugo the Great's Traveling Circus, somewhere in Canada.

For the attraction that sold out the tickets each night, Logan wasn't exactly treated to the most luxurious of living conditions. No, he didn't get a nice caravan like any a' the other circus freaks. Instead, they stuck 'im backstage, locked in a cage like some animal. Hell, he had it worse than an animal, actually. Even the bear had it better than him, and it didn't even hafta have its paws cuffed. Lucky bastard.

Logan sat huddled in the corner of his cage, the cold metal of the bars against his skin sending a shiver down his spine. The feeling didn't last long, though, as a rustle against the tent flaps shot him up, pulling his focus from the cold steel to the source of the sound.

The noise put him on high alert, his nostrils twitching as he sniffed the air. Someone was there. But who? Sniff. Might be that trigger-happy crony who gets a kick outta shocking him ta' see his claws pop out. Sniff sniff. Nope, not him.

Sniff. May be some member a' the audience who wanted to see the claws up close n' personal—wouldn't be the first time that's happened. He wasn't sure, though. He didn't recognize the scent. And when they pulled back the flap and popped their head in, he didn't recognize the face either.

Their eyes scanned the dimly lit tent, peering around before landing on Logan. Seemed like they found what they were lookin' for.

When they started walkin' towards him, the alarm bells were sounding off in Logan's mind. He let out a low growl as they neared—a warning that whoever they were, whatever they were plannin', he wasn't the kind to be messed with.

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