2 And so it begins...

Author note: Read at your own risk, this fiction is a little darker, in line with the wolverine theme. Since every iteration of Wolverine was definitely not sunshine and daisies.

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"What have I done? Goddammit…"

The same sentences with different versions every time woke Will up as he was dealing with the sensory overload. Thankfully the effect had decreased over time, another facet of his ability that he stored for later.

"I'm sorry son…Dammit!"

Now fully awake and concerned, Will focused on his enhanced hearing and pinpointed the location to be the guest house where Thomas and Victor live.

He could hear the sobbing from Thomas and another very small and almost unnoticeable breathing nearby. The breathing was uneven and raspy as if the person had serious injuries.

Will shot up from his bed and tried to sprint to his door, losing balance and colliding with the study desk placed against the wall.

'Damn, I forgot that the eardrum helps maintain equilibrium, this is going to be a bitch.'

The noise was loud enough to wake up his brother James who looked at Will in concern,

"What's wrong brother?"

"There's no time, wake up mother and father and tell them to hurry to the guest house."

After James nodded his head and hurried out in his pajamas, Will turned around and walked towards the window of the room. Instead of going down the stairs which would be a failed effort, he opened the window and jumped out from the second story onto the ground.

"Umph."

The landing twisted his ankle and tore a few muscles but as he stood up and hobbled towards the guest house it started repairing on its own.

By the time he made it to the door of the guest house his foot was in perfect condition, but he could feel a sense of dread.

Deciding to try out his powers again, he sacrificed the upper part of his olfactory system that governs the sense of smell, while leaving the lower part that allows him to breathe through his nose.

Instantly he could smell everything in the house regardless of the impossibility now that he has no olfactory system, and as he opened the door the sensations hit him like a freight train.

The heavy smell of liquor on Thomas' breath. The copper scent of blood pooling under Victor's body.

The odor of both of them and the items in the house combined to give him a supernatural sense of what happened in the form of visions.

The visions were like the aurora borealis floating ghostly in front of him, showing the events that happened that led to the current situation.

"Two of my sons are sick now, are you gonna be sick too you little shit?!"

Thomas was growling each word at Victor, as Victor stared back at him silently in defiance.

"What kind of look is that you little fucker, do you realize the shit I've gone throught these years raising you?! And those two, I have to watch from a distance as that rich bastard acts like he is their daddy!"

The pent up rage that had been brewing for years was released as he punched Victor in the jaw, followed by his empty liquor bottle shattering across Victor's skull. The child's skull, not developed enough to take the beating, was cracked as he dropped like a sack of potatoes.

Unfortunately Thomas was too far gone to realize what he was doing as he continued to rain down blows upon his son.

William closed his eyes as he grit his teeth in anger at what he was seeing.

Without a second of delay he stepped into the living room where Thomas was slumped on his chair with his head in his hands, while Victor's body lay a few feet away on the ground, his fingers twitching every now and then.

Thomas looked up and into Williams eyes that were red with rage.

"William- no, Son, it's not what you think, I didn't mean to-"

Cutting off his words, a scene that would come straight from a horror movie unfolded.

William's skin on his jaw started to disappear followed by the muscles, and finally his bottom teeth and the bone disappeared altogether.

His tongue flopped against his neck before disappearing, and unknown to Thomas his voice box disappeared too.

Then the blood started flowing from where the blood vessels were supposed to be and coated his whole chest in crimson.

The sight of a 6 year old boy without the lower part of his mouth sent terror into Thomas and made him completely stiff with fear.

Meanwhile, William was counting his gains from the sacrifice,

'The skin of the jaw for elasticity of the body, able to make moves that olympic gymnasts would find hard.

The strongest muscle in the body, the masseter, is responsible for jaw strength, improving the overall strength of my body to olympic levels. It seems my frail body only allows this much of an upgrade.

The bone of the jaw, to adjust the density of the bones in my body, able to make my fists hit like sledgehammers, or move fast like a bird without much density.

The bottom teeth, able to make my skin hard, impervious to knives and swords.

The tongue, receptors in it are able to feel the minute winds from a person's movement allowing me to know when to dodge.

And finally, the voice box, that relies on vibrations to speak, allows me to control vibrations in the environment and my attacks to deliver devastating damage.'

While he was thinking this, William stepped forward slowly, each vibrating creak of the floorboard creating a word that seemed to come from all directions.

"You…will…feel…pain…tenfold…hundredfold…what…Victor…felt."

Each movement and word adds sweat to Thomas' brow and back.

One thing about drunks though, they can have courage at the worst times.

Thomas roared, trying to get rid of his fear as he dived to tackle William.

Unfortunately, William was able to feel his movements, and due to his lack of equilibrium decided to only step to the side slightly and bring both fists down on Thomas' back.

The density of his bones increased to the equivalent of cinder blocks as they made impact with Thomas' back, the vibrations of the hit amplified, rupturing his spine.

Thomas laid there unable to move and only aware of his surroundings. All feeling beneath his neck was gone as William lifted him by his hair with one hand.

As he looked into the boy's eyes, Williams upper lip lifted back into a smile, his blood stained teeth glistening in the candlelight.

While holding Thomas' hair, he proceeded to punch him in the face over and over, the deep sound of the impact like a drum reverberated into words,

"This…is…for…Victor…you…sick…fuck."

By the end, Thomas' face was an unrecognizable mass of flesh as he died in extreme agony.

"That's enough…brother."

William stopped and dropped Thomas' corpse on the ground as he looked back in shock at Victor who was sitting upright, his now feline nails embedded in the hardwood floor.

William was about to rush over to check on him to see whether he was fine until he remembered how he looked. Afraid to meet Victor's eyes he looked down at the floor.

It wasn't until he heard soft steps approaching that he looked up and saw his half-brother make the final step before hugging him, not caring whether he would get hurt or not.

They separated after a few moments and nodded to each other before looking to the doorway where Mr. Howlett, Elizabeth, and little James had just arrived.

Mr. Howlett had a revolver in his hand, while Elizabeth was behind him, shocked at the scene inside.

James, however, was worried about his big brother and without a second of hesitation ran towards him despite his sickly body.

His innocence didn't register the situation, only that his big brother looked hurt.

"James, stop!!"

Mr. Howlett raised his revolver and pointed it at William, the fear of what was happening overriding any parental love he might have.

Elizabeth looked past the boys at the body on the floor and screamed mournfully,

"Those freaks killed my Thomas!"

Mr. Howlett was too worked up to realize the meaning behind her words as he pointed the revolver at William,

"James, move out of the way!"

James just looked up into his brothers eyes and saw the gentle look despite his appearance, and mustered up the courage to shout back at Mr. Howlett,

"No, don't hurt big brother!"

Victor moved around James and wanted to explain what happened, however Mr. Howlett felt like he was about to be attacked.

William could feel the unnoticeable wind created from Mr. Howlett pulling the trigger and watched as the gun fired.

Victor moved his hand to where the bullet struck him before passing through him and entering little James' neck.

The silence was so deafening as everyone watched James' body hit the floor...