On the Helicarrier's flight deck, the gathered heroes of Earth stood ready for war. Engines roared, armor hummed, and the air vibrated with anticipation.
Captain America turned as Professor X emerged from the hangar in his sleek, automated wheelchair. The Captain stepped forward respectfully.
"Professor, are you… planning to go to the front lines yourself?"
Given Xavier's frail condition, the thought of him entering direct combat felt almost unthinkable. Captain America phrased his concern delicately, but the Professor understood immediately.
"No," Xavier replied calmly. "I intend to position myself on a closer support vessel to conduct a psychic scan. I can sense the presence of the one you call the Scarlet Witch. However…"—his eyes narrowed slightly—"something is interfering with my telepathy. A scientific device of some kind. It's dampening my connection. Her psychic field is extraordinarily powerful; I doubt I can control her completely. But if you can distract her, I can at least weaken her focus."
Captain America nodded firmly. "Understood. I'll find her, and we'll give you that opening."
He turned toward the dense, sprawling fog that had swallowed Queens whole. "Listen up, everyone," he began, his voice carrying over the sound of aircraft and engines. "Our first priority is to rescue the trapped soldiers inside Queens. Split into three teams—each of you will lead your own strike unit. Second, as the Professor mentioned, we need to locate the Scarlet Witch and break her hold on the skies. That fog is the work of another mutant. If we take them out, we might clear the air and regain visual range. The mist first appeared in sector D, so—"
"Spare us the speech, Cap," interrupted Wolverine, brushing past him with a low growl. The Canadian mutant swung one leg over an amphibious combat bike, revving its engine. "You want a plan? Fine. We find anything that's not human—and we cut it down. Simple as that."
His tone was blunt, even disrespectful, but several of the other heroes nodded in quiet agreement. They were not one unified team like the Avengers. They were a coalition—heroes, antiheroes, and outcasts, each with their own reasons for being here. Expecting seamless teamwork was wishful thinking.
Captain America sighed softly. "Then let's make some noise."
Engines thundered to life. Dozens of amphibious vehicles launched from the carrier's deck, plunging into the dark waves below. The heroes surged forward, carving paths through the mist-choked waters toward the burning ruins of Queens.
---
On the battlefield, War Machine was still locked in a deadly duel with the Thunderbeast. His firepower could barely scratch its impenetrable shell, but the creature's massive claws couldn't reach him in the air either. They danced a deadly stalemate—one man, one monster—each unwilling to yield.
Then, out of nowhere, an amphibious assault bike came hurtling off a ruined skyscraper. The rider launched himself midair—a broad-shouldered man with steel gleaming from his fists. Wolverine.
He spread his arms wide like a hawk diving for the kill, and with a roar, he plunged onto the Thunderbeast's head. The adamantium claws punched clean through the monster's crown. Its shell, which had shrugged off tank shells and missiles, tore like paper beneath that unbreakable metal.
The beast howled in pain, thrashing violently to throw him off—but it was too late. Wolverine ripped the wound wider with both arms and dove inside, burrowing straight into the creature's skull.
Inside, the Thunderbeast's advantage vanished. Every organ was vulnerable; every nerve was exposed. Wolverine tore through its insides like a living chainsaw—ripping out hearts, shredding lungs, slicing through arteries. In minutes, the monster's internal systems were a pulped ruin.
Even the Thunderbeast's fabled regeneration couldn't keep up. Every time a new organ began to heal, Wolverine crushed it again. Its vast energy reserves burned away uselessly in a desperate struggle to survive. Finally, there was only one thing left it could do—its final, fatal instinct.
"Logan, get out of there!" War Machine shouted, noticing the sudden orange-red glow spreading through the creature's body. It was building energy—fast. "It's gonna blow!"
But his warning came too late. Wolverine barely had time to curse before the world exploded around him.
"BOOM!"
The detonation ripped the street apart. A blinding mushroom cloud climbed into the sky, devouring the nearby blocks. Buildings crumbled like sandcastles. The shockwave hurled War Machine across the city, his armor rattling as he tumbled through the smoke.
When the flames subsided, all that remained at the blast's center was a crater—and within it, something gleaming.
A skeleton.
It stood slowly, each step echoing on the cracked earth. Its frame was solid metal—adamantium—the unbreakable alloy that no fire or force could destroy.
Then, from the skull downward, red tissue began to knit together. Veins crept like vines, muscles twisted and formed, organs pulsed to life, and skin regenerated over bone. Within moments, the figure of Wolverine stood whole again, steam rising from his skin.
He flexed his hands, the metal claws sliding out with a familiar snikt. "You got a cigarette?" he asked casually, stepping out of the crater.
War Machine landed beside him, still stunned. "You… survived that? The blast should've vaporized everything within a hundred meters!"
Wolverine shrugged, glancing down at the tattered remains of his uniform. "I've tried dying. It doesn't stick."
Without another word, he walked over to a fallen soldier, pulled off the man's trousers, and put them on.
Logan—The Wolverine.
The mutant with an adamantium skeleton and the legendary healing factor that made him virtually immortal. The same regenerative gene that gave Deadpool his powers originated from him. His resilience was so absolute that even Jean Grey's Omega-level telekinesis once failed to disintegrate him entirely. If Deadpool was a cockroach that refused to die, Wolverine was the unbreakable monster who taught the cockroach how.
From the fog behind him, two more figures emerged—Colossus and Iceman, fellow X-Men who had come to back him up. Together with War Machine, they prepared to advance deeper into the city.
_____
T/N:
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