The sudden shout instantly drew the attention of the entire mutant army.
Turning toward the voice, they saw a yellow taxi hurled through the air, crashing violently into the rubble.
Moments later, the driver's door burst open. A disheveled old man with white hair and a face etched with deep wrinkles stumbled out, striding with determination despite his weakened steps. He looked frail, but his eyes burned brighter than ever, and an undeniable, feral energy radiated from his body.
As he stood atop a mound of debris, several mutants immediately recognized him.
"Logan! It's Wolverine!"
"This time it's the real one!"
"Why does he look so old?"
"I thought he was immortal…"
"What the hell happened to him?"
Whispers rippled through the army of mutants. Even Magneto's face briefly flashed with a complicated expression. But Wolverine's appearance didn't stop Magneto's actions.
After a moment's pause, he raised his hand—and with a violent motion, the adamantium blade hovering in the air flew straight toward Dr. Rice.
In an instant, it cleaved through his neck.
Rice's head was sent flying, tracing an arc in the air before bouncing off the ground. Even in death, his wide eyes remained frozen in a look of absolute terror. His body, spurting blood like a broken fountain, crumpled lifelessly to the dirt.
James—Logan—stared in shock, his eyes widening. He hadn't expected Magneto to execute someone so ruthlessly—and certainly not so publicly. Fury welled up inside him.
Magneto caught the change in Logan's expression and scowled.
"What's this? The great Wolverine, reduced to a loyal lapdog for humankind? You see what they've done to our kind—and still you make that face over the death of one of them?"
"You don't understand a damn thing," James growled coldly. "Get the hell out of my world. This isn't your battleground."
"Hmph."
Magneto let out a cold chuckle.
"Your world? If this is what Charles Xavier's protection has achieved, then I couldn't ask for better proof that my vision was right all along. Tell me, Logan—where is Charles now? Why haven't my people sensed any other mutants nearby?"
James frowned at that—he couldn't deny Magneto's words. But even so, he couldn't allow this world to fall under Magneto's rule.
Right or wrong... did it even matter anymore?
Magneto or Charles—James had lived through both of their visions.
Now, it was time to fight for his own.
He no longer wished to fight for ideologies—no longer cared about the endless war between mutants and humans. After all these years on the run, James had seen the darkness of mankind… but he had also witnessed their goodness.
There was good and evil in every species—that was undeniable.
To condemn an entire people for the sins of a few wasn't protection. It was arrogance. It was prejudice.
And James… was tired.
He no longer wanted to fight for Magneto's ideals, or Charles'. Now, he would act from the simplest belief of all—right and wrong.
"Magneto," James said, his voice ragged but firm, "you've sparked a war, and left countless dead in your wake. If this is the price of your so-called vision, then count me among your enemies."
"What did you say?" Magneto's brow furrowed.
James slowly unsheathed his adamantium claws, his breath heavy.
"You said you'd take on the whole world… so what's one more enemy?"
"Just one more person… who won't kneel."
With that, James lowered himself into a fighting stance.
In that moment, Magneto understood what Wolverine truly wanted.
He didn't plan to survive.
He was ready to die.
Like a warrior born for battle, he sought to die on the battlefield—where he belonged. The past meant nothing to him now. He was ready to give his life, not for ideals, not for sides, but to protect the last shred of a world he still believed in.
"This is your answer?" Magneto murmured.
"Come on then!!" James roared.
"You bunch of metal-bending cowards—don't tell me you're scared of an old man with claws?!"
His thunderous voice rang in the ears of every mutant in the army, and for a moment—they froze.
Magneto's mind raced. He didn't want Wolverine to die—not like this, not by his hand. He could have his scientists study Logan's DNA, attempt to reawaken the dormant healing factor, maybe even restore his youth, his prime. He had the power…
If only…
If only Wolverine made the right choice.
That was all it would take.
But—
Magneto knew.
He wasn't Charles. He didn't have the gift of persuasion. He couldn't sway a man with a heart forged from pain and resolve. So, after a brief silence, Magneto made his choice.
He would honor Wolverine's will.
Magneto slowly raised his hand and gave a subtle shake of his head to the Four Horsemen behind him, signaling them to stand down. Then he raised his voice and declared: "My fellow mutants, what are you waiting for? He's just one man—a deranged fool at that. Tear him apart!"
His words weren't loud, but they carried the weight of command. Like a trigger pulled, the moment he spoke, the lead mutant let out a feral roar and lunged at Wolverine like a wild beast.
The others followed instantly. No longer hesitating, the mutant army surged forward, a thunderous charge like a stampede of warhorses crashing down upon Logan.
But James Howlett, the man they called Wolverine, didn't flinch. If anything, the overwhelming odds only ignited the last spark of fire in his battered body.
"Logan, let's settle this once and for all!" roared the mutant leading the charge.
"Victor!" James growled as he recognized the familiar face. "I've waited years for this!!"
"You're alone," Victor Creed—Sabretooth—snarled, fangs bared and claws gleaming with a cold, deadly shine.
"You really think you can stop all of us?!"
"Even if I can't… I'll still try!"
Meanwhile, chaos erupted inside the secret laboratory. From the moment the first blast went off outside, everyone inside knew things had gone south—fast.
Gunfire erupted outside the building, peppered with panicked Allied screams and the gurgled cries of dying soldiers.
Colonel Chester Phillips drew his sidearm and barked orders at the armed guards stationed in the lab.
"Hold the line at that entrance! No matter what happens, do not let those lunatics breach this facility!"
"B-But sir—" one soldier stammered, fear creeping across his face.
"No buts!"
Colonel Phillips seized the young soldier by the collar, his eyes blazing.
"This experiment cannot fail! No matter what happens—even if it costs your life—do not let them inside!"
The soldier's mouth opened slightly, then closed again. He nodded, shouldered his rifle, and sprinted toward the door.
"What the hell's going on?" a well-dressed man with a neatly trimmed mustache rushed up the staircase, joining Phillips.
"Howard—" the colonel began, recognizing the man, but before he could say more, Peggy Carter came running in from outside, urgency etched across her face.
At this point, Peggy Carter no longer had the composed, beautiful look she did at the start. Her hair was loose, her face smudged with soot and smoke, her uniform torn, and a bullet wound on her left arm still bleeding.
But despite her injuries, she showed no sign of pain—only urgency—as she rushed to the side of Howard Stark and Colonel Phillips.
"It's enemy spies," she said quickly. "I don't know how they found our secret facility, but they've launched a full-on suicide assault. We need to evacuate immediately."
"How is that possible?!" Howard turned and looked through the reinforced glass down into the lab. The Super Soldier procedure was already underway. The serum had begun flowing into Steve Rogers' body.
Inside, Dr. Erskine noticed Stark's glance and gave a small shake of his head, his face a storm of mixed emotions.
Howard Stark exhaled sharply, withdrawing his gaze.
"The experiment's started. We can't move him now."
"Then shut it down!" Phillips barked, frowning deeply.
"We can't!" Howard snapped back. "Once the procedure starts, it can't be stopped. If we interrupt it, the backlash could trigger a catastrophic chain reaction. The equipment could explode and take this entire facility with it—maybe the surrounding blocks too."
Gritting his teeth, Howard turned to Peggy.
"Agent Carter, give me a gun. I'll go hold the line."
"That's suicide," Peggy replied firmly. "It's not just enemy spies out there—they've brought in a squad of mutants."
And she wasn't exaggerating. If it weren't for the mutant team using their powers, Peggy wouldn't have been wounded.
In the middle of the tense standoff, two men in sharp suits stepped forward behind Peggy.
Dean's voice rang out beside her.
"I'm guessing we're past the point where you need to verify our identities."
Peggy turned to see him with a faint, confident smirk.
"Arm us," Dean said, his tone dropping cold.
"We'll hold off those mutant lunatics."
...
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