A few weeks passed since Steve's return, and life in Whitehaven had settled into a strange, yet comfortable rhythm. Inside Hank's lab, Logan stood in front of the glowing vial that contained the long-awaited serum of Adaptive Evolution. It had taken years to perfect, as Logan's nearly impenetrable skin made it difficult to find a way for the serum to be administered. They finally agreed on a drinkable formula.
Logan glanced at Hank, who nodded in reassurance. Without hesitation, Logan downed the serum in one gulp. For a moment, nothing happened. He glanced at the machines surrounding him, waiting for a reaction.
Hank checked the scans and muttered, "The serum is working, but because you're already so strong, it'll take considerable pressure before we see any noticeable changes."
Logan nodded, unfazed. "I'm fine with that," he said, his attention drifting as he added, "By the way, Hank, why have Laura, Jean, and even Selene been avoiding me for the past few days? They've been acting strange."
Hank smirked knowingly. "You'll have to wait for the news, Logan."
Logan's eyes narrowed in confusion, but Hank refused to elaborate.
With Steve and Peggy spending most of their time catching up, Benjamin kept himself occupied with the female werewolves. His soft, smooth fur had made him an instant favorite, not only with the women but even the children. Logan couldn't help but laugh at how popular the big bear had become.
Logan, now with some time to spare, decided he needed a break. "I'm going out," he announced as he signaled to one of the Zetas, who immediately opened a portal to his home outside of New York City.
As Logan stepped through the portal, he found himself in his expansive garage. He looked around, admiring the rows of classic cars he'd acquired over the centuries. Some were pristine models from the 18th and 19th centuries, from sleek European designs to rugged American muscle cars. One car, a vintage 1930s Bugatti, stood out in particular, its deep black paint glistening under the garage lights.
With a grin, Logan turned to his driver, a Beta who had been working for him for years. "Get the Bugatti ready. We're going for a ride."
The driver nodded and pulled the car out of the collection. Logan admired the vehicle for a moment before sliding into the driver's seat. The engine roared to life, and soon, they were on the road, heading for the city.
Logan drove through New York, enjoying the feel of the old car under his hands, and eventually pulled up outside one of the cafes he owned. After parking, he strolled inside, where the staff greeted him warmly. He nodded at them, then made his way to his favorite spot, a corner table with a large window that overlooked the bustling streets.
He ordered a juice and sat back, watching the world go by as the sun slowly dipped in the sky. It was peaceful, and for the first time in a while, Logan felt himself unwind. He soon asked the staff to bring him a book from his collection—one of the many hobbies he'd picked up over the years. This time, it was a different version of the Harry Potter series from this universe.
As the hours passed, Logan finished the entire series. There were slight differences from the version he remembered from his previous world, but it was still an enjoyable read. Just as he was getting ready to leave, his heightened senses picked up something strange.
Someone was watching him.
His eyes scanned the street through the window, and he quickly spotted the source—several girls, dressed in black suits and armed with weapons, were watching him from a distance, using binoculars. Logan smirked in surprise. 'Amateurs.'
He casually left the cafe, walking down a side alley into a dark, empty valley. Once he was out of sight, he stopped and called out, "You can come out now."
For a few seconds, there was silence. Logan sighed. "If you don't come out by the count of three, I'm coming for you."
As he started counting, a group of women began to appear one by one, dressed in combat gear and armed with a variety of weapons. There were about 20 of them, each watching him warily and two of them are still trying to hide but his senses caught thier presence.
Logan chuckled. "Before we start, does anyone want to leave? I know two of you are still hiding." He pointed to the two figures lurking behind the building.
With a growl, 20 of them lunged at him. Logan didn't use his enhanced powers—just his martial arts skills, honed over centuries of combat.
The girls were closing in—20 of them, trained and ready. They were fast, but not fast enough to elude Logan's razor-sharp instincts. He sensed the mix of weapons—blades coated in poison, guns hidden under jackets, and coordinated tactics that only made him smirk.
He moved calmly, ready for the challenge.
The first girl lunged at him with a poison-tipped dagger, aiming for his side. Logan's reflexes kicked in as he sidestepped, grabbed her wrist, and twisted sharply, forcing her to drop the blade. Without hesitation, he flipped her over his shoulder, dislocating her shoulder as she crashed onto the ground.
'One down.'
Another girl fired a silenced pistol from the shadows. Logan twisted just in time, the bullet grazing his leather jacket. He could hear the faint sound of the gun clicking again, so he sprinted towards her. Before she could fire another round, Logan grabbed the gun, snapped it in two, and delivered a swift roundhouse kick that sent her crashing into the brick wall.
More girls charged at him with poison-coated blades, their movements precise and coordinated. Logan ducked under the first strike, deflecting a blade with a quick forearm block. His hands moved like lightning, grabbing one girl by the arm and redirecting her strike into another attacker's thigh. She screamed as the poison took hold, collapsing almost instantly.
Another girl tried to shoot him from behind, but Logan anticipated the move. He spun around, grabbing the gun mid-fire and disarming her in one fluid motion. Before she could react, he slammed the butt of the pistol into her temple, knocking her out cold.
He could sense the rising frustration in the remaining girls as they surrounded him. They weren't just assassins—they were skilled, organized, and lethal. But Logan thrived on this. His mind was calm, his body moved effortlessly through their attacks.
Two girls came at him with twin blades, their movements almost a mirror image of each other. Logan ducked low, using a sweeping kick to knock one off her feet. As the other swung her dagger, Logan caught her wrist, twisted it painfully, and slammed her into the ground. Her poison-coated blade flew from her hand as she hit the concrete with a thud.
Three girls pulled guns and fired simultaneously. Logan reacted instantly, dodging the bullets with inhuman agility.
He rolled to the side, grabbed a fallen blade, and threw it with deadly accuracy. It lodged into the gun of one of the girls, causing it to misfire and explode in her hand. She screamed and dropped the ruined weapon.
The others continued their assault with brutal efficiency. One girl came at him with a blade aimed at his heart, but Logan caught her wrist, twisted it back, and snapped it with a quick, brutal motion. He then disarmed another girl who tried to stab him from behind, using her momentum against her as he threw her into a nearby dumpster.
At that moment, the last group of girls—about 10 of them—rushed him at once, some armed with blades and others with guns. Logan couldn't help but smirk. 'About time.'
He engaged them, using his advanced martial arts skills. He grabbed one attacker by the arm, twisted her into a chokehold, and used her as a human shield as the others fired at him. The bullets landed on her body as Logan spun, tossing her into two others like a rag doll.
Three girls came at him with synchronized strikes, but Logan was too fast. He ducked under a high strike, then sidestepped a stab aimed at his gut. He used his elbow to block one girl's punch before delivering a vicious knee to her abdomen, knocking the wind out of her. As she fell, another attacker swung a poison-coated blade, but Logan deflected it with a quick wrist lock and sent her crashing to the ground with a sharp strike to the neck.
With only a handful of girls left, Logan's senses picked up two more who hadn't yet revealed themselves. They were hiding, waiting for the right moment to strike. Logan chuckled. 'You think you can surprise me?'
"Come out now," he called, his voice low and threatening. "Or you won't like want happens next."
There was a moment of hesitation. Then, the two hidden girls sprang into action. One went for his legs while the other aimed a flying kick at his head. Logan dodged both attacks with lightning speed. He twisted in mid-air, landing behind them. The girl who had gone for his legs turned, only to be met with a swift elbow strike to her face. She crumpled to the ground, unconscious.
The last girl—agile and precise—attacked with a series of quick, calculated strikes. Logan dodged and blocked her blows with ease, but there was something different about this one. She moved with more skill, more determination than the others. Logan caught her wrist, twisted her into a hold, and flipped her onto the ground. As he pinned her down, his eyes locked onto hers.
His heart skipped a beat.
She was a redhead with fierce and beautiful eyes. And as their eyes met, Logan felt it—the unmistakable pull of a mate bond forming. His senses, his instincts—everything confirmed it.
His breath caught in his throat as he stared into her eyes, realizing what had just happened.
The other woman struggled beneath him, but his focus remained locked on the redhead. Logan blinked, trying to process what was happening.
'Another mate?'
Logan unmasks the woman leading the attack and is shocked to find it's Natasha Romanoff. He recognised her because she looks just like Scarlett Johansson.
His initial surprise turns into action as he quickly knocks her out to prevent any further struggle. He surveys the scene, noting all of the attackers are now unconscious.
As Logan looks around, a Zeta werewolf named Jack approaches him. Jack is one of Logan's trusted pack members, specializing in mystic arts.
Logan had anticipated something like this might happen, so he had informed Jack earlier to cast a "curtain" over the area, a powerful spell that cloaked their presence from the human world, ensuring no one noticed the fight. Jack had executed this perfectly, preventing any unwanted attention from authorities or civilians.
"Good job casting the curtain, Jack. It would've been a headache if the humans noticed what happened here," Logan said, his eyes scanning the unconscious bodies.
Jack, calm and collected, asked, "What do you intend to do now, Logan?"
Logan's gaze hardened as he looked down at Natasha. "Take all of them and imprison them. I want to know everything—who they are, who sent them, and why they attacked me." He pointed to Natasha, who lay at his feet. "Leave her in my room in New York."
He had an idea about who send them but he still needs to verify the truth from their mouth.
Jack raised an eyebrow but said nothing as Logan continued. "Also, use your mind arts. I want to know if she's under some kind of brainwashing."
Jack approached Natasha, placing his hand on her forehead and closing his eyes. He began chanting softly, tapping into the magical and psychic energies available to him. After a few tense moments, Jack opened his eyes and turned to Logan. "She's definitely under some form of brainwashing. It's strong but fading, probably tied to her mission. She's not fully herself."
Logan nodded, "Remove the brainwashing and tie her in my room. Make sure she's secure but unharmed."
Jack gave Logan a curious look, not quite understanding the Alpha's motives, but he complied. He pulled out his phone and made a quick call to other pack members.
Within minutes, a group of Betas and Zetas arrived, gathering up the unconscious attackers to transport them back to Logan's base for interrogation. They worked quickly and efficiently, following Logan's instructions to the letter.
As the last of the attackers were taken away, Jack finished his preparations on Natasha. Her mind was now free from the brainwashing, and she was securely tied and ready to move to Logan's bedroom in his New York home.
Logan turned to Jack. "Open a portal to my home outside New York," he commanded.
Jack complied, with a sling ring on his hands, he gesture circle movement with his hand and soon a shimmering portal opened in front of them.
Logan stepped through, followed by Jack and Natasha who lay unconscious and is being carried by one of the female betas.
The portal closed behind him, leaving only Zetas doing their work in the valley where the fight had taken place.
---
**Inside the bedroom of Logan's House, outside New work**
Logan stands in front of his bed, watching Natasha as she's about to regain consciousness. He knows that answers will soon come.
However, his thoughts are interrupted when his phone rings. The caller ID shows it's Laura. He answers, half-jokingly, "Now you have time to call me, huh? Tell me, why have you been avoiding me these past few days?"
Laura's voice on the other end is calm but filled with excitement. "Logan, listen to me... You are... you are... You're going to be a father."
Logan's mind goes blank for a moment. "I'm sorry, what?" he blurts out, unable to process the news.
Laura chuckles softly, "I'm pregnant, Logan. And you are going to be a father."
A smile slowly spreads across Logan's face, and for the first time in a while, he feels a wave of pure joy wash over him. He grins like an idiot, overwhelmed with emotions. "Where are you?" he asks, eager to be with her.
But before Laura can respond, Logan notices something unusual. His heightened senses pick up on a presence in the room. He turns his head sharply to the corner and sees an old, bald-headed man dressed in blue robes, hovering slightly above the floor.
The man speaks in a calm, authoritative tone. "James Logan Howlett, The Wolverine of the Crimson Pack, you have been chosen."
Logan's eyes widen in shock, "What the fuc—?" he mutters, but before he can react further, his body is enveloped in a strange light. With a sharp crack, he disappears from the room, leaving only a faint shimmer behind.