Timeline: June 24, 1951, 8 PM
Alphonse Capone, now 63 but still carrying the ruthless aura that made him infamous, stepped into the damp, dimly lit underground room beneath his Chicago Outfit headquarters. The air was thick with the scent of mildew, and the distant echoes of the city's nightlife seemed worlds away from this grim setting. In the center of the room, chained to the cold stone wall, sat Vivian Van Doren—her wrists bruised and raw from the iron cuffs.
Alphonse Capone's eyes narrowed as he walked closer, his face showing signs of age, but his intimidating presence remained strong. He pushed open the heavy door with a loud creak, revealing the dark, cold room. "Vivian..." he said slowly, his voice full of cruelty.
Vivian's eyes burned with defiance, even though she was tired. "Let me go!" she shouted, her voice a mix of anger and desperation. She pulled at the chains holding her, trying to break free, but it was no use.
Alphonse smirked, amused by her futile resistance. "I'll let you go... if you tell me where you hid that item." His tone shifted to something darker, more threatening, as his eyes bored into hers.
Vivian's face twisted in feigned confusion, trying to maintain her composure. "What item? I don't even know what you mean." she said, attempting to sound innocent, though both of them knew it was a lie.
The room fell silent for a moment. Alphonse's expression darkened as he took a step closer. Without warning, his hand flew across her face in a harsh slap, the sound echoing through the room. Vivian's head snapped to the side, her cheek reddening as she let out a sharp gasp of pain.
"You know exactly what I mean!" Alphonse hissed, his patience wearing thin. He loomed over her, his shadow engulfing her small frame.
Vivian slowly turned her head back to face him, her lip trembling but her resolve unbroken. "I really don't know, you bastard." she muttered, still maintaining the facade, even as she tasted blood on her tongue.
Alphonse's nostrils flared in anger. He was a man used to getting what he wanted, and her defiance only fueled his rage. "Fine," he said coldly, straightening up. "Let's see how much you yield."
He turned away, signaling to the guards who stood at the far end of the room. One of them approached with a sadistic gleam in his eye, carrying a metal rod glowing faintly from the heat of a nearby brazier. Alphonse walked toward the door, leaving Vivian alone with her tormentors, but paused just before exiting.
"You'll tell me soon enough, Vivian," he said over his shoulder, his voice now low and sinister. "Everyone breaks eventually."
As the door creaked shut behind him, Vivian's heart pounded in her chest. She knew the real struggle was only just beginning, but she also knew she couldn't give up—not if there was still hope of Gustav finding her.
..........
Gustav Van Doren stood at the window, gazing at the Chicago night sky. The city lights flickered below, but his mind was far away, lost in thoughts of his missing wife, Vivian. Every night since her disappearance, the search for her consumed him. Tonight was no different.
Behind him, Mark and Loe were suiting up for the mission. Mark adjusted his Nightwing suit, the dark armor fitting snugly as he prepared for whatever lay ahead. Loe, clad in his blue spandex Angel suit, complete with a logo on his chest and a cape draping behind him, seemed focused yet alert.
Mark noticed Gustav, still staring out the window. He walked over, his footsteps quiet but deliberate. "Hey," Mark said softly, trying not to startle him.
Gustav tore his gaze from the sky and gave a small nod. His face was weary, etched with sleepless nights.
Mark hesitated for a moment before asking, "It's nighttime. Are you not going to sleep?"
Gustav shook his head, his voice low but firm. "No, I won't. I told you I'll join you. I want to find my wife."
Mark frowned, concerned. "But what we're going to do tonight is dangerous. You could be in serious danger."
Gustav's eyes burned with determination. "I don't care. I don't care about danger anymore—not if there's a chance to find Vivian. I'll do anything."
Loe, who had been listening from across the room, stepped forward. "Let him come, Mark." he said calmly, his arms crossed.
Mark turned to Loe, clearly torn. "Loe..."
Before Mark could continue, Mindy entered the room, her expression curious but confident. "Can I come too?" she asked, her voice light but serious.
Loe quickly shot down the idea. "No."
Mindy frowned but pressed on. "But I can stay outside and communicate with you all telepathically. That way, I won't be in any direct danger."
Loe remained firm, his voice sharper this time. "I said no, Mindy. No means no."
Mark, always the mediator, chimed in. "Loe, don't worry. She will be safe since she will only stay outside. We need her telepathic abilities, as it could be crucial for us tonight."
Loe sighed, his frustration growing. "I know, but... what if she gets a nosebleed again from overusing her powers? You remember what happened last time."
Mindy, sensing Loe's genuine concern, gave him a playful smile. "Are you worrying about me?" she asked, her tone is like the happiest girl in the world, her eyes wide and endearing.
Loe's face flushed slightly, and he quickly turned away, crossing his arms again in a classic tsundere fashion. "Who's worrying about you, dumbass?" he snapped, clearly flustered but unable to hide his concern.
Mark, suppressing a smile, looked between the two and then turned his attention back to Mindy. "Mindy, if you come with us... are you sure you can handle it? No more of those incidents?"
Mindy nodded confidently. "I promise, it won't happen again. I've been practicing. I can do this."
Mark sighed, glancing over at Loe, who was clearly still uneasy. After a tense moment, Loe finally relented. "Fine. But don't overdo it, or you'll get more than just a nosebleed.." he warned, his voice softening ever so slightly at the end.
Mindy giggled, nudging Loe playfully. "You really are worried about me.." she teased, a smirk on her face.
Loe huffed, still pretending to be annoyed, but Mark could see the relief in his eyes. "Alright, team," Mark said, looking at each of them. "We move out in five minutes. Be ready."
With that, the group began their final preparations, the weight of the night's mission looming ahead, but united in their shared goal.
...........
As Logan's growl echoed through the dimly lit bar, he kicked over a stool, sending it crashing across the room. "Victor!" he shouted, his voice thick with rage. His fists clenched, adamantium claws slid out with a metallic SNIKT, gleaming in the flickering light of the bar.
At the other end of the room, Victor Creed, better known as Sabretooth, sat casually at the bar, a glass of wine in hand. He glanced over his shoulder, grinning wickedly as he heard Logan's entrance. "Well, well," Victor sneered, his voice deep and guttural. "You finally decided to show up!" He slammed his glass down, spinning around to face Logan.
Logan's eyes narrowed. "Why, Victor?" he snarled. "Why'd you do it? Why'd you slaughter those innocent people?" His voice was low but brimming with fury.
Victor laughed, standing up and towering over Logan. "You really don't get it, do you? I did it to get your attention, runt. I got tired of hunting you down, so I made it easy for you to find me!"
Logan's body trembled with barely restrained rage. "You killed people… innocent people, just to get me here?" He gritted his teeth. "You petty son of a Bi—"
"Enough talk!" Victor interrupted with a roar, stepping closer to Logan, his own claws extending with a sickening SCHLNK. "This time, Jimmy, I'm gonna tear you apart piece by piece. My revenge will be sweet!"
Logan's claws gleamed as he positioned himself to strike. "No, Creed," he growled, eyes blazing with intensity. "This time, you die by my hand."
The bar owner, watching the scene unfold from behind the counter, cursed under his breath. "Oh shit, my bar's gonna get wrecked…" He quickly ducked behind a shelf, scrambling for cover.
Around them, the patrons of the bar had begun fleeing, panic spreading through the room like wildfire. Chairs were overturned, glass shattered, and the sound of footsteps echoed as people pushed their way out the door, desperate to avoid being caught in the coming brawl.
Victor grinned wickedly, his muscles tensing as he prepared for the fight. "Come on, Jimmy. Let's end this."
With a roar, Logan charged at Sabretooth, claws outstretched, ready for the inevitable clash that would turn the bar into a battlefield.
Victor charged at Logan, swinging his finger claws at Logan's head. Logan quickly extended his own claws, and they collided with a loud clang. The impact jolted both fighters, but Logan's defensive move stopped Victor's attack from landing.
Victor's eyes flared with rage as he retaliated, slashing down across Logan's chest with a brutal, diagonal swipe. The claws cut through Logan's shirt, drawing blood and leaving a deep gash. Logan grunted in pain but quickly recovered, his healing factor already mending the wound. He retaliated with a powerful kick to Victor's midsection, sending him sprawling back.
Logan stood his ground, his chest healing rapidly as he glared at Victor. "Son of a bitch," he snarled, his voice a growl of rage.
Victor's grin widened despite the pain. "Let's get wild!" he roared, crawling back toward Logan with a predatory ferocity. His movements were low and menacing, akin to a beast stalking its prey.
Logan tensed up, preparing for Victor's next move. His claws were ready, and he stepped forward carefully. As Victor crawled closer, Logan tried to swipe at Victor's neck with his claws. But Victor was fast; he executed a back kick with surprising agility, evading Logan's attack and moving to a different position.
Logan stumbled slightly, thrown off balance by the missed strike. But before Victor could capitalize on the moment, Logan recovered, his eyes locking onto Victor with fierce determination. He pivoted sharply, aiming a precise, lethal strike at Victor's back. His claws found their mark, piercing through Victor's flesh with a sickening sound.
Victor's eyes widened in pain as he let out a guttural shout, "Son of a bitch!!" The impact from Logan's claws drove him forward, but he quickly rolled away, trying to distance himself and regain his footing. His breathing was ragged, and blood seeping from the wound in his back, but his eyes remained filled with unyielding hatred.
Victor, he began to focus on his healing abilities. His wound started to close, the blood flow slowing as his regenerative powers worked to mend the torn flesh. Within moments, the gash on his back began to close, leaving only a faint scar as evidence of the battle.
As Victor's body healed, his pain subsided, and his strength returned. He pushed himself back onto his feet, his muscles tensing as he prepared for the next round of combat. His gaze locked onto Logan with renewed ferocity, a growl rumbling from deep within his chest.
Logan, panting heavily, stared intently at Victor, determined to end the fight quickly. Both fighters were relentless, trading blows with their claws and kicks in a fierce, nonstop battle. Neither was willing to back down, and the fight was evenly matched as they continued their brutal clash.
Victor roared in pain and fury as he charged at Logan again. He swung his claws wildly at Logan's torso. Logan, with quick reflexes, used his own claws to block and deflect Victor's attacks. The bar turned into a war battleground, with metal clashing and the sounds of their struggle filling the small space.
As the fight wore on, the two adversaries were locked in an evenly matched struggle, their raw strength and determination pushing them to their limits.
The fight was fierce and evenly matched. Both Logan and Victor were pushing themselves to the limit, their skill and anger making it hard to tell who would come out on top. The outcome of the battle was still unclear as they fought with everything they had.
To be continue