This time, when Professor X woke up, he seemed more coherent than usual.
But Logan knew better. This clarity was only temporary—a flicker before the end.
Charles didn't have much time left.
"Ah, wonderful, wonderful!"
Professor X looked delighted, reaching out with his frail hands to grip both Logan and Hawkeye.
"We're all here again! And look, we even have a new guest."
Then he lifted his head, addressing the empty space in front of him. He lowered his voice, as if speaking to a child only he could see.
"Good child, you've just arrived in this world, haven't you? I can see your heart. You're carrying a heavy burden, but don't worry. It's normal to feel lost or disappointed with yourself sometimes. But it's okay. None of us are perfect… you're already doing so well…"
Logan let out a weary sigh. "The old man's losing it again. Clint, help me hold him down—I'll give him the shot."
But as he spoke, Professor X heard him.
Thin as a skeleton, the professor somehow found the strength to shake Logan's hand off.
"No! No! Can't you keep quiet for once? Don't interrupt—I'm trying to communicate with him!"
Charles struggled, his resistance fierce. "It's been so long since I've seen a soul like his, untouched by the world's darkness. I must see him. I'm guiding him here."
"Like hell you are!"
Logan was convinced Charles was just ranting.
He and Hawkeye worked together, the two white-haired old men pinning down the bald Professor.
Logan administered the sedative, and Professor X's energy dwindled, his voice becoming a faint murmur.
Logan exhaled, relieved.
If Charles had been an ordinary elderly man with dementia, this might not have been necessary.
But this was Charles Xavier, possessing the world's most powerful mind. Losing control of his thoughts could mean disaster for everyone around him.
Over the past fifty years, similar incidents had led to many tragedies.
Though it felt cruel, if Charles were to die, Logan hoped it would be in his sleep, slipping quietly into that good night.
He dreaded the thought of Charles having one last outburst, taking others with him when he passed.
"Hank…"
The professor muttered, his voice as faint as a whisper, "Go to the door and welcome him. He's almost here. He is hope… this world is doomed, but he will remember us."
"I'm not Hank!"
Logan didn't take the professor's words seriously.
He corrected Charles, then gently patted his back, helping him lie down.
"Stop with these delusions. No one's coming."
Sure, this world was bleak, but "doomed" was a stretch, wasn't it?
Charles had used telepathy as a party trick in his younger days; now, in his senility, was he playing prophet?
Enough was enough.
Just as Logan was close to lulling Charles back to sleep, Hawkeye, who had been silent, suddenly spoke up.
"Logan."
He tilted his head, listening to sounds outside the door. "There's someone coming. By the sound of it… a kid."
Logan fell silent.
Was the old man not as far gone as they thought?
---
"Keep going straight, then turn left at the end,"
On Bruce's shoulder, Kathoom gave directions as they navigated the desolate landscape.
"How do you suddenly know the way?" Bruce frowned. "Weren't we wandering aimlessly a moment ago?"
"You think I want this?" Kathoom sighed. "Some old guy keeps jabbering in my head. I couldn't ignore him if I tried!"
"An old guy?"
"Professor X," Kathoom explained. "Used to be a top leader here. I thought he was long gone. Anyway, he was trying to talk to you, but since your Occlumency is up and our minds are so close, his message came straight to me instead."
Kathoom couldn't help but marvel at how Charles had aged—messing up telepathy was a first.
Bruce was intrigued but not shocked. Telepathy wasn't unheard of in the magical world.
Still, he wondered why anyone here would try to contact him so soon after his arrival.
"What did you two talk about?"
"Oh, nothing much," Kathoom replied. "Just a bit about handling disobedient kids."
"Fine, keep your secrets."
Bruce shook his head and followed Kathoom's directions. Around the corner, he spotted an old, worn warehouse.
Two elderly men were waiting outside.
---
"So, this is the 'hope' the professor mentioned?"
Logan squinted, spotting Bruce in the distance. His brows furrowed. Apart from the owl on his shoulder, the kid didn't seem particularly special.
Hawkeye, however, looked pleased.
"Looks like the professor was right. He really did find a soul untainted by this world's corruption."
He walked forward to greet Bruce.
Bruce watched as a white-haired man with a ponytail and round sunglasses approached, smiling broadly. Whether friend or foe, he couldn't tell yet.
The man drew closer, his casual, boundary-less approach putting Bruce on edge.
Given the round sunglasses, the man seemed blind.
Was he faking it to earn sympathy?
Uncertain, Bruce subtly moved to trip the man—Hawkeye—by extending his leg.
Predictably, Hawkeye stopped just before he could stumble.
"Haha! Good reflexes! That's the caution you'll need to survive these times."
Hawkeye bent down, making an effort to appear friendly.
"Don't worry. We're not here to harm you!"
He raised both hands, showing he meant no harm. "Someone told us you're a good kid and guided you here. We trust him, so we trust you."
"My name's Clint Barton. And you are?"
Bruce glanced at the owl, his gaze asking if he could trust this man.
"Don't worry." Kathoom assured him. "This old guy's got limited power. Not much of a threat."
That reassured Bruce.
"I'm Bruce Wayne."
"Good name, good name!"
Hawkeye's enthusiasm bordered on excessive as he gestured for Bruce to walk with him. "Come along; someone wants to meet you."
"He seems overly excited, doesn't he?"
Bruce whispered to Kathoom as he followed.
"Maybe he sees hope in you," Kathoom muttered.
In truth, if anyone in this world still carried a spark of hope, it was the aging Hawkeye.
Despite everything, he hadn't given up his ideals. Even after going blind, he had trained with an elderly Daredevil, learning how to fight with only his other senses.
Sadly, though, he had no superpowers. His abilities were limited.
Kathoom could guess why Clint was here with Logan—he was hoping to recruit an ally for a grand last stand.
But the Wolverine of today was no superhero.
No doubt, Clint had been turned down many times.
People told him that his efforts were meaningless, that this world was beyond saving.
But now, with Bruce's arrival, Clint felt he had his answer.
If this child with a hopeful future was worth fighting for, then wasn't it worth one last stand?
Hawkeye couldn't see through the shroud of mist covering tomorrow. But if the future held even one young soul, didn't someone need to stand up and keep it safe?
---
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