December Double Drop!---"Your gratitude?"
Red Skull laughed as if he'd just heard the most ridiculous joke in the world.
"How did you get in here?!"
Even as he spoke, Red Skull moved to act.
He smashed the glass of a display case, seizing Excalibur—the sword that had once belonged to Captain Britain. This blade, capable of piercing the very fabric of the universe, had lost its enchantments upon its master's death. In Red Skull's hands now, it was little more than a sharp weapon.
But sharp was all he needed.
Twisting around, he swung the sword, aiming to cleave his opponent in half. But before he could finish the strike, a flash of silver appeared, and a blade was suddenly pressed against his neck.
He was fast, but Deathstroke was faster.
"No need to be unfriendly."
Deathstroke applied slight pressure, his blade cutting into Red Skull's skin, drawing a thin trickle of blood.
Without a hint of emotion, he continued, "Drop the sword, and let's talk civilly."
Red Skull's expression didn't change in the slightest.
As the President of a nation, he wouldn't be intimidated by mere death threats.
His principles were straightforward—he always favored peaceful resolutions.
With a clatter, Excalibur hit the floor.
Deathstroke nudged it with his foot, and the sword flew up into his hand.
"A fine weapon."
Admiring it briefly, Deathstroke then sheathed it on his back.
It was his now.
"Back to our business."
Deathstroke lowered his sword. "No need to feel humiliated. In the end, you'll be grateful."
Red Skull took a few steps back, clutching his neck as he gasped for air.
He had genuinely felt death brush past him just now.
"What do you want?" His voice was a mixture of malice and caution. "Is it money? Territory?"
All he wanted now was to get this madman out of his sight, no matter the cost. Whatever it took to send this devil away would be worth it.
And after that, he'd deal with the security team that had failed him so miserably.
The President, nearly assassinated in his own home—and not a soul noticed!
"Don't be so hasty."
Deathstroke kept a firm grip on the conversation. "You've created a weapon of godlike power to keep yourself safe?"
"How do you know about that?" Red Skull's thoughts turned to the rebels he had exterminated.
Could there have been survivors?
But no sooner had he spoken than there was another flash of silver.
Before he could even see Deathstroke draw, a new cut appeared on Red Skull's cheek.
"Don't answer questions with questions!"
Deathstroke's patience was wearing thin. "You should understand by now that that tactic is pointless. For example, your life is currently in my hands."
It was true.
The weapon made from Galactus's head was powerful, but its sheer size meant it couldn't be carried on his person.
If someone got close enough to assassinate him, the weapon would be useless.
"I can tell you how to handle that problem, and even tell you who's planning to take you down."
Seeing Red Skull hesitate, Deathstroke laid out his terms.
"But in exchange, from here on out, you follow my orders!"
---
In a New Babylon bar—
By the time Bruce and his group reached New Utopia, it was time for goodbyes.
Hawkeye had no intention of letting anyone accompany him on his final mission.
They sat together, with large mugs of beer in front of Hawkeye and Logan.
Bruce, being underage, was given a juice, though he didn't touch it. Instead, Kathoom took the opportunity to grab a straw and drain it himself.
"This is where we part ways."
Hawkeye raised his beer to Logan, motioning for a toast.
"You're still not going to tell me what happened to make you swear off fighting?"
"There's nothing to say."
Logan clinked his mug against Hawkeye's, then downed the entire beer.
Lighting up a cheap cigar, he took a long drag, blowing a smoke ring before sighing heavily. With his eyes closed, painful memories began to surface once more.
"Just the usual crap life throws at you."
But his tone said otherwise, his voice betraying the weight of his words.
Hawkeye shook his head. "Let it out. You're nearing your breaking point, Logan. Keeping everything bottled up will destroy you."
Logan opened his eyes.
"All right. I'll tell you everything."
He glanced over at Bruce, his gaze serious. "Listen closely, kid. If you want to become a hero, this is the fate you're signing up for.
"If you can't bear it, don't even start down this path."
---
What followed was a story that could only be described as a nightmare.
"At the time, I thought it was just another night."
Logan leaned back, beginning slowly. "That night, an emergency alarm went off at the Xavier Institute—an invasion of ruthless criminals…"
Faced with these villains, Logan had stood his ground.
Fueled by rage, he'd unsheathed his claws, ready to fight to the death to protect his students.
He'd slaughtered mercilessly, his body soaked in blood, until he struck down the final enemy—the Bullseye.
"This doesn't make sense!"
Hawkeye interrupted. "Bullseye lived until five years ago. I killed him myself."
That had been shortly after losing his own eyesight, during a final showdown with Bullseye.
Hawkeye had aimed for Bullseye's heart, but struck him in the head instead, claiming victory.
"Exactly. It means it wasn't the real Bullseye I killed."
Logan's breathing grew heavy, his fists clenched tightly, his body trembling.
"Not only was Bullseye fake—all those other criminals were illusions too! I was seeing things!"
Tears ran down Logan's face, though he seemed unaware.
"Those criminals were really my teammates. And… the kids from the Institute."
Bruce fell silent, stunned.
He couldn't begin to imagine what that must have been like—a nightmare of slaughtering everyone you'd sworn to protect. If it were him, he'd break instantly.
"When I killed the last of them, the illusions shattered."
Logan's voice was heavy with anguish. "I saw Professor X lying in a pool of blood. The look in his eyes was even more despairing than mine, because those illusions… he'd created them."
The true mastermind was a villain known as Mastermind, who used illusions to control Professor X, just as he had once done in X-Men 2.
In one horrific night, the X-Men were obliterated, leaving only a broken Professor X and a shattered Wolverine.
"They knew us, knew exactly how to exploit our abilities."
Logan continued, "Professor X can survive physical death by transferring his mind to someone else, and I… well, I just can't die."
"That's why he and I were chosen to be the butchers that night.
"From that day on, the Professor went mad, and I… I've been half-dead ever since."
Logan took Hawkeye's beer and downed it as well.
Having finally spoken his truth, he felt the slightest sense of relief.
"Bruce, think carefully."
Logan said, his voice grave. "When you're a hero, and your enemies can't get to you, they'll go after the people you care about instead.
"A hero's path… is one of eternal solitude."
Bruce said nothing.
He wasn't sure he could carry the weight of such a sacrifice.
---
The night wore on.
Bruce and the others were getting ready to leave the bar, making their final farewells.
"I'm off to fulfill my mission."
Hawkeye waved to them. "Logan, you have to keep moving forward. When I finish my mission, it'll be revenge for both of us."
Red Skull was the mastermind behind it all. Killing him would bring closure.
With the farewells complete, Hawkeye turned and walked to the door.
Stepping onto the street, he found it deserted.
"It's so quiet—no one from New Utopia around."
Hawkeye sighed, noting the eerie calm, then steeled himself.
"Time to get to work."
---
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