Miles’s voice continued to echo from the speakers, delivering his final terms.
“Preparing a vehicle is not an issue,” General Ryker’s voice returned to its previous cold composure.
“But who will drive?
Only that little girl?
How is she supposed to get two half-dead adults into a car?”
“Just wait for Logan to wake up,” Miles replied.
“The old wolf will wake up.
It just needs some time…”
“Apologies, but I don’t care to wait that long.” General Ryker let out a soft chuckle over the phone.
“My schedule is full.
I don’t have time to wait for our legendary hero to wake up naturally.”
He paused, then turned to address someone beside him.
“Dr.
Zander, don’t just stand there watching.
Go do something.”
…
Shortly after, a man wearing a white lab coat and glasses arrived in a hurry, flanked by several soldiers.
He glanced at Miles’s miserable state on the large screen, then looked down at the half-dead Logan on the floor, shaking his head with a sigh.
“So this is the legendary ‘Wolverine’?
Quite an underwhelming end.”
Dr.
Zander held complex feelings toward Logan.
The main reason was that his father had been one of Logan’s creators, and had ultimately been killed by Logan.
To him, Logan was both a precious legacy left by his father and his father’s killer.
At the same time, it was precisely because of Logan that Dr.
Zander had deeply realized how chaotic and uncontrollable mutants were.
This realization had hardened his resolve to research genetically modified food, ultimately achieving the grand feat of “eradicating mutants from the root.”
Of course, he was working for the military now.
“Wake up, Logan,” Dr.
Zander muttered to himself.
He knelt down, retrieved a syringe from his metal briefcase, and expertly drew a full vial of glowing green liquid.
“High-concentration cell activator, specially formulated for mutants like you…
Let’s hope your body can still handle a shock of this intensity.”
Without hesitation, the needle plunged into Logan’s neck.
The drug took effect almost instantly.
The healing factor within Logan’s body, which had been nearly dormant, was violently stimulated.
His hideous, terrifying wounds began to slowly mend and knit together, and his heart resumed a powerful beat.
A few minutes later, Logan’s body jolted violently as he snapped out of his coma.
“Roar—!”
Upon waking, Logan let out a savage roar, his muscles tensing as he instinctively prepared to lunge at his enemies.
But right then, Miles’s voice suddenly echoed in his mind.
“Stop!”
“Please, Logan…
take Laura and Charles and go!!”
Logan’s steps halted.
Now fully awake, Logan scanned his surroundings.
First, he saw Elias “Impact” Vance in front of him, along with the army surrounding the laboratory building.
Then, he saw Laura behind him and the unconscious Night Demon.
Slowly, he pieced together the situation.
“Mr.
Miles has made a deal with us,” Elias said to Logan.
“He traded himself for your safety, Mr.
Logan…
You may now take the girl and Charles and leave.”
“Fuck…” Logan stared dead at Elias, his claws sliding out involuntarily as veins bulged on his arms.
He was clearly on the verge of losing control again.
However, after a brief struggle, Logan violently turned his head away, retracted his claws, and grabbed Laura.
“We’re leaving!”
Laura stumbled as he pulled her, but her feet seemed glued to the floor.
She craned her neck back, staring fixedly at the giant screen.
Only after Logan had dragged her several paces did she suddenly wrench herself free.
She spun back toward the giant screen and shrieked.
“Miles—!!!”
Her sharp, tearful cry echoed through the silent lobby, but no one else uttered a word.
The boy on the screen remained slumped there, covered in frost, motionless and offering no response.
Perhaps he did not want to speak, or perhaps…
he truly had no strength left.
…
Half an hour later, the heavy alloy door of the cryogenic freezer slowly ground open with a tooth-gritting screech.
“Hurry, hurry!”
“Careful, these two are barely hanging on!”
The medics, who had been on standby, immediately rushed in with stretchers, carefully wheeling out the near-death Miles and Davis.
The frost on Miles was so thick that the original color of his clothes was completely obscured.
Only the faint, almost imperceptible rise and fall of his chest showed he was still alive.
Dr.
Zander stepped forward quickly, waving for the medics to halt.
He took a collar from his assistant—a metal device with a red indicator light blinking on and off.
This collar was a “mutant inhibitor,” designed specifically to suppress mutant abilities.
It was primarily used in specialized mutant prisons and as a temporary containment measure by the military and high-end research facilities.
As Dr.
Zander buckled the collar around Miles’s neck, the surrounding crowd let out a collective, subtle sigh of relief.
The frail, paralyzed boy had exerted far too much pressure on them just moments ago.
“We finally meet again, X-0,” Dr.
Zander murmured, bending down to examine Miles’s head.
His gaze was filled with admiration and curiosity, as if he were beholding a priceless treasure.
To a researcher, a specimen like Miles, who could mutate “Telepathy” into “electronic perception,” was an unprecedentedly valuable subject!
Miles merely glared at him weakly before closing his eyes in exhaustion.
His physical condition was currently so poor that he couldn’t even speak.
His previous communications had relied entirely on using his electronic control to simulate vocal synthesis.
Now that his power was suppressed and his arms were broken, the only part of his body he could move was his head.
Seemingly sensing Miles’s helpless state, Dr.
Zander let out a soft chuckle.
He then led his team out, escorting their “trophies” away from the facility. Get faster updates on novelping.com.
…
Some ten minutes later, on Fox News, General Ryker appeared on screen once again.
Facing a forest of microphones and flashbulbs that lit up the night like day, a confident, composed smile graced his lips.
“…The rogue mutant terrorist embedded in our civilian population, code name X-0, has been successfully apprehended.”
“Victory always belongs to the American soldier!
To our great democratic republic!”
Amidst the praise of the public and the media, he boarded a military transport plane alongside his highly decorated “Purifiers” squad, soaring into the sky under the gaze of millions.
…
On an interstate highway outside Kansas City, an inconspicuous pickup truck blended into the flow of traffic, heading toward the horizon.
Three people sat inside: Logan at the wheel, Laura in the passenger seat, and elderly Charles in the back, hooked up to a cluster of life-support equipment.
Through the rear window, Laura watched the plane slowly shrink into a black speck in the night sky, her clenched teeth trembling constantly.
“They’ve taken off?” Logan asked quietly from the driver’s seat.
“Yeah,” Laura squeezed the word out through her teeth.
Silence fell over the cabin once more.
After a long while, Logan asked hoarsely, “…Where to now?”
“North Dakota,” Laura whispered.
“Don’t you get it yet?” An uncontrollable exhaustion leaked into Logan’s voice.
“‘Eden’ doesn’t exist!
It was just a story in a comic book, a lie Gabriela told you…
There is no Eden for mutants!
You saw it yourself…
This world has no place for us…”
“Shut up!” Laura cut him off sharply, her voice shrill with emotion.
“I’m going to find them!”
“Find who?”
“Rictor, Rebecca, Delilah…” Laura listed the names through gritted teeth, her voice raspy.
“And then, we’re going to rescue Miles!”
Logan fell silent, then pressed his foot down on the accelerator.
…
Meanwhile, at the Kansas University Medical Center, the commotion had settled, and the staff began the task of cleaning up the ruined premises.
Looking at the devastated laboratory building, Dr.
Reed, the director, felt her heart ache over the hospital’s massive financial losses.
Although the military had been involved, after initial inquiries, they had shrugged off the liability onto the insurance companies.
And ninety-nine percent of Americans knew that insurance companies were only good at selling policies; whether they would actually pay out was an entirely different matter.
As she was fretting over this, the finance department suddenly called to inform her that an anonymous donation of $1.5 million had just been deposited into the hospital’s account.
“This…”
Dr.
Reed was stunned.
Then, a realization dawned on her.
Looking out the window at the bleak, cold night, she let out a silent sigh.
…
Inside the Walter West Wing laboratory, which had just hosted a fierce battle, everything seemed to have returned to peace.
On a forgotten computer tucked away in a dusty corner, inside a hidden upload window, a blue progress bar finally reached its end.
[100%]
Then, two words slowly materialized on the screen:
[Uploading…
Complete.]