Chapter 26: Probing
Three days later.
Tony abruptly held a press conference and announced the permanent closure of the weapons manufacturing division.
Stark Industries' stock prices plummeted on the spot, and the old folks on the board of directors almost suffered collective heart attacks.
The press conference scene was a complete mess, with reporters holding microphones and pushing forward, hurling questions like cannonballs.
Tony stood on the stage, his shirt sleeves rolled up to his forearms, lacking his usual cheeky grin and showing a rare touch of seriousness.
Without any notes, he just stood there and made a final decision in a few words — Stark Industries will completely shut down its weapons manufacturing lines starting today, existing orders will be gradually terminated, and the future focus will shift to clean energy and medical technology.
There was an uproar off the stage.
Logan leaned against a backstage pillar, smoking a cigar and watching the commotion, while beside him, Pepper's face turned pale and then green, her folder practically crushed in her grip.
"Is he crazy?" Pepper lowered her voice, her tone full of breakdown, "Such a big matter, and he only notified me half an hour in advance? The board of directors is going to eat him alive!"
"Relax, he knows what he's doing." Logan blew a smoke ring and said leisurely, "Once Obadiah's rotten deeds are dug up, the company's weapons lines haven't been clean for a long time. If he keeps selling them, the day a shell lands on the streets of New York, the blame will fall squarely on him. Wild as this guy is, he still has a couple of bottom lines."
Pepper was stunned, turned to look at him: "Did you know about this long ago?"
"Guessed it." Logan shrugged, "Otherwise, what did you think he was investigating behind closed doors for half a month? Checking how many missiles he sold himself?"
Just as they were talking, Tony came down from the stage with a smug look, walked up to the two of them, and deliberately straightened his tie: "How was it? Wasn't that speech just now wonderful? I feel like awarding myself the Best Speech Award."
"Wonderful my ass." Pepper irritably shoved the folder into his arms, "The board of directors' calls are about to blow up my phone, go explain it yourself!"
"Explain what?" Tony raised an eyebrow, "I'm the largest shareholder, I call the shots. Besides, what's the point of selling weapons? Making things that can benefit humanity is way better than all this killing, isn't it?"
He spoke nonchalantly, but his eyes hid a hint of gloom. The shrapnel in the Afghan cave, the Jericho missiles in the hands of the Ten Rings Gang, and those weapons smuggled out by Obadiah ultimately fell upon civilians.
He used to think that building weapons was serving the country and the value of a genius, until the muzzle was nearly pressed against his forehead, making him realize that he had long unknowingly become a knife in someone else's hands.
Logan saw through his little thoughts without exposing him, merely smiling as he kicked the leg of his chair: "Well, well, Tony Stark, turned over a new leaf? Not going to be an arms dealer anymore, turning into a philanthropist instead?"
"Cut the crap." Tony gave him a roll of the eyes without refuting, "Let's go, back to the laboratory. The weapons lines are stopped, we need to speed up the progress of the reactor project."
The three of them walked outward, just as Natalie was coming towards them, holding a stack of documents, graceful in figure and professional in smile.
She first nodded slightly at Tony and handed over the documents: "Mr. Stark, these are the detailed rules for contract termination just sorted out by the legal department, you need to sign them."
"Put them in my office." Tony waved his hand, his mind full of reactor matters, and didn't stop his steps.
Natalie acknowledged, but her gaze swept over Loganwithout a trace.
Their eyes met, Logan raised an eyebrow with a malicious smile; Natalie gave a faint, calm smile, and as they brushed past each other, the pen in her hand "accidentally" dropped to the ground, rolling right to Logan's feet.
"Oh, sorry." She bent down to pick it up, but her fingertips deliberately slowed down by half a beat.
How could Logan not see through this little probe.
Too lazy to bend down, he moved his fingertips imperceptibly, a weak magnetic field wrapping around the fountain pen, floating it half an inch lightly off the ground, just falling beside Natalie's hand. He did it extremely fast, the amplitude of the pen bouncing up was very small, looking just like it happened to bounce.
Natalie's fingertips paused, she looked up at Logan, a trace of imperceptible surprise flashing in her eyes.
Yet Logan acted like nothing had happened, walking forward with a cigar in his mouth, and turned back to smile at her: "Be careful, Miss Natalie, can't even hold a pen steady, Tony will deduct your salary later."
"Thanks for the reminder, Mr. Howlett." Natalie stood up, her smile still proper, but ripples had already risen in her heart.
That moment just now was definitely not a coincidence.
She had checked Logan Howlett's profile, on the surface he was a veteran, with extremely strong combat skills, otherwise completely mediocre.
But after spending this period of time together, there were too many suspicious points.
His pace, reaction speed, intuition for danger, and that bizarre pen anomaly just now were definitely not the level a regular bodyguard should have.
Even stranger, she had tried probing with words several times, but this guy was always impervious, either making jokes or flirting back with her two lines, leaking not a single hint of information.
That night, S.H.I.E.L.D. safe house.
Natasha removed her blonde wig, wiped off the light makeup on her face, and restored her cold and capable true colors. Facing the communicator, she reported in a low voice: "Officer Fury, Logan Howlett has many suspicious points. His combat skills are in a league of their own, not part of the Military's conventional system; his environmental perception far exceeds ordinary people, every time I approached within thirty meters of him, he could detect it in advance; in addition, today I tested him once, he is very likely to possess metal-manipulation abilities, and the level is not low."
Across the communicator, Fury's steady voice came over: "Anything else?"
"His social relations are very complicated," Natashacontinued, "He has connections with Storm and Jean Grey of the X-Men, is in close contact with White Queen EmmaFrost, and privately associates with an ordinary woman named Maggie Murdock. Besides that, his background information is too clean, so clean that it looks deliberately forged, and no effective information before the age of twenty can be found."
The other end of the communicator fell silent for a few seconds.
"He's not simple," Natasha summarized.
Fury gave a low chuckle, his tone carrying a hint of expected certainty: "If he were simple, I wouldn't have sent you to investigate."
"He is deeply entangled with Mutants, and that stronghold in Afghanistan being wiped out was most likely his doing." Natasha paused, "Should we increase the intensity of contact? Find a way to get his biological samples?"
"Not for now," Fury vetoed, "Tony Stark is the priority right now, just keep an eye on him. As for Logan Howlett, don't alert the enemy. This person hides deep, and coming hard will only backfire. Observe first, wait for the right opportunity."
"Understood."
The communication cut off, Natasha stood by the window, watching the bustling traffic downstairs, her fingertips gently tapping the windowsill.
Logan Howlett... this person is like a ball of fog. On the surface, he is a sloppy, greedy, wine-loving, and lustful bodyguard, but peeling off this shell, nobody knows what is hidden underneath.
And Logan, who was on her mind, was currently lying on the recliner in his backyard, petting a dog while answering a phone call.
Chapter 27: Brotherhood Remnants
The call was from Ororo, saying that a few kids at the school were being naughty, sneaked out and caused some trouble, and she wanted him to come over and lend a hand.
"Not going." Logan refused without even thinking, "I am not the babysitter of the X-Men, and that guy Charles is still holding a grudge against me for killing Magneto. Why look for me, I still have to give Ares a bath."
"Just once." Ororo's voice carried a hint of helplessness and a trace of unnoticeable softness, "Charles went to a meeting, Scott is stubborn, and the kids only listen to you. Come over, tonight... I will treat you to a drink."
Logan touched his chin.
"Fine, for the sake of the drink." He slowly sat up, "Wait, I will be there in half an hour."
After hanging up the phone, he rubbed Ares's head: "Stay at home by yourself, I am going out to take care of something."
Ares whined twice, drooped its ears and lay back down on the ground.
Logan changed his jacket, rode the harley straight to Xaviers School. When he arrived, Jean was standing at the door waiting for him with a not-so-good expression. Seeing him coming, she said with a cold face, "Follow me."
Logan followed behind her, couldn't help laughing: "What is this about? Who provoked you? Could it be that Scottmade you angry again?"
"It has nothing to do with him." Jean paused her steps, turned her head and glared at him, "Can't you be serious? The kids are all being corrupted by you."
"How did I corrupt them?" Logan looked innocent, "When I came last time, I taught them a couple of self-defense moves."
"Is what you taught called self-defense moves?" Jean laughed out of anger, "You taught them how to knock people out with one punch; Charles would get a headache if he found out."
The two bickered as they walked to the activity room.
Several little troublemakers squatted dejectedly in the corner of the wall. Seeing Logan coming, their eyes lit up instantly, and they quickly lowered their heads to pretend to be pitiful.
Logan didn't scold them either, squatted down and chatted with them for a couple of sentences, coaxing the little ones into complete submission and obediently admitting their mistakes with just a few words.
Watching from the side, Ororo couldn't help curving the corners of her mouth, while Jean crossed her arms on the side, let out a cold hum, but there wasn't much anger in her eyes.
After dealing with the children's affairs, Ororo indeed brought out a bottle of good wine.
The three of them sat on the bench of the terrace, drinking and chatting while doing so.
Jean occasionally chimed in with a couple of words, but most of the time she listened to Logan and Ororo talk. The moonlight fell on her red long hair, softening much of her usual sharpness.
Having not sat for long, Logan's phone rang again. It was a message from Emma, saying that there was a reception tomorrow and she lacked a male companion.
Logan smiled and replied with "No problem".
Putting down the phone and meeting the unanimous gazes of Ororo and Jean, he put it back into his pocket without changing his expression: "Work matters, from Tony's side."
The two women exchanged glances and neither exposed him.
Logan lived such days with immense joy.
In the morning, he accompanied Maggie for breakfast and sent her to the coffee shop; at noon, he had a business lunch with Emma and casually listened to her rant about annoying things in the shopping mall; in the afternoon, he made time to go to Xaviers School for a stroll, teased the kids, and chatted a couple of words with Ororo and Jean; at night, he went home to walk the dog and fish, living a life more comfortable than an immortal.
He never deliberately beat around the bush or promised anything. Everyone was an adult, it was mutual consent; if comfortable, they stayed together, and if uncomfortable, they each busied themselves with their own things.
Ares became his best shield. Every time he didn't want to keep an appointment, just a single sentence "Have to accompany the dog" worked a hundred times out of a hundred.
He originally thought that this carefree life could last a few more days, until this evening, when he brought Ares back from fishing by the lake, just as he turned into the community alley, he felt that something was wrong.
A faint smell of sulfur drifted in the air, along with the scent of scorched feathers.
Logan paused his steps, raised his hand to hold down Ares's head, and said in a low voice: "Go home."
Ares made a low whimpering sound in its throat, but obediently turned around and ran in the direction of home.
As soon as it left, two figures jumped down from the walls on both sides of the alley, blocking the way on the left and right.
The man on the left had a buzz cut, wore black leather clothes, and his hands glowed with a faint grey-white light. The surrounding air twisted and rotated along with it; it was precisely Riptide.
The woman on the right grew a pair of insect-like wings on her back, her face had scale patterns, and her mouth carried a cruel smile; it was precisely Angel Salvador.
"Logan Howlett." Riptide spoke, his voice hoarse and cold, "After killing Erik, you are living quite carefree."
Logan raised his eyebrows, leaned his fishing rod against the wall, slowly took out a cigar and held it in his mouth without lighting it: "What, are you guys here to avenge him?"
"If you know what's good for you, obediently come with us." Salvador flapped her wings, hovering in mid-air, "Otherwise, don't blame us for being impolite."
"Impolite?" Logan sneered, "Just relying on the two of you? One plays with tornadoes, the other is a flapping moth, and you dare to come block me?"
As soon as these words came out, the expressions of the two sank simultaneously.
Riptide made the first move, shoving his hands forward fiercely, and a high-speed rotating airflow whistled and shot towards Logan. Wherever it passed, the stones on the ground were stirred into powder.
Salvador launched an attack simultaneously, vibrating her wings, and countless sharp bone spurs shot over like darts.
Logan stepped on the Bagua Step under his feet, his figure so fast that only afterimages remained, easily dodging the bone spurs.
Facing the incoming airflow, he did not dodge or evade. His right-hand steel claws popped out with a hiss, slashing fiercely against the wind blades.
"Clang——"
Adamantium collided with the wind blades, emitting a piercing screech.
Logan's arm tingled slightly, but his footsteps remained completely motionless.
Riptide's ability was not weak, but compared to him, it was still a bit lacking.
"Just this little skill?" Logan sneered, a thought flashing in his mind, and the teleportation ability he had absorbed not long ago activated instantly.
With a soft puff sound, his figure disappeared on the spot.
Riptide's pupils shrank sharply. Just as he wanted to turn his head, a sharp pain came from his back.
Logan's steel claws penetrated through his left shoulder, and fresh blood gushed out instantly.
"Teleportation?!" Riptide was both shocked and angry; he didn't expect Logan to actually have this kind of ability!
Logan pulled out his steel claws and conveniently kicked him on the back.
Riptide staggered forward a few steps, and before he could stand firm, Logan's second strike had already arrived.
The Drilling Fist of Xingyiquan combined with the steel claws, directly taking aim at the back of the heart with a tricky and ruthless angle.
Riptide gritted his teeth and turned back, his hands spinning frantically, and a larger vortex blocked in front of him.
But just at this moment, his vision suddenly blurred, countless illusions of steel claws pierced overwhelmingly, and his mind suffered a sudden stabbing pain.
Mental illusion!
In this split second of hesitation, Logan's steel claws had already penetrated the vortex and fiercely stabbed into his chest.
"Ugh..." Riptide's body stiffened, and the vortex in his hands dissipated instantly. He lowered his head in disbelief, looking at the steel claws in his chest, as large mouthfuls of fresh blood gushed from his mouth.
'Detected enemy killed dropped x-factor, whether to absorb?'
"Absorb." Logan muttered silently in his heart, pulling out his steel claws.
Riptide's body collapsed softly, and a warm power surged into his body.
Logan could clearly feel that he had gained the ability to manipulate airflow. Although the current level was not high, it was enough for cutting, crowd control, and everything else.
Having dealt with Riptide, he raised his head to look at Salvador in mid-air.
Salvador had long been scared silly.
She knew Logan was powerful, but she didn't expect him to be this powerful!
Riptide could be considered a good hand in the Brotherhood, yet he couldn't even last ten rounds?
Without even thinking, she vibrated her wings and wanted to turn around and run.
"Can you run?" Logan sneered, raised his hand, and Magnetic Field Manipulation was fully activated.
The bone spurs on Salvador's wings and the metal components in her bones were all firmly locked by the magnetic field.
She flapped her wings desperately, but it was as if she was tied by an invisible rope, hanging motionless in mid-air.
"Let me go!!" Salvador screamed, spitting out corrosive saliva from her mouth, but she couldn't touch a fraction of Logan at all.
Logan couldn't be bothered to talk nonsense with her and clenched his fingers.
The magnetic field tightened abruptly, and Salvador let out a shrill scream as her bones crunched from being squeezed.
Her ability potential was too low, and Logan didn't look down upon it at all, so he simply converted it directly into points.
'Detected enemy killed dropped x-factor, whether to absorb?'
"No, convert to points."
The next second, the points arrived in the account. Salvador's body fell to the ground like a kite with a broken string, losing all breath.
Logan shook off the blood on his claws, lowered his head to glance at the two corpses on the ground, and couldn't help shaking his head.
"Really, isn't it good to just live peacefully, why insist on coming to feed kills."
He calculated: Magneto's subordinates back then were either dead or scattered—Red Devil, Riptide, Angel, Sabretooth... Now there was only Mystique Raven left.
That fellow Raven was elusive, and too deeply entangled with Charles, so Logan didn't plan to touch her for the time being. Anyway, the other party hadn't come to provoke him either; well water didn't interfere with river water, which was quite good.
He was too lazy to deal with the corpses and directly made a phone call to Emma, asking her to send people over to clean up.
Emma agreed without saying a second word, only ranting a sentence over the phone: "Wherever you go, trouble follows."
After hanging up the phone, Logan picked up the fishing rod and walked slowly towards home.
The smell of blood in the alley would soon be blown away by the wind, and the two corpses would be cleaned up before dawn without anyone knowing.
Returning home, Ares was squatting at the door waiting for him. Seeing him return, it wagged its tail, came up to sniff, smelled the blood, and let out a low whimper in its throat.
"It's fine, just a few flies." Logan rubbed its head and walked into the bathroom to take a hot shower.
The warm water poured on his body, washing away bloodstains and dust. He closed his eyes, feeling the newborn vortex ability in his body, as well as the increased points, and the corners of his mouth unconsciously curved upwards.
Grown a little stronger again.
Although it was still a far cry from Omega-level, there were just too many people coming to deliver kills.
Wiping his hair as he walked out of the bathroom, his phone rang again. It was a message from Maggie, asking if he was free tomorrow and wanting to go to the supermarket together to buy groceries.
Logan smiled and replied with "Good".
Chapter 28: Are Vampires Equivalent to Mobile XP Packs?
Chinatown was still very lively after nightfall, with the street stalls exuding the aromas of barbecue and milk tea, and the neon lights dazzling one's eyes.
Maggie held a skewer of fish balls in her hand, chattering away to Logan as they walked about the new desserts at the coffee shop; a few strands of her hair were blown messy by the evening breeze, and her profile looked soft under the lights.
Logan had an unlit cigar clenched in his teeth, his hands shoved deep into his pants pockets, walking leisurely alongside her and occasionally murmuring a grunt in response.
He wasn't wearing his work clothes today, having changed into a black hoodie instead, making him look no different from a regular young man out on a date, except for his gaze occasionally sweeping across the surroundings with a hint of a Beast's sharpness.
"Let's take a shortcut ahead and head back early; Matt is still waiting for me at home." Maggie took a bite of a fish ball and pointed to a nearby alley.
The alley wasn't deep and connected to another street, but two of the streetlights were broken, making it look rather dim.
Logan glanced at the alley, his brow furrowing imperceptibly.
A faint scent of blood drifted in the air, along with a putrid odor that was different from ordinary garbage, carrying a chilly edge.
However, he didn't say anything, merely nodding. "Alright, follow me."
The two walked inward, and the shadows deep within the alley suddenly stirred.
Before Maggie could react, a black shadow pounced forward with absurd speed; its face was sickly pale, two sharp fangs protruded from its mouth, and its eyes glowed with an eerie red.
Startled, she let out a scream, and the fish balls in her hand dropped to the ground.
Logan reacted even faster, reaching out to pull Maggiebehind him, dodging the pouncing shadow with a sidestep, naturally grabbing the opponent's arm with his left hand while forming his right hand into a palm, delivering a precise chop to the back of its neck.
He didn't dare use too much force, fearing he might snap the neck and frighten Maggie, but the creature acted as if nothing had happened, letting out a hiss and pouncing again with nails that were sharp and long, aiming straight for his throat.
"What the hell?" Logan cursed inwardly, realizing this wasn't an ordinary robber.
Pale complexion, long fangs, fear of light? A Vampire?
He had previously only glanced across Eric Brooks's name in the original body's memories, knowing that this stitched-up Universe had a species called Vampires, but this was the first time he had truly run into one face-to-face.
Seeing the opponent pounce again, Logan didn't dodge; he executed a Bagua Step under his feet, sidestepping past the claws, clamping his right hand onto the creature's head while wedging his left hand under its chin, and gently twisting his wrist.
With a crisp crunch.
The black shadow's body went limp, collapsing onto the ground and remaining motionless.
The entire process took only a few seconds, clean and decisive.
Maggie hid behind Logan, her face pale, covering her mouth and daring not to scream again.
"It's fine now." Logan turned around, patting her shoulder and trying to keep his tone relaxed. "A drug addict hallucinating, probably mistaking us for enemies."
He kicked the corpse on the ground, muttering to himself that a Vampire's bones weren't much different from an ordinary person's, snapping with a single twist.
He just wasn't sure if it was thoroughly dead, so he'd have to deliver a follow-up insurance blow later.
Maggie nodded, still somewhat shaken, gripping Logan's arm without letting go. "How can there be such people... Should we call the Police?"
"Don't, the Police coming would be troublesome, and we'd have to give statements, dragging it out until the middle of the night." Logan casually made up an excuse. "Anyway, the person has already passed out; let's hurry up and leave, and not get ourselves mixed up in trouble."
He didn't want to complicate matters further, and even less did he want Maggie dragged into these ghost-like things.
Supporting Maggie as they walked quickly out of the alley and turned into the crowded avenue, she slowly calmed down, though her face was still a bit pale.
After seeing Maggie to her building downstairs, Logangave her a couple more instructions and watched her go upstairs before turning to leave.
Just as he rounded the street corner, a sudden ding sounded in his head.
'Detected the elimination of an alien life form, detected x-factor homologous energy, absorb?'
Logan's steps abruptly stopped.
What the heck?
He stood frozen in place, unable to collect his thoughts for a long time.
Vampires? Alien life forms? They have an x-factor too?
He instinctively selected no, converting it into points.
The next second, the system panel flickered, increasing by exactly 20 points, neither more nor less.
Delta-class? Logan raised an eyebrow.
This thing looked fierce and aggressive, but it was only Delta-class; the points weren't much, but its advantage lay in its large numbers!
You couldn't find a few Mutants across the entire World, and they all had organizations; killing too many of them would easily get him targeted by Charles and S.H.I.E.L.D..
Vampires were different; they slept by day and came out by night, hiding in the dark corners of the city, where no one would even report it if they died, and no one would notice how many were killed.
This was simply a mobile XP pack!
Logan's eyes lit up, and the cigar in his mouth almost dropped.
He leaned against the wall, pondering for quite a while.
Only 20 points each; although not much, they couldn't withstand the sheer volume.
Besides, killing Vampires was much more carefree than killing Mutants—no psychological burden, and no one coming back to settle accounts.
It's just unclear whether all Vampires were like this.
What if only this particular one happened to mutate?
He needed to find a place to test it out.
The first place that popped into his head was San Francisco.
The original body's memories mentioned that Vampirenests were clustered over there, and Blade constantly swept through the area year-round, so the goods were definitely plentiful.
No sooner said than done.
Early the next morning, Logan sauntered over to Stark Tower to ask Tony for leave.
Tony was hunched over his workbench tuning the flight stabilizer of the mark iii, his face stained with engine oil, not even raising his head. "Leave? Going fishing again? Last time you said you were going fishing, and it turned out you fished for half a month; I almost got hammered to death by Obadiah."
"I have some personal business, heading to San Francisco." Logan leaned against the doorframe, biting his cigar. "I'll be back in a week. You can dock my salary; anyway, I have stock dividends, I don't care about that bit of money."
"You sure have a lot of personal business." Tony put down his welding torch and looked up, glaring at him. "My armor is at a crucial stage right now; if you leave, who is going to be my human punching bag to test out moves?"
"Go find your Ms. Natalie to practice with you," Loganteased. "She's both pretty and capable, isn't she much better than a rough guy like me? Besides, I'm not going to play around, it's serious business."
Tony rolled his eyes hard and waved his hand impatiently. "Go on, go on, you haven't worked a proper few days of shifts anyway. Remember to keep your phone on; if something happens, I need to be able to reach you. Don't pull what you did last time and be out of contact for days."
"Got it." Having achieved his goal, Logan turned and walked away, only to turn back at the door to add one more sentence. "Right, while I'm away, don't go fighting people on the street again; the last building repair fees haven't even been fully deducted from your bonus yet."
"Get lost!" Tony grabbed a nut and threw it over.
Logan dodged with a smile and slipped away while whistling.
That afternoon, he took a plane to San Francisco.
He didn't bring many things, just a backpack stuffed with a few boxes of cigars, a bottle of twelve-year-old whiskey, and two sets of clothes to change into.
Ares was temporarily entrusted to the neighbor John Wickto look after; the latter loved dogs like his own life and would definitely take care of it even more meticulously than he did.
The nights in San Francisco were colder and damper than in New York, with heavy fog, and the old district's winding alleys were the most suitable for harboring dirt and villainy.
Logan found an inconspicuous motel to stay at and wandered out as soon as darkness fell.
He specifically burrowed into remote underground bars, abandoned warehouses, and gloomy back alleys; relying on his Beast-level senses, he tracked the scent of blood and putrid odors, and without spending much effort, he found a gang inside an abandoned warehouse near the docks.
There were three in total, surrounding a passed-out homeless man; they looked like they had just finished biting someone, with blood still staining the corners of their mouths, huddled together and hissing softly.
Logan leaned against the warehouse doorway, biting an unlit cigar as he quickly did the math in his head: 20 points for one, 60 points for three; no matter how small a mosquito's leg is, it's still meat.
He didn't rush to make a move, observing them for a bit first.
These Vampires were quite a bit faster than ordinary people, had great strength, sharp fangs, and average healing abilities; apart from that, they didn't seem to have any other special abilities, much like the cannon fodder among Mutants.
Confirming there was no danger, he slowly walked inside, his footsteps sounding exceptionally clear in the spacious warehouse.
The Vampires inside instantly became alert, turning their heads in unison, exposing their fangs and hissing: "Human? You're courting death!"
The three pounced forward in a pincer formation, their speed not slow, leaving several afterimages in the dim warehouse.
Logan sneered, advancing instead of retreating.
Executing his Bagua Step with flowing grace, he shuttled between the three Vampires, using punches, elbow strikes, and hand chops, with every single move landing precisely on their vital points.
He didn't use his steel claws, nor his magnetic field abilities, relying purely on his Chinese martial arts foundation to beat the three Vampires into a steady retreat.
These things did have some self-healing ability, capable of slowly growing back a broken finger, but they couldn't withstand Logan's ruthless attacks.
He grabbed one's head and fiercely smashed it against a concrete pillar; with a crisp crack, the skull shattered on the spot, and it collapsed limply to the ground.
'Detected the elimination of an alien life form, detected x-factor homologous energy, absorb?'
The prompt tone sounded on schedule.
Logan felt a surge of joy—sure enough, it worked!
His movements grew even faster, throwing continuous crushing punches from Xingyiquan, smashing a fist into a Vampire's chest with the crisp, piercing sound of collapsing sternum bones.
Another tried to launch a sneak attack from behind; he dodged with a sidestep, clamped onto the opponent's neck with a backhand, and snapped the neck with a slight exertion of force.
Three prompt tones rang out consecutively, and a total of 60 points were steadily credited to his account.
Logan shook his hands, looking at the three corpses on the ground, his mouth almost splitting all the way to his ears in a grin.
He was all set!
It could really increase points!
Although the amount given per single individual wasn't much, the quantity of Vampires was vastly greater than that of Mutants.
This was simply a natural point ATM.
"I'm getting rich," Logan muttered to himself, grinning from ear to ear.
Over the next few days, Logan completely unlocked the night grinding mode.
Sleeping and drinking to catch up on rest at the motel by day, and heading out to clear the map by night.
The Vampires of San Francisco had terrible luck; they were originally hiding nicely in the dark to hunt, when suddenly a bane of their existence popped up, specifically targeting dark corners to camp out, striking fast and ruthlessly, leaving no path of survival for anyone they encountered.
In a mere five days, Logan cleared over a dozen small nests, killed nearly forty Vampires, and accumulated over eight hundred points.
Most were Delta-class grubs, though occasionally running into a Gamma-class minor boss could give 50 points; gathering the little things added up to quite a substantial amount.
The only drawback was that it was a bit hard on clothes; fighting and killing every day left his clothes covered in either blood or dust, and he had already thrown away three sets.
That night, Logan tracked a gang of fleeing Vampires, chasing them all the way to an abandoned slaughterhouse on the outskirts of the city.
This place had a heavy scent of blood, good concealment, and locked iron doors, looking like a fairly large nest.
Just as he scaled the wall and sneaked inside, he heard the sounds of fighting coming from within, along with silenced gunfire.
Logan was slightly stunned—are there colleagues here too?
He sneaked over quietly, hiding behind a rack of frozen meat to look inside.
He saw a man wearing a black leather trench coat, holding a specially crafted long blade in his hand and tucking two pistols at his waist, heavily engaged in combat with over a dozen Vampires.
The man's movements were clean, every blade strike was fatal, and his bullets were aimed specifically at their heads, with outrageously accurate marksmanship.
With dark skin, a stern expression, and an aura all over his body that screamed he wasn't someone to be trifled with.
Eric Brooks, Blade.
Logan recognized him at a glance.
He didn't expect to run into him here.
The number of Vampires inside wasn't small; as formidable as Blade was, he couldn't withstand the opponents charging forward in waves, and he was gradually falling slightly behind.
A Vampire circled around behind him, its claws aiming straight for his heart from a tricky and concealed angle.
Without thinking much, Logan casually grabbed a rusty steel pipe nearby and flung it across.
Carrying the sound of wind, the steel pipe accurately smashed into that Vampire's head, shattering its skull on the spot and causing it to collapse onto the ground.
Blade whipped his head around, his gaze as sharp as a knife, looking toward the direction where Logan was hiding.
"Who?"
"Just passing by." Logan walked out slowly from behind the frozen meat rack, hands in his pockets, biting half a cigar. "Saw you were a bit busy, lending a hand."
Blade frowned, said nothing, and turned back to slash down another Vampire that rushed up.
Logan didn't waste words either, charging forward to join the fray.
He didn't use any superpowers, just fought bare-handed, his moves vicious and concise; pairing up with Blade from afar and up close, their coordination turned out to be remarkably tacit.
Blade was responsible for ranged sniping and frontal slashes, while Logan took charge of close-quarters grappling, specifically picking off the fish that slipped through the net. The two didn't say a single word, yet they acted like long-time veteran partners who had coordinated for years.
Over a dozen Vampires were cleaned out in no time.
Silence returned to the slaughterhouse, the ground littered horizontally and vertically with corpses, and the scent of blood mixed with the smell of rust and putridity rushed straight to the head.
Blade put away his blade, turned to look at Logan, his eyes carrying scrutiny: "What kind of person are you?"
"An ordinary person." Logan shrugged, bending down to pick up his cigar from the ground and patting off the dust. "Passing by, took care of a few along the way."
Blade obviously didn't believe it, looking him up and down a few times.
Could an ordinary person beat over a dozen Vampires to death bare-handed? Could an ordinary person have such an accurate throwing technique? Could an ordinary person have such a heavy scent of blood on them?
But he didn't press the matter further either.
In their line of work, who didn't have a few secrets?
Tracing things down to the root would only make it boring.
Logan didn't explain much either, fishing out an unopened cigar from his pocket and tossing it over.
Blade reached out and caught it, inspecting it—it was a Cuban cigar, and the quality was quite decent.
"Thanks." He tucked the cigar behind his ear without lighting it, maintaining that icy expression. "The nest here is cleared out; there's another gang at the south pier warehouse, with an even greater quantity."
"Oh?" Logan raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued. "Together?"
Blade fell silent for two seconds and nodded.
The two walked out of the slaughterhouse side by side, as the cool night breeze blew over, scattering a bit of the blood scent.
They didn't speak much along the way, yet there was an inexplicable tacit understanding.
One was a half-Vampire specializing in killing Vampires, and the other was a Mutant grinding points; their motives differed, but their targets were surprisingly consistent.
Arriving at the south pier, the two joined forces again to clear out a nest of over twenty Vampires.
The fight was thoroughly satisfying, with a much higher efficiency than Logan solo-grinding by himself.
Blade's weapons and experience could precisely locate nests, while Logan's close-quarters combat and acute senses could backstop any fish slipping through the net; put together, they were simply a Vampire harvester.
After finishing up, the two leaned against the pier's railing to catch the breeze.
The sea surface was pitch black, with only the beacon lights in the distance flashing a faint glow.
Logan lit his cigar and tossed a lighter over.
Blade didn't refuse this time, lighting the cigarette and taking a drag.
"Logan." Logan stated his own name, not mentioning his full name.
"Eric." Blade also responded simply.
And just like that, the two considered each other acquainted.
"Will you still come to San Francisco in the future?" Blade exhaled a puff of smoke and asked.
"Maybe." Logan smiled. "I'll come over to look around whenever I have nothing to do; anyway, being idle is still being idle, it's more interesting than fishing at home."
Blade nodded and didn't ask any further.
He could tell that Logan had good martial skills, was ruthless in his strikes, and didn't show soft hands toward Vampires—he wasn't a bad person.
As for what kind of person he actually was or what his motives were, it didn't matter.
After finishing his smoke, Blade picked up his blade and left first, his figure disappearing into the night, clean and decisive, without even tossing an extra greeting.
Logan leaned against the railing, watching his departing figure, and smiled.
Having one more friend meant one more path, especially a professional Vampire-killing friend like this; it would make grinding monsters much more convenient in the future.
He lowered his head to calculate tonight's haul; added with his previous balance, it was already around 1200 points, leaving him instantly satisfied.
This trip to San Francisco wasn't made in vain.
Chapter 29 Mr. X
Spending another little week in San Francisco, Loganswept through most of the surrounding Vampire nests he could find, and his points steadily stopped at 2,030.
He found a secluded motel, closed the door, drew the curtains, and opened the system panel to study the upgrades.
Magnetic Field Manipulation was currently Beta-class, and upgrading it to Alpha-level cost exactly 1,600 points; the remaining 400-plus points were just enough to push teleportation from Epsilon-class to Gamma-level.
"Upgrade." Logan chanted silently in his heart.
The next second, two warm forces exploded within his body simultaneously.
The warm current of Magnetic Field Manipulation spread through his blood vessels to his limbs and bones. He could clearly feel the metal components of the entire motel—water pipes, steel bars, door locks, and the street lamp poles outside the window—all emerging with clear outlines in his mind, like extended fingers that he could control at will with just a thought.
He tried to make a virtual grab at the metal desk lamp on the bedside table. Instead of floating up slowly like before, the lamp flew into his hand with a "whoosh," its momentum absurdly steady.
"Not bad." Logan weighed the lamp in his hand, the corners of his mouth curving upward. Previously, he had to concentrate to manipulate metal; now it was as effortless as raising his hand to pick something up.
Magneto's peak before death was only Alpha-level, and now he had also touched this threshold. Not to mention dismantling armor, flipping over a small building wouldn't take much effort; calling him a humanoid building-destroying machine would even be modest.
He tried teleportation again.
With a thought, the light and shadow flickered before his eyes, and he was already standing at the motel entrance.
The distance was about five hundred meters, more than tenfold the previous distance of dozens of meters.
Gamma-level teleportation could cross a small half of an urban area in a single jump, and flashing seven or eight times consecutively without even catching his breath made it overwhelmingly useful for running away and ambushing.
"All set." Logan whistled, deeply satisfied.
The remaining points weren't much, and he didn't spend them carelessly, saving them as backups.
Early the next morning, he checked out of the room and flew back to New York.
The first thing he did upon landing was to go next door to John's house to pick up Ares. As soon as he rang the doorbell, the sound of claws scratching the door came from inside, followed by John's helpless voice: "He couldn't sit still the moment he heard your voice."
As soon as the door opened, Ares let out a howl and pounced forward. Its eighty-plus-pound body almost knocked Logan off balance, its big tail whipping up a wind, and its head rubbing persistently into his arms.
"Alright, alright. You didn't eat his dog food for nothing, did you?" Logan rubbed the dog's head and looked up at John, "Thanks a lot, brother. I'll bring you a bottle of good wine later."
"Small matter." John shrugged, and Helen chimed in with a smile, "Ares has been very well-behaved and plays exceptionally well with our dog. Come over and hang out often when you have time."
Logan agreed with a smile and led the dog back home.
Ares hopped and skipped all the way back, acting as if it had suffered a great grievance. Logan wasn't stingy either; as soon as they got home, he fried two extra-large steaks as a reward.
Rested for a day, Logan strolled over to Stark Tower to report back for duty.
In the laboratory, Tony was pacing around the Mark IV, and without even turning his head upon hearing footsteps, he said: "You still know how to come back? I thought you had settled down in San Francisco, fishing for more than half a month."
"Personal matters take precedence." Logan leaned against the door frame, biting on a cigar, "How is it? Did you upgrade the armor? Don't end up being chased and beaten again, forcing me to clean up your mess."
"Nonsense." Tony turned around, holding a new alloy plate in his hand, "The Mark IV has added an anti-magnetic coating and a new reactor, doubling its firepower. Besides, who dares to provoke me now? With Iron Man's reputation hanging there, kidnappings and assassinations have decreased a lot."
What he said was indeed the truth.
Ever since he shouted the line "I am Iron Man" at the press conference, ordinary assassins and common kidnappers didn't dare to approach anymore, but trouble came in a different way—corporate spies sprang up like bamboo shoots after rain, swarming into Stark Industries wave after wave, with their targets entirely set on the Arc Reactor blueprints and armor technology.
"Assassinations dropped, spies increased." Logan teased, hitting the nail on the head, "While I was away these past few days, Pepper must have caught three of them, right?"
Tony's face darkened: "How do you know?"
"Guessed." Logan shrugged, "Technology is valuable. If it were me, I'd want to steal it too; selling it would fund ten lifetimes."
"They need to have the life to take it." Tony snorted coldly, tossing a bottle of beer to Logan, "Come on, let's go to the lounge for a couple of drinks and talk about something. S.H.I.E.L.D. sent people over again, annoying as hell."
The two strolled to the lounge. Just as they sat down and hadn't chatted for two sentences, Logan's ears suddenly twitched.
A trace of an extremely faint sound of breaking air rapidly approached from outside the window, so fast it was almost inaudible.
It wasn't an ordinary bullet; it carried a slight rotational arc, targeting Tony's back of the head directly.
"Watch out!"
Logan reacted faster than his brain, abruptly raising his right hand.
Clang——
That hollow-patterned brass bullet stopped abruptly a few centimeters behind Tony's head, suspended in mid-air spinning at high speed, yet unable to advance even a fraction.
The momentum on the bullet was completely stripped away by the magnetic field, not even shattering a single piece of glass.
Tony had just taken a sip of beer and hadn't reacted yet, staring blankly at the bullet suspended before him: "... Fuck?"
He broke out in a belated cold sweat; if that bullet had been any closer, his skull would have been split open.
"Sniper, rooftop opposite." Logan wore a playful look. With a slight movement of his fingertips, the bullet floated leisurely into his hand, and he weighed it, "Quite a fancy bullet, even carved."
Just as Tony was about to open his mouth to curse, he saw Logan's figure flicker in place and vanish completely.
"Holy shit... Teleportation?!" Tony widened his eyes, almost choking on his beer into his trachea.
Just how many tricks did this guy keep hidden?
On the rooftop of the office building opposite, Mr. X had just pulled the trigger, waiting to watch the target's head blossom, only to watch the bullet stop eerily in mid-air.
His pupils shrank sharply, and his heart skipped a beat—something was wrong!
The intuition honed by years of his assassin career made him immediately want to retreat, but as soon as he turned around, a lazy voice came from behind: "Don't be in such a rush to leave. Coming from all this way, won't you stay for a drink?"
Mr. X's hairs stood on end. Without thinking, he side-rolled, simultaneously reaching back for the handgun at his waist.
But fast as his movement was, Logan was even faster.
The magnetic field activated, and the gun in the opponent's hand flew straight out of his grasp, slamming into the rooftop railing with a loud clank.
Logan wasn't in a hurry to make a move either. He just leaned against the doorway biting on a cigarette, sizing up the other person up and down.
Dressed in a tight black combat suit, wearing a half-mask on his face, with gloomy eyes and calluses on his hands from holding a gun year-round, he was indeed cut from the cloth of a professional assassin.
"Who are you?" Mr. X asked in a deep voice, his palms full of sweat. He had never seen such a bizarre opponent who could control bullets and appear out of thin air, completely defying common sense.
"Didn't your employer tell you?" Logan raised an eyebrow, "Stark's bodyguard."
As he spoke, he took a step forward, and mental illusions silently unfolded, drilling into the opponent's senses.
Mr. X only felt a burst of dizziness in his head, and hallucinations began to appear before his eyes. Countless steel claws stabbed toward him, and he couldn't even make a sound if he wanted to shout.
Logan walked up to him and reached out to remove his mask, revealing a fairly handsome face, though it was twisted severely at the moment.
Mental intrusion wasn't all that honorable, but when dealing with an assassin, there was no need to play by the rules.
"I ask, you answer." Logan's tone was slow, yet carried an unquestionable sense of oppression, "Who sent you?"
Under the mental shock, Mr. X's defense line quickly collapsed, and he stammered out intermittently: "Brotherhood... Assassin Brotherhood..."
"Brotherhood?" Logan raised an eyebrow. As expected, it was that bunch of people, "What's the purpose? What is there to gain by killing Tony Stark?"
"The Loom... The name given by the loom of fate... Kill one, save a thousand..." Mr. X's eyes were vacant, spilling all the foundational secrets of the Assassin Brotherhood.
The loom of fate could automatically weave the names of destined criminals, and the Brotherhood was responsible for assassinating these people, implementing the philosophy of "killing one to save a thousand."
They mastered a technique called curving trajectories, which allowed bullets to bend.
What Logan cared about most was that the Brotherhoodhad a special recovery fluid called regenerative serum, which could quickly repair injuries and nerve damage, though he didn't know if it would be useful for Maggie.
The interrogation was almost done, and Logan withdrew the mental illusion. Mr. X collapsed limply to the ground, panting heavily, his eyes filled with fear.
"The loom of fate?" Logan sneered, "I'd like to see what on earth this thing is."
He didn't plan to kill this guy yet; he also intended to use this guy to locate their lair.
After knocking this guy out, the next instant he was back in Tony's office.
Chapter 30 Assassin Brotherhood
Facing Logan's sudden appearance, Tony, who already had the experience of the first time, was not surprised at all, and asked about the assassin, "How is it? Have you figured out who it is?"
"This person belongs to an organization called the Assassin Brotherhood, and they kill people based on the names that appear on a loom of fate." Logan sneered, "Perhaps that was possible before, but I don't believe names would appear so coincidentally."
"loom of fate?" Tony showed an expression of interest, "Could there really be such a magical thing?"
"Whether it is that magical, won't we know once we bring it back to take a look?" Logan leaned lazily on the sofa, "What makes me care more is that they have a special recovery liquid in their hands that can quickly recover physical damage and nerve damage, called the regeneration potion."
Tony's eyes lit up, "There's actually such a thing? You must find a way to get some for me to study. Coincidentally, my medical sector has had no products since its establishment. Maybe it can let us research something good, and I'll give you a dividend then."
Logan immediately perked up, "There is such a good thing? Good thing I marked him. Rest assured, I'll get it for you within three days."
Tony was not surprised by Logan's greed for money, rolled his eyes, and said, "Rest assured, your benefits won't be lacking."
"Alright, it's a deal."
After getting off work, Logan rode his harley back home first to get food for himself and Ares.
An hour later, estimating that Mr. X had probably returned to their Base, he prepared to set off and follow the scent on Mr. X to find the Base of the Assassin Brotherhood.
In the industrial area of Brooklyn, in an abandoned textile factory marked No. 17.
Sloan, the leader of the Assassin Brotherhood, was holding a lit cigarette in his hand and listening to Mr. X's mission report.
He was about 50 years old, of African descent, with high cheekbones, a stern face, and short curly hair stained silver by the years,
"You mean, you met a Mutant? Then your consciousness became blurred, and you passed out, and the other party didn't even kill you?"
He seemed to be listening to an April Fool's joke, and a trace of murderous intent towards Mr. X flashed in his eyes.
Mr. X frowned, "Sloan, you don't think I'm lying to you, do you? I have worked for the Brotherhood for 20 years."
"I don't doubt you." Sloan took a leisurely puff of his cigarette and said calmly, "I'm just afraid that you leaked things about our organization."
"Impossible!" Mr. X immediately denied, "You know, I've received professional training."
Sloan was silent, and quietly gave a look to Fox guarding the door.
Fox, the ace killer of the Assassin Brotherhood, had a hot figure and an exquisite face, resembling the Hollywood actress Angelina Jolie before Logan's time-travel.
After receiving the look from Sloan, she quietly pulled out the pistol from behind her waist, nonchalantly attached a silencer, and aimed at the back of the head of Mr. X who was trying hard to explain.
"Biu—"
The sound stopped abruptly, and Mr. X fell onto the table in astonishment with a blood hole in his forehead.
"Let the Butcher dispose of him." Sloan put out the cigarette in his hand, his tone as casual as dealing with a cockroach.
Fox used the walkie-talkie to call the Butcher.
Before long, the door was pushed open, and the bloated Butcher with a fierce face carried his former partner on his shoulder without a word, as if carrying a dead pig.
As the Butcher left, Fox spoke, her voice magnetic and hoarse, "What about Cross? Without X, the certainty of dealing with him will be very low."
Sloan didn't speak, and handed over a document.
Fox picked it up, opened it, and unconsciously read the name on the document, "Wesley Gibson?"
"Not bad, he has the blood of an assassin. After awakening, with training, he won't be too bad. Let him deal with Crossthen. You go find him now and bring him back." A cruel smile flashed across the corner of Sloan's mouth.
He wouldn't tell Fox that Wesley Gibson was Cross's son, and father and son killing each other at that time would be a very exciting show.
Fox left with the document with mixed skepticism, got into her red Dodge Viper and was about to start it when she suddenly paused.
"Not bad, very sharp intuition."
The lazy voice coming from her ear made Fox's pupils shrink, realizing that her feeling was not wrong.
There was someone in the car!
"Let me guess, your name is Fox?"
Fox, whose identity was exposed in one sentence, did not change her expression, but her hands tightened unconsciously on the steering wheel.
"I wonder what this gentleman wants with me?"
Looking at the forced smile on Fox's face, Logan couldn't help sighing, as expected of someone born to be a killer, her psychological resilience was truly strong.
"Strictly speaking, I am not here to find you, but to find you all." Logan chuckled, "If I guessed correctly, this textile factory is your Base camp, right?"
Fox was silent, and began to think of countermeasures in her mind.
"You don't have to waste your thoughts, your companion told me everything." Logan said with a playful look, "Even if he was unwilling, he had to obediently tell me everything he knew. If I wanted to, that includes you too!"
Feeling the warm breath blowing against her ear, Fox's body tightened, and she forced herself to calm down, saying, "If you are here because of Tony Stark's matter, I think we can talk."
"Talk? There's nothing to talk about." Logan rubbed his chin, "Forget it, I won't tease you anymore. Considering that you are pretty, I won't kill you."
With that said, after using his ability to make her pass out, he swaggered into the textile factory like he was taking a walk.
Along the way, he encountered members of the Brotherhood organization such as the Boxer, Gunsmith, Exterminator, Butcher, etc., all of whom were controlled by his mental illusion ability.
Finally, he came to Sloan's office and gently knocked on the door.
"Please come in."
Logan pushed the door open, met Sloan's slightly astonished expression, sat leisurely in front of him, and said with a smile, "You must be Sloan, the leader of the Assassin Brotherhood? I've heard a lot about you."
Sloan was silent for a moment. Realizing that the other party could enter the office silently and his subordinates were probably in ominous danger, he maintained the calmness and demeanor of a leader, and nodded gently, "I am Sloan. If there is anything you need my service for, we can talk."
Logan somewhat admired this old fellow's mindset. Things were already burning his eyebrows, yet he could still remain calm.
However, admiration aside, he didn't forget the main business.
"As for me, your subordinates should have mentioned it. So I want to hear you say it yourself, who on earth hired you to kill Tony Stark." He paused, and then threw out a sentence sufficient to break through the other's psychological defense, "Of course you can also choose not to say it, but I will make you speak."