"Wolverine, you honestly don't recognize me? That's perfectly understandable, I suppose, given the amount of damage that adamantium bonding process did to your long-term memory. And frankly, you've been… away from civilized humanity for quite some time now," William Stryker remarked with a cool, almost paternal smile, studying Logan's enraged face.
The very sound of his birth name, Wolverine, sent a sickening jolt through Logan's consciousness. Flashes of painful restraint, surgical knives, and the sterile cold of a concrete bunker screamed in the back of his mind. He was close, agonizingly close, to pulling the full memory out, the one that explained the cold, calculated cruelty of this man.
But before Logan could snarl out a coherent response, the Hulk, completely fed up with the talking and the annoying vibrations, rushed forward like a derailed freight train and threw a devastating right hook at William Stryker.
KRA-BOOM!
Before the punch could connect with the General, a blur of movement intervened. A figure—swift, deadly, and clad in black tactical gear—intercepted the blow. It was none other than William Stryker's lethal, metallic-clawed enforcer, the "Death Woman," Yuriko Koyama, a creature with abilities eerily parallel to Logan's own.
However, even Yuriko Koyama, who had trained her body to the peak of human capability and was augmented by Stryker's technology, could not withstand the unmitigated kinetic force of the Hulk's punch. Her body was launched backward with a sickening metallic shriek, smashing through a decorative pillar before skidding across the polished floor.
The raw power of the impact caused William Stryker's composure to break for a fleeting second. His eyes widened slightly as he watched his most formidable bodyguard crumple.
"You! Wait a minute, you're the monster that General Ross has been chasing across the entire continent!" William Stryker exclaimed, quickly recognizing the distinctive green rage machine that had been classified as an immediate national threat.
"Hulk! Stop! What the hell are you doing?!" Logan roared, spinning on his heel, his anger now directed equally at his accidental green ally. He had been right there, on the precipice of recalling the name and the context of the man who had ruined his life, only for the big green idiot to interrupt it with pure brute force.
"ROOAAAR!" The Hulk roared back at Logan, stomping his massive foot, clearly annoyed that this little man, whom he had grudgingly been paired with, presumed to give him orders. The gesture definitively communicated that the Hulk followed no one's command, especially not a smelly little man with knives in his hands.
"Crack! Crack! CRACK!"
Suddenly, a thick, glistening wall of ice erupted from the floor, instantly appearing between the enraged Hulk and the stunned William Stryker. The Hulk paused, momentarily baffled by the sudden, cold barrier. Instinctively, he wanted to smash the obstruction, but the pause was just long enough.
"Hulk, it's me! Bobby! Don't hit it! We have to go, now! Get over here, quickly!" At the entrance to a disguised, narrow service tunnel—the secret room entrance—stood Iceman Bobby, his face pale with anxiety. Beside him were Pyro John and the apprehensive Rogue (Anna). Bobby desperately waved his arms.
"No, I can't leave! I was just about to remember that scum!" Logan hesitated, his claws dripping onto the floor. The chance to reclaim his identity felt stronger than any responsibility.
But then, a cold clarity snapped through the rage. He remembered Charles's urgent instructions, placing the safety of the students above all else. He also remembered Huang Wen's cryptic words about his past: Some memories, when forcefully recalled, are not as comfortable as the quiet numbness you feel now.
Subconsciously, Logan made a choice. He sheathed his claws, a grim look of resignation crossing his face, and turned toward the narrow secret passage.
"Hulk can't fit! The passageway is too small! Hulk has to go back!" The giant green creature looked with displeasure at the tight entrance, already beginning the painful process of regression. It was a purely practical concern; his vast bulk would simply block the escape route. Slowly, the Hulk shrank back into the disheveled, half-naked form of Bruce Banner, who then quickly followed Logan into the tunnel.
"What an immense specimen. Far more powerful than any Class Four mutant," William Stryker muttered, his eyes narrowing as he watched Yuriko Koyama stalk back toward him, her grievous injuries already sealing up perfectly. But he quickly regained his focus. The beast was gone, which meant the current objective was clear.
"Sir, we failed to capture any of the primary mutant children in the dormitories," a soldier reported, his voice tight with failure.
William Stryker's face hardened, but he didn't dwell on it. "Hmph! It doesn't matter. The runts have scattered, but they won't live much longer anyway once the plan is fully initiated. At least Xavier and the optic bastard are in our hands. Our priority shifts now: secure the brainwave enhancement machine. We move to the underground complex now!"
Stryker knew that pursuing Logan and the unpredictable Hulk was a waste of time and resources. His true target was the ultimate weapon: Cerebro. His goal was to move the massive machine, install it in a secret location, and then, using his own refined psychic inhibitors, hypnotize Charles Xavier.
Once subdued, Charles would be forced to wear the headset, and with his amplified mind, he would be made to use Cerebro to kill every single mutant on Earth with a single, devastating psychic pulse.
It was a chilling parallel to the government's own Project Insight—both projects were designed to eliminate all enemies—but Stryker's method, using Charles's own power against his kind, was far more precise and terrifyingly effective.
Down in the massive, deserted garage of Xavier's School, the five fugitives piled into Cyclops's pristine red convertible. Logan slammed his foot on the gas. Rogue was in the passenger seat, Bruce Banner, Iceman Bobby, and Pyro John squeezed uncomfortably into the back.
"Where are we going, Logan? Where did Colossus take the younger kids?" Rogue couldn't help but ask, clutching her leather jacket tightly.
"They should be far away by now, tucked into a secure bolt hole. We need to get clear of the school grounds first, then figure out how to contact Jean and Storm," Logan replied, expertly weaving the car through the estate's winding drive. "Jean and Ororo are heading to Boston, but that's too far from here to drive tonight... We need an immediate safe house."
Logan thought quickly. A familiar, reliable face was needed, someone who wouldn't ask too many questions and could provide sanctuary.
"We're going to a place called Chinatown. I have a contact there. He'll keep us safe for a bit. It's not very convenient trying to drive all of you across the state. You can hide out at his place, and I'll figure out how to reach Charles or Jean when the dust settles."
"A suspicious vehicle has entered the Chinatown district," a calm, synthesized voice alerted Huang Wen via the miniature, real-time monitoring device discreetly sewn into the cuff of his tuxedo. "Estimated destination: Wing Chun martial arts school."
"Hmm?" Huang Wen, who was sitting cross-legged in a meditative stance, instantly opened his eyes. He extended his senses—a blend of highly refined human perception and latent magical energy—and saw the distinctive, cool-looking red sports car peeling down the street toward his location.
Logan was definitely driving. And he had a full car.
"Switch to local CCTV access and erase or alter all surveillance data related to the red car's route, starting immediately," Huang Wen quickly commanded the internal AI system he had installed. Then, without bothering with the door, he executed a clean jump out of the second-story window, landing soundlessly on the pavement just as the car screeched to a halt.
"Screech!" Logan parked the car aggressively. He wasn't surprised by the dramatic entrance. It would have been truly bizarre if his 'Boss' hadn't noticed his arrival, given the commotion they had caused.
"Pull the car around back, put it in the corner of the parking lot near Uncle Zhong's house. It's less visible there," Huang Wen instructed, not asking for any explanations. He walked directly to the front door of the Wing Chun school, unlocking it. "We have space, but two people are pushing the limits for the living room tonight... Hmm?"
Huang Wen stopped talking mid-sentence. His professional, neutral gaze fell squarely on the figure extricating himself from the cramped back seat: Bruce Banner.
There was simply no disguising him, even in his disheveled, human state. Bruce Banner, looking utterly worn out and still partially exposed with his tattered trousers, already bore the weary, intellectual demeanor that would become universally recognizable.
After instantly recognizing Banner, the brilliant scientist who turned into the Hulk, Huang Wen was momentarily speechless. He hadn't expected this specific crossover. He couldn't fathom how Logan, a mutant who had only just been reintegrated into the mutant community, had managed to link up with the Hulk—or rather, why the Hulk, a purely gamma-irradiated human, was even involved in the mutant conflict.
No wonder there's been no news about the Hulk recently. The timeline has completely merged! A thought flashed through Huang Wen's mind, heavy with implication. I have to be extremely cautious from now on. This is a true hybrid reality, and things that never happened in the original movie narratives could erupt at any moment. I can't trust the established plotlines anymore.
"You know me, don't you?" Bruce Banner asked, noticing the way the martial artist's gaze lingered on him, not with fear, but with an unnerving intellectual curiosity.
"Oh, I was just curious, honestly," Huang Wen quickly composed himself, shaking his head with a smooth, disarming smile. "What kind of night-time activities lead a man to travel in a sports car with his shirt off and his trousers practically shredded? I was wondering if I should stock up on protein powder."
"You really wouldn't want to know the details," Bruce Banner sighed softly, clearly unwilling to give too much information to this stranger, no matter how calm he appeared.
"We're just going to stay here? Is this guy even reliable? A martial arts school?" Pyro John, feeling cramped and deeply suspicious, glared at Huang Wen. "He's just an ordinary man, right? Won't he sell out our location the moment a soldier shows up?"
"Smack!"
Logan, who had finished parking the car and returned with a growl, delivered a sharp, irritable slap to the back of John the Fireman's head. "Shut your mouth, kid. Don't question the Boss. He's the only reliable thing I've ever found. And believe me, he's more powerful than you are."
"Huh? Him? Stronger than me?" John the Fireman clearly did not believe Logan. As a mutant who could control fire and melt metal, he possessed a potent, visible power. He simply couldn't conceive that this calm, well-dressed, ordinary human could be superior to him. It was a matter of intrinsic mutant superiority in his mind.
"Alright, less standing around outside. I've already altered the surveillance along your route, but if you keep standing at the entrance looking like a fugitive convention, you're definitely going to be spotted," Huang Wen said, shaking his head and stepping fully into the Wing Chun martial arts school.
"Ding!" Just then, Pyro John fumbled for his silver Zippo lighter, instinctively reaching for his one source of stability. He was about to flick the wheel and summon a protective jet of fire. Although he was called the Fireman, John hadn't yet developed the ability to create fire from sheer willpower; he still relied on a starter flame to maintain his power.
"Snap!"
John the Fireman suddenly froze. The motion of his hand stopped mid-flick, his entire body locking up. It wasn't a physical restraint; it was as if an invisible, incredibly sharp needle had momentarily pierced his nervous system, paralyzing his motor skills. The lighter clattered harmlessly onto the steps.
"Let's bring him in, Logan. Consider that a quick lesson in why you shouldn't judge the capabilities of a martial artist by his jacket," Huang Wen said calmly, turning his back and walking into the school, leaving the silent, paralyzed John for Logan to carry. The unspoken message was delivered with absolute clarity: The rules here are mine.