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After two days on the road, Mike and his group had traveled from the Mexican border, through Arizona, and finally into Oklahoma before decid
After two days on the road, Mike and his group had traveled from the Mexican border, through Arizona, and finally into Oklahoma before deciding to stop and rest.
Logan chose a casino hotel—Harrah's Casino Hotel.
Handing the car keys to the valet, Logan turned around, ready to help Charles out of the car, only to find Mike had already done it. Mike gently lifted Charles out and set him in his wheelchair.
Logan froze for a moment.
Over the past two days, he had noticed something unusual:
Mike treated Charles far better than someone who had only known him for a few days should.
On the road, he not only cooked meals for Charles but also cared for him attentively the entire way.
"Let's go."
Pushing Charles forward, Mike patted Logan on the shoulder before heading toward the hotel entrance.
Gwen grabbed Laura by the hand and hurried after them.
Wrapped tightly in his coverings, Caliban walked up beside Logan and asked curiously, "What's wrong?"
"Nothing."
Logan shook his head, and the two of them followed inside.
The rooms had been booked in advance. After picking up their keys at the front desk, the group took the elevator to their floor and headed to their rooms.
The moment Gwen entered, she grabbed a change of clothes and dashed into the bathroom.
They had been traveling nonstop for two days without even time to wash their faces. Even Gwen couldn't stand her own smell anymore.
Mike sat down on the sofa, pulling out a Kryptonian battlesuit watch from his dimensional pocket. He frowned slightly at the sharp, angular design.
This appearance wasn't suited for a delicate little girl.
After some thought, he strapped the watch to his wrist, linked with it, and transformed its shape into a pink bracelet.
Nodding in satisfaction, he set the bracelet aside.
Knock, knock.
Mike's eyes flashed as he glanced toward the door—he could already see Logan standing outside.
"At this hour?"
He was a little surprised but opened the door anyway.
"What is it?"
Seeing Logan's uneasy expression, Mike asked curiously.
"I need to talk to you."
Mike nodded and stepped aside. Once Logan entered, Mike casually closed the door.
"Sit."
After letting Logan sit on the sofa, Mike pulled a soda from his dimensional pocket and handed it over.
Logan stared at him in disbelief.
This was it?
"No alcohol—only this," Mike said with a smile.
Logan turned the bottle over in his hand, unimpressed, before asking, "Do you really believe what Charles said?"
Mike raised a brow. "Which part exactly?"
"About new mutants."
"Haven't you already seen it yourself?"
"I don't mean just Laura. I'm talking about more of them."
Mike smiled at him. "And that's the problem?"
"What do you mean?" Logan asked, puzzled.
"I mean—whether I believe it or not, does that really change your judgment of what Charles said?"
Sitting across from him, Mike continued calmly, "You've known Charles for decades. Can you really not tell whether he was lucid or confused when he said it?"
Logan stayed silent, endlessly turning the bottle in his hands.
Mike pressed further. "Let me ask you just one question."
"…What question?"
"If what he said is true, would you fight for those children?"
Logan's expression shifted, then he let out a long, heavy sigh.
"Look at me. What can I even do now?"
He squeezed the bottle tightly, then released it, his eyes losing focus and going distant.
His healing was fading. He could no longer recover quickly from wounds. What else was he capable of?
And Charles—he could barely use his powers anymore. Each time he did, it carried the risk of losing control. To be blunt, no one could even say how many years Charles had left.
And most importantly, the X-Men no longer existed.
"No," Mike said quietly. "I'm asking you—ignoring your failing body for a moment—would you fight for them or not?"
"It's not about whether I'd fight. It's about whether I could," Logan growled.
"Answer me first."
Mike's tone remained calm.
"I… I don't want to!"
"And Laura?"
"She has nothing to do with me!"
"Don't lie to yourself. She carries your genetic sequence. She's practically your daughter."
Logan's expression twisted violently at those words.
Mike pressed on. "Even if they dragged her away, strapped her to a dissection table—"
"Shut up!" Logan roared, his eyes bloodshot. "Shut the hell up!"
"Fuck, fuck!"
He cursed furiously, his body trembling.
Mike simply smiled at him.
After several long seconds, Logan finally calmed, taking a deep, shaky breath. Looking straight at Mike, he said quietly—
"Help us."
"Alright."
"What do we do next?"
"Rest."
Logan blinked, then let out a laugh, shaking his head. Standing up, he headed for the door. "Then tomorrow we move."
With that, he opened the door and stepped out.
He paused at the doorway, then tossed the bottle he'd been holding into the trash.
He wasn't going to drink that—kid stuff.
Wait…
Kid stuff?
Logan hesitated, then bent down and fished the bottle out of the trash.
Laura could drink it.
Just thinking of her brought an involuntary smile to his face.
Inside the room, Gwen stepped out, drying her hair with a towel.
"Come here."
Mike beckoned her over. When she did, he naturally took the towel from her hands and began drying her hair himself.
Gwen closed her eyes in comfort. "Dad, why don't you just open a portal and take us straight to our destination?"
"Because it wasn't the right time before."
"And now? Is it time yet?"
Mike patted her head. "Not yet. I'm still waiting for someone."
Gwen grinned happily, then suddenly asked, "Will there be fighting again?"
"Yes."
Her head whipped toward him. "Then I need a weapon!"
"What kind of weapon?"
"Chains!" Gwen answered without hesitation. "They're easy to carry."
Mike froze, then laughed aloud.
This little one was thinking the exact same thing he was.
Setting the towel aside, he handed her the bracelet on the table. "Here, this is for you."
"What is it?"
"A battlesuit."
Excited, Gwen took it and clipped it on her wrist. Closing her eyes, she began making adjustments.
Within seconds, a white skintight suit materialized over her body. Unlike Mike's, her chest emblem was a flaming blue skull—its eye sockets glowing pink.
She looked herself over, nodded in satisfaction, then dismissed the suit. The bracelet shifted its appearance as well, turning into a white-and-pink spiral design.
(End of Chapter)