Chapter 12: The Yukon Recluse
It was two years later, and the world had mostly forgotten about Apocalypse. The X-Men were back at their mansion, rebuilding. The Brotherhood was… well, they were still doing their thing. And Adam Stiels was in his penthouse, a silent, unblinking eye on a world that was slowly, but surely, moving on. He, however, was not.
"You know, you'd think a guy who can regenerate from anything would be a little more… cheerful. Or at least less grumpy. He's like a grumpy, regenerating bear," Adam said to no one in particular, staring at a high-resolution satellite feed on one of his many monitors. On the screen was a log cabin, buried in the snow-covered wilds of the Yukon. And in front of the cabin, a man was chopping wood. Logan. The Wolverine. The man with the adamantium skeleton, the healing factor, and the perpetual scowl.
"The brooding loner, haunted by his past. It's like a bad B-movie, but the star is a national treasure. His healing factor… it's a god-like power. And it's just… rotting away in a log cabin in the middle of nowhere, powered by beer and angst. A real shame, really. But a great opportunity for me to just… observe. And learn. And wait," Adam thought, a grim, humorless smile on his face.
He had a network of his own, custom-made observation drones. Tiny, bug-like things, completely silent, that were capable of long-range observation and data collection. He had them stationed in the trees, in the snow, in the rocks, all of them a silent, unblinking eye on the man they called Logan. He wasn't going to try to mess with him. Not yet. He was a strategist, not a suicide bomber. Logan was a walking, talking, regenerating weapon of mass destruction. Adam wasn't stupid enough to try and steal from him directly.
He watched Logan from afar, a silent, unblinking eye. He watched him chop wood, his muscles rippling, his body a perfect, compact engine of destruction. He watched him drink in a local dive bar, his anger and his sadness a palpable, almost physical thing that Adam could feel through his empathetic powers. He was a walking, talking cliché, a man whose life was a series of tragedies and battles.
"He's like a poster boy for 'don't become a superhero.' Look at him. All that power, and he's still a mess. He's not using his power to change the world. He's using it to… survive. To endure his own personal hell. That's what happens when you don't have a plan," Adam muttered, a slight tremor of disdain in his voice.
His system's interface in his mind was a constant stream of data from the drones: [ANALYZING SUBJECT. POWER SIGNATURE: HEALING FACTOR, OMEGA-LEVEL. POTENTIAL APPLICATIONS: EXTREME. THREAT LEVEL: HIGH. ACTION: CONTINUE OBSERVATION. DO NOT ENGAGE. SUBJECT IS UNPREDICTABLE AND DANGEROUS.]
Adam took the system's warning to heart. He was learning a lot. He was learning about the subtle nuances of Logan's healing factor, the way it worked, the way it was a part of him. He was learning about the emotional and psychological toll that it took on him, the way it was both a blessing and a curse. He was learning about the man behind the myth, the broken, haunted man who just wanted to be left alone.
"Yeah, well, buddy, that's not going to happen. Not in this universe. Not while I'm around. You're too important. Your power is too valuable. So I'm just going to be here, watching, learning, and getting ready for the day when I can finally… make a move. Until then, you're just… data. And data is power, my friend," Adam thought, a cold, calculating look in his eyes.
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