Chapter 7
It had been a year and a half since the twins. Three years since the Hulk. In between? Nothing but missions — blood, steel, and orders barked down from people who thought they owned him. Logan did what he was told, but each job carved another notch in him, another reminder that he wasn't free.
Today was different. A rare free day. No targets. No dossiers. Just silence. He was in his room, half a cigar smoldering between his fingers, savoring the quiet.
Then it hit him.
The smell.
Not smoke. Not metal. Not disinfectant. Something else. Sharp. Wild. Close to his own. Feral.
His nose twitched, instincts kicking in before thought could catch up. He set the cigar down and stalked out into the corridor, boots padding silent against the tile. The smell grew stronger with every turn, every steel door he passed. Kinship. A scent too close to his own blood to ignore.
He followed it down to the cargo wing, where two orderlies and a scientist in a lab coat were fussing with a gurney. Strapped on it was a boy — no older than sixteen. Skin stretched tight over bones, body punctured with so many syringes he looked more pincushion than human. His lips were cracked, his eyes half-lidded, and the smell told Logan what the sight confirmed.
Dead.
Drained dry.
A feral, just like him.
Something in Logan's chest snapped. Not a clean break. More like fabric tearing, threads unraveling. He saw the boy and, for the first time in years, the beast inside didn't whisper — it roared.
He stepped forward.
"Hey!" one of the handlers barked. "Restricted area. Back off, Weapon X."
Logan didn't answer. His claws answered for him.
SNIKT.
Three blades gleamed in the overhead lights, dripping menace. The personnel froze, eyes wide.
"You… you don't understand," the scientist stammered, holding up a hand. "It was necessary. For research—"
Logan's growl rumbled deep, low, vibrating in his chest like a warning drum.
"Research, huh?" His voice was gravel dipped in hate. "Kid smells like me. Like kin. And you bled him like a pig on a slab."
The handlers shifted, reaching for sidearms. Too slow.
Logan lunged.
One slash — clean, merciless — and the first man's head hit the floor before his body realized it was dead. Blood sprayed across the tiles, bright as paint, hot as truth.
The second man screamed. The scientist stumbled back. Chaos was seconds away from consuming the room.
And Logan?
He welcomed it.