The sky was shining with a white color. A blinding light illuminated Logan's drunken face, and his tightly closed eyes slowly opened.
The previous night's binge had left him looking somewhat unwell. He squinted his clouded eyes, shielding himself from the glare with his hands.
Once his eyes adjusted to the brightness, he opened the car door and returned to the motel.
The motel was open 24 hours, but Crewe, who had worked the night shift the day before, was gone, and a young man who looked barely out of his twenties had taken his place.
"Room by the hour," Logan said, throwing a few dollars onto the reception desk, taking the key from the young man, and walking toward the room according to the key number.
He needed a shower.
He had sweated a lot the day before, and his cheap suit reeked of sweat and alcohol.
Driving like this would have been a pain in the ass.
In the bathroom, Logan took off his suit, revealing his muscular body and the horrible scars that covered it.
His self-healing factor. Normally, even the most serious wounds would heal quickly.
However, due to modified food, the effects of the healing factor were visibly diminished, and even if the wounds healed, they still left scars.
Logan stood in front of the mirror, observing the terrible figure. He turned on the bathroom radio, which was now broadcasting the boring morning news.
He looked at his reflection, then looked down at his hands.
He lightly clenched his fists, and three cracks slowly appeared between his knuckles. Three gleaming adamantium claws slowly extended from them.
However, due to his advanced age, the claws, which normally extended and retracted at will, now only appeared briefly and could no longer fully extend.
Logan looked at the claws and, without hesitation, extended the other hand, gripped them tightly, and pulled them out with all his might.
"Sss!"
The sharp claws instantly cut into his palm, dripping bright red blood. The throbbing pain of the torn palm instantly awakened his still-foggy mind.
But he ignored it. A thought crossed his mind, and a panel appeared.
[Current Physical Condition]: Gradually weakening, in poor shape!
Logan glanced at the panel's content and suddenly noticed a detailed message beside it.
[Your body is gradually aging. The adamantium is poisoning your health. Genetically modified foods are suppressing your X-gene.]
"Cough, cough, cough..."
A sudden, violent cough made Logan retract the panel, covering his mouth and cursing, "Damn it!"
Although he was a mutant, aging was inevitable.
In the past, the body's healing factor slowed aging, prolonging the lifespan indefinitely.
But after the government developed a faulty gene specifically for mutants and introduced it into the food supply, these genetically modified foods became almost universal.
Mutants like Logan inevitably consumed genetically modified foods, which suppressed their X-genes and affected their healing factors, gradually diminishing their effectiveness.
Of course, he could choose to consume only natural foods.
But the government had anticipated the mutants' intentions and taken precautions.
Rumors circulated that artificial rain also contained substances that suppressed the X-gene.
It could be said that as long as you survived in this world, you would inevitably be corroded by genetically modified material.
In addition, the adamantium in his body, which greatly increased his combat power, had become an inevitable problem.
Previously, thanks to his self-healing factor, the harmful effects of adamantium were minimal.
But now, unlike before, his self-healing factor was gradually fading, unable to suppress the adamantium toxins, visibly weakening his body.
The radio played the morning news, and the host and guests, as usual, chatted live and joked.
"Josh, what a beautiful day today."
"Yes, sir. Red Pants won the championship yesterday. Although it was cloudy, the sky was still clear."
"Well, today's topic is mutants."
"Mutants, they sound familiar. Are they some new superheroes?"
"No, no, no. They are a very distant community, but it seems there's been no news of them in the last decade."
"Endangered species?"
"Good analogy, Josh. They're like the Native Americans."
"I remember that, host. I think I saw some news about them when I was a kid. They seemed very dangerous."
"Sure, but the good news is that mutants are going extinct. Extinction is inevitable. This dangerous group will pass into history."
"..."
Bang!
Logan resolutely turned off the radio, his gaze cold.
Extinction? Extinction?
Logan sighed deeply, and his face filled with resignation.
Perhaps the news was right. The age of mutants was over.
Suppressed by genetically modified foods, mutants could no longer reproduce.
They not only physically suppressed mutants, but also used those means to try and completely exterminate them.
Logan slammed the porcelain basin where he was washing his hands, venting his guilt.
He could have changed everything, but in the end, it all ended in tragedy.
"Come on!"
Logan looked at himself in the mirror.
Although he looked like an old man tormented by disease, those aged eyes shone with renewed vitality.
The awakening of new abilities gave him new hope.
He refused to surrender!
He bandaged the wound on his palm, scratched by the adamantium claws, took a shower, put on a clean, cheap suit, and left the hotel.
He pulled out his phone and called an anonymous number.
"I need some medicine. See you at the usual spot."
Without waiting for a response, Logan hung up, got into his car, and started the engine.
The Professor was seriously ill and needed medication year-round.
But now, as a wanted criminal, he couldn't use his identity to request it. And it was even more impossible for the hospital to openly sell prescription drugs to a wanted criminal.
Luckily, this was San Antonio, a place where anything could happen.
There were many ways to get medicine, and it was very common for hospitals to inexplicably lose a batch of drugs every day.
Of course, drugs bought this way usually far exceeded the market value.
Logan didn't earn much as an Uber driver, and most of his monthly salary went to the Professor's medication.
But he had to do it.
The Professor was gravely ill, and without medication to combat the disease, his brain was a bomb, ready to explode at any moment.
For the Professor, and for his own safety, he was forced to wander the streets of San Antonio.
Especially with an empty wallet.
As for leaving the Professor alone, Logan had not considered it, because the Professor had not abandoned him in the first place.
Boom!
Logan had just started the car and was about to shift into gear to leave when the passenger door suddenly opened.
A man in a black suit got in without hesitation, looking back nervously, urging Logan: "Drive!"
Logan looked in the rearview mirror and saw a group of armed men running toward him.
It looked like this guy had caused quite a bit of trouble.
"Sir, I don't want any trouble," Logan said calmly, looking at the man in the suit.
"A thousand dollars, get me out of here!"
The man looked back at him, his tone unyielding.
A thousand?
Logan couldn't help but calculate the profit. A thousand dollars, minus gas, would take an Uber driver ten days to earn.
Logan was tempted, but he still turned off the car and held out his hand: "Five thousand."
"Damn it!" The man looked at Logan, who was asking an exorbitant price, and finally nodded helplessly: "Deal."
Logan smiled: "Wait up!"
He started the engine again and quickly drove away in his black Chrysler.
He didn't want to cause trouble.
But right now, having no money in his pocket was his biggest problem!