Natasha walked forward with poised elegance, a charming, professional smile playing on her lips as she extended her hand.
"Hello, Mr. Logan. I'm Natasha, an operative from the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division. There's no need for the hostility; we aren't here as enemies."
"Strategic Homeland... whatever. That's a hell of a long name for a government office," Logan remarked, his brow arching. He didn't take her hand. He'd never heard of this agency, and experience had taught him that when the government said they weren't enemies, they usually had a surgical saw hidden behind their backs.
He and the Professor had been fugitives for thirty-five years. Just last night, Goku had transformed into a monster and wiped out an entire military division. If any state agency knew the truth, they wouldn't be handing out rides; they'd be dropping paratroopers.
"I agree, it's a mouthful. You can just call us S.H.I.E.L.D. We're a global security organization backed by most sovereign nations. We deal with events that threaten the planet—and the supernatural ones that the regular police can't handle."
Natasha wasn't bothered by his coldness. She kept her tone light, establishing their legitimacy before moving to the heart of the matter.
"We've been watching you and the Professor since the Westchester Incident thirty-five years ago. We tracked your movements as you evaded the CIA and eventually settled near the Mexican border. We knew exactly where you were, Logan. Didn't you find it strange? After you settled at that smelting plant, your life suddenly became very... stable."
Logan stiffened. "Are you saying that was your doing?"
He'd always wondered why the CIA had seemingly given up. He had assumed they simply thought the X-Men were dead or no longer worth the resource drain.
"Exactly. It was S.H.I.E.L.D. that coordinated with the CIA to have your files 'misplaced' and the hunt called off," Natasha said. Seeing Logan's stance soften slightly, she pressed on. "Our Director highly respects the contributions Professor X and the X-Men made to global security. We didn't want to disrupt your peace. In fact, we funded the research for the medication that stabilizes the Professor's seizures."
"That wasn't just generic Alzheimer's medicine!" Logan realized it instantly.
When he first began life on the run with Charles, they had to hide in the most desolate corners of the world because Charles's psychic "incidents" would level city blocks.
Then, he'd stumbled upon a specific brand of medication that worked perfectly. He'd tried other brands when money was tight, but none of them could suppress Charles's power like those specific pills. Now he knew why. They weren't for dementia; they were custom-engineered suppressants provided by S.H.I.E.L.D.
"A standard Alzheimer's pill wouldn't do much for the world's most powerful telepath," Natasha nodded. "The supplier, Jack, who sold you those meds? He's one of our agents."
"Fine. That explains a lot..." Logan sighed, his claws retracting fully. "Regardless, I owe you a thanks for the medicine. It saved his life."
Logan's suspicion had dissipated by half, but only half. Having lived for nearly two centuries, he knew that government "kindness" always came with a price tag. S.H.I.E.L.D. might be helping, but they had an agenda. In his world, trusting the government completely was a fast track to an autopsy table.
"Thanks for bringing the kid back. I'll buy you a drink sometime," Logan said, reaching out to shake her hand. It was a gesture of truce, but his words were a dismissal. He wanted the spooks gone.
"Protecting innocent lives is our job, Logan," Natasha said, shaking his hand firmly. She didn't miss the subtle "get lost" in his tone, but she wasn't leaving. "But surely, leaving a lady like me out on the street to talk isn't the gentlemanly 'Wolverine' way I read about in the history books?"
"If we were back at the plant, I'd offer you a beer. But this is just a motel," Logan countered.
Thirty-five years ago, a woman as dangerous and beautiful as Natasha would have had him offering a room within minutes. But his heart was weary, and his body was old. The charm of the "Black Widow" held no sway over a man waiting to die.
"Fair enough. However, I'm here as a representative of S.H.I.E.L.D. to discuss a few things," she dropped her voice, her eyes turning serious. "Specifically, the truth behind the disappearance of mutants and what really happened during the Westchester Incident."
Logan froze. The "Westchester Incident" was the trauma that haunted Charles's every waking moment—and Logan's too. He'd always suspected there was more to the story than just a tragic accident.
"You know the truth about that day?"
"Yes. It involves the same Research Institute that was hunting you. We just shut them down, and their files are quite revealing," Natasha lied smoothly, blending half-truths to reel him in.
"Fine," Logan muttered, glancing at the stairs. "You come in. But your team stays out here."
"No problem," Natasha shrugged, signaling her agents to stand down. She followed Logan into the motel.
...
Inside the motel room, Goku had finally reunited with his Power Pole.
Professor X sat in his wheelchair, listening as Goku recounted everything that had happened since he woke up. Charles realized immediately that the "police" weren't regular cops. They were either after the X-Men, or more likely, after the creature that had leveled a desert.
Fortunately, they didn't seem to realize the boy and the beast were the same person.
"Goku," Charles said gently, his voice reaching into the boy's mind. "Do you have any memory of what happened last night? About turning into a giant ape?"
"Giant ape?" Goku blinked, sliding the Power Pole into the harness on his back. "What are you talking about, Grandpa Professor?"
Charles saw the genuine confusion in the boy's eyes. He nodded to Gabriela, who pulled up the viral video of the Oozaru on her phone.
"When you were fighting Magneto, you didn't fall asleep," Charles explained, his expression grave. "You turned into... this."
Charles recounted everything Logan had witnessed. He knew this truth might be devastating for the boy, but Goku had to know.
If the "police" downstairs started asking questions, a single slip-up would reveal that the most dangerous weapon on Earth was sitting in a cheap motel room.
He had to make sure Goku understood the stakes—even if it meant revealing the monster within.
***
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