Logan stood there, chewing on his cigar, his sharp eyes fixed on me. There was a calmness to him, but I could see the curiosity burning beneath the surface. He was a man who had lived a long, complicated life, and yet, so much of it was shrouded in mystery—even to himself.
"It seems like you know a lot of things that others don't," Logan said, his voice steady but probing. "And unlike so many others, you also seem to know about me... Even more than Charles."
I could hear the desperation in his tone, the unspoken plea for answers. Logan had lost his memory, and he was grasping at any thread that might help him piece together his past. It was a vulnerability he rarely showed, and it made me pause.
"I know a lot of things, Logan," I said, my voice flat and matter-of-fact. "More than I should. First of all, you're old—like, 19th-century old. Your real name is James Howlett, and you're Canadian."
Logan's eyes narrowed, but he didn't interrupt. Michelle, however, couldn't help herself. "19th-century old?" she repeated, a smirk tugging at her lips. "You're that old, Logan?"
"No, I'm Not, Um, I don't know…" Logan shot her a glare, but there was no real heat behind it. He turned back to me, his expression serious. "You're not kidding, huh, bub?"
"No," I said simply. "And you've got kids."
That caught him off guard. His jaw tightened, and for a moment, he looked like he'd been punched in the gut. "Kids?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous.
"Yeah," I said, not backing down. "A few. Some are already dead. You've got a boy in Japan—he's doing well, I guess... But the one here… that's a different story."
I didn't elaborate. I couldn't. The details of Logan's life were complicated, and I wasn't about to dump all of it on him in one go, even I don't fully know about his life story, they guy had lived passed 2 world war. But the little I had revealed was enough to rattle him. I could see it in his eyes—the mix of anger, confusion, and something deeper, something raw and painful.
Done with my impromptu free information session, I moved to walk past them. But before I could take more than a few steps, Logan's hand shot out, grabbing my arm from behind. It was a reflex, pure and simple, but it was also a mistake.
"Hold on a minute, bub—" he started, but he didn't get to finish.
My reflexes kicked in instantly. I twisted my body, using his grip on my arm to flip him over my shoulder. He hit the ground hard, the impact knocking the wind out of him.
"BAM!" Before he could recover, I brought my leg down in a swift, precise motion, the side of my boot connecting with his temple. The force of the blow knocked him out cold.
"Wraith! What gives?" Michelle shouted; her voice panicked as she dropped to her knees beside Logan. She looked up at me, her eyes wide with shock and anger.
"It's Just a reaction," I said, my voice calm but firm. "He shouldn't have touched me from behind like that… He's fine—just fainted. The guy's basically immortal."
Michelle didn't look convinced, but she didn't argue. Instead, she turned her attention back to Logan, checking his pulse and making sure he was breathing. I felt a pang of guilt, but I pushed it aside. Logan would be fine. He always was.
"Are you leaving?" Michelle asked, her voice softer now as she looked up at me.
"I am," I said, my gaze shifting to the twins sleeping peacefully in the back seat of the Mustang. My heart softened as I watched them, their small faces relaxed and innocent. "Take care of the twins. They're good kids. They'll need a lot of help."
Michelle nodded; her expression serious. "I will."
I hesitated for a moment, then added, "If you need any help—if you're ever in danger—just call me. I'll come to you."
She gave me a small smile, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Sure, Wraith. Again… thanks."
I nodded, then bent down to lift Logan's unconscious form. He was heavy, like a ton of weight kind of heavy, but I managed to get him into the passenger seat of the Mustang without too much trouble. Michelle climbed into the driver's seat, her hands gripping the wheel tightly as she glanced at me one last time.
"Take care," I said, closing the door and stepping back.
Michelle started the engine, and the Mustang pulled away, its taillights growing smaller and smaller until they disappeared into the night. I stood there for a moment, watching the empty road, the weight of everything settling on my shoulders.
"The metal claws are really something," Magina's voice chimed in through my earpiece, pulling me out of my thoughts. "And his hair—it certainly complements his personality and charisma, Father."
I couldn't help but smirk at that. "The guy's a hero," I said, my voice tinged with admiration. "Even his backstory is cool. But now that everything's real… he's had a hard life… fate really is a dick to the guy,"
Logan's history was a tangled web of pain, loss, and betrayal. He had lived through wars, lost loved ones, and been hunted like an animal. And then there was Sabretooth—a sadistic thorn in his side who seemed to take pleasure in tormenting him. I wondered how many of Logan's family members, how many of his wives, had been taken from him by that monster.
The thought made my blood boil. Sabretooth was a predator, a monster who deserved nothing but pain. And if our paths ever crossed, I'd make sure he got exactly that. I'd pull his spine out myself.
The ride back to my hideout was quiet, the hum of my Superbike's engine a steady backdrop to my thoughts. Today had been… eventful, to say the least. Arthur Maxwell was dead, his secrets laid bare, and the twins were safe with Michelle. But the real prize was the wealth of information I had uncovered from Maxwell's files. The man had been a linchpin in HYDRA's operations, a key figure in Dietrich Voss's network. He wasn't just a corrupt DA—he was a master manipulator, a puppeteer who had pulled the strings of power from the shadows.
Maxwell had built a secret club, a circle of influence that included judges, lawyers, prosecutors, city officials, and even celebrities. These were the so-called "aspirants"—Aryan purists who craved power and connection, who saw themselves as the elite, the chosen ones. Under Maxwell's leadership, they had become a formidable force, protecting HYDRA's interests and advancing its goals. They rigged cases, imprisoned the innocent, and silenced anyone who posed a threat to their power. And Maxwell had been at the center of it all, the ringleader of this twisted circus.
"Sixty percent of the cases he closed were rigged," Magina's voice chimed in through my earpiece, breaking the silence.
"He imprisoned the innocent, anyone who posed a threat to HYDRA or his own image. His career itself was fabricated—sixty percent rigged, the other forty percent losses. It's obvious when you look at the data."
I nodded, though Magina couldn't see me. The numbers didn't lie. Maxwell's wins were all orchestrated, his victories bought and paid for by his secret circle. And the cases where he fought for the harshest verdicts? They were almost exclusively against people of color. It was a pattern so blatant, so glaring, that it was almost laughable. How had no one connected the dots before? How had no one seen the truth?
"Now, all we have to do is wait for the police to make their move," I said as I pulled into the garage of my hideout. I killed the engine and dismounted, my body aching from the day's events. I needed a shower, a meal, and maybe a few hours of sleep—not necessarily in that order.
As I stripped off my gear and stepped into the shower, my mind kept circling back to the files I had left behind. Two folders, packed with evidence of Maxwell's crimes and the names of his powerful allies. The police would be in hot water once they read through them. There were too many influential names, too many damning details. But I wasn't naive. I knew the system was broken, that justice was often a commodity bought and sold by the highest bidder.
"The police still have good cops," I muttered to myself, the hot water washing away the grime and blood. "Cops who genuinely want to uphold the law, who fight for justice. But it's not easy. It takes perseverance, courage, and a willingness to risk everything."
I wasn't optimistic that the police would be able to take action against the people named in those files. Too many of them were powerful, connected, untouchable. I fully expected some of them to try to steal or suppress the evidence. But still, I wanted to believe and see that there were some good people out there, that wanted to do the right thing. But, if that happened… well, that's when I would step in.
The files were more than just evidence—they were a message. A warning. I was giving the police a chance to do the right thing, but I wasn't holding my breath. If they failed, if they hesitated, then I would take matters into my own hands. The Wraith would show the world that there were consequences for their actions, that no one was above justice.
"Father," Magina's voice interrupted my thoughts, pulling me back to the present. "Dietrich Voss has entered another HYDRA compound in New York."
I paused, the water running down my back as I processed her words. "Wow," I said, shaking my head. "Just how many compounds does HYDRA have in New York alone?"
"Thirty-five, as of now," Magina replied, her tone matter-of-fact.
I let out a low whistle, stepping out of the shower and grabbing a towel. Thirty-five compounds. That was… staggering. HYDRA's reach was far greater than I had realized, their roots digging deep into the city's underbelly. And Dietrich Voss was at the heart of it all, moving from one compound to another, orchestrating his schemes from the shadows.
"Keep tracking him," I said, my voice firm. "I want to know every move he makes. If he's in New York, he's up to something. And I'm not about to let him get away with it."
Magina didn't respond, but I knew she was already on it. As I dressed and grabbed a burger from the fridge, my mind raced with plans and possibilities. HYDRA was a hydra in every sense of the word—cut off one head, and two more would take its place. But I wasn't deterred. If anything, it only made me more determined. The fight was far from over. And I was ready for whatever came next.