Capítulo 16: The Entry Of Two Mysterious Men
Both of them looked like soldiers, wearing military coats, combat boots, and rugged leggings. They appeared as if they'd just walked off the battlefield, with the lingering smell of gunpowder still clinging to them.
Despite slight changes in their appearance, their faces remained unmistakably familiar.
Logan, better known as Wolverine, and his half-brother Victor Creed, Sabretooth, stood there.
Unexpectedly, they had shown up in London, England.
There was no real issue with this, though.
Logan was born in 1832. By the time World War I began, Wolverine was nearly 200 years old. The two brothers had fought side-by-side through countless wars, from the American Civil War to World War I, World War II, and even conflicts in Vietnam.
Longevity comes with its burdens. To avoid raising suspicion, they were constantly forced to migrate.
During the Civil War and World War I, Victor still displayed some sense of brotherhood. However, as the wars dragged on and the body count rose, Victor's murderous instincts were fully unleashed.
By World War II and their time in South Vietnam, Victor had completely become a weapon—unrelenting and bloodthirsty—courtesy of William Stryker.
At this point in time, Victor's predatory nature had yet to reach its peak.
Ryuji remembered Logan being deployed to Europe in 1915 to participate in the Belgian offensive. After that, his memory got fuzzy—Ryuji didn't follow every comic line too closely.
But it was now 1918, meaning Logan had spent three years in Europe.
This didn't quite match what he remembered from the comics. Then again, the system had said the Marvel Cinematic Universe overlap was 60%, which left 40% room for deviation.
Victor must have felt Ryuji's gaze because he turned sharply, growling, "What are you staring at, kid?"
"Victor, settle down. We're here for a drink," Logan said, placing a calming hand on his brother's shoulder. He then turned and smiled at Ryuji, though his grin felt more like a wolf baring its teeth.
Ryuji didn't react. He simply sipped his gin and pretended not to care. However, his ears remained keenly tuned to their conversation.
"Lucky him," Samir quipped dryly, "The goddess of fortune must really like that guy."
The tavern owner leaned in, intrigued. "You soldiers have had it rough lately, huh?"
With the war nearing its end, soldiers were starting to trickle back home. Victory was all but certain.
By mid-August, Bulgaria had been defeated. The Ottoman Empire followed suit by late October. Austria-Hungary surrendered on November 4th. Now, only Germany remained, stubbornly clinging to its last breath.
It was November 4th, 1918—seven days before Germany would officially surrender, bringing World War I to an end.
"Yeah," Victor grunted, taking a deep drink.
"Which regiment were you with?" the tavern owner asked, respect in his tone.
"13th Battalion, Frontier Forces," Logan replied.
"The 13th Battalion?" The owner raised an eyebrow. "I thought they were still in heavy combat?"
Victor's face darkened immediately. He slammed his drink on the table. "The 13th Battalion is finished! That idiot commander led us straight into a slaughterhouse. We lost nearly the entire regiment. Our unit's down to less than ten men now."
The tavern owner sighed deeply. "It's always the same. One fool with authority can cost countless good men their lives."
"Sounds like you've been through your share of stories," Logan said, nursing his drink.
"Oh, nothing compared to you soldiers," the owner replied, scratching at an old war injury that still ached on cold days. "Drinks are on the house tonight. I respect men like you."
"Thanks, boss," Logan said, raising his glass.
Diana leaned closer to Ryuji. "You've been watching them. Why? Do you sense something wrong?"
"Yeah," Ryuji replied quietly, his tone casual. "They give off a strange energy. I'm not sure what they are, but it's nothing I can't handle. If they get out of line, I'll put them in the dirt."
Ryuji smirked, taking a small sip of gin.
Logan and Victor were strong, no doubt. But compared to Ryuji, they were still a step behind.
Steve, listening in, felt his worldview shatter piece by piece. First Sir Patrick turned out to be far more than he seemed, and now these two rugged soldiers weren't ordinary men either.
"What's next, Steve?" Samir teased. "Is the bartender secretly an alien?"
"Shut it," Steve muttered, rolling his eyes.
Ryuji waved dismissively. "Relax. Just stay sharp. Sir Patrick's a wildcard, but I don't think he's outright hostile yet. As for those two"—he nodded towards Logan and Victor—"they're not looking for a fight. For now."
Steve sighed. "Do you think Carlos should know?"
"No," Ryuji said flatly. "She's not subtle enough to hide it. The less she knows, the safer she'll be."
Samir glanced at Diana in surprise. Ryuji's words hinted that she might be even more powerful than him. That would explain why she insisted on going to the battlefield herself.
"Here," Steve said, pulling two keys from his pocket. "Candy booked us rooms across the street at the Old Barrel Inn. You two take 401, and Ryuji, you're in 103."
"Got it," Ryuji said, pocketing the key.
Diana gave him a wary glance. "Be careful."
"Always am," Ryuji replied with a grin.
As Steve and the others left, Carlos teased him. "Staying behind, huh? Hoping for a little fling with that waitress?"
Ryuji grimaced. "You've got jokes. If I had that kind of taste, I'd need my head checked."
Besides, his mind wandered elsewhere—to someone with a far better frame. He thought briefly of Mera, the Sea Queen, her commanding presence and graceful strength.
A smirk tugged at his lips. Now she's my type.
Diana patted his shoulder. "Watch yourself."
Ryuji waved them off and turned back to his drink.
The night was quiet—for now.
###
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