**09.30 GMT-6, 20 March 1996, A Dinner near Winnipeg. CANADA.**
WADE
Wade's stomach was already growling in anticipation of grease and pancakes as they all piled out of the truck. But as they walked towards the diner's welcoming glow, his sharp eyes caught a familiar shape in the parking lot.
It was a sleek, black sedan, government-issue boring, parked a few rows back.
It was the same one he'd spotted in his side mirror twice over the past two days.
He was about to nudge Ken and point it out when he saw Logan stop dead in his tracks. His father's easy stride had frozen, his knuckles whitening where they hung at his sides.
He'd seen it too.
"Get a table," Logan grunted, his voice a low, tense rumble. "I, uh, left something in the truck." It was a flimsy excuse. Without another word, he turned and didn't head back to their vehicle, but instead started walking with purpose around the side of the building, towards the back alley.
Wade's eyes darted back to the sedan. Just as he'd predicted, the doors opened. Two men in impeccably bland suits got out. The younger one, with a kind, unassuming face, was a dead ringer for Clark Gregg. The older one, tall, built, was a spitting image of a young Samuel L. Jackson.
/Isn't it a little too early for the Avenger subplot to happen right now?/
"Idk, man. I haven't read the whole thing yet! It's a fanfiction! Everything can happen!"
(Do you think he'll say 'motherfucker' at the end of this arc?)
Marie was trying to herd him, Ken, and Laura towards the diner door. "Wade, come on now," she called, distracted.
"Gotta pee! Back in a flash!" he yelled, not giving her a chance to respond. He ducked away from the entrance and sprinted around the opposite side of the building before she could even ask what was wrong.
The service alley behind the diner was decorated with dumpsters and dripping pipes. Wade found a sturdy-looking drainpipe and scaled it with a mutant's agility, his fingers finding easy purchase. In seconds, he was on the gravel-covered roof, lying flat.
Immediately, he drew his handgun from his concealed holster. Peering over the roof's edge, he lined up the sights on the scene below. Logan stood with his arms crossed, facing the two agents. Wade's aim shifted slowly between them, his finger resting alongside the trigger guard. Just in case this little chat went sideways and his father needed some unexpected backup from above.
"You've been following my family for two days," Logan snarled. "You got five seconds to tell me why I shouldn't redecorate this alley with your insides."
The one-eyed man, Fury, didn't even flinch. "Just making sure it was you, Logan. Last time I saw you, you were a lone wolf with a taste for cheap cigars whose only fun time is fighting. Hard to believe anyone wanted to settle down with you, let alone have a family with you."
"It's none of your business. What do you two want?"
The other agent, Coulson, spoke up, his voice calm and reasonable. "We have a containment issue. An off-the-books successor to Project: Rebirth. The science team was trying to stabilize a new formula. It… went wrong. The rabbit that gets the formula bites one of the scientist's hands and it creates what you encountered a few days ago with the Hulk. The locals seems to mistaken them for the Wendigos folklore."
"Project: Rebirth?" Logan's scowl deepened.
"The one that made Captain America, yes. I believe you are pretty familiar with it. Since Stryker also wanted a piece of that." Fury cut in smoothly. "This is a bastardized, failed version. But it's not a total loss. The lead scientist successfully compiled data to synthesize a cure before the place went dark. It's sitting in the computer at the main lab. A lab that's now ground zero, crawling with those things."
Logan's laugh was a short, harsh bark. "So you want me to be your errand boy? Not my problem. Fuck off,"
"Man, I still can't believe that you're a family man now," Fury mused, a calculating look in his eye.
"Hell of a development. Where's Creed? You two were always attached at the hip. Did he not approve of your life choices?"
From his perch, Wade saw his father's posture shift. A flicker of genuine confusion crossed his face before the scowl returned. "Creed's… not your concern."
"Then how about William Stryker?" Fury pressed, his single eye sharp as a laser sight. "You still taking his contracts?"
Wade watched as Logan stiffened at the name, a low growl rumbling in his chest. His fists were clenched so tight the claws in his knuckles almost popped. "No, you a friend of his?"
"Hell no," Fury said, raising his hands in a placating gesture that didn't reach his eyes. "I tried to poach you from him, remember? Now I got the distinct impression that the partnership ended… messily." He let the implication hang in the air. "How's about this, Logan. You go in, you retrieve that data. You do that, and my organization provides full protection for your family. New identities, a clean financial slate, a path to real normal life you seem to want. I'll even only call you for a mission if it's absolutely necessary. We do this, and we're square. We are just trying to help each other here, do we have a deal?"
Logan's gaze drifted towards the diner, as if he could see through the walls to where his family sat. Finally, his shoulders slumped in resignation. He gave a single, sharp nod. "Deal. Where's the lab?"
"We'll brief you on the way," Coulson said, extending a hand. "Agent Coulson, by the way, heard about you a lot from Agent Fury."
Wade's mind was already racing. A solo mission into a monster-infested lab? No way he was missing this. He didn't fully understand it himself, but he'd been fighting a constant itch for a fight ever since they'd escaped the lab.
That was the real reason he'd picked that fight with Logan in the cave and dragged him into the fight ring. It was also why he was secretly training Ken behind their parents' backs. He had seen the same restless energy beginning to affect his little brother.
/You just beat him up, it's not exactly training…/
"Hey! I need to assert dominance as the big brother, he needs to know who is the top dog in this family!"
(Yeah, and that's Logan, not you.)
"Cihh…"
He didn't know if it was a side effect of Stryker's experimentation or pure instinct from his feral mutant side, but as long as he could channel it productively, it would be okay.
Later, after a tense introduction where Logan called Fury and Coulson "old associates," a label that made Rogue's eyes narrow into slits of suspicion, they were taken to a bland, mid-tier hotel. Coulson was all polite efficiency, but Wade didn't miss how the man's eyes meticulously recorded every detail about them.
In the privacy of their suite–well, not really since Wade is eavesdropping–Logan laid it out for Marie. "I don't trust him," he admitted, his voice low. "But he's offering a way out at least, from all of this. I need you to hold the fort here. Watch out for the kids. Keep them safe."
"We'll be fine, Logan," Marie said, her voice firm but laced with worry. "You just come back to us in one piece."
That night, long after the hotel had gone quiet, Wade watched from his pretended sleep as his father slipped out the window. The moment he was gone, Wade was moving. He pulled on his gear and focused, the shadows in the room seeming to cling to him, swallowing his form and scent. He was a phantom as he slipped out after his father, a grin spreading beneath his mask.
And wherever Wolverine went, a certain merc-with-a-mouth was sure to follow.
At least in this fanfic…
LOGAN
The government-issue sedan pulled to a stop at a secluded, windswept airstrip. The briefing from Coulson had been crisp and efficient: a remote biotech lab in the deep wilderness, overrun by at least twenty Wendigos. The data was on the central server in the main administrative wing. Get in, get the data, get out.
Seems simple enough…
"Good luck, Logan," Fury said, his single eye unreadable as Logan stepped out.
"Don't need luck," Logan grunted, slamming the door. He didn't look back as the car pulled away, his senses already stretching out, cataloging the scent of jet fuel and pine. He completely missed the small, shadowy figure that detached itself from the vehicle's undercarriage, melting into the deeper shadows of a nearby hangar.
A guy in a standard-issue flight suit handed him a GPS unit. "Coordinates are pre-loaded. Bird's fueled and ready." Logan just nodded, his mind already on the fight to come. He strode towards the waiting helicopter, its rotors beginning a slow, lazy turn. Unseen, a small shape darted through the hangar's side door.
From the air, the lab complex was a scar on the landscape. Chain-link fences were torn apart like tissue paper. And there were the Wendigos—pale, shambling figures moving with a feral purpose. He counted fifteen in the open, their gaunt forms patrolling the perimeter or simply staring into the woods.
He set the chopper down on the designated helipad, the skids touching concrete with a jarring thud. The moment the rotors began to slow, he was out, the crisp Arctic air filling his lungs. He moved like a ghost, using the industrial machinery and storage sheds as cover, his claws itching to be released.
He was almost to the main lab's service entrance when a guttural snarl ripped through the silence. Three Wendigos emerged from behind a generator, their sunken eyes locking onto him with predatory hunger.
"Fun huh?"
Shink.
"Come at me you smelly furball!"
His claws slid free with their definitive, metallic whisper.
The first one lunged. He sidestepped, his claws carving deep furrows across its chest.
It howled, but the second was already on him, claws raking his side.
He grunted, ignoring the searing pain that instantly began to fade, and drove an uppercut into its jaw, bone crunching under his knuckles.
The third tackled him, driving him back against a metal wall with a deafening clang.
He could smell its foul, rotting breath as he brought a knee up, shoved it back, and with a furious roar, severed its head with a single, brutal cross-slash.
The three bodies lay still at his feet. He was panting, not from exhaustion, but from the rush of the fight. It was in that moment of respite that his senses screamed danger.
He spun, but he was a fraction of a second too slow.
A fourth Wendigo, having crept up from behind, was already in mid-leap, its claws extended towards his unguarded back.
Crack.
A small, neat hole appeared in the Wendigo's forehead.
It froze mid-air, then crumpled.
Before its body hit the ground, a rapid series of thwip-thwip-thwips echoed, and a barrage of bullets tore into its torso, ensuring it stayed down.
Logan's head snapped up, his eyes scanning the roofline.
There, perched on the edge of the main lab's roof, was a small figure in a red hoodie with a red and black mask, lowering a smoking sniper rifle.
Logan facepalmed, the metal of his claws cool against his forehead.
"How the hell did that kid follow me here...?" he muttered.
He made a sharp, beckoning gesture.
With an enthusiastic thumbs-up, Wade stood, slung the sniper rifle over his back, and stepped off the roof.
He landed in a crouch beside Logan with a hard thud.
"Superhero landing… hehe. Awh, that hurts like hell!" The kid snicker quietly.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Logan growled, his voice a low rumble of pure exasperation.
Wade just shrugged, holstering his pistols. "You seemed like you needed backup. I mean did you even know how to use 'computer' old man?"
"I don't need backup and yes, I could use a computer. I am old, not stupid."
"Come on, let me in! I'll let you be Robin to my Batman!" Wade pleaded, his voice muffled but earnest behind the mask. "And it's not like I can hitchhike back to the hotel now."
Logan stared at the kid, at the hopeful tilt of his head, at the sheer, unmitigated gall.
He let out a long, weary sigh that plumed in the cold air. He didn't have time for this.
Sending him back was more risky than keeping him close. That kid could be anywhere and he didn't have time to drag his son's ass back every time.
"Fine," he bit out. "But you stay close. You follow my lead. Don't do anything reckless!"
"Yes! This is gonna be the greatest father-son bonding time ever! Ohh! I am so pumped up!" Wade cheered, pulling his pistols back out from his leg holster and spinning them dramatically before settling into a ready stance.
Shaking his head, Logan turned towards the lab entrance.
The kid fell in step beside him, a whirlwind of red and yellow against the stark white landscape.
It was the worst idea he'd ever agreed to.
And somehow, he felt a grudging sense of relief he wouldn't be walking into the darkness alone.
"OH YEAH! CUE THE NEXT CHAPTER!!!"