In the suite, Logan stood by the window, gently pulling back the curtains and cautiously observing the traffic outside. Since the previous night, he felt that S.H.I.E.L.D. was everywhere, despite having moved overnight to a hotel more than ten kilometers from the New York port. S.H.I.E.L.D. spies remained omnipresent in his mind.
Logan feared being a target of S.H.I.E.L.D., but he feared Hydra even more. At this time, S.H.I.E.L.D. had not yet undergone a major purge, and many Hydra members remained within its ranks.
"Hydra" was not named so in vain; Hydra agents were even more unscrupulous than those of S.H.I.E.L.D., not to mention that Hydra had people dissecting and researching mutants.
At this moment, he could only try to hide as best as possible, even ordering food delivery and avoiding going out unless absolutely necessary.
In the suite, Samuel and the other two were gathered around the bed, checking their weapons and supplies.
"James, we're running low on ammo."
Josh checked the remaining bullets in his backpack; there were only a few scattered rounds.
Chris said the shipment was only ancient pottery, which led them to underestimate the situation, thinking the mission wouldn't be too complicated, and they hadn't brought much ammunition.
Logan pondered for a moment and told Josh, "You and Conrad, go out and buy some."
They couldn't afford to run out of ammunition; after all, the three of them, except for him, were just ordinary people.
Fortunately, they were in the United States, and ammunition wasn't difficult to acquire—all they needed was to find a gun store.
However, Logan couldn't travel, so the task of buying ammo fell to Josh and Conrad. Although it was late last night, he wasn't sure if Steve and Natasha had seen him clearly.
He wasn't willing to take the risk.
"Remember, don't draw anyone's attention and hide yourselves well," Logan instructed them before they left.
Josh nodded, pulled a visibly reluctant Conrad out of the suite, put on his baseball cap, pulled it low, and walked cautiously through the streets of New York.
The events of the previous night at the port still had both of them shaken.
However, Conrad's face reflected disgust. He said, "No one has ever asked me to work as a shop assistant."
Josh, of course, knew Conrad was unhappy and, with resignation, advised him, "Don't complain. Without James, we would have been fired after that mission in Nevada."
"It was an accident!" Conrad retorted resentfully. After all, he had driven that road several times, and only that one time had there been enemy activity.
Josh shrugged and stopped talking, scanning the area for a gun store.
The streets of New York were bustling with activity, featuring all kinds of shops, including quite a few gun stores. After choosing one that seemed normal in size, Josh went in alone to buy ammunition.
Conrad wandered aimlessly outside until he finally stopped at a secondhand stall.
The stall displayed many strange and unusual items, all with a vintage feel, like American foundational medals and cowboy hats from the Wild West era.
Conrad picked out a mechanical watch that looked like it was from the last century. He tried it on, thought it looked good, and the price was reasonable, so he bought it.
While the stall owner was giving him change, he casually picked up an old comic book.
The comic looked quite old; the pages were yellowed, and it had a large "X" on the cover.
"What comic is this? I've never heard of it," Conrad asked the stall owner while flipping through the book.
The owner, an older man who looked about seventy, glanced at the cover and said indifferently, "An old relic from the last century. It was very popular in its time. If you're interested, you can have it for ten dollars."
"Ten dollars for a tattered comic? Are you crazy?"
Conrad was about to put it down in disgust, but he suddenly saw a familiar face on the cover. His hand instantly stopped, and he stared intently at the face.
"This is a Wolverine comic. He was very famous back in the day, but now he's an outlaw. Comics about him have been out of print for ages. This might be the last one. Ten dollars is a steal," the vendor sneered, muttering that Conrad had no idea.
However, Conrad was no longer interested in the vendor's nonsense; his eyes were fixed on the Wolverine in the comic.
Although it was a comic, the character renderings were astonishingly realistic, and the Wolverine in the drawing bore an uncanny resemblance to James—the only difference being that James looked much older!
"James... Wolverine..." Conrad murmured, and a sinister smile instantly spread across his face as he recalled James's behavior.
He slammed the comic shut. "Ten dollars, I'll take it!" He didn't expect this trip to bring such an unexpected surprise.
James, it seems you're hiding quite a big secret!
Just then, Josh emerged from the gun store with a black bag. Seeing Conrad's radiant smile, he was surprised and said, "Did you find money?"
"I found a bargain, a nice watch," Conrad showed off his mechanical watch, shaking it as if to boast.
"A cheap watch," Josh glanced at it and immediately lost interest. The two returned to the suite, but Logan was nowhere to be found; only Samuel was sitting in the living room, bored, watching television.
"Where is James?"
Conrad discreetly touched the comic in his pocket, his heart pounding with anticipation.
"In his room," Samuel said, pointing to the room without turning around.
Click!
The door opened and slammed shut.
Conrad's sudden action left Josh and Samuel confused. Since the Texas incident, Conrad had been acting like a mouse around a cat whenever he saw Logan, avoiding him at all costs. What was wrong with him today?
Josh shook his head, just as confused by Samuel's expression.
Inside the room, Logan was sitting at the table reading a book.
Hearing the door open, he looked up with annoyance, and upon seeing Conrad, his anger intensified. "Couldn't you knock before coming in!?"
Conrad ignored Logan, staring intently into his eyes with a smile. "I saw something very interesting, and I think you might be interested."
Logan's instinct made him frown, a sense of foreboding washing over him, but he still snapped: "I'm not interested, get out!"
Conrad chuckled, walked up to Logan's desk, pulled out a comic he had hidden under his jacket, and tossed it onto the table. "A Wolverine comic, supposedly from the last century. It's strange, but his face looks a lot like yours—almost like you when you were young."
The cover prominently featured a large "X."
This crossed Logan's gaze, and his face instantly darkened.
Conrad, observing Logan's expression, confirmed his suspicions. He pulled out a chair, sat down, and stared straight into Logan's eyes, a victorious smile spreading across his face.
"What's even more coincidental is that the comic's protagonist has steel claws that freely extend as a weapon. This reminds me of what happened in Nevada. If I recall correctly, of the ten bodies in the warehouse, only one died from a gunshot; the other nine died from sharp, claw-like blades."
Logan's expression was icy, his chilling gaze fixed on Conrad. "What are you trying to say?"
"Should I call you James or Wolverine, Mr. Logan Howlett?"
Conrad let out a smug chuckle; Wolverine's real name was on the comic cover.
Logan didn't respond, his eyes growing increasingly cold.
But Conrad remained unfazed. "I haven't revealed this secret yet. If you want me to keep it, you'd better disappear forever after this mission. Otherwise, I think many people will want Wolverine's address."
"Guess what awaits you then? Jail? A laboratory? Or a zoo?"
Conrad laughed, hitting the table with his hand as he stood up and exited the room.
However, he did not notice Logan's murderous gaze as he watched him walk away.
"It seems someone thinks too highly of himself," Logan said with a sneer.
He hadn't fully recovered his strength yet and couldn't touch Lawrence or Donald for the moment.
But killing a mercenary was more than enough. Countless mercenaries had died by his hands. Perhaps people only remembered Wolverine as a superhero, but they forgot that before that, he was the "battlefield demon" among all the superheroes—the one who inflicted the deadliest wounds.