"Is anyone still breathing?"
Two kilometers from the border checkpoint, the Commander surveyed the mercenaries sprawled across the ground, his expression dark.
It wasn't that he cared deeply for his men, but it was humiliating that these soldiers—who had followed him for years—had been taken out by two mutant children.
"They're all alive, Commander, but severely injured and unconscious. This is Captain Bill's body cam recorder."
A subordinate removed the device and handed it over.
The Commander plugged it into his laptop and watched the full recording.
Five minutes later, his face grew serious.
He had initially assumed **X-23** and the wild mutant boy had teamed up to wipe out the squad.
That much he could accept.
After all, he had personally trained **X-23** and knew exactly how deadly she was—her healing factor, combat skills, and **adamantium** claws made taking down a dozen mercenaries feasible, especially with help from a boy who clearly had immense raw strength.
But the footage showed **X-23** hadn't lifted a finger.
It was solely the wild mutant boy—and the fight had been a complete and utter domination. The mercenaries never stood a chance.
Most alarming was that this boy clearly possessed advanced combat technique and the mindset of a true warrior.
Having hunted mutants for years, the Commander knew the difference all too well.
A mutant's powers could be impressive, but what made them truly dangerous was skill in battle.
If a mutant lacked fighting experience and lived like an ordinary civilian, even a Level Three or Level Four ability wasn't much of a threat.
A well-trained soldier could drop them with a surprise tranquilizer dart.
But a mutant who was an experienced fighter and knew how to weaponize their powers?
Even a Level Two could become a nightmare.
This wild mutant boy was clearly the latter—and from what he'd seen, the boy's power level was far from low.
Immense physical strength combined with the ability to create afterimages suggested a Level Three mutant classification.
Before **Dr. Rice**'s genetically modified food campaign, mutants had been classified into five tiers based on power:
- **Epsilon-level** (Level One): Roughly 20% of mutants. Usually weak abilities, often with visible physical mutations (horns, scales, beast-like features, etc.). Appearance alone didn't determine strength—some like **Beast**, **Mystique**, and **Nightcrawler** had altered looks but far exceeded Level One.
- **Delta-level** (Level Two): About 50% of the population. Normal appearance, solid superpowers. When used effectively, they could already give elite armed soldiers serious trouble.
- **Beta-level** (Level Three): Around 10%. Very strong, often unstable abilities. When mastered, they were formidable. Most **X-Men** fell here: **Wolverine**, **Cyclops**, **Storm**, and so on.
- **Alpha-level** (Level Four): Extremely rare. City-destroying power. Human armies stood little chance. Prime examples: **Professor X** and **Magneto**.
- **Omega-level** (Level Five): Rarest of all. Only one he knew of was **Phoenix** from the **X-Men**, long since dead.
This tailed boy had already reached Level Three.
"Doctor, I'm requesting authorization to deploy **X-24**. Also need access to El Paso surveillance to track the targets…"
The Commander quickly dialed **Dr. Rice** and gave a full report.
**Dr. Rice** listened, then replied:
"I'll come personally with **X-24**. For surveillance, contact John in El Paso—he'll handle retrieval.
If you locate the targets, wait for my arrival before engaging."
John was HYDRA's regional head in El Paso County. HYDRA was a shadowy, terrifying organization.
It was through cooperation with them that **Dr. Rice** could distribute his GM products globally and evade **S.H.I.E.L.D.** scrutiny.
City surveillance in the U.S. wasn't something the Institute could access directly—but HYDRA could, thanks to their embedded agents in governments worldwide.
"Understood!"
Inside the motel, **Gabriella** let out a quiet sigh of relief when her phone showed that **Wolverine**—**Logan**—had accepted the ride request and was en route.
Now came the hard part: convincing him to help.
She believed that no matter how much someone changed on the surface, their core nature rarely shifted.
Half an hour later, a long black limousine pulled up outside the motel. An aging **Wolverine** stepped out.
The moment he saw **Gabriella** waiting at the entrance, his expression soured.
"Mr. **Logan**, we need your help!"
"Damn it… God."
**Wolverine** turned to leave immediately, muttering impatiently,
"I can't help you. Call another cab."
"My name is **Gabriella Lopez**—"
**Gabriella** stepped forward to block him, but he cut her off sharply.
"Lady, I don't want to know your name."
"People are hunting us. We have to get out of here—head north, to Canada—"
**Gabriella** tried to explain, but **Wolverine** interrupted again, voice rising in anger.
"Enough! I don't want to hear your story. You've already caused me enough trouble.
The people chasing you came to me yesterday. I don't want any part of this!"
After the Westchester incident, he'd spent years hiding **Professor X**—who drifted between lucidity and dementia—and finally settled near the border.
All he wanted now was to earn enough money, buy a boat, and take **Professor X** to live at sea.
When **Professor X** eventually passed, **Wolverine** planned to end his own life.
He refused to let anything disrupt that plan.
As he reached out to shove **Gabriella** aside and get back in his car, a small figure suddenly appeared in front of him in a blur.
"Hello! My name is **Son Goku**. Can we fight?"
The young **Son Goku** looked up politely at the strong but weathered man and gave a respectful bow.
He'd heard Aunt **Gabriella** call him **Logan** and knew this was the powerful friend she'd mentioned—the **Wolverine** from the comic **Laura** had shown him, the one who always defeated enemies effortlessly.
He figured this man had to be a master on the level of **Master Roshi**.
Sparring with someone like that would definitely make him much stronger.
"Fight? I don't have time for kid games."
**Wolverine**'s mouth twitched. He reached down to grab **Son Goku** and move him aside—but found his wrists locked in the boy's grip.
No matter how hard he pulled or twisted, his arms wouldn't budge an inch…
(End of Chapter 6)