𝖆𝖓𝖎𝖒𝖆 𝖎𝖒𝖒𝖔𝖗𝖙𝖆𝖑𝖊 ━ 𝖑𝖔𝖌𝖆𝖓 𝖍𝖔𝖜𝖑𝖊𝖙𝖙

𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 7

Logan and Verena approach a massive metal door, assuming it's the entrance to the facility. Logan steps forward first, his claws slicing cleanly through the lock before he pushes the door open. Verena follows silently, staying close as they slip around the corner, their movements synchronized by years of practice.

Ahead of them, guards drag away an unconscious boy. His eyes are covered with gauze and metal, and a chill runs down Verena's spine at the sight. They press on, their senses sharpened, as they weave further into the facility.

They come to a large staircase, their boots making soft, almost imperceptible sounds against the metal steps. The silence between them is heavy but familiar, each breath, each heartbeat-Logan's and her own-growing louder with every step they take.

At the top, they reach an open room. They stay hidden in the shadows for a moment, carefully observing their surroundings. Across the room, metal lab tables are spread out. All are empty, except for one. A body lies still on it, surrounded by a small group of doctors.

Logan and Verena exchange a glance before cautiously stepping out of the shadows, advancing slowly toward the table. Their eyes sweep the room, catching sight of a wall of televisions displaying security camera feeds. They recognize the space beneath them from earlier.

Suddenly, a familiar voice breaks the silence. "Logan, Verena. Welcome back to the war."

Stryker stands at the edge of the table, facing away from them, but somehow knowing they're there. Logan's jaw tightens, his fists clenched at his sides. Verena stands rigid beside him, her body coiled like a spring, ready to attack.

"Before we gut you," Logan growls, his voice low and venomous, "I wanna know why."

"I needed your powers for the pool," Stryker replies casually.

"The what?" Logan's confusion mirrors Verena's, but they both stay focused.

"The mutant killer. Deadpool." Logan's expression hardens, while Verena's brows knit in faint confusion. "Years of searching and refining... finding the right powers that can coexist in one body without tearing it apart. My son was the first piece of the puzzle. Logan, Verena... you were the last. You made Weapon 11 possible. I asked for your help, but you said you wanted the quiet life." Stryker moves slowly, stepping closer as he speaks. "Well... I've learned that nothing motivates the two of you like revenge."

He moves past them, taking a seat on one of the empty tables in front of them. Verena's senses suddenly shift. An unfamiliar yet unsettlingly familiar heartbeat thuds through the room. The scent reaches her at the same time Logan's posture stiffens. Together, they turn towards the source. Standing just behind them, as if summoned by ghosts, is Kayla Silverfox.

Alive.

The shock floods Logan's face as disbelief claws at him. He had mourned her, held her lifeless body in the forest, his heart tearing apart in grief. Now she stood before him like a shadow of the past. Verena's confusion mirrors his, though a different pain twists inside her-a pain for Logan. As much as she wanted him, she had felt his anguish. Now, it all felt like a cruel trick.

Logan narrows his eyes, suspicion dripping from his voice. "Who are you?"

"Oh, she's real, old friend," Stryker says, amusement playing on his lips. Logan drops to his knees, his body folding under the weight of betrayal. Verena remains upright, placing one steady hand on his back, while the other curls into a fist, her claws ready to spring at a moment's notice.

"Did you really think we'd just let you walk away?" Stryker taunts. "You're dangerous people. We like to keep an eye on dangerous people." He glances toward Kayla. "Tell them about the day you died."