From his hidden perch near the farmhouse, Nathan's eyes locked onto a seemingly insignificant vehicle parked beside the structure. Something about it felt out of place. The sleekness of its build, the direction it had come from—it all added up.
Then it hit him. That wasn't just any vehicle—that was the one that broke away from the convoy earlier.
And the passenger inside?
X-24—the Wolverine clone.
Everything started falling into place in Nathan's mind like puzzle pieces snapping together. The Essex Corporation, not willing to take chances with Wolverine and his allies slipping through their grasp, had dispatched X-24 as an interceptor. His mission was simple: eliminate Wolverine and retrieve X-23, the so-called "little wolf girl"—a child engineered for one purpose only: to kill.
Moments later, Nathan watched as X-24 emerged from the farmhouse, blood on his clothes and a snarl on his face. In his iron grip was the struggling, roaring girl—her fury as unrelenting as her captor's strength. Her claws flashed under the moonlight as she scratched and kicked with desperation, but her efforts were in vain.
Nathan's mind raced.
He knew the little girl was no ordinary child. She was a biological weapon, forged in a lab by Essex scientists using Wolverine's DNA. Their goal had been to mass-produce obedient assassins. But something went wrong. As these mutant children matured, they began to show signs of free will—emotion, compassion, rebellion.
And that made them dangerous.
Unpredictable. Uncontrollable.
Rather than recalibrate their process, the Essex board made a brutal decision—they'd scrap the entire generation and focus on a newer, more docile prototype: X-24. A perfect clone of Wolverine, devoid of empathy, overflowing with savagery.
But a few kind-hearted researchers couldn't bear the thought of those children being exterminated. They fled the facility with as many as they could carry.
And now, Essex was hunting them down.
Nathan's gaze lingered on X-24. The clone's body was a brutal monument of muscle and scars, his rage barely contained. His wounds from the earlier battle with X-23 were already healing, skin knitting together with a soundless efficiency that made Nathan's fingers twitch.
This was what he came for.
This was Wolverine at his genetic peak—younger, faster, stronger, and fully fueled by his regenerative factor. Unlike the aged Logan whose body was failing under the weight of time and illness, X-24 was pure violence sculpted in flesh.
Suddenly, from the shadows of the ruined farmhouse, a familiar figure stumbled into view.
Wolverine.
He looked like a man burdened by too many winters. Hair graying, face lined, his arms barely strong enough to carry the weight of the dying figure in them: Professor Charles Xavier.
Nathan's heart sank at the sight.
The legendary telepath was already frail from age and illness. And now, pierced through the chest by the very claws he helped shape, there was no saving him. His breaths came in shallow gasps, his eyes glazed with pain and fading clarity.
Even the world's best doctors couldn't patch up wounds made by Adamantium.
Nathan stood silently, watching the tragedy unfold. In truth, Professor X's death was a quiet mercy. His deteriorating mind had unintentionally lashed out with psychic waves in the past, nearly killing mutants and civilians alike. The guilt had eaten away at him. Perhaps now he could finally rest.
But the nightmare was far from over.
A pickup truck skidded onto the property, its tires screaming as it came to a halt. From the cab spilled out a group of hostile locals—a family with a past grudge against Wolverine. Mistaking X-24 for Logan, they stepped forward and threatened the wrong man.
It was a fatal mistake.
With a blur of motion and a roar that could shake mountains, X-24 tore through them. Limbs flew, screams echoed, and blood sprayed across the farm as the clone butchered the entire group with surgical brutality.
And then, as if fate weren't already cruel enough, Professor X exhaled his final breath in Logan's arms.
The last remnant of his old life—his teacher, his friend—was gone.
Grief twisted Wolverine's features. His sorrow boiled into rage as he threw himself at X-24 with a feral scream. Claws met claws, but age met youth.
And youth won.
Logan was overpowered. Beaten down. Stabbed. Again and again.
Nathan's fists clenched as he watched the once-unstoppable warrior collapse into a heap of blood and bone, the light fading from his eyes as he gasped for air.
The clone sneered. Victory was his.
But fate wasn't done just yet.
BOOM!
A massive farm truck slammed into X-24, knocking him off his feet and pinning him to a nearby piece of metal fencing. The barbed spikes dug deep into his back, and blood gushed from his mouth as his body convulsed under the impact.
The driver stepped out. A grizzled farmer, shaking from the pain of fresh wounds, and from the trauma of what he'd just seen—his entire family murdered before his eyes.
Hatred was the only thing keeping him standing.
He approached X-24, who was still breathing, though barely.
With dead, lifeless eyes, the farmer lifted a shotgun.
BANG!
The clone's eyeball exploded.
The beast fell limp. Silence reclaimed the night.
But Nathan, still hidden in the foliage, knew better.
"That won't kill him," he muttered under his breath. Not with healing like that. The clone's regenerative factor was simply too strong. As long as the brain wasn't utterly destroyed, he would recover. Eventually.
And that was fine.
Because Nathan didn't want him dead. Not yet.
He wanted X-24 at his strongest. The Essex team, in their desperation, would soon inject him with their latest mutant-enhancing serum, pushing his powers to new heights.
That's when Nathan would act.
Not now. But soon.
As he made that decision, movement caught his eye.
The little wolf girl—X-23—had spotted him. From her position in the shadows, her eyes locked on Nathan's. She bared her teeth like a cornered animal, her expression fierce.
Nathan didn't panic.
He raised a finger to his lips and made a simple gesture—silence.
Maybe it was his calm demeanor. Or maybe it was the fact that he didn't look like a threat. Whatever the reason, she didn't attack. Instead, she gave him a final glare, then turned and bolted toward Logan's bloodied body.
Together, they vanished into the darkness, heading toward freedom.
Nathan exhaled in relief.
On the other side of the field, the wounded farmer stumbled toward Wolverine. He lifted the shotgun again—intending, perhaps, to put down the man he blamed for everything.
But his strength gave out.
He collapsed to the dirt, his final act of vengeance undone by his own body.
Nathan watched as X-23 helped Wolverine up, staggering as they climbed into a nearby vehicle and drove off into the night.
They were safe. For now.
But Nathan's attention was elsewhere.
The Essex convoy rolled in, its headlights flashing across the carnage. Mercenaries jumped out in full combat gear, rifles raised—but there was no fight left here.
Instead, they surrounded the fallen clone.
From the center van, a man stepped out—Dr. Les, the mind behind the new mutant weapons division. He was cold, precise, and utterly without conscience. In his gloved hand, he held a silver case.
Inside? A vial of glowing green serum.
Nathan's eyes lit up.
"There it is," he whispered. "The final piece of the puzzle."
This serum would restore X-24's strength—and then some. It would push his healing factor and combat efficiency beyond anything seen before.
And that's when Nathan would strike.
He crouched lower, heart racing.
The chessboard was set.
And he was ready to make his move.
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