Godfather Owl: Guardian of Batman [56]

“I’m not going.” Logan declined without a second thought.

There was nothing left in this world worth fighting for.

Hawkeye sighed. He’d insisted on recruiting Logan for a good reason.

Crossing the U.S. as a nearly blind man posed more than a few challenges.

With one last plea, he said, “But what else are you going to do? Professor X is gone, and you’re on your own now.”

“There’s plenty I can do.” Logan’s resolve didn’t waver. “I’ll make some money first, then…”

“You want to earn money?”

Bruce suddenly spoke up. “I was already heading to New York to claim my inheritance—why not hire you as my guide? I’ll pay you… this much.”

He held up a single finger.

Bruce planned to stay in this world for only two months, so there was no use holding onto the billion-dollar inheritance. Kathoom kept saying to spend it all on him, but to Bruce, that was as good as throwing it into a dumpster.

Might as well offer Logan a generous fee.

One million should do the trick.

“You’re offering me ten thousand dollars?”

Logan was intrigued. To him, that was a fortune—something he couldn’t have made in years.

“Huh?”

Bruce realized Logan had misunderstood; he meant a million, not ten thousand.

But before he could explain, Logan nodded hastily, as if he feared Bruce would change his mind.

“Ten thousand dollars? Deal!”

Still, he made one thing clear: “I’m only a guide, no fighting. Unless—you can’t pay me.”

With that, Logan gave Hawkeye a firm nudge.

“Stop standing around. Let’s go.”

—

The garage door slowly lifted, revealing a red convertible off-road vehicle painted with a web pattern.

“The Spider-Mobile?” Logan recognized it immediately. “How’d it end up with you?”

“After Spider-Man died, the car came to me.”

Hawkeye climbed into the driver’s seat with a grin, ready to take the wheel while Logan, as the guide, would handle the map and spot for any obstacles.

“Want me to drive?” Logan asked, clearly wary of Hawkeye’s eyesight.

“No need; I’ve got this. Get in!”

Logan climbed into the passenger seat, with Bruce and Kathoom in the back. Hawkeye ran his hands over the steering wheel, nostalgic.

“You two are the only ones who still believe in me.”

Hawkeye sighed. “I tried making a living as a cab driver once, but no one would ride with me. The passengers refused because I’m blind.”

“No problem—we don’t discriminate,” Logan muttered, though his hand discreetly moved toward the seatbelt buckle, prepared to get out if needed.

But Hawkeye wasn’t about to give him the chance.

He stomped on the gas, and the Spider-Mobile’s engine roared, shattering the quiet of the desert.

The tires spun against the dry ground, kicking up a cloud of dust.

The Spider-Mobile seemed to come alive, like a wild beast unleashed, surging forward into the unknown.

—

Hawkeye’s driving skills were nothing short of miraculous.

Even without sight, his extraordinary hearing and keen instincts allowed him to navigate the terrain flawlessly.

Under his control, the Spider-Mobile darted through the barren landscape like a serpent, leaving clouds of dust in its wake.

“I told you, you’re in good hands!”

Hawkeye’s pride was evident as he drove. “I may be blind, but I can hear the tires on the road, feel the wind direction and speed. A lot of sighted folks couldn’t drive this well!”

Fine. Logan resigned himself to his fate, pulling out the map and studying their route.

“Most of the areas we’ll pass through are hostile territories, each controlled by a different group, but we can bypass some.”

Logan traced the map with his finger. “First, we pass through the Hulk Gang’s territory. It’s usually dangerous, but Bruce Banner’s away at the moment, so his green-skinned brutes are laying low.

“Then we cut through Ghost Riders’ turf, head to Hammer Falls, and finally pass through Ant-Man’s Crossroads to reach New Utopia.”

Hawkeye gave a cheerful whistle. “Glad to have you, Logan!”

With a clear path ahead, Hawkeye floored the gas pedal, sending the Spider-Mobile racing forward.

The car’s extraordinary features quickly became apparent.

It plowed onward without needing to dodge anything in its path. Even cliffs posed no obstacle—the specially designed tires allowed it to scale vertical rock faces.

The Spider-Mobile’s design was nothing short of genius.

Even falling from a height of dozens of meters, it would remain intact, shielding its passengers in a nearly indestructible shell, with no trace of the impact inside.

In the back seat, Bruce ran his fingers along the car’s armrest, feeling a pang of longing.

The young Bat wanted to drive, too.

“Kathoom, what do you think about me getting a car like this someday?”

Bruce mused, “Paint it black, drive around Gotham every night—it’d be incredible.”

“Do what you want,” Kathoom replied dryly. “Just watch your tires, maybe they’ll be stolen.”

—

The Spider-Mobile roared as it sped along.

Once the initial thrill wore off, the scenery became monotonous—endless desert, rocks, and tumbleweeds. Logan had closed his eyes, already asleep.

Bruce yawned. The journey was proving far duller than he’d imagined.

They had traveled over three hundred kilometers, leaving Hulk Gang territory behind.

Knowing they still had thousands of kilometers to go, Bruce began to feel a creeping sense of boredom.

“Can’t you just use Apparition to get us to New York?” he asked Kathoom. “It wouldn’t take much energy, would it?”

“Why would I help just because you asked?” Kathoom dismissed the idea instantly. “You haven’t even called me ‘Godfather’ once.”

“Fine, forget it.”

Bruce shut his eyes, pretending the conversation hadn’t happened.

As night fell, the outline of a deserted city loomed ahead.

“We’ll stay here for the night!” Hawkeye announced. “We’ll start fresh in the morning!”

They entered the once-bustling city, now a shell of its former self.

Abandoned skyscrapers loomed like giants in the darkness, their exteriors cracked and peeling. The streets were silent as death.

Dust blanketed every surface, with broken-down vehicles scattered here and there, their windows shattered, tires flat.

Streetlamps tangled with withered vines, power lines swayed in the breeze, emitting mournful creaks.

“Think anyone’s still alive here?” Hawkeye wondered aloud.

Logan took a deep sniff, assessing the surroundings.

“Nope. All I smell is mildew. No signs of life.”

“Figured as much.”

Hawkeye parked the car on an abandoned street, and the group got out to find a secure place to rest.

“Let’s settle here for the night. Get comfortable—I’ll start a fire.”

But Logan stopped him. “Better not light a fire.”

He pointed into the distance. Several ominous Harley-Davidsons were roaring their way toward them, their engines spitting fire and leaving a trail that sliced through the darkness.

The Ghost Riders had arrived.