“So, what exactly is going on here?”
Bruce asked, “Is this the Dark Multiverse you mentioned before?”
Kathoom shook his head. “The Dark Universe? No, no—this doesn’t even come close!”
In the DC Multiverse, the Dark Multiverse was a realm created by the World Forge to produce worlds filled with hope and light for the main universe. But the Dark Multiverse itself was a place of castoffs—worlds of pure crime and despair, discarded and forgotten.
But this world was different.
Even though supervillains ruled it, a glimmer of light remained.
“Let’s go.” Kathoom suggested. “Since we’re here, we should explore a bit more of this world.
“Besides, don’t you have a billion waiting for you in New York? Let’s go get it—and spend it on me!”
Bruce shot Kathoom a dubious look.
He picked up a newspaper and pointed at the map. “Can you be realistic? We’re in New Mexico, way down in the southwest, and New York is all the way in the northeast. You’re saying we should cross the entire country just for a measly billion?”
Bruce didn’t have a single dollar on him, and Kathoom’s plan essentially meant trekking across America on foot.
Sure, the owl could fly, but Bruce could only walk.
And judging by the map, the route was nothing but danger zones.
The Hulk Gang, Green Goblin’s Territory, Ghost Rider’s Outlaw Bikers, the Kingpin’s Dominion, Doom’s Domain, Hammer Falls, Ant-Man’s Crossroads…
Bruce didn’t know exactly what each of these names represented, but he knew they spelled trouble.
Not that he minded trouble, but it seemed like an unnecessary risk.
If he really tried to cross all these territories, Bruce doubted he’d make it to the other side in two months.
“Then find some people to travel with,” Kathoom said, a flash of inspiration sparking in his eyes. He lifted one wing, a single feather raised like a finger. “Hey, I have just the right person in mind!”
“Who?”
Wherever they went, this owl seemed to have connections.
“A former superhero from this world,” Kathoom replied. “Name’s Wolverine. And, funnily enough, he’s your senior.”
What?
Bruce had learned to let most of Kathoom’s chatter roll off, but a “senior” from this world?
What, was Hogwarts churning out heroes across the multiverse now?
Kathoom, though, was unperturbed. “I’m not making it up! Yellow-and-black uniform, claws like a wolverine—classic Hufflepuff! No one would believe otherwise!”
Seeing Kathoom’s earnest expression, Bruce dropped the debate. “Alright, so where can we find him?”
That was the catch—
Kathoom hesitated. This world wasn’t exactly the Logan universe, nor the Old Man Logan storyline. It seemed more like a combination of both.
According to the latest intel, the X-Men had been wiped out, but Professor X was missing, not dead.
And Wolverine, Logan, had vanished right along with him.
So Kathoom suspected that Logan hadn’t settled down into a quiet life like he had in the comics—his fate had veered off course.
Of course, the owl doubted Professor X was still alive after fifty years.
So—
“Let’s try the U.S.-Mexico border!” Kathoom chirped. “Just think of it as a reverse border crossing adventure.”
—
A dusty road near the desolate borderlands. A battered old car sped down the road, coming to a halt outside a rundown warehouse.
The door creaked open, and a weary man stepped out.
He looked to be in his seventies, with a grizzled beard, gray hair, and bloodshot eyes that had once been sharp but now seemed dulled by years of hardship.
This was Logan Howlett, the former superhero known as Wolverine. He looked even older than he did in Logan.
He walked into the warehouse, pushing open a door to reveal a frail figure lying on a hospital bed, connected to an IV. The man’s skin was stretched thin over his bones, and he looked to be on the brink of death.
No one would have recognized this as the once-famous Professor X.
Sitting beside the bed was another old man, aged but far more spirited than Logan.
“Thanks, Clint,” Logan murmured, addressing the man sitting by the bed—Clint Barton, the Avenger once known as Hawkeye.
The once-deadly archer, now almost blind from glaucoma, could barely see past his own hand.
Logan set a bag of medicine on the bedside table, and then, with a pained groan, slowly straightened his back.
“Has he woken up?”
“No.” Hawkeye shook his head. “Looks like it’ll be any day now.”
Logan sighed at that, a flicker of complex emotions crossing his face as he looked at the frail old man who had once commanded respect across the globe.
“Maybe it’s for the best.” Logan finally said, “If he’s finally free, maybe that’s a mercy.”
“Logan, are you really not going to help me?”
Clint broke in, his tone insistent. “When the professor…when he’s gone, what are you going to do? Our lives are in their twilight. We ought to go out with a bang.”
That was why Clint had stuck around. He wanted Logan’s help with one last mission, but each time he asked, he got the same rejection.
Eventually, Clint had simply refused to leave until he got a yes.
But Logan was unmoved.
“Clint, I’m done with fighting.”
Logan gave the same old answer. “Give it up, alright?”
Hawkeye didn’t argue. After being turned down so many times, he’d gotten used to it.
Suddenly—
cough, cough, cough!
A weak coughing fit came from the hospital bed. Professor X had woken up.
“Professor!”
Logan quickly moved to help him sit up, gently patting his back. Once Professor X’s breathing steadied, Logan helped him lie back down.
“Thank you…Hank…”
The professor’s voice was little more than a whisper.
Hawkeye let out a sigh. “Professor, that’s Logan, not Hank. Hank’s been gone a long time…”
Hank, once a member of the X-Men, codenamed Beast, had died fifty years ago.
A bittersweet feeling washed over Clint. The man who had once been the world’s most brilliant mind was now so lost he couldn’t even recognize those closest to him.
Professor X started speaking again, this time addressing Clint.
“Scott, why are you here alone? Where’s Jean?”
Scott, known as Cyclops, was another X-Man who had fallen fifty years ago.
Clint’s expression darkened.
“I’m not Cyclops, Professor. Just an old guy with…glaucoma.”
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