"I have this deeply unsettling feeling that there's something strange about the way you're looking at me, kid." Logan stopped leaning against the wall, his posture shifting from relaxed wariness to focused suspicion.
His enhanced instincts, which rarely led him astray, screamed that while Huang Wen posed no immediate physical threat, the youth's recent internal dialogue—especially the part about planetary explosions—was entirely centered on calculating his value.
"It's truly nothing, Uncle Wolf," Huang Wen assured him, effortlessly putting on his most charming and innocent smile. "Just admiration for your legendary combat presence. I'll leave the training floor to you now. Keep those young ones focused!"
"Uncle Wolf?" Logan repeated the bizarre nickname, his confusion palpable. He stared at Huang Wen until the Grandmaster had ascended the stairs, leaving the perplexed mutant in charge of a bustling class of Wing Chun enthusiasts.
Below, the atmosphere was chaotic yet productive. Logan watched the students, particularly noting the clumsy precision of their Wing Chun forms. He was still profoundly skeptical.
Could this gentle, flowing martial art, which looked more like a choreographed dance, truly be the foundation for the explosive power Huang Wen had demonstrated? He had witnessed Huang Wen's speed, precision, and the uncanny acupressure—skills that seemed utterly detached from the fundamental Wing Chun being practiced.
Logan, a man who had seen empires rise and fall, who had fought in every war across two centuries, and whose memory was a jigsaw puzzle of bloody battles and forgotten identities, knew fighting styles. He had seen similar techniques, but never had anyone leveraged them into the supernatural ability level Huang Wen possessed. It defied all his understanding of human limits.
"Uncle Wolf, what are you lost in thought about?" Huang Wen walked down the stairs again, purposefully breaking the tension. He lightly clapped Logan on the shoulder, a gesture of casual familiarity.
Logan instantly stiffened and dodged the hand. "Cut that out. And tell me—why do you keep calling me Uncle Wolf? What is that nickname supposed to mean?"
"It means exactly what it sounds like: deep respect for a venerable elder," Huang Wen lied smoothly, maintaining his smile. He knew exactly why Logan was so prickly. Nearly two hundred years of betrayal, memory loss, and being hunted would make anyone a coiled spring of paranoia.
"You know too much about me," Logan insisted, narrowing his eyes, the feral glint returning. "I've seen that look before. That calculating, all-knowing look. The last person who liked to look at me like that was that annoying old bald man—Chuck."
"You're a hundred years older than everyone else, Uncle Wolf. Just humor the kid," Huang Wen chuckled, deflecting the direct confrontation. He knew that any mention of Professor Charles Xavier confirmed the status of the X-Men side of this Marvel world. However, until he drew a powerful psychic-defense ability, confronting a telepath of Xavier's caliber was suicide.
The plot is definitely shifted or delayed, Huang Wen thought, linking Logan's words to the broader context. If the Sentinel program or the events of 'Days of Future Past' were already active, Logan wouldn't be able to just casually wander into Chinatown and take an instructor job.
This means the timeline is either pre-major conflict or the timelines have merged, pushing the mutant crisis further down the road.
It was the perennial problem of a composite Marvel universe: a lack of clear timeline markers.
"Hey, Uncle Wolf, have you ever heard of any trouble around the Statue of Liberty lately?" Huang Wen asked casually, scratching his chin, throwing out a potential plot point from the X-Men films to gauge the local situation.
Logan scoffed. "The Statue of Liberty? Why would I care about that big copper lady? No, why? Are you looking to run a marathon around it?"
"Just curious about local history," Huang Wen replied. "Speaking of trouble… that metal-controlling guy, Magneto—he hasn't been sniffing around, has he?"
Logan was genuinely surprised this time. "You know Erik, too? Wait, you know me, so of course you know that old bastard. What does he want with me? He's locked up in a maximum-security prison right now. Not going anywhere."
"Locked up, you say?" Huang Wen filed that crucial piece of information away. Magneto being safely incarcerated meant the major crisis was likely deferred. "I'm afraid I don't know that much about either of you. Just bits and pieces I've picked up along the way. Your reputations precede you, Uncle Wolf."
"You have no prejudice against… us?" Logan frowned again, studying Huang Wen with intense scrutiny. "We are different from you. We're mutants."
"And what exactly is the difference?" Huang Wen asked, his voice calm and level. "People fear and reject you because they are weak. They envy abilities they didn't earn, and frankly, too many powerful people—mutant or otherwise—are arrogant and dangerous, which poisons the well for everyone else."
"You see things clearly, kid," Logan conceded, a flicker of respect entering his eyes. "It's easy for you to say that because you have enough of your own weird power not to be scared. But your strength was earned through training. What about the people who awaken some world-beating power overnight? Does that not breed jealousy in you?"
"Jealousy?" Huang Wen's expression was genuinely bewildered. Jealousy of a random draw? "Why would I be jealous? You mutants receive one random ability in a lottery that you can never change. I, Huang Wen, hold the cheat code to a never-ending lottery, guaranteeing I will get stronger perpetually. Who should be jealous of whom? Do you honestly think this level of skill was attained slowly, through human limits?"
Logan broke into a rare, gruff laugh, misunderstanding Huang Wen's inner context but appreciating the sentiment. "You've got one of the strongest, clearest heads I've ever met, kid. If I didn't have this constant itch to dig into my past, I'd probably just stay here permanently."
"Why chase after painful memories, Uncle Wolf?" Huang Wen looked at the immortal warrior with a genuine sense of pity, remembering the sheer trauma of Logan's life. "Isn't a quiet life here, teaching and having a roof over your head, better? If you truly recover your full memories, will you still be the same man you are now?"
"You know more than you let on, just like the old bald man!" Logan said, shaking his head. "I know you won't tell me the whole truth, but I'll stay here and rest for a while, earn some cash, and then go looking for the next piece of the puzzle."
He lowered his voice, the mercenary aspect returning. "But let's get this straight: I need a salary, and my room and board are covered. I'm not working for free, even if you did pin me like a cockroach."
"Haha! I figured you were running low on funds, Uncle Wolf, and decided this was a better use of your time than bar fights," Huang Wen said, lightly clapping him on the shoulder again—a gesture Logan did not dodge this time. "Perfect. As long as you keep the students honest and focused, you'll be generously compensated."
"As for food, you can choose to eat with me, Zhong Qiang, and Rhys, or you can go to any restaurant in Chinatown and bring the receipts back for reimbursement. For accommodation, I have three empty bedrooms upstairs. Take your pick."
"Done," Logan grunted, a flicker of satisfaction crossing his face. A stable job with room and board, minimal effort required, and a young man who wasn't afraid of him—it was the easiest gig he'd had in decades.
Huang Wen smiled widely, feeling the true weight of his triumph. "In that case, Rhys! Go draft a basic contract. Your job is to make sure Uncle Wolf signs it. Set his salary equal to yours, including the benefits and full room and board."
Reece Fisk, completely bewildered but sensing the immense power radiating from the new instructor, nodded eagerly. "Yes! I'll get the paperwork ready right away!"