Project X: The Birth of Wolverine, Chapter 97- Stryk, Part 1

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The Impersonator

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SOME OF THE LOGOS, CHARACTERS AND SETTINGS ARE THE PROPERTY OF MARVEL, INC. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

Rated M for Mature

Appropriate for readers 18 and over. May contain extreme violence, sexual themes, nudity, or profanity.

No Caption Provided

Note- Some of the Hindi language has been translated into English.

Project X: The Birth of Wolverine, Chapter 97- Stryker, Part 1

Mumbai was one of the overcrowded cities in India. There are other countries which had many people, drivin’ cars around, walkin’ pass another, tellin’ stories or conversations with each other. Who knows this place had the most population than I ever could imagine. The smoke fell risen over the skies and then reached down the streets, where shopkeepers sell their items and food, and the customers buyin’ them. These people ain’t care about some pollution that occurs outside in the air. This pollution can make a person sick or throw out. But it doesn’t affect me often. The smell of the dogs overwhelmed my noses, like blockin’ the door before anyone opens it. I can also smell the dirt, the cow dung, and everythin’ else that lies on the littered ground. The young and old slumdogs, stared at me, walkin’ through the lonely trashes of Mumbai, as if they had neva seen a Canadian before.

This was my second visit to Mumbai since the 1930s. Yea….the time when Victor Creed and I came to this crowded place, wantin’ to know what we had to next in order to escape from those mother*ckin’ gangsters from Vancouver. The Indian city did seem similar like Vancouver, where you can see some prostitutes, waitin’ for someone to have $ex with them or have some normal conversations. I learned their Indian language, Hindi in order to understand the people of Mumbai. Victor did learn as well. But he neva intended to talk with anyone on the streets, hotels, or some bars. However, he did have fun, starin’ at some Pakistani and Indian women, dancin’ around the dance floor, shakin’ their @$$e$ off. Victor had the money, which he received from some local gangs in the crowded city. These gangs were part of the drug trade, which they sell dangerous drugs on the black market. The money in all the world came from it, hard cashes bein' given to us like food on the plate. Victor saw the idea and the outcome that comes outta all this. But I was the only one who didn’t like the idea. It was worse than ever. These drugs could kill ya, any person in the world, prostitutes, young bratty kids, teachers, gangster, ya name it. They could be so many kinds of people, getting’ high from these awful, awful drugs. Victor and I once used it before. The drugs, which we injected ourselves through our veins and the sensations kept comin’ deeper, and deeper, and then the slight pain of agony stopped. It’s like the darkness had taken over us, our bodies, souls, and mind. It’s like….Urgh….F*ck, why did I ever take part in this kinda mother*ckin’ $h!t? I sat on the couch, starin’ at Victor, smilin’ like he was happy, too happy about the fact that he was at the top of the world, like a true gangster. But our boss was quite powerful, indeed. There were politicians, bein' corrupted by the power and money in the crowded city of Mumbai.

The Indian politicians had neva been caught though. There had been news, which said that they were involved in the drug trade with the dangerous gangsters, such gangsters, who were armed with knives, shotguns, normal and ordinary guns, which you could find anywhere in America and Canada, or any other part of the world. Ain’t that a true statement?

I walked through the city, watchin’ some Indian workers, polishin’ glasses of some big IT companies, which I had neva heard about. The students, and workers, walkin’ with each other and passing by, like the world had turned forward in time. And I was the only one who stood frozen, thinkin’ where the heck that old b@$t@rd is.

Accordin’ to Nick Fury’s new information, I managed to find the perfect place and hideout, where the old Stryker could be. I didn’t know the reason why he had to come here in the crowded city. I guess he found a way to strike me down with his new buddies. Yea….like that’s goin’ to work for him….idiot. What was he actually thinkin’? I came to a tall buildin’ where I heard that there were gangster families livin’ in each room. This is the place, which would make the Indian police think that these families were just plain old, normal. The other normal families would also think that way. Maybe, I had to convince them or somethin’. But it ain’t the time for that, or it would really matter anyways.

I came to the closed gate, waitin’ for the guard to come. He came with his similar police uniform, even though he wasn’t actually a member of the Indian police. He asked in plain Hindi language and yet he can’t speak English.

“Namaste, sir” (Hello), the guard said. “Ap ka nam kya hai?” (What is your name?)

I looked at him for a while, hopin’ that the guard knows where Stryker is. It must also be the fact that the guard ain’t just a normal guard but a true gangster. You can’t tell the looks from them. Maybe, the guard could also be workin’ for the gangsters, so that he could get some high cash. I said slowly and comfortably in plain Hindi.

“Mere nam….Logan hai,” (My name is Logan) I replied.

"Aap kyaa chahate hain?" (What do you want?) the guard asked again.

"Tere boss kidhar hai?" (Where is your boss?) I asked.

The guard became quiet, the sweat came right outta the both sides of his neck. I can smell the dirtiness from his dark skin color. He must be afraid, very afraid and yet the guard didn’t seem to be happy about it.

“Tikei. Idher Aaao.” (Ok. Come, I’ll take you)

The guard took the key, opened the gate for me. He let me through, thinkin’ that I was workin’ for my boss. Indeed, the boss was rumoured to be livin’ here. I ain’t talkin’ about Stryker though. It was the old boss whom Victor and I used to work for. The old boss was too busy to do things any more. Now, his only son is takin’ over the criminal empire. He can speak a little bit English, wantin’ to ignore the fact that he can’t speak much properly as before. I followed the guard to his quarters. As I walked up the staircase, there were women, starin’ at me. It could be the prostitutes for all I know, or the mommies takin’ care of their poor babies, and waitin’ for hard-workin’ daddies to come home. It took a while, to reach the stairs, becomin’ tired a bit, and the sweat came rushin’ through my skin like the droplets of rain which fell from the blue sky. I finally reached the boss’ quarters. The quarters looked familiar like the last time I came here. Yea….big time memories I should say.

The guard rang the doorbell twice. We waited as the rest of the other occupants, starin’ at me, as if they knew me as the Canadian who came once to Mumbai. But they haven’t spoken to me, and still kept starin’. A few seconds later, a young man opened the door and saw us standin’ right at his doorstep. The young man himself ain't younger any more, takin’ care of his old father’s criminal business. He told the guard to get outta here and perform his guardin' duties at the gate. He went away, passed me, and not tryin’ to look what’s gonna happen next.

The once young man looked at me in the eye, wonderin’ who this person could be. It must be years and years for the man to recognize me. Then, he opened his eyes wide, seemin’ to remember. I was there, watchin’ out for him as a young kid, a once bratty kid who liked to ask me to play some darn toys in his closet. I recalled those days, playin’ with him, even though the toys weren't meant for me to play with. But I had fun though.

"Logan….Tuu…. "(Logan….You….) he smiled surprisingly. "Tum Tikhu Na?" (Are you fine?)

“Haa, Mee tikhu….Bollo…. Tere papa kidhar hai?” (Yea, I’m fine. So….where is your father?)

The son called out to his father and said that I've finally come here. The old man walked through the ragged, old carpet slowly and stared at me. He was old, and not even a bit shaky. He looked so strong that he could do anythin’ in the world, especially doin’ the f*ckin’ d@mn business. The old man gave a quick smile and let me through his quarters. The room was wide, rich with softness and a slight warm and fresh air. The fan kept spinnin’ and spinnin’ so that the heat wave can be decreased in this hot and sunny day. I sat on the seat whereas the son and his father sat theirs. We began to talk like the old times.

“Logan, my man….You are very much alive,” said the old man.

“Heh! I'm surprised that you can speak English well.”

“Ah yes….I am still quite still bad at it. Aren't I? Well, I have managed to learn things from….one man himself.”

“I wonder who could that be,” I said sarcastically.

The old man gave a confused look, and then told his son to take care of his own kid in the bedroom. Yea, the son had a young baby who’s bein' takin’ care by the housemaid. I heard that the son’s wife had died due to child labour. It was a sad thought for the mother to die. The son and father had to take care of the baby son all the time. They've wondered if the son can grow up to be just like them.

“Don’t mind my grandson. I….”

“That’s alright, boss. I had to take of yours back then. Now, he’s all grown up bein' responsible for his own kid.”

“Yes….I know. But it has never been easy.”

“I can tell ya that. Maybe, I can take care of your kid again if ya know what I mean.”

“Ha! Ha! Ha!" the Indian boss laughed. "You can be funny sometimes. You have not changed a bit ever since you came here. Tell me….how have you been doing these days? What are you doing now?"

As I waited to answer that question, the boss’ grown-up son came out of the bedroom and sat back on his seat. The thoughts wandered through my mind like the hoverin’ jet. I finally replied in my slightest voice as ever I could get.

I've been doin’ things a h*lluva lot these days. But now….I'm just looking for someone.

“Who?” asked the old man.

“I figured you would know. But I neva guessed you would lie to me….this time.”

“Logan. That is not you talking. I know that you always trusted me and I did the same. Am I right?”

“Is it? Or is it that there is someone hidin’ in that bedroom all along? I can smell right from here. You know.”

The old man got up quickly, and took out his gun from the nearby table. He then pointed the gun towards me, sayin’ some angry words.

“I do not know what you are talking about.”

The son also took out his gun and aimed at me right through the forehead, just like father like son.

“Come on, boss. You know that I can smell from here. You really think that I'm that stupid? I know he’s in there.”

“You do not understand, Logan. We are in...danger.”

“Danger? You’re the big crime boss here. I thought you could all take care of yourselves since I was gone.”

“That is right, Logan. But….things has changed now. I hoped for you not to leave Mumbai. But you had to do it for other reasons. I have respected you.”

“And you should do the same rather than pointin’ that gun towards me.”

“I am sorry, Logan. But this person taught me English well and would do anything for us. That is….we had to listen to him.”

“He’s right, you know,” a familiar voice just sprang out of the bedroom. The door opened slightly, the steps came slowly, slowly until it stopped. The person, who stood before us, was holdin’ the boss’ grandchild on his arms. The person looked different, yet he had the baldness from the looks of his own f*ckin’ head. He must have shaved it after he left Project X. I knew it was him all along. There wasn't any doubt about it. The person was none other than….William Stryker.

To be continued in Project X: The Birth of Wolverine, Chapter 98- Stryker, Part 2.

Holy $h!t! William Stryker has finally been found! Now that Logan’s search is over. What will Logan do this time in order to strike Stryker down without getting shot by his old buddies? Find out in the next chapter of Wolverine. I'm feelin’ this kinda situation is about to get rough. SNIKT!

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