The fishing lodge on Lac Perdu was rustic, isolated, and exactly what Elias needed: a quiet place to think and coordinate. Mac MacReady, after being well-paid for the day's "survey" and promised a generous bonus for a potential follow-up flight (a flight Elias had no intention of taking with him), settled in with a bottle of rye and stories of past piloting exploits, leaving Elias and Anya to their "archival work."
In the privacy of their modest shared cabin – two rooms separated by a thin wall – Elias reviewed Anya's sketches and debriefed her thoroughly. Her depiction of the fleeting movement near the fissure was chillingly evocative: a low, powerful silhouette, more animal than human, disappearing with unnatural speed. The rendering of the three parallel metallic glints was sharp, almost photographic.
"You're certain about the claws, Anya?" Elias pressed, his voice low.
"As certain as I am of the mountains themselves, Mr. Thorne," she replied, her gaze unwavering. "Three distinct, metallic points of light, moving in unison. They reflected the sun like polished steel. It was no animal I know." Her Archer calm was absolute, but Elias could see the lingering awe, perhaps a touch of fear, in the depths of her hazel eyes. This was beyond anything she'd encountered in the urban sprawl of Montreal.
Elias activated a small, pre-arranged signaling device – a compact shortwave radio transmitter with a coded burst function, its range boosted by a surprisingly effective antenna he'd discreetly had installed on the lodge's roof under the guise of improving reception for his "business calls." The signal was directed towards Thomas MacIntyre and Joseph Tomah, who were waiting patiently at a pre-booked hunting camp a day's journey south, near a rail line. The coded message was simple: "Target acquired. Proceed to rendezvous point. Await further instructions."
Now came the crucial decision: how to approach James Howlett, the Wolverine? The System's warning – "SUBJECT IS EXTREMELY DANGEROUS" – was not to be taken lightly. Charging in, even with a Barbarian-enhanced Thomas, was suicidal if Wolverine possessed the kind of regenerative abilities and combat prowess legend ascribed to him. And then there was the matter of the "Exotic Energy Fluctuations" the System had detected. What did that entail?
Elias considered his options for empowerment. Giving Wolverine more power via a Barbarian or Archer upgrade seemed… redundant, perhaps even catastrophically so, if the man was already a powerhouse. The true prize was mirroring Wolverine's innate abilities – the healing factor, the claws (if they were indeed a biological trait or something grafted to him), his senses, his raw resilience.
"The System states," Elias mused aloud, speaking more to himself than Anya, though her presence helped him focus his thoughts, "that with a Prime Conduit, I gain their full power regardless of loyalty before empowerment. And a mirrored version of any innate abilities."
He looked at the available empowerments again: Barbarian, Archer, Goblin, and the custom Cognitive Archer variant he'd given Finch. What if he tried to grant Wolverine something minimal? Something almost symbolic, just enough to trigger the System's Prime Conduit protocol? Could he empower him with a "Goblin Lv. 0.1," essentially giving him a microscopic boost to his ability to find loose change, just to tick the System's box?
The idea was ludicrous, but the mechanics were paramount. The System cared about the act of empowerment, not necessarily the scale or appropriateness of the power granted, when it came to Prime Conduits.
System, Elias queried mentally, for a Prime Conduit, is there a minimum empowerment threshold to activate the 100% innate ability transfer? Can I bestow a significantly reduced or nominally altered power?
[Prime Conduit Protocol requires a successful, albeit potentially minimal, transfer of a recognized Troop Template or variant thereof. The Host may attempt to calibrate the intensity of the bestowed power downwards. The Conduit's innate attributes will be mirrored regardless of the bestowed power's triviality, provided the System recognizes a legitimate empowerment event. Warning: A hostile or highly resistant Prime Conduit may reject or react unpredictably to even minimal empowerment attempts.]
Minimal but legitimate. So, a token empowerment would work. The risk of rejection was still high.
He needed more information about Wolverine's current state, his temperament. An armed approach was likely to be met with lethal force. A peaceful, or at least non-threatening, approach seemed more prudent, though potentially just as dangerous if the man was feral or deeply paranoid.
"Anya," Elias said. "Tomorrow, I need you back in the air. Not with MacReady. I've arranged a different pilot, ostensibly for a 'private wildlife photography' charter." (This new pilot was even more discreet, asking even fewer questions for an even higher price). "Your objective is close-range, detailed observation of the target's lair and immediate surroundings. I need to know his routines, his level of awareness, any signs of his temperament. Is he truly wild, or just reclusive? Does he show any signs of… rationality?"
Anya nodded. "Stealth observation. From a slightly greater distance initially, then closer if conditions permit. I understand."
The next day, Anya took to the skies again, this time in a smaller, quieter Piper Cub, its engine a less intrusive buzz. She spent hours circling the Serpent's Spine, her focus riveted on Wolverine's valley. Using her phenomenal vision, she began to piece together a mosaic of the man's existence.
She saw him, eventually.
Not the fleeting blur of the previous day, but glimpses of a man – or what appeared to be a man. Broad-shouldered, powerfully built, moving with an animalistic grace through the dense undergrowth. He wore rough, patched clothing that blended with the forest. His hair was dark, untamed. His face, when she caught fleeting glimpses of it through the trees, was rugged, deeply lined, bearing an expression of profound weariness and constant, simmering anger. She never saw him for long; he seemed to possess an uncanny ability to sense observation, to melt into the shadows if the plane lingered too long or flew too predictably.
She saw signs of his daily routine: a cleverly hidden snare line for small game, a well-used path to a clear stream, the faint wisps of smoke from his fissure-cave that suggested a fire within. He was a creature of habit, but his habits were those of a wild thing, keenly aware of its territory.
Critically, she observed no signs of traps or aggressive defenses around his immediate lair, beyond its natural concealment. He seemed to rely on the remoteness of the location and his own senses for security. She also, crucially, saw no evidence of other people, no sign that he had any contact with the outside world. He was utterly, profoundly alone.
But the most significant observation Anya made was late in the day, as she was making a final pass. She saw Wolverine by the stream, stripping down to bathe in the icy water. And she saw his back.
It was a roadmap of old, vicious scars – deep, brutal marks that would have killed any ordinary man ten times over. Some looked like bullet wounds, others like rents from massive claws or blades, all crisscrossed and overlapping. Yet, beneath the old, faded white lines of ancient trauma, his skin looked… remarkably whole, vibrant, unblemished by any new injury, despite the harshness of his existence. It was proof positive of an extraordinary healing capability.
And, for a shocking moment, as he turned, she saw his hands. The sun glinted. Not on tools. Not on rings. But on what looked like three long, wicked-looking claws extending from between the knuckles of each hand. They weren't bone-white, as Dubois had reported, but a dull, metallic grey, as if forged from some unknown metal. They slid back into his hands as quickly as they'd appeared, a movement so fluid it was almost unreal.
When Anya returned that evening, her report, delivered in Elias's cabin with a voice tight with controlled awe, was transformative.
"Mr. Thorne… the claws… they are part of him. Metallic. And his healing… the scarring… it's unlike anything I've ever imagined."
Elias listened, his own blood quickening. Innate metallic claws. A healing factor of immense potency. This was beyond even what the fragmented legends had suggested. This was a power that could make him nearly immortal, a walking weapon.
He now understood the "Exotic Energy Fluctuations" the System had registered. It wasn't magic. It was probably the unique biological processes of this mutant, or perhaps some residual energy signature from the metal inexplicably bonded to his skeleton.
The path was clearer now, and infinitely more dangerous. A direct empowerment attempt, even a minimal one, on a man this capable, this potentially feral and hostile, was fraught with peril. Thomas's Barbarian strength, while formidable, might be laughably insufficient against someone who could regenerate from grievous wounds and wield unbreakable metal claws.
Elias needed a different approach. Not force. Perhaps… an offering? A bargain? Or, failing that, a method of restraint so profound it could subdue even a Wolverine. This Prime Conduit was not a simple asset to be acquired; he was a force of nature to be carefully, astutely, and perhaps desperately, managed. The howl Elias felt in his own blood was the System itself, sensing a colossal power source nearby, urging him towards it, regardless of the risk.