Wolverine exploded from the fissure-cave not like a man, but like a force of nature unleashed. He was a whirlwind of raw, primal fury, low to the ground, moving with a speed that defied his bulk. The metallic snikt of his six adamantium claws extending was a sound that sliced through the mountain silence, sharp and utterly lethal. His yellow eyes, burning with centuries of pain and rage, locked onto Elias and Thomas.
Thomas MacIntyre, Barbarian-enhanced and ever-loyal, reacted instantly. He shoved Elias behind him, positioning his own formidable body as a shield, and roared a defiant challenge, his own features contorting into a mask of primal savagery. "Get back, Mr. Thorne!"
But Wolverine wasn't aiming for Thomas. His senses, already inhuman and now perhaps infinitesimally, confusingly sharpened by Elias's token empowerment, had pinpointed Elias as the source of the strange new sensation, the unwelcome intrusion into his tormented mind. He changed direction mid-lunge, a blur of motion, claws extended, aimed straight for Elias's throat.
Time seemed to slow. Elias, still reeling from the monumental influx of Wolverine's power, felt his own newly acquired senses scream a warning. He saw the glint of the claws, smelled the feral scent of Wolverine's rage, heard the whistle of air displaced by his charge. And his body moved.
Not with conscious thought, but with an instinctual, predator-level reaction he hadn't possessed moments before. He sidestepped, a movement far faster, far more agile than he could have managed previously. Wolverine's claws slashed through the air where his throat had been, missing by a hair's breadth. The sheer killing intent coming off the mutant was a physical force.
Before Wolverine could recover for another attack, Elias felt a new, strange sensation in his own hands. A phantom weight, a prickling at his knuckles. Instinctively, driven by the mirrored feral rage now coiling within him, he focused his will.
SNIKT!
Three gleaming, razor-sharp adamantium claws, identical to Wolverine's own, erupted from between the knuckles of his right hand. They felt… utterly natural, an extension of his own being. The shock of their appearance, even to himself, was momentarily stunning. He was no longer just Elias Thorne, clever landlord. He was something else, something that could meet this feral rage head-on.
Wolverine, seeing his own signature weapons mirrored on this young, otherwise unassuming human, skidded to a halt, his yellow eyes widening fractionally, a flicker of stunned confusion warring with his berserker fury. This was impossible. No one else had these claws. No one.
That momentary hesitation was all Elias needed. He didn't attack. He didn't posture. He simply stood his ground, his own newly manifested claws a silent, shocking testament to the impossible event that had just occurred.
"Stand down, Logan," Elias said, his voice preternaturally calm, imbued with a new, resonant authority that even surprised himself. The name – Logan – had surfaced from the flood of innate knowledge that came with Wolverine's powers, a deeper identity buried beneath the 'Wolverine' persona. The psionic resistance he'd inherited also gave him a strange, clear window into the raging storm of Wolverine's mind, a glimpse of the man trapped within the beast.
Wolverine snarled, a low, guttural sound, but he didn't immediately resume his attack. He was clearly disoriented, confused by this mirrored apparition, by the familiar scent of adamantium now emanating from someone else.
Thomas, seeing his employer manifest claws of his own and face down the feral mutant, was momentarily speechless, his Barbarian rage tempered by sheer astonishment.
Joe Tomah, who had been silently approaching from the flank after his distraction task was complete, ready to intervene if necessary, simply froze, his eyes wide. What he was witnessing was beyond any legend his people spoke of.
"How…?" Wolverine finally rasped, his voice like gravel and broken glass. "Who… what are you?"
"I am someone who understands your pain, Logan," Elias said, keeping his voice even, though the raw power thrumming through his veins urged him to meet violence with overwhelming violence. He fought it down. Control. Always control. "Someone who just shared a piece of it. And someone who can offer you… something other than endless rage and solitude."
This was a critical juncture. He could try to dominate Wolverine now, with his mirrored powers, backed by Thomas. It would be a brutal, bloody fight, even with his newfound advantages. Wolverine was a berserker, fueled by centuries of combat.
Or, he could try something else. An appeal to the man buried beneath the beast.
The System interface glowed with new information, visible only to Elias:
[Prime Conduit Synergy Stable. Host Adaptation to Mirrored Abilities: 92% and Rising. Cognitive Overlap with Conduit: Initiated (Warning: High risk of empathic feedback/personality bleed. Host Psionic Resistance is mitigating but not absolute).]
[New Objective Available (Prime Conduit Path): Pacification & Integration. Reward: Loyalty Meter Activation (Wolverine), Full Symbiotic Power Resonance (Beyond Innate Mirroring), Access to Conduit's Unique System Upgrades/Knowledge (Potential: Adamantium Forging/Bonding Secrets, Advanced Combat Protocols, Longevity Matrix Data).]
Pacification and Integration. The rewards were staggering. Access to adamantium secrets? More power than just the innate mirroring? The System was guiding him towards a more sophisticated endgame than simple absorption.
"I didn't come here to fight you, Logan," Elias said, slowly, carefully, retracting his own claws with a conscious effort of will. The sensation was strange but not painful. He showed his empty hands. "I came because I knew you were… unique. And I believe your unique nature could be channeled towards something more than just survival."
Wolverine still vibrated with suppressed fury, his claws still extended, but his yellow eyes were fixed on Elias, a maelstrom of confusion, suspicion, and a deeply buried, almost extinguished spark of something that might have once been hope. He had been alone for so long, hunted, experimented upon, betrayed. The concept of someone understanding, let alone offering something other than pain, was alien.
"Talk," Wolverine growled, though the killing edge in his voice had lessened fractionally.
And so, on that remote mountainside, surrounded by the silent, ancient wilderness, Elias Thorne began to speak. He didn't reveal the System, or the full extent of his own manipulations. He spoke of shared burdens, of understanding great power and the isolation it could bring. He spoke of a world teetering on the brink of another great war, a world where men of unique capabilities might soon be desperately needed, not as weapons of others, but as shapers of their own destiny. He hinted at knowledge, at resources, at a way to perhaps understand and control the rage that so clearly consumed Logan.
He was weaving a new narrative, offering a different path. He was a landlord, after all, and his greatest skill had always been managing difficult assets and convincing people that his way was, ultimately, in their best interest.
Thomas and Joe remained silent, watchful witnesses to this extraordinary exchange. Thomas because he trusted Elias's judgment implicitly, even when confronted with the utterly unbelievable. Joe because he sensed he was in the presence of something that would redefine the boundaries of his world.
As Elias spoke, he felt the raw, chaotic psychic static emanating from Logan lessen, just slightly. The adamantium claws, though still extended, were no longer held in a purely aggressive posture. The burning yellow in his eyes still held immense pain, but also a dawning, reluctant attentiveness.
The beast was listening. And perhaps, just perhaps, the man within was beginning to stir.
Elias Thorne, now possessed of power beyond his wildest imaginings, stood at a precipice. He had tapped into a force of nature, gained its essence. The Montreal underworld, with its Scarelli and Fitzpatrick, suddenly seemed like a petty squabble in a sandbox. His ambitions, already vast, now stretched to horizons he hadn't even been able to conceive of just hours before. An empire forged in shadow was about to be reinforced with adamantium. And James "Logan" Howlett, the Wolverine, might just become its most formidable, and most volatile, cornerstone.