After four o'clock, John led Logan and Melin down to the boxing ring. What they saw was…
"Fred Dukes?" Logan pointed at the… uh, mountain of flesh in the ring, looking utterly confused. In his memory, although he hadn't had the best relationship with Fred, he had still envied Fred's once bodybuilder-like physique.
But time, the merciless butcher, had spared no pity, turning what used to be a bodybuilder into a colossal pile of fat.
Standing in the ring, Fred let the sparring partner rain punches on his belly without so much as flinching, all while sipping a slushie.
"Yup," John said, curling his lips in a nod.
"Uh…"
"And remember, Logan, whatever you do, don't mention his weight," John warned again before shouting encouragement at Fred in the ring.
"Come on, Fred! If you want to get that perfect body back, you gotta move, man!"
Bang~
…
…
Sure enough, under John's encouragement, Fred moved. With a single punch, he sent his sparring partner flying over their heads and crashing far off into the distance.
"Heh, you say that's Fred Dukes, but to me it looks more like a monster that ate Fred Dukes," Logan muttered.
"Keep it down! Don't let him hear you," John shivered at Logan's reckless words.
Still sipping his slushie, Fred turned around—and saw Logan.
Logan noticed too, forcing a smile he thought was friendly, and opened his arms wide as he walked toward Fred.
"Hey, fat—ahem, Fred, I think I still remember when you were the slim one."
Was that a double entendre? Hard to tell, but Fred didn't seem to catch it. Twisting his thick neck, he glanced at the tattoo of a girl on his upper arm and chuckled. "Oh, real funny. You're still a riot, Logan."
"You know where Victor is?" Logan cut straight to the point.
At those words, Fred's expression changed instantly. The joy of reuniting with an old friend vanished, replaced by fear and dread.
"No idea, Slim."
"What about the Island?" Logan pressed.
The mention of "the Island" made Fred look even more fearful and resistant.
"Don't hit the door on your way out, Logan," Fred grunted. He didn't want to dig up those terrifying memories, and more importantly, he didn't want Stryker coming after him if he talked—nor did he want Logan going off to die.
"Listen, if you don't tell me where Victor is, I'm not going anywhere," Logan insisted. He could feel he was close to getting the answers he wanted. "Come on, buddy, for old times' sake."
The result…
Fred responded, all right—his rage igniting like a bonfire. "Did you just call me… Blob?"
(Note: In case you didn't watch the movie, Fred's nickname is "Blob.")
"No, I said—"
"Yahhh!"
Before Logan could explain, Fred let out a roar and charged forward like a tank, belly-first.
Logan was sent flying, landing on the sparring partner who had just gotten back on his feet.
John facepalmed and teleported next to Logan. "I told you not to mention his weight! Why the hell would you call him Blob?"
"I said bro, not Blob!" Logan growled, already losing patience. Communication had clearly failed—time to strip off the gloves and settle things the old-fashioned way.
"Wait, wait, Logan! I have an idea," John said quickly, seeing Logan ready for an all-out brawl. They had precious few old friends left alive—better not kill each other.
At the same time, seeing Logan strip down gave John a flash of inspiration for defusing the situation.
…
"This is your great idea?" Logan grumbled, holding up a pair of boxing gloves.
"I'm helping you, Logan. Fred's not your biggest fan, you know that."
"Yeah? Well, the feeling's mutual."
"Just put on the gloves, buddy. Let him blow off some steam. You heal fast anyway, right? Maybe once he's had his fun, he'll spill everything."
"Don't be stupid, man. Look at him—his shirt can't even cover his gut. It's like a giant bouncing butt. Christ, he's gonna have a coronary. Do we even have a stretcher big enough for him?"
John chuckled but mercilessly rang the match bell before Logan could finish protesting.
Logan turned his head—and a fist the size of a cooking pot was already flying at him.
BAM~
Oof~
Not even a second into the fight, Logan was dazed and flopped onto the ropes.
"I'm not worried about him needing the stretcher," John quipped without missing a beat.
"You bastard," Logan muttered.
"Come on, Logan!"
Fred, meanwhile, was positively giddy. He had a legit reason to beat up an old buddy he never liked! And with Logan's healing factor, there was no fear of killing him—so much better than sparring with normal humans he had to hold back against.
If not for the fact that Victor and the Island were mentioned earlier, Fred would've wanted to keep Logan around as his personal punching bag to help with weight loss.
"Come on, Logan, let's play—just like old times!"
BAM!
Logan put his full strength into a punch to Fred's belly—but aside from a dull thud, Fred didn't even blink. Well, actually, his grin got even wider.
"Oh, what was that? Are you a little old lady now, Logan? Hit harder!"
Bam bam~
Two more punches, two more dull thuds.
"Not bad! Feels like a lady's massage!"
"Grrr!"
With a low growl, Logan unleashed a flurry of punches, hammering Fred's belly and sending waves through his rolls of fat.
"Hey, guess what?" Fred asked suddenly.
Logan froze for just an instant—and that was all it took. Fred swung a brutal right hook straight into Logan's face.
"Ughhh~!"
One punch, and Logan hit the ground again. He had seriously underestimated Fred—underneath all that flab, the super strength was still alive and well. The pain brought back memories.
"See? Now he's willing to talk. You just gotta stay where he can hit you," John said from the sidelines, once again proving himself a top-tier bad influence.
"Whose side are you on?" Logan groaned, realizing—yet again—that everyone who ever worked for Stryker was a certified jerk.
"Come on, ya softie!" Fred bellowed, bouncing around the ring like a giant balloon. Melin watched anxiously from the side as the two continued to clash—until Fred's bouncing finally broke the ring itself.
This time, Logan didn't rush in recklessly. He used his agility to dodge Fred's punches and stay behind him, hammering Fred's weak spots.
But no matter how hard he hit, he just couldn't punch through the layers of fat to deal real damage.
Then, to Logan's surprise, Fred suddenly spun around with explosive force and swung a massive uppercut.
BAM BAM~
The first sound was the hit connecting. The second was Logan landing after a perfect mid-air spin.
"Augh—ahh—!"
John and Melin couldn't help but snicker from ringside. Wolverine's legendary image was taking a severe beating.
And then Fred made the worst mistake of his life.
He grabbed Logan off the floor and headbutted him.
CLANG~
It wasn't the sound of flesh hitting flesh, or bone hitting bone—it was the sharp clank of metal.
"Whew—respect. You're a hero," Melin thought to herself. Logan's skeleton was laced with adamantium, the hardest metal on Earth. Trying to headbutt that was like smashing an egg against a rock.
Logan was fine. Fred, however, was buzzing like a struck gong, swaying on his feet.
Opportunity knocked, and Logan wasn't about to let it pass.
He darted up a corner post, leapt high into the air, and slammed his hardened elbow directly into Fred's skull.
"Ooofff…"
Fred's eyes spun in circles as he toppled backwards, taking the ropes and corner post down with him.
Logan pounced, popping his claws and pressing them right in front of Fred's eyes.
"Now—tell me where Victor is!" he growled.
"Holy shit! Logan, don't kill him!" John cried, teleporting to Logan's side. As much as he loved the drama, he didn't actually want any of them dead.
But he quickly noticed something strange—Logan's face was utterly calm, not even a trace of anger.
"You're not mad?" John blurted.
"Nope. Guess you guys really think the worst of me, huh?" Logan teased.
"Well… congratulations, then." Seeing that Logan wasn't going berserk, John relaxed.
Logan turned back—but Fred had already passed out.
No choice but to work with John to drag Fred to the wall, slap him a few times, and finally wake him up.
"Hey—wake up!"
"Ugh…"
"Now, can you tell me where Victor is?"
This time, Fred didn't dodge the question. He answered directly:
"Victor… he and Stryker… they're both at the Island. They're running it together…"
"They… they what? They're working together?"