Over the past two weeks, Claude had grown genuinely fond of Nathan—the quiet, serious young man who had entered his and Elizabeth's life like a sudden spark in the dark. Though Nathan rarely smiled, Claude saw in him someone trustworthy, capable, and above all, kind.
Elizabeth adored him. That alone had solidified their bond.
Nathan, packing up his final gear, glanced at Claude and said, "I've taken what I needed. I also used quite a bit of your materials, so… thank you."
Claude waved him off. "Don't mention it."
But Nathan hesitated for a second.
He remembered what he knew—Claude's tragic fate in the original timeline, where he was murdered by Erik Stevens, better known as Killmonger, Black Panther's estranged cousin. It all started because of Vibranium.
He didn't reveal this outright—predicting the future was a dangerous business—but he gave a warning the only way he could.
"If you can," Nathan said carefully, "stay away from Vibranium."
Claude's brows rose. "Why?"
"It's too dangerous. Too valuable," Nathan replied. "People are willing to kill over it. If anything were to happen to you, Elizabeth would be left alone."
Nathan paused, then added, "And you're not exactly hurting for money anymore, are you?"
Claude went quiet, his fingers subconsciously brushing his graying temples.
After a long moment, he nodded solemnly. "I understand. I'll be more careful."
Seeing the sincerity in his eyes, Nathan let it go. "Alright then. I'm turning in early. I'm heading out first thing in the morning."
Claude gave a small grin. "Goodnight, brother."
---
The next morning, Nathan rose with the sun.
He had a light breakfast, double-checked his supplies, and packed everything into a backpack—shield, equipment, and essentials.
At the entrance of the mountain cave, a sleek black motorcycle stood waiting—a parting gift from Claude.
After all, the road ahead was long. Wolverine's last known location wasn't exactly close.
Before he could start the engine, Claude walked over and handed him a small paper-wrapped bundle.
Inside was a thick stack of cash.
"Take it," Claude said firmly. "You can't use your old cards anymore. HYDRA will trace them. This should last you a while."
Nathan accepted it without argument and stashed it in his bag. "Thanks."
"If you ever need me," he continued, pulling out a slip of paper, "this is my secure email. I'll check it from time to time."
Claude nodded. "Got it."
Then Elizabeth ran up, her small hands grabbing at Nathan's coat.
"Big brother, are you leaving now?" she asked, eyes wide and lips trembling. "Can't you stay a little longer with Elizabeth?"
Nathan crouched to her level, gently resting a hand on her head.
"I have something important to do. But I'll come back and visit you soon, I promise."
"Promise?" she said, holding up her pinky.
He smiled, just a little, and hooked his pinky with hers. "Promise."
Satisfied, Elizabeth wrapped her arms around his neck in a big hug. "Elizabeth will miss you."
After one last squeeze, she stepped back.
Nathan mounted the motorcycle, gave them a final nod, and rode off into the forest.
---
Vroom!
The motorcycle roared as it tore through the winding mountain roads, kicking up dust and leaves.
On either side, the trees bore the marks of Nathan's training—bullet holes, scorched bark, deep gashes from shield impacts.
All the evidence of his two weeks of growth slowly faded into the distance as the motorcycle carried him away.
---
One day later...
A lone motorcycle blazed down the highway.
The rider wore a black helmet, a tactical backpack slung across his back, and a silver Vibranium shield strapped tight to it—a gleaming badge of his preparation and identity.
It was Nathan.
His eyes glanced down at the motorcycle's dashboard.
Fuel low.
"Tch. That was quick," he muttered. "Gasoline is such a pain."
He sighed. "If only I had an arc reactor powering this thing… I wouldn't need to stop every few hours."
He shook his head and checked the internal map stored in his memory.
Unlike most people, Nathan had memorized the entire U.S. interstate map, including gas stations, restaurants, motels, and key intersections.
Though he didn't have every rural road locked down, the major travel arteries were committed to memory—his own version of GPS.
He turned off the highway and headed for the nearest gas station.
---
A few minutes later, he arrived.
The sun was high. He refueled the bike quickly and crossed the street to a roadside diner—open-air, rustic, and full of life.
Nathan ordered a couple of plates of beef, removed his helmet, and began eating in silence.
But not far behind him...
Someone else was watching.
Behind the glare of a laptop screen sat a woman in sunglasses with a slim, athletic build, rapidly typing on her keyboard.
Lines of code and data flickered on the display. Her fingers danced across the keys as she exchanged messages.
> [Nana]: I've collected HYDRA's transaction data in the southern districts. I'll be returning soon.
[Fu]: Excellent. Come back immediately.
[Nana]: Also… looks like HYDRA is hunting someone. They've mobilized a lot of people. It's suspicious.
[Fu]: Any idea who they're after?
[Nana]: Not yet. Give me a bit more time. I'll dig deeper.
[Fu]: Alright. Deliver the data first, then continue your investigation.
[Nana]: Understood.
Just then—
Tires screeched.
Several black SUVs skidded to a halt near the diner.
Doors slammed open, and a squad of men in suits leaped out, their arms sheathed in steel exoskeletons.
"Get her!" one of them shouted. "Don't let her escape! That data must be recovered!"
The woman—Nana—snapped her laptop shut, stuffed it in her bag, and sprang to her feet.
The men closed in.
One of them threw a punch. Nana dodged—just barely—and the blow shattered a thick wooden table.
"Damn it," she cursed. "Exo-enhanced muscle? This just got complicated."
Bang! Bang! Bang!
The fight erupted into chaos.
Chairs flew. Tables splintered. Civilians screamed and ran.
The diner owner cowered behind the counter, too terrified to intervene.
And through it all...
Nathan calmly continued eating his beef.
He didn't flinch, didn't even look over his shoulder.
He paid for his meal, rose from his seat, and walked toward the exit—completely unfazed by the battle raging behind him.
---
He had no interest in interfering.
Not yet.
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