The landing on the Brittany coast was a harsh re-entry into a world defined by occupation and suspicion. The small fishing villages they skirted were hushed, their inhabitants' faces etched with a mixture of fear and sullen resentment towards the German patrols that occasionally rumbled through in their grey Kübelwagens. For Logan, it was a landscape that resonated with old, half-buried memories of other wars, other occupied lands. For Elias, it was a chessboard where every move had to be precise, every risk calculated.
Their immediate objective was to establish a temporary, hidden base of operations and make contact with a low-level French Resistance cell Finch had identified through pre-war academic contacts sympathetic to the anti-Nazi cause. This cell, operating in the dense, hedgerow-lined bocage country of Normandy, wasn't a major fighting force, but they had local knowledge, access to some supplies, and, crucially, a clandestine radio.
Getting there required navigating miles of occupied territory. Logan's wilderness skills and preternatural senses were invaluable. He moved through the countryside like a phantom, Elias following his almost silent lead, amazed by the mutant's ability to sense German patrols long before they came into view, to find hidden game trails, to melt into the landscape at a moment's notice. Elias, with his own mirrored abilities, was no slouch, but Logan was a master of this deadly game of evasion. The Adamantium in Elias's bones gave him an unnatural endurance, and his healing factor shrugged off the minor injuries and exhaustion that would have crippled an ordinary man attempting such a trek.
After two days of tense travel, avoiding checkpoints and sleeping in haylofts or dense thickets, they located the Resistance cell – a small group of farmers and local tradesmen led by a hardened, pragmatic woman named Vivienne Dubois, whose husband had been executed by the Germans for an act of sabotage. Their "headquarters" was a disused cider press hidden deep in an ancient, overgrown orchard.
The initial meeting was wary. Vivienne and her men, armed with a motley collection of hunting rifles and captured German pistols, were deeply suspicious of these two strangers – one a young, unnervingly calm man speaking fluent, if slightly formal, French (Elias), the other a brooding, powerfully built older man who looked like he could wrestle a bear and win (Logan).
Elias, using the alias André Blanchard, presented himself as a representative of "concerned private interests in neutral Switzerland," wishing to offer material support and gather information on "certain German activities that threatened long-term European stability." He offered a substantial sum of gold coins (part of the payment to the U-boat captain had been in easily transferable gold) as a sign of good faith. Money, and the shared enemy, talked.
"And what 'activities' are these Swiss interests so concerned about, Monsieur Blanchard?" Vivienne asked, her eyes sharp and assessing.
"We have reason to believe the Germans are conducting… unethical research in certain isolated facilities," Elias replied carefully. "Projects that go beyond conventional warfare. We seek to identify these locations and, if possible, neutralize their threat." He didn't mention claws, healing factors, or mutants.
Vivienne exchanged a look with her second-in-command, a grizzled former poacher named Henri. "There are… stories," Henri rumbled. "Of strange convoys in the night, of locked chateaus guarded by SS troopers, not Wehrmacht. Places where even the owls are afraid to hoot."
Over the next few days, while Logan maintained a stoic, watchful silence, Elias skillfully cultivated the cell's trust. He provided them with more funds, offered insightful strategic advice (drawn from his own intellect and Finch's analyses), and subtly demonstrated his own uncanny awareness by "predicting" German patrol routes with unnerving accuracy (a result of his enhanced senses and logical deduction). He learned from them about local German troop dispositions, supply lines, and the ever-present fear of collaborators.
The System registered this as [Influence (Local Resistance Cell – Normandy): 35% (Trust Established via Material Support & Shared Intel)]. It was a small but vital beachhead.
One of the locations Anya and Finch had flagged was Chateau de Corbeau, an ancient, isolated manor requisitioned by the SS, deep in the bocage, roughly thirty kilometers from the cell's orchard. Vivienne confirmed that it was heavily guarded and locals were warned away on pain of death. Strange deliveries arrived at night. No one knew what went on inside, but the fear surrounding it was palpable.
This, Elias decided, would be Logan's first true test in occupied Europe. Not a simple takedown, but an infiltration and intelligence gathering mission, with the potential for targeted neutralization if a clear, high-value objective presented itself.
"Logan," Elias said, in the privacy of a small, damp root cellar they were using as their temporary quarters. "Chateau de Corbeau. I need to know what's happening inside. What kind of research. Who is in charge. Get in, get the information, get out. Engage only if compromised or if you find something… particularly odious that needs immediate rectification."
Logan just grunted, but his eyes held that familiar, dangerous glint. "Recon. Got it. Won't be as messy as Scarelli, unless they ask for it." His loyalty remained at a stubborn [33.5%]; the idleness, despite the tension of their journey, had caused it to dip slightly before this new assignment.
The next night, under a sliver of moon, Logan set out. Elias remained with the Resistance cell, ostensibly to "coordinate future supply drops" but actually to monitor the situation via a discreet, short-range radio Anya had "acquired" and modified before his departure, its signals masked and randomized – a piece of anachronistic tech he hoped would go unnoticed by German signal finders. Vivienne, though still wary of Logan's savage aura, had provided a rough map of the Chateau's known outer patrols.
Hours passed. The only sounds were the chirping of crickets and the distant rumble of a German convoy on a far-off road. Elias maintained his calm exterior, but inwardly, he felt the familiar thrum of anticipation. He had just unleashed the Wolverine into the heart of the Nazi war machine.
Just before dawn, Logan returned. He was caked in mud, his clothes torn, and there was a fresh, ragged gash across his cheek that was already sealing over, leaving only a faint red line. He also carried a heavy German officer's leather satchel. He tossed it onto the dirt floor in front of Elias.
"Place is crawling with SS eggheads and goons," Logan rasped, accepting a canteen of water Elias offered. "Some kind of… biological lab. Lots of cages. Animals first, I reckon. But saw some… 'special' cells in the basement. Empty, but built strong. Too strong for just prisoners."
He'd encountered more resistance than anticipated. Several SS guards hadn't survived the encounter. Logan, true to his nature, hadn't been particularly subtle once the fighting started, but he'd been brutally effective. The satchel, he explained, belonged to the SS Sturmbannführer in charge of the facility, a Dr. Albrect Hessler, whom Logan had… "persuaded" to part with it before making his exit. Hessler himself was now "indisposed." Permanently.
Elias opened the satchel. It contained meticulously detailed notes, research papers, and blueprints, all in German. His own academic German was decent, but Dr. Finch would be able to make far more sense of the technical jargon. However, even a cursory glance revealed horrifying terms: "Rassenhygiene" (racial hygiene), "genetische Optimierung" (genetic optimization), "Lebensborn Projekt" (a Nazi eugenics program), and more alarmingly, "Wunderwaffe Programm – Subjekt Gamma." There were also detailed physiological reports on "test subjects," with notations on pain thresholds, tissue regeneration (or lack thereof), and responses to various chemical and biological agents.
One set of blueprints showed designs for reinforced holding pens and what looked chillingly like surgical theaters equipped with restraints and unfamiliar, ominous-looking machinery.
The Chateau de Corbeau wasn't just a research facility; it was a house of horrors, a nascent attempt by the Nazis to create their own enhanced soldiers, perhaps even their own mutants, through brutal experimentation. Subjekt Gamma… was that one of their successes? Or just a designation?
[Combat Data Acquired (Wolverine vs. SS Troopers – Close Quarters). Conduit Integration +1.0%. Analysis for "Feral Striker" (Tier 2) Template: Progressing. Required Prime Essence Shards: 3/5 (Note: Anomalous Energy Signature detected from neutralized SS Sturmbannführer Hessler – Contained Minor, Artificially Induced Genetic Augmentation. Partial Shard "Echo" acquired: +0.2 Shard Fragment).]
A Prime Essence Shard echo from an artificially augmented Nazi? This changed everything. The Nazis weren't just looking for power; they were creating it, however crudely. This confirmed Elias's worst fears and presented an unexpected, if grim, opportunity to acquire those elusive Shards.
Logan had not only gathered critical intelligence but had also unwittingly stumbled upon a key System mechanic. First blood in the bocage had yielded far more than just information. It had opened a terrifying new front in Elias Thorne's clandestine war.