Hearing Wolverine's skepticism, George didn't show concern—instead, a faint smile appeared on his face.
If Logan was considering the risks, that meant George had guessed right. The old wolf was all bark and no bite; deep down, he wanted to help.
"What kind of man Tony Stark is… we'll judge that after meeting him."
George met Logan's gaze steadily.
"If he isn't trustworthy, you'll still walk away with enough money to give the Professor the life you both want. No strings attached."
He spread his hands.
"How does that sound?"
Logan grabbed a bottle of liquor from the car seat, downed it in one go, then closed his eyes, thinking for a long moment before finally answering:
"Fine. I'll help. But on one condition—the Professor doesn't come with us."
His voice was gravelly.
"His condition is worse than you think. He can't control his powers anymore. And if he shows up in New York? The government will panic. That'll just make things messier."
"Deal."
George nodded after a brief pause.
He'd been so focused on leveraging Xavier's abilities that he'd forgotten the man was essentially a living weapon in the eyes of authorities. Bringing him to New York might even draw S.H.I.E.L.D.'s attention.
Better to leave him behind.
If necessary, they could always persuade Obadiah Stane to talk—under the right incentives.
Besides, with just him and Logan handling the mission, they'd move faster.
"We should get out of here," Gabriela cut in, eyeing the gangsters' corpses uneasily. "Gunshots mean cops won't be far behind."
Logan grunted, bending down to reattach the wheel.
"Relax. Around here, gunshots mean the cops'll take their sweet time."
"…How reassuring."
George crouched beside him, hands weaving a series of precise gestures.
"Reparo."
The repair charm took effect. The detached wheel snapped back into place seamlessly.
This was the second spell he'd mastered through gesture-based casting.
"Seems there's more in you than just Xavier and Magneto's genes."
Logan raised an eyebrow.
George shrugged.
"Honestly? I'm not sure how many DNA samples they crammed into me."
"Reminds me of a friend. Real motormouth. Got spliced with all kinds of mutant genes—then they sewed his lips shut."
A shadow crossed Logan's face.
"…Gone now. All of 'em."
"Old friends leave, new ones show up. Life moves on. No point dwelling."
George's reply was casual, but his mind was working.
Did this Logan experience the altered timeline from 'Days of Future Past'? Or is this a universe where that never happened?
In X-Men canon, changing the past rewrote the present. But in the MCU, altering history just spawned a new branch timeline.
For now, though, that question could wait.
Logan gave him a strange look.
"…Yeah, you've definitely got some of Chuck in you."
With the car repaired, Logan led the way in his rented limo while Isa followed in the truck, carrying George and the kids toward the border.
The Professor's condition demanded secrecy, so Logan had hidden him in a desolate stretch of no-man's-land.
"Used to be a smelting plant—Chinese-owned, based in Shanghai. They pulled out after the local gangs made business impossible."
Logan parked outside a derelict factory, its walls scarred by graffiti and neglect.
"Place is usually empty. Perfect cover."
El Paso's proximity to Mexico meant constant illegal crossings and chaotic law enforcement—ideal for staying off-grid. Anywhere with actual police presence would've exposed them long ago.
"Logan. Who are—?"
A man wrapped in a scarf and hat, only his eyes visible, emerged cautiously from the factory. His gaze flickered between George and the children.
"Caliban. These kids are mutants. Inside. I'll explain."
Logan waved them in.
George studied the shrouded figure.
Caliban. A mutant tracker. Former black-market dealer who profited from selling out his kind—even aided weaponized mutant-hunting programs.
But after developing albinism, sunlight became his enemy, and guilt his constant companion. He'd since devoted himself to hiding Logan and Xavier.
In another timeline, he'd died avenging the Professor's death.
For now? Trustworthy enough.
"So that's why he kept babbling about 'new mutants'…"
Inside, Caliban's frown deepened as Logan laid out the plan.
"I get why you'd wanna help the kids. But this? It's suicide."
His concern wasn't for the strangers—it was for the last family he had left.
"George is right. We need the resources to treat Charles. That tank won't hold him forever."
Logan tossed Caliban a pill bottle and a bank card.
"Medication's good for a month. Card's got everything I've saved—was gonna buy that yacht, take you both offshore."
His voice roughened.
"If I don't make it back… look after him."
Caliban stared at the items, then chuckled dryly.
"Don't count on it. If you die, I'm dumping the old man and taking the cash for myself."
Logan actually smiled.
"No, you won't. Or you wouldn't have blown your life savings to help us in the first place."
"…Just go dose him already. I've been babysitting all night."
Grumbling, Caliban shoved the medicine back into Logan's hands.
The unspoken truth hung between them:
He'd been seen through.