Spider-Man and Wolverine are standing on a roof talking. So engrossed are they in their conversation that they notice only too late that a rocket is closing in on them. It hits Wolverine full tilt, taking him with it across the roof into the air. Wolverine unsheathes his claws and cuts at the thing as it hurls him through a wall and almost against a huge pillar. At the last moment, though, he gets off a split second before it explodes. He is still close enough to be caught in the shockwave, though.
Back on the roof, Spidey still is shocked. He was so sure his Spidey-sense would warn him. Now, belatedly, it goes off as two choppers are nearing. They open fire on him. Screaming like a girl, Spidey jumps off the roof and tries to sing away, all the while muttering that now he knows why nobody takes him seriously: he’s the hero that screams like a girl. He screams again, trying to avoid the choppers. He realizes he’s totally out of his depth here. Suddenly, one of the rotors cuts through the webbing line he was holding onto. The boy falls straight through a window. He lands hard on the floor just before a teenager. Unimpressed, the girl offers him a pop-tart. He stares out of the window – it’s a conflagration out there, specifically in the builiding Logan disappeared into. Spidey jumps out, shouting Logan’s name and tries to near the building. As he catches fire, though, he swings back, cursing himself for his stupidity. Sadly, he stares at the fire, still shouting Logan’s name and wondering what to do. Panicked he swings away.
In a back alley, Loan stands, watching the kid but not calling out to him. Badly hurt, he sits down on some steps, recalling the events that led to this. He recalls the blonde in the diner playing the admiring groupie, telling him how cool it must be for him to be famous and whether he was on a secret mission or something. Suddenly, voices rudely break him out of his reverie. Three punks looking for trouble. “Yo freak, the circus leave you behind?” one of them starts. Without a word, Wolverine unsheathes his claws. Smartly, the punks make a run for it. Logan gets up, claws still unsheathed. He smells something – or someone. A man in the shadows suddenly asks if he is to blame for that warehouse explosion. And, before he lies, he should remember that he looks and smells incredibly guilty.
“the hell are you?” Logan rasps. This is Hell’s Kitchen, the man in the red suit replies. He asks the questions her. He smells like a wet dog, he continues. Who is he? You smell like an old book, Logan retorts. What is he? Daredevil corrects himself. A mutant. You? Logan replies curtly. Daredevil doesn’t answer and replies with a question of his own. Is he being pursued? Yeah... Military? Anti-mutant terrorist? Logan has no idea. Daredevil points out that those people seem unconcerned that this is a city where innocents live. Then again, he has no idea who Logan truly is. Are they gonna have a problem? Logan asks. They’re here, Daredevil tells him and melts back into the shadows. Logan looks around and sees cars approaching. All right, this is it, he decides. Someone’s talking or someone’ bleeding. He turns around again, asking Daredevil if this goofy outfit of his is just for show or… The Man without Fear is no longer there. The cars brake, surrounding Wolverine. Angrily, he snarls at them to come on. He wants to finish this.
The blonde called Tara by her colleagues gets out of the car – armed and wearing body armor. “Yo, Logan,” she taunts. That is his name right? His reeeeal name. Or did someone give him that name? Name him like a mangy mutt dog? The others get out as well, armed to their teeth. In berserker mode, Wolverine attacks while the men open fire.
Tara shouts at them to cease fire. Logan looks around. Everybody’s still standing. Adamantium alloy deflective body armor, Tara explains. Prototype. Prototype? one of the men asks nervously. It worked, didn’t it, she snaps. This is an American city with American civilians. They’re going o have to wrap this up fast.
Who are they, Wolverine demands with clenched teeth. “Quiet, doggy” Tara orders. She cocks her gun and shoots right in his face. The impact makes him drop, but the bullet nevertheless doesn’t get through his Adamantium-enforced skull.
Adamantium bullets, Tara states, her gun still smoking. Expensive as hell, she only has a few. So can an Adamantium bullet fired point blank pierce an Adamantium skull and finally put him out of his misery? No? How about this one? She fires again. Or this one? Again. Or this one? Again.
She now sits on his chest. Angrily, she asks whether he really has no idea who they are. Amazing, But guess what? She doesn’t care if he knows who she is or not. They’re not like him. They don’t need to be know or famous. Seems like these days you don’t even have to be human to be famous. You can be an animal dressed up as human and you can be famous. Everything he’s done in his hellish life, all the people he killed whose names he doesn’t even remember and now he wants to be famous? And can look her in the eye and don’t even know who they are? Good. Let him live with it, she shouts and presses the gun right against his forehead. She intends to fire again, only to suddenly have a Billy cub be thrown at her temple. As she shouts in pain, a voice announces that he has heard enough. As the Billy club returns to Daredevil’s outstretched hand, he orders them to get out of his kitchen.
