Arrangement

Walter Mayer.

Getting from the forests of Canada back home wouldn't be much of a problem if you didn't have the baggage of a captured mercenary and a girl with no documents as a passenger. So, I had to improvise, and luckily, Walter's setup in New York came in handy.

Under my guidance, the puppet called the officers and offered them to retrieve an interesting cargo from his "acquaintance." We arranged a rendezvous point at a conspicuous lake near the Canadian airport, where I had left for the bunker just ten hours ago. The guys promised to send the "deliveryman" in just a day or two, so we had some time to rest at a small motel nearby the airport.

Getting to the motel was quite peculiar. I didn't want to trek through the dense forests, and I didn't want to wear my Wolverine mask in front of the girl either. So, after reassuring her not to be scared, I transformed back into Walter. Her round eyes widened in surprise, and I suspected that her suppressed emotions had lifted, at least temporarily. However, she jumped back, ready to fight or flee.

"Who are you, and what do you want?" she asked, her trust in people diminished, which wasn't surprising considering the shock she had been through. But how should I respond?

"I'm called Walter, and I am indeed your relative, your uncle to be precise. If you're referring to what I am, well, you could call me a mutant, but I think you already guessed that," I replied.

"I can't have relatives," she said with a tone of sorrow and resignation, "I'm just a clone... a weapon."

Ah, that explains a lot. I suspected something like this all along; after all, "Logan's daughter" didn't align well with what I knew from the canon. Although, theoretically, with Logan's two centuries of life, he could have fathered quite a few children. Nevertheless, that changes nothing... especially for me.

I approached and cautiously hugged her. Laura flinched but didn't try to escape.

"You can feel and experience emotions, Laura. You're human, no matter what those creatures from the bunker try to tell you," I reassured her, holding her gently. "And anyone who claims otherwise can go to hell... or come to me, and we'll sort things out."

A timid smile appeared on her face. There was something about the way she talked that didn't sound like a regular 12-year-old girl. The trials she had gone through had forced her to grow up much faster than most kids.

"Tell me, dear niece, are you afraid of heights?" I asked, trying to distract her and create some new, positive experiences.

"No," she shrugged. "Why do you ask?"

"Well, how about we take a little flight?" I suggested. A spark of interest lit up her eyes.

"Fly? But how? Do you have a nearby helicopter?"

Leaning closer to her, I whispered conspiratorially, "Let's use a more informal tone, shall we? Calling me 'uncle' will do. And no, I don't need a helicopter to fly. So, shall we take off?" She nodded uncertainly, and I adjusted the unconscious mercenary on my back before lifting Laura in my arms. Ahead of us was a flight to more inhabited areas.

I managed to rent a small apartment with multiple rooms at a motel without any problems and at a reasonable price. The elderly couple who owned the place bought my story about being a father traveling with his daughter, especially since I tweaked my appearance to have more common traits with Laura. We also ordered a hearty dinner, which was provided at a reasonable cost.

Laura ate her meal reluctantly, more interested in playing with the food on her plate than actually eating it. I eventually sent her off to rest as she had quite a tense day, even though the flight brought some relief. Despite everything, the scars on her soul troubled me. I wasn't sure how to heal them, and the usual advice of "surrounding with care" and "keeping her safe" felt inadequate.

But I was determined to figure it out. After all, I had Curt, who had experience raising two children, and even the bald professor in the wheelchair, although I was reluctant to entrust Laura to Xavier. While he might be a good man, he already had many students at his school, and Laura deserved more attention than that. So, I decided to handle things on my own. I had to.

Regarding the mission, I succeeded in rescuing the poor girl from that hellhole. However, the execution of the mission left a lot to be desired. I had no experience in storming fortified facilities, and I realized that there were plenty of mistakes and blunders on my part. While I didn't regret the thorough clearing of the bunker, I saw the obvious downsides of going into combat mode.

Yes, it provided quick reactions and decisiveness, but it limited my actions to the scope of the given task. I couldn't come up with something new within that framework. Such a mode might be suitable for direct combat situations, but for strategic calculations, it fell short. I doubted that anyone could create perfect action plans that accounted for all possible nuances.

As I delved into the information I extracted directly from the mercenary's mind, I discovered that Laura was indeed a clone of Wolverine. However, she wasn't a male, and her bones weren't fully coated with adamantium, only her claws were, which explained her unusual appearance.

The mercenary didn't know the details of the genetic damage or why the adamantium procedure was done at such a young age. Laura's surrogate mother, Sarah Kinney, was one of the leading scientists on the project. As for Rice, he had an ideological motive behind creating the perfect weapon to take down Logan. Additionally, the project was privately funded, but I couldn't uncover the source.

The project's requirements for Laura's future targets were troubling. The targets had to be prominent politicians, businessmen, or cultural figures. Laura was meant to kill them publicly and actively utilize her mutant abilities during the attacks. It hinted at stirring conflict between mutants and ordinary people. I realized that there was much more to dig into, but my experience in this kind of investigation was limited.

In the morning, I finished my research, and it was time to head to the lake for the rendezvous.

I think there's no need for the officers to know about Laura, so I asked her to hide in the trees near the lake. I disguised myself as the Polar Fox again, wearing a mask and carrying the drooling Kimura in a sack (I might have overdone it with the venom symbiote's influence in my brain, but oh well, it should impress them). The "postman" didn't keep me waiting long - the Apache helicopter landed right on the lake's shore. The guys confirmed their identities, and they knew "Walter" was informed about the arrival of "wizards in a helicopter," and he relayed the message to me.

The pilots' gear made a lasting impression, and even the packaged Kimura earned respect from the unknown mercenary. After the valuable cargo was handed over, the guys quickly left. I returned to the small grove where I left Laura, using my cells' markers (placed automatically, though an external marker was necessary as the child's immune system rapidly destroyed any intruders, though it couldn't kill the symbiote's cells, attempting to do so would not have been pleasant for the girl). Finding her was easy.

"Well, little one, are you ready to go home?" I asked hesitantly. The child nodded, and with some eagerness, she climbed on my back (thanks to Simba, our empathy is strong). I covered us with Venom's cell-infused cloak and made us invisible. No need to frighten people with the sight of a man flying through the sky with a child on his back. Ahead of us awaited a nearly ten-hour flight.

The journey itself was peaceful and quite enjoyable as I didn't fly too high (I lacked the thrill of flying into a plane). Soon, Laura fell asleep, comforted by the warmth of the cloak and Symba's presence. My plan was becoming clearer. I would adopt Laura, no doubt about that. But the best way to do it? Officially through an orphanage? Not a chance. I will never part with her, except in the event of my untimely demise.

Placing her in an orphanage, even for a short while, given her condition, could end badly. Besides, it's uncertain whether they would allow me to adopt her smoothly. Adoption through Curt's friends? It's a possibility, but the officers are not fools. They'll quickly connect the dots - first, the angry me searching for Kimura, then an unknown person in an intriguing costume delivering her in an unstable state, and shortly after, a powerful explosion.

Finally, Walter Mayer requests assistance in adopting a girl from an unknown origin. Hiding Laura from the "postmen" would be pointless, so I'll approach the officers only as a last resort. Although they seem like decent guys, I don't want to reveal too much about myself. I've already given them plenty to ponder (I wonder how they view me now? An agent of some espionage? Unlikely, probably someone from the "right" kind of criminal circles, but definitely not from their world). So that leaves the vampires and their connections.

I wonder why they would bother about me. I may be stronger and could handle them in a physical confrontation, but I can't force them to accept my leadership through sheer force. The Count pledged his allegiance almost immediately, but for the most part, he had no reason to live anymore, whereas I gave him hope for some future prospects.

Some may be swayed by new power and opportunities, but I doubt that the old vampire will choose creatures interested only in personal power. I need to interest them with something else. But why reinvent the wheel? I want to create an organization that will quietly guide and nudge humanity in the right direction. Starting with preventing a third world war against mutants. I don't have direct evidence, but there's already enough circumstantial evidence. Let them verify my correctness and ponder the future.

So it's decided - when the vampires come, I'll share some of my thoughts and a little information about the impending trouble (the same "Watchers" program is quite something). I'll propose holding a sort of council where we can think of ways to get out of this mess with the least losses, and from there, I can slowly convince them of the need to unite around me (hm, it calls for a sinister laugh... well then... Mwa-ha-ha-ha). And then, I'll deal with Laura's problem; I don't think it's a big deal if she stays with me without official documents or custody paperwork.

Home, sweet home. I was only away for a couple of days, but I missed the familiar walls (well, not so much the walls but a certain blue-eyed person, and also a bit of Zinaida Prokopievna's cooking). "Welcome home, niece," I said, opening the door to my modest abode. Laura entered hesitantly and looked around. Her emotions were a jumble of surprise, disbelief, and hope.

"Is this really going to be my home?" her green eyes looked at me with hope.

"Of course, little one," I ruffled my already disheveled black hair. The girl froze, seemingly surprised by such a simple gesture of affection. Once again, I regretted that Rice died so easily and painlessly. Trying to dispel the awkwardness, I smiled at her and continued, pretending not to notice her reaction.

"Now, let's go and choose a room for you."

The room selection process took a while, not because Laura disliked anything, but quite the opposite - she didn't care where she lived, not understanding the concept of personal space. I had to explain it to her. A personal room is not just a place to sleep but also a corner where you can be alone with your thoughts, where no one will bother you without your consent. I'm not sure if I explained it well; after all, I haven't had children of my own in my previous life, so parenting was a complete mystery to me. The only thing I could do was to surround the girl with an aura of warmth and care, using the symbiote as a sort of transmitter for my empathetic feelings.

Finally, Laura decided on her future living space, and I sent her to take a bath - it's normal to freshen up after all the adventures. Meanwhile, I called Zinaida Prokopievna and asked her not to visit for a couple of days due to my new house guest, who is not accustomed to strangers. The old woman was surprised, but she didn't ask too many questions. She only inquired if I needed anything.

I ordered a bunch of pastries, sweets, and goodies for tea, thinking that children usually like sweet treats... Oops, I completely forgot about clothes! I didn't have any children's clothes (where would I get them?), so I had to cut one of my terry robes, not ideal, but it would do for now. Damn, I need help! Felicia, she must know. Not wanting to procrastinate on this matter, I dialed my beloved's number.

After a few rings, she picked up the phone.

"Oh, look who decided to show up," her voice dripped with venom, "first, you create all this mystery, then disappear for days, and no sign of you, not even an answer on the phone! You have no idea how worried I was!"

"I'm sorry, my love, but I had to leave urgently, I did tell you why," the venomous grumbling on the other end seemed to subside.

"And... how did it go?" Felicia's quick-wittedness was something I couldn't deny; she immediately understood everything.

"It went fine, but that's not the only reason I'm calling. Well, not entirely the reason. In any case, it's not just a regular phone conversation. Could you come to my place tomorrow at around ten in the morning?"

Silence reigned on the other end of the line for a while.

"Okay, but if this is some kind of joke, you'll have to apologize to me for a very long time, Walter," and then the call ended with a click.

Phew, looks like I got away with it. She might be upset, but she understands that it wasn't just for fun. I wonder what Miss Hardy's reaction will be when I ask her to go shopping in this rather intimate family circle. I chuckled, imagining the scene.

But then the doorbell rang - it was a treat from my grandmother - somehow, in just 20 minutes, this combat-ready old lady managed to bake pancakes with jam and preserves, syrniki (cottage cheese pancakes), and pastries - I truly didn't understand it. I even started to suspect that the pensioner possessed some temporal teleportation abilities, but Laura came out of the bathroom, and I had to put my suspicions on hold and attend to more urgent matters.

I needed to wrap the child in a robe, seat her at the table, and treat her to various goodies. Heh, I must have looked quite amusing - the perfect killing machine and Dark Lord rushing around the apartment with his tongue sticking out, trying to do ten things at once, all of them entirely peaceful. Mm-hmm-yeahh...

And at the table, there was a very interesting conversation. After all, I perceived Laura as an ordinary girl, but she was not quite so...

At first, everything went well. The child was visibly enjoying the sweet pancakes and tea; it seemed that the bastards at the base didn't often indulge her with anything tasty. But then, as the initial hunger was satisfied, questions began.

"Tell me, Walter, what are your plans for using me?" Her voice was perfectly controlled, as was her facial expression, but her emotions were still a mix of so many things.

"What do you mean by plans for using you? I want you to be happy and free. In my opinion, those are the two things everyone strives for. So, if you don't mind, I would like to officially take you under my guardianship."

"But what's in it for you?" Her green eyes fixed on me attentively. Oh, I could sense that in about five years, boys would be falling at the feet of their possessor.

"What's in it for me? Well, nothing, except the satisfaction of not letting anyone mistreat you, those vile... unpleasant people."

"But I'm not a child. I'm a weapon. A clone." Gods, I knew we would come back to this, but I really didn't want to think about it. Now I have to find a way to handle this, Walter... although... what if... it's true... maybe it will work.

"So what if you're a weapon? I, too, was created not for peaceful purposes (Symba, for sure, and since he is me...), but that doesn't stop me from considering myself a human and enjoying life. So it's all nonsense; it doesn't matter what others consider or label you; what matters is how you feel about yourself," I smiled at the little girl.

"You were also created?" she asked in puzzlement. It seems she didn't expect such an answer.

"Well, yes, although I hardly remember anything about my life before this city. But here, I found friends and interesting things to do, and in general - I enjoy living freely. I hope you'll enjoy it too. But let's go to bed now; tomorrow we have a busy day ahead - we need to buy a whole bunch of necessary things, and I also need to update my wardrobe a bit." I got up from the table, and after Laura followed suit, I started escorting her to her room.

"By the way, can I ask you for a small favor? Tomorrow, my... friend will go shopping with us. You see, I don't know exactly what we might need, and she has more experience in managing a household. She doesn't know about my... little secret, the properties I possess that most people don't. So, could you please not mention my little secret when she's around? I'm not ready to confess to her just yet."

Laura seemed somewhat puzzled; apparently, she didn't expect such a request.

"But what if she asks about the bunker?" Her reasoning was surprisingly rational for an eleven-year-old.

"Well, you were taken from the bunker by Uncle Fox, and Uncle Walter is just his good friend," I winked at the little girl, who timidly smiled, or at least tried to smile - it seemed like she wasn't used to doing it.

So, we reached her room, and I was about to leave, but I was stopped by an unexpected request.

"Walter, could you tell me a bedtime story? My mom... she used to read me a book at night."

I mentally scolded myself - Walter, you genius, you deserve to be kicked with a slipper! The girl lost her only close person just a few days ago, someone she called her mom, and here you were about to leave her alone in an unfamiliar dark room, you fool!

"A bedtime story?" I smiled. "I don't know many fairytales, but I can tell you one story, perhaps. You get on the bed and cover yourself with a blanket."

I sat down in a nearby chair and began, "Once upon a time, in a very distant place, there lived a hobbit in a burrow underground. Not in some filthy, damp, dark burrow with worms crawling from all sides and the smell of mold, but also not in a dry, sandy, barren burrow with nowhere to sit and nothing to eat. No, this burrow was a hobbit burrow, and that meant it was cozy....