Marvel : Starting by Copying Wolverine's Power Chapter 26 26: Textbook-Perfect Coordination

The footsteps drew closer.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Heavy and rhythmic—the unmistakable echo of German military boots striking concrete. In this underground corridor, where only dripping pipes and distant machinery broke the silence, the sound was amplified severalfold, like a pendulum swung by Death himself, striking Levi straight in the chest with every step.

He crouched low, like a hunting cat, hiding tightly behind a pile of junk covered with thick oilcloth. Every muscle in his body was unconsciously tensed, stretched to the limit like an overdrawn bowstring. With his super-soldier-enhanced hearing, he could even hear his own heartbeat pounding like a drum—fast, loud, impossible to ignore.

Was he scared?

A few minutes ago, when he'd just crawled out of that godforsaken sewer, he definitely had been. Terrified, even. But now, that fear had been replaced by sothing hotter.

A strange mix of tension, excitent… and a faint, dangerous hint of bloodlust.

I an, seriously—look at the lineup he was running with right now.

Levi glanced to his left.

Steve Rogers. Captain Arica. The ceiling of human physical potential. A tactical genius who could turn hand-to-hand combat into art. A living legend.

Steve was half-crouched in the shadows, so still he looked like part of the darkness itself. Only his blue eyes—bright even in the dim light—were visible, calmly locked on the direction of the approaching sound. Absolute focus. Absolute control. The confidence of soone who owned the battlefield.

Then Levi looked to his right.

Logan. Wolverine. A monster who'd lived for decades—maybe centuries. A mutant with beastly instincts and an unkillable body.

His posture was far less refined. He was practically sprawled on the ground, body rising and falling slightly, a barely audible predatory growl rumbling in his throat. The ever-present cigar between his teeth had been chewed nearly in half. His brown eyes glead with raw, undisguised killing intent.

And then there was himself.

Levi took a slow breath, feeling the new power surging through his limbs. The Super Soldier Serum hadn't just given him strength and speed—it had fundantally reshaped him. He could feel the flow of blood, hear every beat of his heart, sll the complex mix of machine oil, rust, and distant food waste in the air. His brain felt like an overclocked supercomputer, calmly and efficiently processing the flood of information pouring in through his senses.

This kind of lineup… against two Hydra patroln who, judging by their footsteps alone, were half-asleep and probably complaining about the food?

This wasn't killing chickens with a butcher knife.

This was sailing an aircraft carrier into a fish pond.

So no—Levi wasn't afraid.

He was just nervous. The kind of nervousness a grade-school kid feels before his first ti on stage. Like a rookie tagging along with two top-tier veterans who'd already carved their nas into legend, terrified he might screw sothing up and embarrass them.

The Hydra soldiers' conversation was now right around the corner. They were speaking German—Levi didn't understand a word—but he didn't need to. Their tones said enough. One sounded lazy and impatient, the other was whining nonstop, his speech fast and full of complaints.

Levi's mind raced.

Two targets. ntally relaxed. Low alertness.

Threat level: Zero.

The instant the shadows of those two unlucky n appeared at the corner of the corridor, Steve—who'd been motionless like a statue—moved.

His motion was light, controlled, and carried a strange rhythm.

First, he raised a finger—steady even in the dim light. He pointed at himself, then toward the corridor, silently mouthing:

One.

Then his gaze shifted to Logan. Pure tactical command filled those blue eyes. He pointed in the other direction and mouthed:

Two.

Finally, Steve looked at Levi.

For a split second, Levi felt like he was being stared down by a sleeping lion. A wave of pressure rolled over him—but within that gaze was sothing else.

Trust.

Steve didn't gesture a number. Instead, he pointed forward and back along the corridor… then tapped his own ear.

The aning was crystal clear.

Steve Rogers would take the first.

Logan would take the second.

And Levi's task—the most critical one—was to use his unmatched hearing to act as the team's ears, guarding all directions and ensuring that, during those few seconds of action, nothing unexpected happened.

Levi understood instantly.

A surge of heat rose from his chest and spread through his body. He nodded hard, eyes firm.

In that mont, his first-battle jitters vanished completely, replaced by a powerful sense of excitent—and belonging.

So I'm not just here to watch.

So even among legends… I matter.

The two Hydra soldiers had no idea death was breathing down their necks. One was apparently bragging about stealing a sausage from the kitchen the night before; the other was cursing him out in jealous frustration.

They never noticed that less than three ters away, hidden in the shadows, three apex predators had already bared their fangs.

The mont the two n walked past the pile of junk, fully exposing their unguarded backs—

Steve and Logan moved.

Not like humans.

They were like two prehistoric cheetahs erupting from darkness—silent, explosive, impossibly fast.

Even with Levi's serum-enhanced dynamic vision, his eyes nearly couldn't keep up.

In his field of view, Steve's figure stretched into a blue blur. In a single flash, he was behind the soldier on the left. A powerful hand clamped over the man's mouth and nose before a sound could escape.

The scream died in the man's throat.

At the sa ti, Steve's other arm wrapped around the man's neck like a steel python. He lifted slightly, then twisted hard and sharp—

Crack.

A faint but horrifyingly clear sound of bone breaking echoed through the corridor. To Levi's enhanced hearing, it was like snapping a dead branch right next to his ear.

The Hydra soldier's body stiffened, then collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut. Steve guided the fall smoothly, dragging the corpse soundlessly into deeper shadow.

Fluid. Efficient. Violent in a way that froze the blood.

Logan, on the other hand, was a completely different story.

If Steve was a surgical scalpel, Logan was pure, unfiltered savagery.

He lunged almost simultaneously—but didn't bother covering the man's mouth. Instead, he chose a faster, more brutal solution.

In mid-charge, Logan dropped his center of gravity, shoulder lowered, and slamd into the second soldier's back like an enraged bull.

Bam!

A dull, bone-rattling impact. The unfortunate man flew forward like a kite with its string cut, all the air blasted from his lungs, eyes bulging.

Before he could even hit the ground, Logan was already there.

One hand hooked the back of the man's neck like a talon. The other elbow ca up from below, ripping through the air—

Thud!

Another heavy impact. The soldier's head lolled, and he went limp instantly, unconscious before he could even groan.

Logan dragged him like a dead dog and tossed him behind the junk pile.

From first movent to cleanup, Levi counted silently.

Four seconds.

Exactly four.

Levi stared, stunned, his heart skipping a beat.

Holy shit.

This—this was professionalism.

He'd seen countless assassination scenes in movies, but witnessing this flawless, artistic double takedown in person made every film he'd ever watched feel like children playing house.

Steve's calm precision.

Logan's wild efficiency.

One was a scalpel.

The other, a cleaving axe.

Completely different styles—identical results.

Levi swallowed hard, shook off the awe, and forced himself back to work. He closed his eyes again, pushed his hearing to the limit, and scanned the corridor like a living radar—walls, corners, even the ventilation ducts overhead.

Nothing.

No footsteps. No alarms. No reaction.

That brief, lethal encounter had vanished into the silence like a pebble dropped into still water.

Levi opened his eyes and gave Steve and Logan a subtle head shake—the universal signal for all clear.

Steve gave him an approving look, a hint of a smile hidden in his eyes.

Good job, kid.

Logan snorted softly, but Levi noticed his shoulders relax just a bit. Logan casually frisked the two unlucky n, quickly pulling out spare magazines and two German stick grenades, stuffing them into his pockets without ceremony.

Levi followed suit. When his hand touched one of the bodies—still faintly warm—his heart stuttered for a mont, but he suppressed the discomfort and removed a loaded magazine and another grenade, hooking it onto his belt.

Every bit of supply mattered here. This was war—not a dinner party.

After a brief reset, Steve said nothing more. He simply pointed toward a rusted tal staircase leading up and signaled for them to move.

Once again, the three beca ghosts, hugging the cold walls as they slipped silently toward the stairs.

With that textbook-perfect coordination under his belt, Levi felt his confidence surge. His steps grew steadier as he focused fully on listening, willingly playing the role of human mobile radar for the two heavy hitters.

They soon reached the base of the stairs.

It was an old, open-fra tal structure with grated steps. One wrong foot, and it would definitely go clang-clang all the way up.

Steve stopped and glanced back at Levi, questioning.

Levi imdiately understood. He closed his eyes and poured all his attention into his hearing, focusing on the sounds above.

Compared to this nearly abandoned maintenance tunnel, the level above was busy.

A constant low hummm—the sound of massive electrical currents running through transforrs.

The steady click-clack of heavy machinery gears shing.

And footsteps.

Not two.

At least four distinct sets, moving in overlapping patrol patterns.

"The power distribution room is right above us," Levi whispered.

"Strong electrical current, transforrs running. But security's heavier—at least four guards. Two are patrolling the outer walkway, one's mostly stationary—probably at a control console. The fourth… his footsteps are irregular. Might be supervising, or just wandering."

Steve nodded calmly. The factory's energy heart being well-guarded was only natural.

He looked up at the stairway. At the top, a large square steel plate sealed the exit, leaving only a narrow slit of light.

"Looks like," Steve said quietly, a cold, confident smile tugging at his lips,

"we're about to give them a very big surprise."

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