In the gloomy alleys, the light is thin, and the shadows of the buildings cast in the narrow space, almost engulfing everything.

It's a forgotten corner of the city, with no bustling streets and no bustling crowds, just the homeless man huddled alone in old newspapers and tattered clothes.

He sat on the side of the alley, leaning against the corner, his dirty little blanket barely recognizable, and it had long since been destroyed by the years and bad weather. Stains and mud seep through it, as if telling the bitterness of time.

The homeless man's body trembled, his tattered clothes trembling.

"Suck Suck Yo"

He covered his mouth and sniffled, and a stream of icy air flowed through the alley, making it difficult for him to breathe. His hairline had receded, and the wrinkles on his face were like the marks of time, deep in his skin.

The shadows in the alleys loomed over him, making his life seem endlessly bitter and helpless. On this cold night, with only old newspapers, tattered clothes, and dirty little blankets as companions, he leaned against the corner, silently enduring the torture of cold and loneliness. This is his life, a forgotten corner, the fate of a wanderer.

"Rustle"

Suddenly, a rustling sound sounded in the depths of the alley, as if someone was walking towards it.

The tramp's ears immediately became sensitive, he raised his head, scanned the end of the alley alertly, his heart began to beat faster, he tightened the blanket on his body, and the few crumpled coins were clenched even tighter.

I finally found this sheltered corner, and I must not let other homeless people rob this precious hiding place.

The rustling voices drew closer, and at the end of the alley a faint silhouette of a figure appeared to be leaning against a wall, looking malnourished.

It seemed that it was just another homeless street wanderer, and the homeless man covered with a blanket could not help but breathe a sigh of relief, so he mustered up the courage to cry out loudly:

"Fuck off! It's full! ”

"Full? Hahahaha" With a low laugh, a man in a yellow leotard slowly walked over against the wall.

However, his form looks very wrong.

The man's skin looked like a corpse, pale and blue, as if not a drop of blood was flowing, and his grinning mouth was crooked and bloodshot mixed with it, and there was an unpleasant smell of fish.

The homeless man stood up and took a step back, he felt an indescribable chill, the sight before him was too unusual, the appearance of the man in yellow and his strange and rotten laughter sent chills down the homeless man's spine.

The homeless man's body was trembling involuntarily, and he suddenly blinked his eyes, and then shouted loudly, "Wait, I know you!" ”

The yellow figure also stopped, tilting its head, as if trying to understand the homeless man's words.

The homeless man then shouted, "Wolverine, you're a Wolverine, aren't you?!" I saw this dress of yours in yesterday's newspaper! ”

"Wolverine? Newspaper? The yellow-clad figure twisted its neck, and then three sharp steel claws suddenly protruded from between its fingers.

He bared a mouthful of yellow teeth and whispered: "Boy, what you said is right, I am the Wolverine who found out the newspaper you said now, otherwise I will kill you!" ”

The homeless man's heart beat rapidly, and his hands trembled and he immediately began to search for his tattered clothes and blankets, looking for the newspaper he had seen yesterday.

Finally, a few seconds later, among the tattered clothes, he found the yellowed newspaper. He carefully took it out and handed it to Wolverine.

"Here you go! You're not really going to kill me, are you, after all, you're a superhero? ”

"Kill you? Oh, my friend, of course I was joking with you, were you blown away by my humor? Wolverine sneered when he heard this, and his blood-red eyes looked greedily up and down at the homeless man.

"Haha."

The homeless man laughed awkwardly, not knowing whether to answer this conversation or not, and the whole person was obviously a little at a loss.

He suddenly felt that the mutant superhero in front of him looked at him a bit like that. Looking through the glass window at the people enjoying a hearty meal, or the food on their plates?

No, no, no, it's definitely just a delusion.

I didn't think about eating people when I was the hungriest, but now this superhero doesn't look right, how can he think like that?

That doesn't make any sense at all, it must just be my mistake.

Just when the homeless man was thinking crankily in his heart, Wolverine, who had glanced at the newspaper a few times, raised his head again and licked his shriveled lips, "I have a better idea for you."

"In my world, there are too many cooks and not enough food. So I never get a chance to elegantly bring the recipe to life, you know what I mean? ”

"And I'm still thinking, what would the other me taste like? I'm afraid it's going to be weird, I'm going to be delicious."

The homeless man cautiously took two steps back, his voice trembling, his expression full of confusion and helplessness: "What do you mean? I really don't understand what you mean, buddy, I did what you said! ”

However, Wolverine didn't give him any more opportunities to talk and communicate.

He directly waved his sharp steel claws, drooling from his mouth, and fiercely pounced on the homeless man, and the terrifying scene happened, Wolverine's steel claws tore through the air, slashing across the homeless man's body, making a terrible tearing sound.

Before he could even scream, the homeless man's body was split into a pile of incised fragments and piled on the ground, blood and flesh splattered everywhere, everything happened so suddenly and cruelly.

"Perfect. It was just perfect! I'm sorry, McComb, I've been scolding you before, you're a savior for me! ”

Wolverine sniffed and reveled in the air, his sense of smell unusually acute. The tongue couldn't help but stick out like a dog, licked his lips, and saliva dripped on the ground.

The cloudy eyes were full of wildness and greed, and slowly turned to the bloody lump of flesh on the ground, leaned down and stretched out its mouth.

"What the fuck are you doing, Logan?!"

An angry roar suddenly rang out, breaking the bloody silence in the alley.

Then, a red baton flew out of nowhere and slammed into Wolverine's face, causing his head to tilt and saliva and blood spurting out.

The zombie-turned, Canadian dwarf was knocked to the ground by the sudden attack, briefly losing his balance, gritting his teeth and looking back in the direction the stick was flying.

I saw a man dressed in a red leotard and two small horns on his forehead standing at the entrance of the alley, looking at the Wolverine who was about to eat inside the alley with a frightened expression.

Without having to look at the two letters 'D' overlapping on the man's chest, Wolverine could already tell who the person in front of him was just by the smell of blood in the air, and the sensation of smashing it on his head.

The corners of his mouth twitched unnaturally, "Hello, Matt." ”

(End of chapter)