Marvelous Meditations

Nathan adjusted the high collar of his synthetic leather raincoat as he stepped into the armory, his boots echoing faintly against the concrete floor. The air inside was heavy with the scent of oil, gunpowder, and metal—a familiar, almost comforting blend. Behind him, Rick followed, his hands shoved casually into his pockets, his expression one of muted amusement.

Nathan headed directly for the concealed weapons section. The compartmented walls slid open with a smooth hiss, revealing a carefully organized selection of firearms, blades, and gadgets. Without hesitation, Nathan began selecting his tools.

A pair of customized pistols went into the holsters sewn into the interior of his coat. He added two compact Uzi submachine guns to the hidden compartments at his sides and tucked away a dozen throwing knives, each one honed to perfection.

As he worked, he spoke over his shoulder, his tone dry. "Grey-haired? Color blind? Really?"

Rick shrugged, leaning casually against the nearest wall. "I figured you wouldn't come if I told you the truth. You know what they say about 'white lies.'"

Nathan paused just long enough to give Rick a blank look. "Very funny."

Rick smirked, but Nathan was already moving again. His focus shifted to another section of the armory, where a small pedestal held a ring with an empty socket, its polished surface catching the dim overhead light. He slipped it onto his finger, the fit snug and familiar, then moved to a nearby case lined with small, color-coded stones.

He selected a crimson gem, its facets glinting like liquid fire, and pressed it into the socket. The ring emitted a faint hum as the stone locked into place, and a thin energy field shimmered briefly over his raincoat before dissipating. The coat's already impressive features now included the ability to evade most standard detection systems.

Rick let out a long-suffering sigh, falling into step beside Nathan. "Well, that didn't stop you from agreeing to the job."

Nathan shook his head, slipping another knife into a hidden sheath inside his coat. "No, it didn't. But I still would have appreciated a heads-up."

Rick smirked, his tone carrying a teasing lilt. "And ruin the surprise? Come on, Nathan. There are only so many silver-haired women a guy could know."

Nathan paused mid-stride, giving Rick a peculiar look. His lips quirked upward, but there was no humor in his eyes. "You'd be surprised, actually. Not too long ago, I got acquainted with another girl with silver hair."

Rick raised an eyebrow, drawing out the syllables slowly. "Huh." He let the sound hang in the air before shaking his head. "Well, either way, there's only so many silver-haired women someone like you would know who have a reason to come to our place of business."

Nathan didn't reply immediately, but his look was pointed, carrying more weight than any words could. Rick's frown deepened as he folded his arms. "You've got a problem, my friend. And a very clear preference."

Finally, Nathan chuckled under his breath. "It's not like that. Way too young for my taste." He picked up the last knife, flipping it once in his hand before tucking it away. "But the girl's sharp, resourceful...and she strikes me as someone who doesn't let things go."

Rick waved a hand dismissively, his grin broadening. "Great. Another silver-haired jezebel. Just what you need in your life. You'll have fun dealing with that, I'm sure."

Nathan scoffed, pulling his coat tighter around him. "Hardly."

With that, he strode toward the elevator, the heavy coat flowing behind him. Rick followed, his pace more leisurely. As Nathan pressed the button for the lower levels, Rick leaned against the wall, studying his friend's profile.

"So...this job. What's the grand plan?"

The elevator chimed softly, and as the doors slid open, Nathan turned his head just enough to glance at Rick. "No grand plan, a very simple one: get the Muramasa and get out. Whatever happens after that? None of my business."

Rick let out a low whistle, stepping into the elevator after him. "Sounds clean and simple. Too simple. With you, I'd bet good money it won't stay that way."

Nathan didn't answer, his expression impassive as he stared ahead. The elevator doors closed, sealing them in with the faint hum of the descent.

...

The meeting room aboard Silver Sable's transport plane hummed with tension. A circular table dominated the center, surrounded by members of the Wild Pack, each in their combat gear. The soft rumble of the engines underscored the flickering hologram of the island—a remote, forested speck in the Aegean Sea labeled Nissiros.

Nathan leaned casually against the wall, his synthetic leather coat hanging loose over his frame. His gaze swept over the group, cataloging their expressions—some intrigued, some skeptical, all sharp. Across the room, Silver Sable stood tall, her silver hair catching the dim light like spun mercury. She tapped a control panel on her gauntlet, bringing the hologram into sharper focus.

"This is the situation," she began, her voice crisp and authoritative. "The Foreigner has laid a trap for Wolverine of the X-Men. The bait? A fake distress call claiming mutant children are being persecuted by the island's locals. In reality, the locals have already been removed from the island—paid off or threatened into leaving. The only ones on Nissiros now are mutant children and assassins from the 1400 Club."

She paused, letting the gravity of her words sink in. "Their mission is clear: ambush and eliminate Wolverine when he arrives to investigate."

From his seat, Chen, a hulking mercenary with a bald head and a scar running across his cheek, leaned forward. "So, what's our angle? We helping the Wolverine?"

Silver Sable's expression remained cool. "We are not here for Wolverine. We are here to take out the Foreigner. If we can work with Wolverine, fine. If not, he's not our concern."

Another Wild Pack member, a wiry man named Dieter, raised an eyebrow. "And this intel...you're sure it's solid? Feels like the kind of setup that could go sideways fast."

"The information comes from a mole we've embedded within the 1400 Club," Silver replied, her tone brooking no argument. "It's reliable. But you're right—this mission will be dangerous. The island is heavily fortified with automated defense systems, perimeter drones, and guard patrols The Foreginer's client seems to have deep pockets and a vested interest in seeing the Wolverine dead."

She tapped another button, and the hologram shifted to highlight a series of red markers around the island. "Nathan and I will parachute in first, landing here." She pointed to a clearing near the island's center. "With just the two of us, we'll be nothing more than a blip on the radar. We'll disable the security systems, creating an opening for the rest of you to strike. The Wild Pack will hold position just outside the defenses' range and storm the shores once I give the signal."

"Sounds simple enough," Dieter said, though his tone was skeptical. "What about resistance?"

"There will be resistance," Silver said evenly. "Expect assassins, automated turrets, and possibly even traps set for Wolverine. We'll have to adapt."

Chen frowned, gesturing toward Nathan. "And him? What's he doing here? No offense, boss, but we don't know this guy. Why should we trust him to lead the charge with you?"

All eyes turned to Nathan, who straightened and let out a slow breath, clearly unbothered by the scrutiny.

Silver cut in before Nathan could respond. "Nathan is here because I trust him. He's an experienced operative with a track record that surpasses most of you combined." Her gaze was steely, silencing any further dissent. "He's also uniquely motivated to deal with the Foreigner. Any other questions?"

One of the younger members, a red-haired woman named Lena, raised her hand hesitantly. "What's stopping Wolverine from coming after us if he thinks we're part of the trap?"

Nathan finally spoke, his tone calm but edged with dry humor. "Nothing. Which is why we make sure we don't look like the bad guys. I'll handle him if it comes to that."

Lena blinked, unconvinced. "And if you can't?"

"Then," Nathan said, his voice dropping a notch, "you'll want to stay very far away from his claws."

The room fell silent, the weight of his words settling like a storm cloud.

Silver nodded approvingly and turned back to the hologram. "We launch in twenty minutes. Gear up, stay sharp, and follow the plan. We're going to end this."

As the Wild Pack dispersed, murmuring amongst themselves, Nathan caught Silver's gaze. She gave him a slight nod, her expression unreadable. He didn't need to ask if she had any doubts about him. If she did, she'd never let it show.

...

Inside the Viking Air Twin Otter, Nathan sat in the farthest seat, leaning against the cabin wall with a book open in his hands. The soft hum of the plane's engines barely registered as he turned a page, the faint smell of synthetic leather from his coat mingling with the sterile metallic scent of the aircraft.

The Wild Pack had already disembarked into their boats, speeding off to their standby location just outside the island's defenses. For now, there was nothing left for him to do but wait.

The dim light overhead illuminated the title of his book: Meditations by Marcus Aurelius. He read with practiced calm, his demeanor that of a man who could shut out the world when it suited him. Across the cabin, Silver Sable sat strapped into her seat, arms crossed, her silver hair shimmering faintly in the low light. Her sharp gaze flicked toward the book, and an eyebrow arched slightly.

"You're reading that old thing again?" she remarked, her voice cutting through the cabin's quiet like a blade.

Nathan didn't glance up, but the corner of his mouth twitched faintly. "I never stopped since the first time I laid eyes on its pages."

Her interest piqued, Silvija leaned slightly forward. "I've always meant to ask… What's so special about it? What keeps you coming back?"

Finally, Nathan closed the book with a soft thud, his finger marking his place as he looked at her with a pointed expression. "Did you now?"

Silvija sighed, her eyes narrowing. "I get it. You're still angry with me."

Nathan's brow furrowed as he leaned back in his seat, his jaw tightening. "Angry?" He shook his head slowly, his voice low and even. "That's not the word I'd use."

Her expression hardened slightly, but there was a flicker of regret in her eyes. "I thought you'd understand," she said softly, the edge in her voice muted. "I had a country to look after. A mercenary company depending on me."

Nathan's gaze darkened at her words, and his grip on the book tightened slightly. "You make it sound like you were the only one with responsibilities," he said, his tone sharp enough to cut. He let out a bitter scoff. "What I understand is this: we both had our baggage. The difference? Only one of us was willing to let go of it."

Her lips pressed into a thin line, and she exhaled slowly. "You know that's not true," she countered, her voice quieter now, almost reflective. "Baggage, luggage... whatever you want to call it. For other people, maybe it's something they can leave behind. But for us? It's who we are..."

She shook her head, a faint, wry smile crossing her lips. "We're too alike, you and I. It wouldn't have worked, and we both know that. We would've ended up miserable. And it would've ruined us."

Nathan stared at her for a long moment, the flicker of a thousand unspoken thoughts crossing his eyes. Then, without a word, he reopened the book and settled back into his seat. His tone was calm, detached. "Let's just focus on the job."

Silvija watched him for a moment longer, her expression unreadable, before leaning back into her seat. The quiet of the cabin returned, but it was heavy now, laden with words neither of them would speak.

...

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