American Comics: BOSS Invasion

A desolate scene met his eyes; the entire town was deserted.

Cars were scattered haphazardly on the roads, and all the shops were empty.

Occasionally, a gust of wind would blow through, causing the metal roll-up doors to clang and rattle.

Although there were many cities, few were well-known; most were scattered small towns with a high degree of autonomy.

While not comparable to the wildness of the Western era, they still had their own unique characteristics.

He had worked in logging camps in Canada for a while and was familiar with similar towns, but he had never seen a town so desolate it was practically uninhabited.

And what exactly were those black, inky monsters?

He had encountered more than a dozen of them along the way, and occasionally he would see swarms of them flying overhead, resembling a terrifying locust migration.

From the end of World War II until he met Charles, he had lived a muddled existence, indulging in vodka and women.

When he ran out of money, he would cause trouble for the gangs, living quite freely and traveling all over the world.

Waking up in America was already fortunate.

He drove along the interstate highway, seeing not a single car along the way; the emptiness was unbelievable.

He looked at the still-blue sky, a color he longed for, a stark contrast to the future where Sentinel robots mercilessly slaughtered mutants.

Charles and Erik had cooperated again for self-preservation, but even the combined strength of the school and the Brotherhood of Mutants could not withstand the government's army of Sentinel robots.

Countless compatriots were killed, and to survive and protect the weaker mutants, they had to constantly hide underground to avoid being detected by mutant detectors on satellites.

Walking on the road in broad daylight like this was something that had not happened for many years.

Wolverine was a little anxious.

He remembered Shadowcat saying that this teleportation was too far into the past and the duration would be very short; even with her best efforts, she couldn't maintain it for more than 72 hours.

With the airport deserted and the train station empty, driving from Montana to New York would take at least 20 hours.

And that was assuming nothing unexpected happened along the way.

But judging from the current situation, nothing unexpected was impossible.

Thump!

Wolverine was still thinking when a cockroach-man fell from the sky, blowing the front of the car into a pile of parts.

The immense inertia caused the rear of the car to jump up and roll.

The car repeatedly hit the ground, making loud crashing sounds.

The sheet metal dented, the glass shattered, and the interior decorations and small parts were scattered all along the road.

Finally, it came to rest upside down on the ground, trembling slightly before stopping completely.

More than a dozen cockroach-men slowly gathered around, and looking at the circle of black, inky feet, Wolverine grinned and muttered, "Those damned bastards!"

He clenched his fists and strained outward, directly pushing open the flattened section, then spun around and kicked the car door.

The car door flew out like a cannonball.

The cockroach-man's reactions were not slow either; they swung their sledgehammers, and with a loud thud, the car door bounced up, flew over their heads, and landed in the roadside weeds.

Wolverine struggled to crawl out of the deformed car wreck, and as he stood up straight, the abrasions on his body rapidly healed.

"Monsters, pay me for a car, or I'll rip your heads out of your cavities."

The cockroach-men ignored him and directly pounced forward, their sledgehammers ruthlessly smashing towards his head.

The cockroach-men's physical attributes were exaggerated; strength and speed were only one aspect, their reflexes and agility were the most fatal.

They didn't need language to communicate; as long as their antennae twitched, they knew each other's thoughts, and their coordination was flawless.

Wolverine punched a sledgehammer aside, and his other hand's bone claws directly pierced the cockroach-man's neck, but the opponent seemed not to feel it, unhesitatingly smashing down again.

He blocked the front, but took a heavy hammer blow to the back, the immense force almost sending his entire body flying.

Wolverine rammed into the cockroach-man in front of him, instantly using his bone claws to repeatedly stab its heart.

Under the spray of green blood, the cockroach-man could still move.

"Damn it!"

He had never missed his adamantium skeleton so much.

Fortunately, the collision had broken open the encirclement.

He rolled over and stood up, the injuries on his body already healed as before.

Seeing the cockroach-men expressionlessly gathering around again, Wolverine was still a little unaccustomed.

Usually, in this situation, the enemies would be shocked, shouting nonsense like "Impossible!", "Oh God, he's a monster!", trying to hide their inner fear.

Facing the expressionless cockroach-men, that kind of atmosphere was completely absent.

Fortunately, he was a veteran of many battles, and these distractions were not enough to make him lose focus.

After testing the waters a few times, he understood his opponents' characteristics and quickly adjusted his strategy, no longer targeting the heart and arteries, but aiming his bone claws directly at the head.

Directly inserting them into the eyeballs and stirring them up and down, even cockroach-men would be finished.

However, the cockroach-men were not fools.

After a few were killed, they no longer besieged him, but instead ambushed him at high speed.

Wolverine had just killed one and hadn't even pulled out his bone claws when a hammer smashed into the back of his head, almost shattering half of his skull, sending his entire body flying.

The cockroach-man flashed into position, appearing directly opposite him, and swung another hammer backhanded.

Wolverine had just recovered his skull when half of his shoulder blade shattered, and his body flew in another direction.

Back and forth, he didn't touch the ground for more than a minute.

Wolverine was being used as a baseball, his body constantly breaking and healing.

He was almost knocked silly, completely unable to understand how the current situation had unfolded.

Wolverine didn't know that the cockroach-men were completely different from the enemies he had encountered before.

His healing ability rendered gunpowder weapons useless; on the battlefield, he only needed to charge straight ahead to wreak havoc.

But the cockroach-men were telepathic, able to cooperate with each other and individually powerful.

Combined, they were more than just the sum of their parts.

No wonder Wolverine had suffered a loss under his carelessness.

Fortunately, this kind of attack was nothing to Wolverine; once he landed, it would be his time to counterattack.

Just as he was steeling himself, a cannon shot suddenly rang out in his ears, and then he crashed to the ground.

He slowly got up, the hideous and terrifying injuries on his body recovering at a speed visible to the naked eye, and saw a series of shells suddenly bombarding the cockroach-men, directly blowing them into pieces.

Green blood splattered everywhere, and the shattered brown tissue emitted an indescribable stench.

"Not bad!" Qishan quipped, a cigar in his mouth and a grenade launcher on his shoulder.

Wolverine spat out the green blood in his mouth and frowned, "What a shitty world! What are these things?"

Qishan: "Aliens!"

Wolverine: ( ` ~ )