"Cough, cough... Boss, don't look at me like that. I'm just trying to be a well-rounded warrior," Logan said, clearing his throat and trying to maintain some semblance of dignity. He leaned in closer to Huang Wen, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Think about it. I've put in the work for the Indestructible Diamond Divine Ability. My strength is off the charts, and those magnetic-control freaks can't toss me around like a tin can anymore. But what good is being a walking fortress if I'm stuck on the sidewalk while the party is happening at thirty thousand feet?"
Huang Wen rubbed his chin, looking at the Canadian mutant. Logan had a point. In the superhero business, mobility was often the difference between being a legend and being a casualty. "I could teach you the high-level Qinggong," Huang Wen suggested, though his brow furrowed as he did the math in his head. "If you master it, you won't exactly 'fly' in the Superman sense, but you'd be light as a feather. You could run up the side of a skyscraper, skip across a lake, and glide for a decent distance. It's elegant."
"Elegant is slow, Boss," Logan countered, casting a pointed glance at Zhong Qiang, who was currently busy trying to spear a piece of pickled radish with a chopstick. "Look at kid over there. He's been practicing, and he still mostly just... floats. I don't have the patience to spend a decade learning how to hop. Between the healing factor and the Diamond ability, my schedule is pretty packed. You got a shortcut? Something with a bit more... kick?"
Huang Wen stared at Zhong Qiang. It was true; despite the boost from the Blood Bodhi, Zhong Qiang's flight was more of a hybrid between telekinetic lifting and basic footwork. It worked, but it wasn't exactly intercepting fighter jets.
Suddenly, a memory flickered in the back of Huang Wen's mind. He reached into the "junk drawer" of his system—the item bin where he kept the stuff that was too weird, too ugly, or too embarrassing to show in public. Nestled between a nondescript hammer, a weirdly sturdy umbrella, and a flashlight that probably didn't need batteries, he found it.
"Actually," Huang Wen said, his expression turning a bit complicated. "I do have something. It's an... artifact. It was crafted by Sha Niu using some 'unique' materials she stumbled upon. I call them the Dou Qi Wings."
With a flick of his wrist, a pair of white, feathered wings appeared in the middle of the restaurant.
The silence that followed was heavy.
Logan stared at the wings. They weren't the majestic, shimmering appendages of a celestial being. They looked like something a budget-conscious parent would buy at a 99-cent store for a toddler's Halloween costume. They were slightly ruffled, a bit yellowish, and had a definite "Victoria's Secret bargain bin" vibe to them.
"Boss..." Logan's eye twitched. "Are you pulling my leg? Is this a prank? Because if I put those on and go outside, the Avengers aren't gonna fight me—they're gonna die of laughter."
"Sha Niu does not produce low-quality merchandise!" The AI's voice rang out in Huang Wen's mind, sounding genuinely offended.
"Pfft... hahahaha!"
The silence was broken by Belle. She had been trying to hold it back, but the sight of the world's grittiest brawler being offered a pair of fluffy white fairy wings was too much. She doubled over, her laughter echoing through the stew restaurant.
"Hah! Uncle Wolf is going to be the Tooth Fairy!" Reese Fisk roared, slapping the table so hard his bowl rattled. The rest of the Kwoon followed suit. The atmosphere shifted from a serious tactical discussion to a full-blown roast.
"I'm serious, Logan," Huang Wen said, though he was fighting a grin of his own. "Don't let the aesthetic fool you. This is a one-of-a-kind piece of high-tech—or high-magic—engineering. You won't find another pair on this planet."
"High-tech?" Logan picked up one of the wings between two fingers, looking like he was handling a dirty diaper. "Boss, I've seen high-tech. Tony Stark's suits are high-tech. These look like they were made by a depressed ostrich."
"Looks can be deceiving," Huang Wen said, his voice turning serious. "These wings can hit Mach 2. That's twice the speed of sound, Logan. And the best part? No sonic booms. No wind resistance issues. The wings generate a localized field that protects the wearer from G-forces and friction. You could fly through a hurricane and your hair wouldn't even get messy. What do you think now?"
"Mach 2?"
The laughter died down instantly. Everyone in the room knew what that meant. A human being—or even a mutant—moving at twice the speed of sound without a jet engine strapped to them was unheard of.
"Think about it, Logan," Huang Wen continued, sensing he was winning him over. "Your senses are already tuned to high speeds. You've got the reflexes of a predator. Combine that with Mach 2 mobility, and you aren't just a tank—you're a cruise missile with claws."
Logan looked at the wings again. They still looked ridiculous, but the "Mach 2" part was singing a siren song to his warrior's soul. "Mach 2, huh? I've heard of a mutant out in the Midwest—calls himself Angel. Pretty boy. He's got wings like these, but they're actually part of him. He's lucky if he hits two hundred miles an hour. You're telling me these cheap-looking things are ten times faster?"
"Speed isn't about how pretty the feathers are," Huang Wen smiled. "It's about the energy behind them. These are powered by a logic that defies physics. They aren't flapping to create lift; they're folding space-time in a very specific, very 'Dou Qi' kind of way."
Logan sighed, the weight of his pride losing the battle against the desire for power. "Alright, fine. How do I put the damn things on? Do I need a harness? Glitter? A wand?"
"Just press them against your back," Huang Wen said. "The system... I mean, the design allows them to bond with the fabric of your clothes."
Logan took a deep breath, braced himself for the inevitable ridicule, and slapped the white wings against the back of his brown leather jacket.
Buzz.
A faint, harmonic hum vibrated through the room. The wings didn't just sit there; they seemed to meld into the leather, the base of the wings disappearing into the seams of the jacket. The contrast was jarring—the rugged, cigar-smoking Logan now looked like he was ready to lead a parade of magical forest creatures.
"Pfft... hahahaha!" The laughter erupted again, even louder than before.
"Looking good, Uncle Wolf! Very... angelic!" Reese shouted.
Logan's face went crimson. He didn't say a word. In a blur of motion that left the air in the restaurant spinning, he vanished. One second he was standing by the table, the next, there was only a faint scent of cigar smoke and a draft from the open door.
"Did he get the hang of it that fast?" Huang Wen muttered. He closed his eyes, using his mental perception to track Logan's position. The mutant was already a thousand feet up, hovering over the Queens skyline.
"Sha Niu, can we scan these?" Huang Wen asked internally. "If we could change the skin on those things—maybe make them look like metallic stabilizers or something—they'd be perfect for the whole team."
"System error: Analysis impossible," Sha Niu's voice replied with a hint of mechanical frustration. "The 'Dou Qi Wings' do not operate on any known electromagnetic or gravitational principles. They are a conceptual artifact. To the laws of physics, those wings do not exist; therefore, they cannot be replicated through scientific means."
"Figures," Huang Wen sighed. "A non-scientific solution for a non-scientific world."
A moment later, Huang Wen vanished from the restaurant and reappeared in the sky, drifting lazily alongside Logan.
The mutant was currently suspended over the East River. He wasn't falling. He wasn't even struggling. He was just... there. The wings were spread wide, glowing with a soft, ethereal light that seemed to pulse in time with his heartbeat. The look of pure, unadulterated joy on Logan's face was something Huang Wen hadn't expected to see.
"So?" Huang Wen asked, crossing his arms. "Still think they're too 'Victoria's Secret' for you?"
Logan didn't even look at him. He was staring at the horizon, the wind rushing past him at incredible speeds, yet his cigar remained lit and his eyes weren't watering. "Boss... I take back everything I said. These things are terrifying."
He twitched his shoulders, and the wings gave a slight flick. Logan shot forward like a railgun slug, leaving a trail of white light in the sky. He did a barrel roll, looped over the Chrysler Building, and came back to Huang Wen in a matter of seconds.
"I feel like I'm cheating," Logan admitted, his voice barely a whisper. "No engine, no noise... just the world getting smaller. But..." He looked down at his chest, then back at the wings. "I think I might need to start wearing different shirts. These wings... they're a little tight on the armpits."