Marvel: The Amazing Spider-Man in the Multiverse

The neon lights of Madripoor bled into the damp night mist, like spilled chemical dyes, steeping the entire city in a sickly brilliance. This den of iniquity, floating in the Strait of Malacca, was smaller than Singapore yet more crowded than hell. Addictive drugs circulated like currency in its dark alleys, private submarines of arms dealers disgorged shadows in abandoned docks, and the city's tax-free policy made the very air thick with the stench of money and blood.

S.H.I.E.L.D. had outposts in both the Upper and Lower Cities. For this mission, Peter and his group went to the Upper City base—an entire building purchased by S.H.I.E.L.D., standing like a metal toothpick stuck in a pile of rotting fruit.

Several plainclothes S.H.I.E.L.D. agents spotted Cyclops, wearing his combat visor, and Beast, now in civilian clothes, and cordially invited them into their base. Madripoor was a standard cyberpunk-esque city, or perhaps, it had a touch of Mumbai, India's style—tall skyscrapers in the Upper City surrounded by the low-rise shacks of the Lower City. The celebrities and dignitaries living there only had to look down to see the residences of the impoverished masses, worlds apart from their own.

"I regret the price I quoted to Nick Fury. I should have made him re-landscape the entire academy lawn," Cyclops muttered as he entered the elevator, then asked a staff member, "Do you know where Logan is? Wolverine?"

"Mr. Patch should be at his casino right now…"

"What a stupid name."

As Cyclops grumbled, he arranged for Peter and Cindy to follow him directly to Logan. "The sooner we find Logan, the sooner we're done, and you two can go back to school."

"If you've skipped any crucial classes," Beast chuckled, "I can help you with tutoring."

To Peter, Madripoor's weather was a bit like Gotham City's next door, perpetually shrouded in dark clouds, rarely seeing daylight.

The Winter Home was a luxurious casino located in the Upper City, exquisitely decorated. Giant neon lights announced its presence to all of Madripoor. At the casino's entrance, scantily clad women tried to greet customers. They paid no mind that two of the four approaching people were strangely dressed and one didn't even look human. They swayed their hips, intending to say something, but Cyclops brushed them aside and pushed open the casino doors without hesitation.

"Stay close, kids, this place isn't suitable for minors."

The receptionist immediately stood up and looked at Cyclops. "Good evening, sir, may I help you…?"

"I'm here to see your boss. We're old friends."

"But if you don't have an appointment…"

Cyclops ignored the receptionist and walked directly into the casino.

Inside the Winter Home, crystal chandeliers hung from a twenty-meter-high dome, their thousands of perfectly cut prisms refracting light into a dazzling golden sea that spilled onto the crimson velvet carpet. The air was thick with the cloying sweetness of high-end champagne, the spiciness of cigars, and the complex scent of gamblers' excited sweat mixed with expensive perfumes.

Around the roulette tables, wealthy men in tailored suits pushed chips onto red and black squares. Each bounce of the dice erupted in hushed gasps from the onlookers. Some clenched their fists in ecstasy, while others slumped back into their seats in defeat, expensive ties askew on their sweaty necks. The electronic sounds of slot machines chimed in succession, neon lights flowed across the machines' surfaces, reflecting the mesmerized and hollow eyes of the gamblers—they mechanically pulled levers, as if controlled by some unseen force.

This was a place Peter had never experienced before. He looked at the faces that seemed to have their wills devoured and involuntarily shook his head. He didn't like it here, in fact, he strongly disliked it. Cindy walked behind him with her face mask pulled up, even Beast looked a bit flustered. Only Cyclops charged straight in, even pushing aside two security guards.

More security guards were rushing over, but just then, a low voice rang out: "Stand down, that's an old friend, just a bit impolite. Come with me, we'll talk in the office."

It was a man of average height, not short but not very tall either. He wore an eye patch over his left eye and a crisp, expensive white suit with white trousers, his leather shoes gleaming. He had a cigar in his mouth and held a stemmed wine glass with a bit of red wine between his left index and middle fingers.

Scott Summers smiled and led his group into Logan's office.

"I never thought I'd hear the words 'a bit impolite' come from your mouth," Cyclops said, surveying the office, "Glitzy, isn't it? Lion fur, mahogany bookshelves, Cuban cigars… Looks like you're doing well since going solo, Logan."

"Screw you, Scott, you have no idea what you've done!"

Wolverine, Logan, slammed his wine glass onto the desk, proving he hadn't changed at all, while Cyclops scoffed at his anger: "What have I done? Interrupted your money-making? Given you some bad friends?"

"You brought a New York superhero, in costume no less, into my casino!" Wolverine's reaction was unexpected to Cyclops. "I'm here to find out about Weapon X and Stryker's remaining henchmen! And now, you've brought a superhero here, everyone's going to know there's something wrong with this place!"

Cyclops involuntarily uttered an "oh." As for Peter, once Wolverine finished yelling, he finally had a chance to speak.

"I don't really want to interrupt you two, but… are you sure your disguise is effective, Mr. Logan? You haven't used makeup, or changed your hairstyle, you've just… changed into a suit and put on an eye patch."

Peter truly couldn't understand why Wolverine would bother with such a disguise. Anyone even vaguely familiar with Wolverine would recognize him. What was the point of this disguise? Wasn't it just telling the enemy you were here?

Logan, cigar in mouth, took off his eye patch, glanced at Peter, then looked at Cyclops. "Why did you bring him here? Huh?"

"We need Mister Sinister's gene splicer to treat him. We know the last one is in Madripoor, so we came to you for help." Cyclops shook his head helplessly, then, perhaps for the first time, apologized to his old rival: "I'm sorry, I didn't know you were still… doing the right thing."

"Forget it, I can't be bothered with you," Logan snorted, pondering the gene splicer. "The gene splicer is in…"

A sudden explosion interrupted him, and then a shockwave swept through the entire casino, with flames erupting from within. Logan cursed and unsheathed his claws, while Cyclops sighed. It seemed things were destined not to go smoothly after all.