At the Mexican border, Wolverine finally escaped the clutches of a flock of lovely ladies.
Of course, this escape had not come without a price.
His once-messy hair had been forcibly restored to a neat appearance.
As for the thick beard he had long since given up grooming, it had actually been trimmed into the style from that old comic.
The bloodstains on his body had been washed away with clean water, and once his wounds recovered, he finally looked like a normal person again.
As for his troublesome right leg...
Well, his right leg still limped. After all, the internal injury in his knee would not heal just because women had rubbed it.
That was a knee, not some magical miracle cure, right?
After escaping the women's hands, Wolverine had more or less come to terms with things.
Like everyone else, he went shirtless and put on the beach shorts handed over by the attendants, then swaggered and limped toward Heisenberg.
Arriving carelessly before Heisenberg's lounge chair, Wolverine casually snatched a bottle of liquor from a nearby waiter's tray.
Prying off the cap with one hand, Wolverine took a hard gulp.
The icy drink slid down his throat. He let out a satisfied breath, then gave Heisenberg a cold smile.
"I really don't know what to say. It's been fucking ages since I've been treated like this.
Women's hands, chilled liquor... if there were a cigar too, who says this damned Mexico couldn't become paradise?
Isn't this paradise?"
"Haha, exactly. Give him a cigar."
Heisenberg laughed.
Upon hearing Heisenberg's order, someone immediately fetched a cigar and delivered it to Logan.
Logan picked up the cigar, held the tobacco beneath his nose, and inhaled deeply.
Savoring the scent of the cigar, Logan vaguely saw himself as a young man again.