The Canadian wilderness was a frozen expanse of silence and shadow, the moonlight casting a cold, blue sheen over the snow-covered ground. Logan, known to the world as Wolverine, trudged through the relentless blizzard, his breath visible in the frigid air. His heightened senses picked up the faint scent of blood and fear, guiding him through the storm to a remote cabin hidden among the towering pines. The wind howled like a wounded animal, and his claws itched with the promise of violence. Tonight, the past had come calling, dragging with it memories of pain and vengeance that refused to die.

Inside the cabin, the air was thick with the scent of whiskey and despair. Sabretooth, Logan’s old nemesis, lounged in a battered armchair, a sadistic grin spreading across his face as he heard the familiar sound of adamantium claws unsheathing. "Logan," he growled, his voice a guttural rumble. "Been a long time, hasn't it?" The flickering firelight danced across his feral features, highlighting the scars of countless battles. Wolverine stepped into the room, his eyes narrowed, muscles coiled like a spring. "Too long," he replied, his voice a low snarl. "You should’ve stayed dead, Creed."

The confrontation was immediate, a whirlwind of claws and primal fury. The small cabin became a battleground, the walls splintering under the force of their blows. Sabretooth’s laughter echoed through the chaos, each strike he landed a reminder of their savage history. Wolverine’s rage burned white-hot, his every move fueled by a lifetime of grudges. But this fight was different. Logan could sense it in the air, a dark presence lurking just beyond the edges of their clash. As he drove his claws into Sabretooth’s side, a deafening explosion rocked the cabin, blowing out the windows and sending them both crashing into the snow outside.

Logan struggled to his feet, shaking off the disorientation. Through the haze of smoke and falling snow, a figure emerged—tall, clad in black, and exuding an aura of menace. Omega Red, a weapon of the past, reborn in the present. His carbonadium tentacles writhed like serpents, their deadly tips glinting in the moonlight. "Logan," Omega Red intoned, his voice dripping with malice. "The Red Room sends its regards." Wolverine’s heart sank as he realized the true scope of the trap. This was not just a fight for survival; it was a reckoning. Sabretooth, grinning through the pain, rose beside Omega Red. "Looks like we got ourselves a reunion," he sneered.

The battle that ensued was a symphony of brutality and desperation, Wolverine caught between the relentless assault of Sabretooth and the lethal precision of Omega Red. His healing factor struggled to keep pace with the barrage of wounds, his vision blurring as blood stained the snow. But Logan’s spirit was unbreakable, forged in the fires of countless wars. He fought with the ferocity of a cornered animal, his claws slashing through flesh and metal alike. As he grappled with Omega Red, he saw Sabretooth closing in for the kill, a predatory gleam in his eyes.

With a roar of defiance, Wolverine summoned the last of his strength, breaking free from Omega Red’s grasp and lunging at Sabretooth. The clash was cataclysmic, a flurry of claws and blood that left both men reeling. But as Logan prepared to deliver the final blow, a new player entered the fray. A shadowy figure stepped from the trees, their presence radiating power and darkness. "Enough," the figure commanded, their voice echoing through the clearing. The combatants froze, the weight of the command impossible to ignore. Logan’s eyes widened in recognition as the figure stepped into the light, revealing a face he had hoped never to see again. "Hello, Logan," the figure said with a sinister smile. "Did you miss me?" The cliffhanger hung heavy in the air, a harbinger of the battles and betrayals yet to come.