The year was 1840 when the formation of the Liberal Party ignited the first sparks of conflict between the economic and ideological divisions of the North and South in the United States. This division grew sharper in 1854, with the establishment of the Republican Party, whose anti-slavery stance acted like a match tossed into a pile of dry timber—setting the entire nation ablaze with unrest.
Now, in 1856, America stood on the brink of chaos. President Buchanan, a staunch Democrat, had taken office and wasted no time in pushing forward the infamous Scott Proposal, a policy designed to entrench slavery across the entire country. The land trembled with tension, as reformists and abolitionists clashed against the entrenched power of slave-owning elites.
To the north of the United States, in the vast landscapes of Canada, James Howlett observed these developments with quiet calculation. The winds of change might not have yet reached his family's land, but he knew that turmoil had a way of spilling across borders.
At the moment, however, he had more immediate concerns—expanding the Howlett estate.
---
James stood before a large blueprint, his brow furrowed as he traced the intricate network of tunnels and chambers sketched out before him. The estate's current cellar was woefully inadequate, and given the growing instability in the world, he had decided to expand it into something far greater.
"A manor is only as strong as its foundation," James mused.
Sitting nearby on the balcony, wrapped in a thick wolf fur blanket, was Mr. Howlett—the old patriarch of the family. The afternoon sun bathed him in golden light as he gently rocked in his chair. Despite his years, there was still an air of command about him, his sharp eyes surveying the bustling activity of the estate.
James, seated beside him, peeled an apple with practiced ease, speaking as he worked.
"Considering how uncertain the times are, I believe it would be best to expand the cellar into a proper underground complex. A secure place to store the family's wealth and resources," James explained. "I also plan to construct tunnels connecting the manor to the horse farm and warehouses. A few hidden passages might prove useful should unexpected events arise in the future."
Mr. Howlett waved a hand dismissively, barely glancing at the plans. "Do what you think is best. The family is in your hands now."
James studied his grandfather's expression. Despite his casual words, the old man was fully aware of the gravity of his grandson's preparations. The world was changing, and though Mr. Howlett was too old to act, he trusted James to carry the family forward.
"Would you like to visit the cotton fields in the east for some rest?" James offered. "With all the construction going on, I'd hate to disturb your peace."
Mr. Howlett chuckled, taking a bite of the apple slice James handed him. "If I leave this balcony, I might as well lay down and die somewhere. No, I'd rather sit here, watching the world move around me. Keeps my mind sharp."
James smiled, appreciating the old man's stubbornness.
Mr. Howlett studied his grandson carefully before speaking again. "You've taken on a great deal, James. You're sharp, independent, and you've got vision—Daniel said the same before he left. I won't be around forever, and the family's future will rest on your shoulders soon enough."
The old man then sighed and leaned back, a sly smile creeping onto his face. "That said, it's about time you started thinking about marriage. Our family is too small—just an old man and a young heir. That won't do. You need to start thinking about an heir of your own. Find a good woman… or a few, as long as they can give you strong children."
James let out a strained chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'll think about it, Grandfather. But right now, there's still a lot to do."
He quickly excused himself before the old man could push the conversation further, leaving the balcony with Mr. Howlett's knowing laughter following him.
But despite his escape, his grandfather's words weighed on his mind.
Marriage. Family. A normal life.
For most men, it was a natural path to follow. But for James, things were different.
He wasn't just another heir to a wealthy estate. He was something… more.
Something unnatural.
He had lived for years with the growing realization that he was different. His body was stronger, his wounds healed faster, and there was a fire in his blood that no normal man possessed. He knew now what he was—a creature who would live far beyond his time, a man who would not age as others did.
How could he promise a future to a wife and children when he would inevitably watch them wither and die while he remained unchanged?
"Longevity is a gift in myths, but in reality, it is a curse."
---
Meanwhile, in a nearby town, a French engineer named Herbert Vernon stared in disbelief at the blueprints James had given him.
"Are you certain about these specifications, Mr. Howlett?" Vernon asked, adjusting his spectacles. "I assure you, my team is capable of the work. But… the depth, the scale—this is beyond what is necessary. The cost alone—"
"Don't concern yourself with cost," James interrupted. "All that matters is that it is built, and that it is built to last. Sturdiness is paramount. I need a structure that can withstand the trials of time."
Vernon hesitated before nodding. "Very well. If that is your wish, it shall be done."
As the engineer departed, James turned his attention to the next part of his preparations—the manufacturing of specialized training equipment.
His unnatural strength and endurance required a level of resistance far beyond what ordinary weights could provide.
Giant lead spheres, ranging from 500 to 3,000 kilograms, filled with mercury to shift their balance unpredictably. Heavy armor, segmented and layered to provide maximum resistance while allowing movement. And the most ambitious piece—a rolling iron pillar, two meters wide and four meters tall, covered in protruding steel spikes and requiring three tons of force to move.
It was a training regimen designed not for a man, but for a warrior built for the centuries to come.
But this was only the beginning.
James had already sent men south, into the United States, to gather intelligence. The Civil War was inevitable, and when it came, the world would change forever.
And James Howlett would be ready.
---
That night, in the privacy of his study, James pulled out a black leather notebook from his desk. He flipped through its pages, filled with scribbled notes, scattered dates, and fragmented events—his attempt to record everything he remembered about the Marvel world he now found himself in.
He paused, circling a particular name.
"What happens next… depends on whether I can find them."
He closed the notebook, his gaze hardening.
History was unfolding before him. And this time, he would not simply be a spectator.