Wolverine Upgrade

The garage-turned-lab hummed with the faint whir of 3D printers and the soft glow of LED strips strung across whiteboards. Isaac, the de facto leader of the team, paced in front of a makeshift projector screen. He held a laser pointer in one hand and a soda can in the other, gesturing wildly as he spoke.

“This,” he said, clicking to reveal a slide with a 3D-rendered animation of nanobots clustering around a glowing blue bone. “This is Wolverine. Or, as the FDA will call it, Nano Regenerative Therapy Version One. But we like ‘Wolverine’ better, because it’s cooler and because—well, you get it.”

Across from him, Sam Price, their high school buddy turned marine, sat in his wheelchair with arms crossed. His face was unreadable, his eyes flicking between the animation and Isaac’s face.

“I don’t see claws,” Sam said dryly, breaking the silence.

“Not yet!” chimed in Mia, the team’s bioengineer, perched on a stool with a tablet balanced on her knees. “But give us a year and some adamantium, and who knows?”

Sam’s lips twitched into the faintest smile, but he didn’t interrupt.

Isaac lowered his soda, taking a more serious tone. “Look, we know this sounds crazy. Reprogramming nanobots to work with cancer cells instead of destroying them? It’s cutting-edge. Hell, it’s practically sci-fi. But it’s also…possible. Really possible.”

He gestured to Daniel, their coder, who spun his chair around to face Sam. “The idea hit us when we read this paper on deer antlers,” Daniel said, pushing his glasses up. “Turns out, they’re basically tumors that grow out of control but in a way that’s…well, useful. So, we thought—what if we could use that same principle? Not to make antlers, obviously, but to—”

“To make legs,” Isaac finished. “Your legs.”

Sam glanced down at the space where his legs used to be, then back up at Isaac. “You’re serious?”

“Dead serious,” Isaac said, taking a step closer. “This isn’t some snake oil pitch. Mia’s already proven the concept in lab tests with tissue regeneration. Daniel’s built the neural network to adapt the nanobots in real-time. And I—”

“You’re the idea guy,” Sam said, raising an eyebrow.

Isaac grinned. “Exactly. The idea guy.”

Mia leaned forward, her voice softer. “Sam, we know you’ve been through hell. And we can’t pretend this is an easy fix. There are risks—every cutting-edge technology has risks. But if you let us try this…we think we can give you your life back.”

Sam was silent for a long moment. The hum of the printers filled the air. Finally, he looked up at the team, his face unreadable.

“Why me?” he asked.

“Because you’re the reason we started this,” Isaac said, his voice steady. “When we heard what happened to you, it stopped being about patents and money and all that startup crap. It became about you. About proving we could make a difference.”

Sam exhaled sharply through his nose, his gaze dropping to the animation on the screen. The nanobots pulsed and glowed, weaving together the missing piece of bone like tiny architects.

“You really think this’ll work?” he said finally.

“We don’t think,” Mia said with a determined smile. “We know.”

Sam nodded slowly. “Alright. Let’s do it.”

Isaac whooped, throwing his soda can into the air. Daniel and Mia high-fived, their cheers echoing in the small garage. Sam’s smile broke through at last, faint but genuine.

“Don’t make me regret this, nerds,” he said.

“Never,” Isaac promised, grabbing the laser pointer. “Now let’s talk timelines. You’re gonna need a lot of protein powder.”

The large oak table, normally crowded with miniatures and battle maps, was cleared of dice and character sheets for the first time in months. Instead, it was piled with notebooks, tablets, and a half-eaten pizza. Sam sat at the head of the table, his legs—his legs—stretched out in front of him.

Isaac leaned over, inspecting Sam’s knee as if it were a rare artifact. “Okay, but seriously, does it feel, like…weird? Alien? Wolverine-y?”

Sam smirked, shifting in his seat. “It feels like legs, Isaac. Solid. Real. A little sore, though, like I just ran a marathon. And the hunger is no joke. I’ve been eating like it’s Thanksgiving every day for month.”

“Probably the cellular demands,” Mia said, scribbling notes. “Your body was working overtime to regenerate. The nanobots built the structure, but your cells had to fill in the gaps—muscle, tissue, blood vessels, nerves. That kind of regrowth takes fuel.”

Daniel nodded, shoving a slice of pizza into his mouth. “So, like, protein shakes and pizza are the new staples for Wolverine treatment. Noted.”

“And the pain level?” Mia asked, glancing up.

Sam shrugged. “Manageable. It was worse the first few days, but after that, it was more of a dull ache. Like a bad workout. Nothing I couldn’t handle.”

Mia made another note, muttering to herself. “Reduced pain sensitivity…fascinating.”

Sam stretched, flexing his toes. “The weirdest part is how normal they feel. Like they’ve always been there.”

“Well, they were supposed to feel normal,” Daniel said, gesturing with his pizza slice. “That’s the whole point.”

“Yeah, but this normal?” Sam leaned forward, his expression shifting. “I haven’t felt this good in years. My legs are better than they ever were. And—” He hesitated, adjusting his glasses out of habit, then dropped them on the table. “I don’t need these anymore.”

The room went silent.

“You don’t need glasses?” Isaac repeated, frowning.

Sam nodded. “My vision’s perfect now. Better than 20/20. It’s like the nanobots fixed everything.”

“That…wasn’t supposed to happen,” Mia said, her voice tight with curiosity. “The treatment was localized to your legs. There shouldn’t have been any systemic effects.”

“But there were,” Isaac said, standing. He paced the room, running a hand through his hair. “If Wolverine can fix more than just what we target—what happens if we use it on someone who doesn’t need regeneration?”

Daniel perked up. “Oh, you’re thinking about taking it, aren’t you?”

Isaac stopped pacing. “Yeah. I mean, Sam’s already on board for more data collection, right?”

Sam leaned back with a grin. “Hell yeah. I’ll be your guinea pig for as long as you need me.”

Isaac nodded, his jaw tightening with determination. “Good. Then I’ll take it, too. We need to know how this works on a healthy baseline. If the nanobots are doing more than we intended, we need to understand why—and what it means for future treatments.”

Mia looked skeptical. “Are you sure about this? We’re venturing into uncharted territory here.”

Isaac grinned. “When have we ever not done that?”

The team chuckled, tension breaking slightly.

“Alright,” Mia said, closing her notebook. “Let’s plan for a follow-up meeting in a month. Sam, keep track of any changes, no matter how minor. Isaac, same for you once you start. We’ll compare notes then.”

Everyone nodded in agreement, already buzzing with ideas and theories.

Sam raced along the city trail, his feet pounding the pavement. Sweat dripped down his face, but his grin was unstoppable. It had been years since he’d felt this alive—like nothing was out of reach. He pushed harder, faster, the wind whipping past him as he sprinted up a hill, his new legs carrying him effortlessly.

Meanwhile, in the garage-lab, Isaac sat cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by a sea of research papers, tablets, and scattered dice. A miniature wizard stared up at him from the floor.

“Alright, Gandalf,” Isaac muttered, adjusting his glasses. “Let’s see if nanobots can make me a better Dungeon Master.”

He had started the treatment a week ago and hadn’t felt anything dramatic yet. But his mind felt sharper—like ideas clicked faster than they used to. He rolled a die experimentally and smirked.

“Natural twenty,” he said to himself.

The team gathered in the garage-lab, the air electric with anticipation. Sam stood at the center, practically vibrating with energy.

“Alright, you guys ready for this?” Sam said, cracking his knuckles.

Daniel leaned back in his chair, smirking. “Show us what you’ve got, Captain America.”

Sam laughed and stepped forward, casually lifting the lab’s heavy workbench with one hand. The room erupted in shouts of disbelief and laughter as he spun it around effortlessly before setting it back down.

“That’s just the warm-up,” Sam said, dropping into a low squat and leaping into the air. He flipped mid-jump, landing perfectly on the garage rafters.

“Holy—” Daniel cut off, his jaw dropping.

Mia scribbled furiously in her notebook, muttering calculations under her breath.

“And the reaction time,” Sam continued, pulling a set of juggling balls from his bag. He tossed them into the air, juggling them so fast they blurred. Then, grinning, he tossed one at Isaac’s head.

Isaac didn’t flinch. “Nice try.”

Sam landed gracefully on the floor and grinned, tugging off his shirt. His torso was a map of perfectly defined muscles, every sinew and line a testament to his transformed physique.

“Jealous yet?” Sam asked, flexing.

Daniel whistled. “Dude, are you even human anymore?”

“Barely,” Sam said, laughing. “It’s like my body’s been optimized. Faster, stronger, more agile—like I’m built for anything.”

Isaac, who had been unusually quiet, leaned back against the wall, arms crossed. Sam finally noticed.

“Alright, Isaac,” Sam said, catching his breath. “Your turn. Show us what the nanobots did to you.”

Isaac hesitated, then sighed. “Fine. But don’t freak out.”

He pulled off his shirt. At first glance, there wasn’t much to see—he looked lean but not particularly muscular. Sam raised an eyebrow, confused.

Then Isaac turned around.

The room froze.

Protruding from his back were two large, feathered wings. They were partially folded, their glossy black feathers catching the light.

“Holy crap!” Daniel shouted, jumping to his feet.

Mia’s notebook hit the floor. “Oh my god.”

Sam’s jaw dropped. “Isaac…what the hell?!”

Isaac gave them an awkward smile, his wings twitching slightly. “Yeah. This started about a week ago.”

Mia hurried over, inspecting the wings with wide-eyed fascination. “This…this is incredible. You’ve grown full appendages. Functional appendages!”

“They work, too,” Isaac said, unfurling the wings slightly. A gust of air swept through the room, rustling papers and causing Daniel to shield his face.

Mia stepped back, still staring in awe. “It makes sense,” she said, her voice trembling with excitement. “We’ve always known that physical activity and biological chemicals affect the way you think. But the reverse is also true—how you think changes your body chemistry. Your imagination, your identity, your intentions—they shape you on a molecular level. And with the nanobots amplifying that connection…” She gestured at Isaac’s wings. “This is the result.”

“So…because Isaac thought he could fly, he grew wings?” Daniel asked, still trying to process.

“Not just thought,” Mia said. “He believed it. He focused on it. The nanobots didn’t just repair—they evolved.”

The room fell silent, the weight of Mia’s words settling over them.

Sam broke the tension with a grin. “Okay, but does that mean if I think hard enough, I can grow claws or something?”

Isaac chuckled, his wings folding neatly behind him. “I guess we’ll find out.”

Mia shook her head, still scribbling. “This changes everything. We’re not just talking about regeneration anymore. We’re talking about directed evolution. Self-designed biology.”

“Or self-destruction,” Isaac said quietly.

The group sobered at his words, the enormity of what they’d unleashed dawning on them.

“Whatever happens next,” Mia said, looking around the room, “we need to be careful. This is bigger than us now.”

Isaac nodded. “Agreed. But we’ve already started something incredible. Let’s make sure we do it right.”

The team exchanged determined looks, the thrill of discovery tempered by the responsibility ahead.