Disclaimer: not mine. All mentioned herein belong to Marvel.
Notes: Set after issue 55, Vol. 3 Wolverine .

It's done.

The runt did good. Nice and clean. Well, as clean as can be expected of either o' us.

And I'm dead. About fuckin' time.

Like a load been lifted off my shoulders. (Never said I was above a bad pun or two.) Relief, really. Been trying to get that sawed-off punk to kill me for ages.

Wish I coulda told 'im about Romulus. Was too much of a coward tho'. Wish he'd killed me before he ever remembered the bastard's name. That lousy son of bitch fucked us both over. Logan an' me.

I mean, how'd you feel if you never knew if'n when you went to buy a pack a smokes whether you'd walk out with the smokes, or you'd come out covered in the blood o' clerk? That ain't life, kiddies, never was.

And now it's over.

Going to Hell, I guess. Maybe the scenery'll be different. Can't say much of anything else is gonna be.