The X-Men gathered in their headquarters beneath the Xavier mansion. “The Sentinels are on their way,” Cyclops said. “We need to head them off and destroy them.” He turned to the mutants gathered in the room. “Storm, you can hit them with lightning to knock out their sensors. Gambit, your explosive playing cards should be great at damaging their joints. Jean Grey — codename pending — your telekinesis should help slow them down. Beast, with your agility and technical know-how, you should really be able to mess them up. Rogue, well, you can fly and are super strong, so just get in there and help where you can. And, of course, I’ll just blast them with my eye lasers. To the X-Jet!”
The X-Men all started to get up, but one voice asked, “What about me, bub?”
Cyclops paused to look at Wolverine who was ready to go in his yellow costume. “Oh… uh… Wolverine… well… I need you guarding the mansion, okay?”
“But don’t you need me helping with the Sentinels?” Wolverine asked. “I’ll get them with my claws!” Wolverine emphasized the point by extending his adamantine claws.
“The thing is,” Cyclops said, “is we’re dealing with thirty-foot-tall robots, so I’m really sure that six-inch knives are going to be particularly effective against them.”
“They’re longer than six inches,” Wolverine responded.
“Sure sure sure,” Cyclops said. “And they’ll be great at guarding the mansion.”
Wolverine thought for a moment. “You never seem that thrilled about taking me on a mission.”
“Well… um…”
“It’s because you don’t really have any superpowers,” Storm said.
“What are you talking about?” Wolverine retracted and extended his claws again. “I got claws!”
“A bunch of blades aren’t superpowers, sugah,” Rogue said.
“Basically, anyone who duct tapes steak knives to his hands would have the same ‘superpowers’ as you,” Beast stated.
“They’re adamantium claws!” Wolverine objected.
“Really fancy steak knives, then,” Beast said.
“But I also have a healing factor!” Wolverine shouted. “That’s a superpower!”
“One you really need, mon ami,” said Gambit, “because your only other power is that you have a bunch of knives, so you get knocked around a lot.”
“It’s the only reason I ever let you come on missions,” Cyclops admitted. “Though I know you won’t help much — since all you can do is cut things — at least I can be sure you won’t get killed.”
“But cutting things is pretty useful, isn’t it?” Wolverine asked.
“I mean, if it’s really an issue on a mission,” Cyclops said, “I keep a knife on my belt. Anyone can cut things. It’s never really critical to have a dedicated cut things guy.”
Wolverine hung his head. “So, I’m useless.”
“No,” came a voice from behind them, “you are the most important X-Man of all.” They turned to see Professor X in his floating chair.
“Really?” Wolverine asked.
“Yes,” Professor X said, “because we sell so many Wolverine-branded merchandise — way more than for any other X-Man. You alone keep this school for gifted mutants funded.”
“I do?”
“You are by far the most popular X-Man there is,” Professor X continued, “even though you are basically useless compared to other mutants with real superpowers. It’s bafflingly, but it is what it is.”
“So why don’t you go to the mall and make an appearance to sell more Wolverine t-shirts,” Cyclops suggested. “That’s a much better use of your time than pointlessly cutting at the feet of giant robots.”
Wolverine sighed. “Fine.”
“I think it’s jealousy,” Batman said as he sat down next to Wolverine at the bar. “I’m the most popular member of the Justice League — everyone loves how dark and gritty I am — but the other members also tried to tell me I’m useless.”
“Yeah, they’re jealous,” Wolverine agreed. “Makes no sense we’d be so popular if we’re not actually great superheroes.”
“No sense at all.”
Wolverine stared a moment at Batman. “And what’s your power again?”
“I’m Batman.”
Wolverine nodded. “So you really are just a guy in a bat costume, bub?”
“Don’t get uppity, Edward Scissorhands.”
I immediately visualized the HISHE animations with Batman and Superman in the diner with the ending.
Batman and Wolverine should just be glad they're not Mr. Stocker.