The smell of bacon grease wafed through the air, keeping Logan grounded.
He stood over the industrial-sized stove in the mansion's kitchen, a spatula in one hand and a mug of black coffee in the other. His head was pounding—a rhythmic, dull thud behind his eyes that synced with the ticking of the System clock in his peripheral vision.
[Countdown: 0 days, 11 hours, 14 minutes.]
He flipped an egg, watching the yolk jiggle. Sunny-side up. Just the way the kids liked them. It was a mundane task, simple and repetitive, a stark contrast to the blood-soaked memories of the Weapon X facility that had assaulted him all night. But it didn't matter right now, right here. He was just a guy making breakfast.
"You're going to burn that egg if you stare at it any harder, Logan."
The voice drifted in from the doorway, soft and laced with a gentle amusement. Logan didn't turn around; he didn't have to. The air in the kitchen shifted, the heavy, stale heat of the stove replaced by a fresh, ozone-tinged breeze.
"Ain't burnin' nothin', 'Ro," Logan grunted, though the corner of his mouth twitched upward. "Just teachin' the eggs who's boss."
Ororo Munroe walked into his peripheral vision. She was wearing a loose, white caftan that flowed around her like a cloud, her white hair cascading down her back. She looked regal, even at 11 in the morning on a Tuesday.
She moved beside him, picking up the coffee pot. "I suppose the bread is duly intimidated. Here, let me help with the plates."
"I got it," Logan said, but he didn't push her away when she reached for the stack of ceramic plates.
They moved in silence for a moment, a comfortable, practiced rhythm. Logan plated the eggs; Ororo added the fruit and toast. Their shoulders brushed—a brief, warm contact that sent a jolt of electricity through Logan's nerves. He glanced at her sideways. She was humming a low, melodic tune, something from her homeland. But he could see the faint blush on her cheels, and the slight curve of her lips.
"You sleep okay?" he asked, his voice rougher than he intended.
Ororo paused, setting a fork down. She looked at him, her blue eyes searching his face, noting the dark circles and the tension in his jaw. "I slept well. But I believe the better question is... did you?"
Logan looked back at the eggs. "I slept like a log. Not a problem..."
Ororo's expression softened into concern. She reached out, her hand covering his on the countertop. Her skin was cool, a balm against his feverish heat. "The nightmares again?"
"Somethin' like that," he muttered. He turned his hand over, interlacing his fingers with hers, squeezing gently. "Don't worry about it, Darlin'. Just old ghosts rattlin' chains."
Before she could press him further, the peace was shattered by loud screams from the living room.
"HA! Eat plasma, elf-boy!"
"Cheater! You are a cheater!"
"I am not cheating, Kurt, I'm just naturally superior at Halo! Deal with it!"
Logan sighed, the moment broken. He picked up the serving platter, piled high with toast. "Sounds like the zoo is awake."
"Indeed," Ororo chuckled, releasing his hand but lingering for a second longer than necessary. "I shall summon the beasts."
She walked to the archway connecting the kitchen to the living room. "Breakfast is served! And if you do not wash your hands, you do not eat!"
"Coming, Auntie 'Ro!" Evan's voice yelled back.
A second later, the sound of scrambling feet echoed on the hardwood. Kurt Wagner BAMF'd directly onto a stool at the island, grinning mischievously.
"First!" the blue teleporter crowed.
"No fair!" Evan slid into the room in his socks, nearly colliding with the fridge. "No powers in the kitchen, that's the rule!"
"I was walking," Kurt said, looking innocent. "Very fast."
Kitty Pryde phased through the ceiling, dropping lightly onto the floor next to the table. "You guys are such dorks. Morning, Wolvie! Morning, Ororo!"
"Wash up," Logan barked, pointing a spatula at them. "I ain't tellin' you twice."
The kids groaned but scrambled for the sink, a mess of elbows and shoving. It was chaotic, loud, and undeniably alive. For a second, watching them fight over the soap, the System countdown seemed to fade into the background. This was real. They were worth protecting.
Storm began pouring juice. She looked over at Logan. "Logan, would you mind fetching the Professor? He has been in his study all morning. He likely forgot to eat again."
Logan groaned, leaning back against the counter. "Aw, c'mon, 'Ro. I just sat down. Let someone else bring him down here."
Storm gave him a look—that specific look that combined disappointment with a challenge. She tilted her head slightly, her eyes sparkling. "Please? For me? If you go, I will ensure Evan does not eat your share of the bacon."
Logan looked at the bacon. He looked at Storm. He let out a long suffering sigh.
"Fine. But if my coffee gets cold, I'm blamin' you."
"I can reheat it with a thought, Logan. Go."
He grumbled something about being a glorified butler and headed for the stairs.
The transition from the lively kitchen to the upper floors was jarring. As Logan climbed the grand staircase, the noise of the children faded, replaced by the heavy, oppressive silence of the mansion's history.
He walked down the long corridor toward Charles's private quarters. The carpet swallowed the sound of his boots.
Something's wrong.
The thought hit him before he even reached the door. It wasn't the sound. It was the smell.
The scent was ozone—sharp and metallic, like the air right before a lightning strike. But it wasn't Storm's clean, rain-washed scent. This was heavier. It tasted like iron filings on his tongue.
Logan stopped ten feet from the Professor's door. The hair on his arms stood up. His instincts, sharpened by the looming synchronization, were screaming at him. Predator. Powerful. Danger.
"Charles?" Logan called out.
No answer.
He took a step forward. The smell of metal grew stronger. He reached for the brass doorknob.
It wouldn't turn.
It wasn't locked. It felt stuck. He rattled it, but the mechanism was solid, as if the brass had melted and reformed into a solid block.
"Charles!" Logan shouted, pounding on the wood.
A muffled thud came from inside.
BANG!
Logan didn't wait. He took a step back, his leg coiling like a spring, and kicked the door right below the lock.
CRACK.
The wood splintered, and the door flew open, banging against the inner wall.
Logan rushed in, his fists clenched. "Chuck, are you—"
SNIKT.
His claws popped instinctively, six blades of adamantium gleaming in the dim light of the study.
"Get away from him!" Logan roared, scanning the room.
But before he could take another step, the air around him solidified.
It wasn't telekensis. No that wrapped around the body. It was magnetic and wrapped around his bones.
"URGH!"
Logan was lifted off his feet and slammed backward against the wall he had just entered through. The impact knocked the wind out of him, cracking the plaster behind his head.
He tried to push off, to charge, but his body wouldn't obey. His arms were pinned to the wall, spread wide in a mocking crucifixion pose. The metal laced to his skeleton was vibrating, humming with a frequency that set his teeth on edge. His claws moving further apart from each, causing him to groan in pain.
"That is enough, Magnus!" Charles's voice rang out, sharp and authoritative.
Logan grit his teeth, fighting the nausea rising in his gut. He looked across the room.
The balcony doors were open, the curtains billowing in a cold wind. Standing there, silhouetted against the morning sky, was a figure draped in crimson and purple.
Magneto.
He hovered a few inches off the floor, his arms crossed casually behind his back. The helmet—that damned helmet—hid his eyes, but Logan could feel the weight of his gaze. It was heavy, dismissive, and terrifyingly powerful.
"Ah," Magneto said. His voice was calm, cultured, like a man discussing the weather rather than holding a living weapon against a wall. "The Wolverine. I was wondering when the watchdog would bark."
"Let him go, Erik," Charles said. He was sitting in his hover-chair near the desk, looking pale but composed. "He is not your enemy."
"Isn't he?" Magneto turned his head slightly, the magnetic grip on Logan tightening.
Logan groaned, a low, guttural sound. He felt his claws twitching, being pulled apart by an invisible hand. He felt the fillings in his teeth vibrate. He was helpless. Utterly, completely helpless. And he hated it. Logans eyes glowed a toxic yellow, his muscles buldged and his teeth grew canines. The hair around his body darkened and grew longer as Logans strength increased two fold but as he pushed off the wall, the hold Magneto had on him grew and like gravity was pushing him deeper into the wall, fissures spread around his limbs.
"He is a weapon, Charles, and I must say Raven wasn't wrong. He is different, stronger than before." Magneto continued, gliding closer to Xavier. "Though still a tragic experiment wrapped in skin. Look at him. So willing to rush in and die for you. Tell me, Wolverine... do you even know what you are fighting for?"
"I'm fightin'... to kick... your ass," Logan spat, forcing the words through a clenched jaw.
Magneto chuckled darkly. "Spirit. I admire that. It is a shame it is wasted on a shepherd who refuses to tell his sheep about the wolves."
"Erik, stop," Charles warned.
"Why?" Magneto's voice rose, losing its calm veneer. "He deserves to know! You sit here in your mansion, playing school teacher, while the humans build weapons to destroy us! You fill their heads with dreams of coexistence while my brotherhood fights for their survival!"
Magneto raised a hand. Charles's hover-chair jerked forward, sliding across the rug until Charles was face-to-face with his old friend.
"You trust them, Charles?" Magneto hissed. "You say you trust these children? Then why do you lie to them?"
"I protect them!"
"You blind them!" Magneto roared. The magnetic pressure in the room spiked. Logan felt his ribs creaking under the strain of his own metal skeleton.
"One day, old friend," Magneto whispered, leaning down. "One day, you will not be there to hide the truth. And on that day, they will come to me."
With a final, disgusted scoff, Magneto turned. He floated backward, out through the balcony doors.
"Remember my warning, Charles. The war is coming. Pick a side."
And then, he shot upward into the sky, vanishing into the clouds.
The pressure on Logan vanished instantly.
He dropped to the floor, landing on his hands and knees. He gasped, sucking in air, his body trembling from the aftershocks. The humiliation burned hotter than the physical pain. He had been handled like a toy. Liam's memories of the show and comics swirled with Logan's pride—Magneto was out of his league and he hated it.
"Logan!" Charles motored his chair over, his face etched with worry. "Are you alright?"
Logan stayed on the floor for a second, staring at the wool rug. He retracted his claws—snikt-snikt—and slowly pushed himself up. He brushed the plaster dust off his shoulder.
"I'm fine," he growled, though his voice was shaky. "Just... got caught off guard. That's all."
"I am sorry you had to see that," Charles said quietly.
Logan looked at the Professor. "We need to talk, Chuck. Now."
"We will," Charles nodded. "But not here. And not... not in front of the others. Please, Logan. The children are downstairs. If they knew what happened here..."
Logan wiped a trickle of blood from his nose. He hated the secrets. He hated the game. But he thought of Kurt and Evan laughing in the kitchen. He thought of Storm.Of Kittys smile.
"Fine," Logan said. "Breakfast first. Then answers. But don't think I'm lettin' this slide."
"I would expect nothing less," Charles said.
Logan walked behind the chair. "I told you to stay out of my head, by the way."
"I wasn't in your head, Logan," Charles said, a faint smile returning. "I heard Kitty screaming about toast through the floorboards."
The walk back to the kitchen was a true testament in acting. Logan forced his shoulders to relax. He smoothed his hair and brought out "Logan the Grumpy Teacher."
When they entered the kitchen, the scene was exactly as they had left it—peaceful, happy, oblivious.
"Ah, there you are!" Storm beamed, turning from the stove. "Professor, I made you tea. Earl Grey, hot."
"Thank you, Ororo," Charles said, gliding to the head of the table. "My apologies for the delay. I was... catching up on some reading."
Logan sat down heavily at his spot. Storm immediately placed a plate of eggs and bacon in front of him. She lingered for a second, her hand resting on his shoulder.
"You took a long time," she murmured, too low for the kids to hear. "Is everything okay?"
Logan looked up at her. He wanted to tell her. He wanted to say Magneto was just here and he tossed me like a ragdoll. Instead, he forced a smile. He took her hand and squeezed it.
"Just helpin' the Professor with a... jammed door. Eatin' time now."
He picked up his fork, stabbing the eggs. The food tasted like ash, but he ate it. For them.
Conversation flowed around him. Kurt was recounting a movie he watched. Kitty was complaining about a math test. It was normal. It was safe.
Logan looked at the kids—Kitty's bright smile, Kurt's blue fur ruffled from the game, Evan's youthful bravado. He hated the secret. He hated the lie. But he saw the peace in the room and realized why Charles kept the masks on. He nodded, but his eyes stayed on his plate.
Storm didn't buy the lie. She reached out under the table, her warm hand finding Logan's. She squeezed his fingers, her touch a silent anchor in the storm of his thoughts.
Logan looked up and met her eyes. He didn't talk—he couldn't find the words—but he squeezed her hand back, a gentle but firm grip that told her he was still there.
"You haven't eaten enough, Logan," Storm said softly, sliding an extra portion of eggs onto his plate. "You need your strength for the training session."
Her care was warm, a shield against the cold iron feeling Magneto had left in his blood.A stillness, one that neither Wolverine nor Liam had ever known.
Timeskip:
The breakfast ended nicely. The kids returned to the game in the living room, since they had a break out of school today they decided to enjoy themeselves. Logan and Charles left earlier and Storm had decided to work on the plants int he garden.
Then, Storm's phone rang.
The sharp, electronic trill cut through the laughter. Ororo pulled it from her pocket, glancing at the screen. Her brow furrowed.
"Jean ?" she asked herself, looking confused. "That is odd. She should be on the bus with Scott and Rogue by now. Electronic devices are usually prohibited on these excursions."
She answered it. "Jean? Is everything alright? ... What?"
"Jean, slow down," Storm said, her voice rising in pitch. "You are where? At home? But... but the bus left an hour ago.".
"Replaced?" Storm's eyes went wide. . "Principal Darkholme removed you from the trip roster this morning. To make room for Rogue ? But why would she do that ?"
" Ah yes i'll be there soon. "
Hanging up Storm rushed to the car Keys on the kitchen counter. Grabbed them and rushed out to the garage
In the study:
They stood by the fireplace in the study, the flames licking at the logs. Logan leaned above the flames while Charles sat behind looking at Logans back.
"What did he mean, Charles?" Logan asked, leaning his shoulder against the mantle. "What aren't you telling them?"
Charles stared into the fire. "The principal of Bayville High... Principal Darkholme. She is Mystique, Logan. Magneto's right hand."
Logan's eyes narrowed. Of cours he knew but he needed to play the fool. "And you didn't tell 'em? You let 'em go to school every day with a wolf in the sheeps clothing?"
"I wanted to protect their innocence for as long as possible," Charles whispered. "How do I tell them their mentor is their enemy?"
"By trustin' 'em!" Logan snapped. "They aren't glass, Charles. They're mutants. They know how to hide, they know how to fight. You taught 'em that. Now believe in it."
Before Charles could respond, the heavy oak doors to the study burst open. Storm and Jean Grey walked in, their faces masks of urgency.
Ororo:" Trouble brewing. In the mountains there is a snow storm."
"Ororo? Jean? Why aren't you on the school trip?" Charles asked.
Jean:" I was going with them but principal Darkholme. Made a change in the last minute for Rogue".
Logan's heart plummeted. The scent. The boy on the bus. Raven
Logan reached into his pocket. His hand shook as he pulled out the matching communicator to the one he had given Rogue.
"Rogue," he barked into the device. "Rogue, do you copy?"
Static. White noise.
"Rogue! Pick up!"
Then, a sound cut through the static.
"Logan...?"
It was faint, distorted by distance and interference, but the fear in her voice was crystal clear.
"Logan... help... Scott's... something's wrong... the driver... she looks like..."
CRACKLE.
"...she's here! LOGAN!"
The line went dead.
"ROGUE!" Logan screamed into the device. "ROGUE!"
Silence.
Charles's face had gone ashen. He pressed two fingers to his temple, his eyes closing in intense concentration. "I cannot reach Scott. It may be the blizzard. Or a psychic interference. It's blocking me."
"It's Mystique," Logan growled, shoving the communicator back into his pocket. "She separated 'em. She's got Rogue."
"We must go," Charles said, his voice steel. "To the Blackbird. Now."
The launch was a blur of motion. The basketball court split open, the roar of the jets drowning out the panic.
Logan sat in the pilot's seat, his hands flying over the controls. The System was flashing red warnings in his vision, but he ignored them.
[Countdown: 7 hours 2 minutes.]
"Shut up," he hissed.
"Engines are hot!" he shouted over his shoulder. "Hang on!"
The Blackbird shot into the sky, banking hard toward the north.
The flight was agonizing. Every minute felt like an hour. As they approached the mountain range, the sky turned a bruised, violent purple. A blizzard—unnatural and ferocious—was battering the peaks.
"I can't see a damn thing!" Logan shouted, fighting the stick as the jet bucked in the turbulence. "Storm! Can you clear this?"
"I am trying!" Storm yelled from behind him. Her eyes were glowing pure white, her arms raised. "This weather... it is not natural! It is being fought for! Someone is amplifying the storm!"
"Jean!" Logan barked. "Find her! I don't need eyes if I have a lock!"
"I'm searching!" Jean cried, her hands pressed to her temples. "There's so much noise... wait! I feel a flare! It's Scott!"
Through the swirling snow, a beam of concussive red energy punched a hole in the clouds, shooting straight up into the stratosphere like a beacon.
"I see it!" Logan yelled. "Hang on, I'm taking us down!"
He pushed the stick forward. The Blackbird dove, the G-force pressing them into their seats.
Below them, on a precarious, icy bridge spanning a bottomless chasm, was a scene from a nightmare.
Scott was face down in the snow, unmoving. Rogue was standing over him, her arms raised in a futile attempt to shield him. And hovering above them, wings beating against the storm, was a massive golden eagle.
As the Blackbird screamed overhead, the eagle looked up. Its eyes were yellow. Malevolent.
"Mystique," Logan growled.
He didn't wait for a landing zone. There wasn't one.
"Charles, take the stick!" Logan unbuckled.
"Logan, wait! It's too dangerous!"
"Open the hatch!"
The rear ramp lowered. The wind howled into the cabin, freezing instantly. Logan stood at the edge, the wind whipping his hair.
"Give it up, Raven!" he roared into the storm. "Or you're gonna be tanglin' with the Wolverine!"
He jumped.
He fell through the air, a guided missile of adamantium and rage. He landed on the ice bridge with a heavy THUD, the impact cracking the surface. He slid to a halt between the eagle and the kids, his claws popping out.
SNIKT.
The eagle shrieked, banking away and landing on the far cliff edge. It shifted, feathers melting into blue skin, until Mystique stood there. But she didn't stop shifting. She grew. Her skin turned grey and rocky. Her shoulders broadened.
She laughed—a sound like rocks grinding together.
"I'm sorry, Logan," she boomed, her voice deep and distorted as she took on the form of the Juggernaut. "But you're too late."
"Rogue!" Logan didn't look back. "Grab Scott! We're leaving!"
"Logan!" Rogue was sobbing, her face pale blue with cold. "He won't wake up! I can't lift him!"
Logan turned. He grabbed Scott by the harness of his jacket, hauling the boy up effortlessly. "I got him. Jean! Get ready to catch!"
He looked up at the hovering Blackbird. Jean was standing on the ramp, her telekinetic aura flaring blue.
"Now!" Logan shouted.
He threw Scott. It was a massive heave, sending the boy spiraling up toward the jet. Jean's power caught him, pulling him safely into the hold. Where Kitty and Evan grabbed him and gently laid him down.
Logan turned back to Rogue. She was shaking so hard she could barely stand.
"Logan..." she whispered. "I'm cold."
"I know, darlin'," Logan said. He grabbed her arm, pulling her close. "But you're gonna be okay."
BOOM.
Mystique—in Juggernaut form—slammed her fists into the cliffside.
The shockwave hit the ice bridge. A spiderweb of cracks shot out from the anchor point. The ground beneath them groaned.
"I can't hold on. The blizzard grows stronger!!" Storm screamed from the jet. Charles struggled to hold the blackbird steady as the wind batted it around like a kite in a storm.
There was no time.
Logan looked at Rogue. He saw the trust in her eyes.
"See ya later, kid," he said, a sad smile touching his lips.
"What?"
He didn't explain. He grabbed her by the waist and the collar of her jacket. He spun, using the centrifugal force to launch her into the air.
"GO!"
Rogue screamed as she flew upward. "LOGAN!"
Kurt appeared at the edge of the ramp, his tail wrapping around the railing, his hand stretching out. He caught Rogue's wrist just as she reached the apex of the throw. He pulled her in.
Logan stood alone on the bridge.
He looked across the chasm at Mystique. She smiled.
The ice shattered.
The bridge gave way completely.
"LOGAN!" Jean's scream tore through the psychic plane, echoing in his head louder than the storm.
Logan didn't scream. He just fell.
He watched the Blackbird get smaller and smaller, a grey speck in the whiteout. The wind roared in his ears. The cold bit into his skin.
And his vision went dark
Two chapters in one day !! Everyone give a round of thanks to Daniel_Setchell for guessing the right answer !