I sighed, there was something about killing that frightened me, all my enemies before. I knew wouldn't die if I cut them or dismembered a limb. But not this time, this time I knew Weapon H wouldn't get up anymore. And it scared me...Just how little I cared about that. Like killing was normal, like life meant nothing to me...
No Ones Pov:
VRRR BRUUUUUU!!!!
The high-pitched, metallic whine of jet thrusters cut through the freezing Canadian air. I looked up and there it was, the X-Jet. The cloaking field dissolved, revealing the sleek, black aircraft as it descended rapidly, kicking up a violent storm of loose snow and ash from the ruined crater. It settled heavily onto the shattered bedrock, the hydraulic hiss of the rear ramp lowering instantly echoing across the battlefield.
Before the ramp even fully touched the ground, the interior bay lights spilled out into the darkness, and three figures sprinted down the incline.
BAMF!
A cloud of purple brimstone smoke exploded at the base of the ramp. Kurt appeared instantly, his yellow eyes wide, his blue fur practically standing on end. "Mein Gott! It is you! You are alive!"
Kurt didn't hesitate. He threw his three-lobed arms around Logan's neck, hugging him mutant with a desperate, crushing strength, his prehensile tail wrapping tightly around Logan's thigh.
"Like, oh my gosh, Logan!" Kitty Pryde shrieked, sprinting right behind Kurt. She launched herself forward, her face streaked with tears. In her absolute panic and overwhelming joy, she lost control of her mutation for a split second, phasing her arms straight through Logan's ribcage before she snapped back to solid matter, burying her face into his chest and gripping the shredded, blood-soaked fabric of his shirt.
Jean Grey was right on her heels. She didn't shout, but her green eyes were filled with tears. She threw her arms over Logan's shoulders, pressing her forehead against his jaw, her entire body trembling with silent sobs.
"We thought you were gone," Jean choked out, her empathic abilities making her completely overwhelmed by the sheer, raw relief flooding the group. "The Professor lost track of your mind on Cerebro. We couldn't feel you. We looked everywhere, Logan. I promise, we never stopped looking."
The physical sensation of the triple-hug hit him like a freight train. He could feel just how scared and worried they were for him, their worried expressions and their relief.
But deeper than the physical feeling was a wave of affection, he really did miss these kids. So much. The bleeding wound left in his soul from taking Weapon H's life just moments ago suddenly felt less hollow under the warmth of their arms.
Logan slowly raised his heavy, blood-stained arms, wrapping them around the teenagers, pulling them tightly against his chest.
"I'm here, half-pint," Logan's raspy voice rumbled. He rested a heavy hand on Kurt's head, giving it a rough pat. "I'm right here. Ain't that easy to get rid of me. You kids should know that by now."
A few paces back, standing perfectly still at the top of the ramp, Scott Summers had his arms crossed tightly over his chest. His red quartz visor gleamed in the ambient light, his posture rigid, his expression entirely masked by his typical, boy-scout stiffness.
As the group slowly detached from the hug, Scott took a single, measured step forward. He cleared his throat.
"Hello, Logan. Glad you made it back."
It was a simple, flat, completely bland greeting. No tears. No cracking voice. Just a standard, professional acknowledgment of his prescence.
Before the awkward silence could even settle, a yellow-and-white blur skateboarded down the ramp. Spike flipped the deck effortlessly into his hand, sliding to a halt right beside Scott. Spyke grinned from ear to ear, completely ignoring Cyclops's stiff demeanor as he looked Logan up and down.
"Yo, look at you, man!" Evan laughed, stepping up and slamming his fist against Logan's shoulder in a heavy, familiar greeting. "You look like you went ten rounds with a meat grinder and actually won! Good to have you back, old man. The mansion's been way too quiet without you barking at us to clean up the garage."
"Missed you too, kid," Logan muttered, a faint, genuine smirk pulling at the corner of his lips.
Then, Evan's eyes drifted past Logan's shoulder. The skater's smile instantly vanished. He took a quick step back, his bone spikes instinctively threatening to break through the skin of his forearms.
Standing at the edge of the tree line, shivering violently in a tattered, oversized flannel coat, was Bruce Banner.
Scott's hand immediately flew to the side of his visor, his fingers resting dangerously on the activation button. His entire body tensed into a rigid combat stance. Jean's hands glowed with a faint pink telekinetic aura. Kitty gasped, grabbing Kurt's arm.
Bruce flinched, his eyes darting frantically between the glowing hands and the red visor. He shrank back, shoving his trembling hands deep into his pockets.
Cyclops through clenched teeth asked. " Logan, why are you with this guy. This thing killed dozens of people !"
"Whoa, whoa, easy, Cyke. Stand down," Logan barked, his voice dropping into a low, commanding authority that made Scott's fingers instantly freeze. Logan gestured toward the terrified scientist. "Kids, this is Bruce. He's with me, and he needs help. He's the only reason I'm standing here right now."
Bruce offered a tiny, incredibly nervous wave, his teeth chattering. "Uh... hi. Nice to... meet you all. Please don't... shoot me with the laser eyes. I've had a really, really bad day."
Kitty blinked. Her natural, bubbly empathy instantly overrode her fear as she saw how pathetic and freezing the scientist looked. "Like, oh my gosh, he's freezing, Logan! Let's get him inside the jet before he catches hyperthermia!"
Bruce had been bundled into a corner seat, wrapped tightly in three separate warm blankets, sipping nervously from a thermos of hot tea that Kurt had eagerly fetched for him.
The teenagers sat in the forward cabin, casting curious, whispered glances back at Bruce, but Logan remained standing near the cockpit bulkhead. His untucked, shredded shirt swayed slightly with the turbulence of the flight, his arms crossed over his chest.
Logan leaned heavily against the steel console, his piercing eyes scanning the cabin.
"Where's Ororo?" he asked quietly. "Thought she'd be the first one off the ramp."
Jean looked up from her seat, a soft, incredibly warm smile spreading across her face. "She wanted to come, Logan. She really did. But we needed someone to remain with the professor back at the mansion while we all left to get you. But she really missed you."
"Yeah, man, she never gave up on you," Evan chimed in, leaning back in his seat. He cast a deliberate, pointed glare straight across the aisle at Scott, who was piloting the jet. "Not even for a single second. She was up in the attic every night, watching the moon. Even when some people—not pointing any fingers, obviously," Evan coughed loudly and obnoxiously into his fist, "cough Scott cough—thought you were toast and that we should focus on 'protocol' and training."
Scott's jaw clenched so tightly the muscles visibly popped against his cheekbones. He didn't turn his head, keeping his eyes locked firmly on the glowing flight controls. "I was following the Professor's teachings, Evan. We had no psychic signatures, no telepathic link, and Magneto's Brotherhood was active. I didn't say I wanted him dead. I said we had to be realistic."
"Yeah, well, your 'realism' is totally bogus, man," Evan shot back, rolling his eyes. "You practically packed up his room."
"I did not!" Scott snapped, his voice cracking slightly with defensive anger.
"Enough," Logan grunted, shutting them both up instantly. He didn't have the energy to deal with the kid's rigid mentality right now.
Logan shifted his weight, his eyes sweeping the remaining seats. A sudden, heavy realization hit Liam's mind. He scanned the faces again, noticing the empty jump seat in the back.
"Hey," Logan said, his voice dropping into a rougher cadence. "Where's the kid? Where's Rogue?"
The entire cabin went dead silent.
The casual, bickering atmosphere of high school teenagers instantly vanished, replaced by an oppressive tension. Jean immediately dropped her gaze to her lap, her fingers twisting the fabric of her uniform nervously. Kitty suddenly found the floor tiles fascinating, her lower lip trembling slightly. Kurt let out a low, sad whimper, his tail curling tightly around his own leg as he looked away. Evan completely lost his cocky skater attitude, turning his head to stare blankly out the dark glass of the jet window.
Logan's feral instincts flared violently at the sudden shift in scent. The cabin was suddenly reeking of fear, guilt, and profound, heavy sadness.
"What is it?" Logan demanded, taking a heavy step forward into the center aisle. "What happened to her? Did the Brotherhood get to her? Is she hurt?"
Scott engaged the jet's autopilot and finally spun his pilot's chair around to face Logan. His expression was incredibly grim, the red glow of his visor casting harsh, dramatic shadows over his face.
"Logan... just drop it for now," Scott said stiffly. "The Professor will explain everything when we get to the school. It's... it's complicated."
"I don't give a damn about complicated, One-Eye," Logan growled, taking another threatening step forward. The skin over his knuckles tightened, the threatening promise of adamantium hanging in the air. "Tell me where Rogue is."
"Logan, please," Jean begged, standing up quickly and placing a gentle, trembling hand on his scarred forearm. Her green eyes were swimming with genuine pain, her telepathy practically radiating an overwhelming plea for him to stop pushing. "Please don't force us to tell you. It hurts too much to even talk about. Just... wait until we land. Charles will give you the truth. We promise."
Logan stared down into Jean's eyes, seeing the raw, unadulterated heartbreak reflecting back at him. Inside his chest, Liam's mind raced, pulling from the deep lore of the Evolution universe.
She left, Liam realized, the puzzle pieces clicking into place. Rogue actually left the institute.
He slowly let his breath out through his nose in a heavy, angry hiss. His muscles forcefully relaxed under Jean's touch. "Fine. But the second we hit the ground, I'm getting answers. And they better be good."
The X-Jet touched down with absolute precision in the subterranean hangar beneath the Xavier Institute. The moment the hydraulic ramp hit the concrete floor, Logan was already walking down.
And there she was.
Ororo stood there, her long, snowy-white hair cascading over her shoulders. She wore her civilian clothes—a flowing, dark elegant sweater—but the air pressure around her was visibly crackling with raw, uncontained static electricity.
Her striking blue eyes locked onto Logan's scarred, blood-stained form.
"Logan," she whispered, her usual calm composure completely fracturing into pieces.
She flew across the hangar, completely abandoning her regal dignity. Logan met her halfway, dropping his guard entirely as they crashed into a desperate, intensely emotional embrace. Ororo buried her face deep into the crook of his neck, her arms locking around his broad back with a fierce, trembling desperation.
Logan held her just as tightly. His massive hands rested firmly against her back, his eyes closing as he inhaled the familiar, intoxicating scent of rain, fresh ozone, and jasmine that constantly radiated from her. He could hear her heart hammering wildly against her ribcage, the rhythm completely out of control. Her fingers gripped his shoulders so tightly it almost hurt, her thumbs tracing the edges of his torn muscles as if trying to physically verify that he was real, that he was solid.
"I worried so much," she wept softly into his ear, her voice a fragile, broken whisper meant only for him. " I could barely control the storms. I thought... I thought you were gone."
"I'm sorry, 'Roro," Logan murmured, his raspy voice dropping to its softest register. He rested his chin gently against her white hair, holding her just a fraction tighter. "I'm sorry I dragged it out so long. But I'm back. I ain't going nowhere."
They held each other for a long, quiet moment, the electric tension between them palpable, speaking volumes that neither of them would ever voice aloud. Slowly, Ororo pulled back. She didn't let go of him entirely, her hands lingering on his arms as her eyes carefully scanned his freshly healed face, wiping a stray tear from her own cheek.
She then noticed Bruce, who was stepping nervously off the ramp behind the teenagers, looking hyper-aware of how pristine and high-tech the underground hangar was.
"Ororo, this is Bruce Banner," Logan introduced, stepping back slightly to give the scientist room. "Bruce, this is Ororo. Storm."
Ororo immediately wiped away any remaining trace of her tears. She took a deep breath, and instantly, the regal, grounded hostess returned. The static in the air vanished. She offered a warm, incredibly gentle smile, extending her hand.
"Welcome to our home, Dr. Banner," Ororo said, her voice rich and soothing. "Logan's friends are always welcome here. You look exhausted. We will have a secure room and hot food prepared for you immediately."
Bruce blinked, visibly stunned by her beauty and her warmth. He cautiously reached out, shaking her hand. "Thank you. Truly. I... I really appreciate it, ma'am."
"Evan, Kurt, please show Dr. Banner to the guest quarters in the east wing," Ororo instructed, turning back to the teenagers.
"You got it, Storm," Evan said, waving for Bruce to follow. Kurt instantly BAMFed to Bruce's side, making the scientist jump out of his skin, before gently guiding him toward the elevators.
Ororo's expression then shifted, the warmth fading into a serious, heavy look as she turned back to Logan. "Charles is waiting for you, Logan. In his study. He... has been tracking your approach since the jet entered New York airspace."
"Yeah," Logan grunted, his face instantly hardening as the thought of Rogue rushed violently back to the front of his mind. "Let's go see Chuck."
The hallways of the mansion were quiet, the polished wood floors reflecting the soft, warm light of the chandeliers. Logan and Ororo walked in heavy silence, their footsteps echoing softly until they reached the heavy, mahogany double doors of the Professor's private study.
Ororo pushed the doors open, stepping aside to let Logan enter first.
The study was lined with thousands of leather-bound books, a massive grandfather clock ticking softly in the corner. Behind a large, cluttered oak desk sat Charles Xavier. He looked exactly as he remembered.
Charles manually rolled his high-tech wheelchair out from behind the desk, a profound, visible wave of relief washing over his aging features.
"Logan," Charles said, his voice carrying that familiar, rich, paternal warmth. He rolled forward until he was right in front of the feral mutant, reaching out to place a warm hand on Logan's forearm. "My dear friend. Words cannot express the joy I feel seeing you returned to us. When your mind went dark... I was truly troubled and worried. I hoped you were safe and it warms my heart to find that my hopes weren't unfounded."
"Good to see you too, Chuck," Logan said, his voice surprisingly soft. He tilted his head slightly back toward the door. "I brought a guest. Bruce Banner. I reckon you already know all about him."
Charles offered a sad, knowing nod, his eyes dipping slightly. "Yes. I felt Dr. Banner's unique, tortured mental echo the moment your jet entered the grounds. The... incredible burden he carries within his mind is deafening. I already know exactly why he is here, Logan. He is seeking sanctuary, and a way to suppress the beast within. He will find both here. I will do everything in my power to help him find peace."
Logan didn't look surprised. He knew Charles' telepathy was absolute. He crossed his arms over his chest, his posture turning rigid as he decided to cut straight through the pleasantries.
"Appreciate that, Chuck. Really, I do," Logan said, his voice dropping all warmth, turning ice-cold. "But we need to talk about something else. The kids on the jet acted like someone died the second I asked about Rogue. Scott told me to talk to you. Now tell me. Where is she?"
Charles' shoulders visibly slumped. The wise, unbreakable leader of the X-Men suddenly looked incredibly old, and incredibly tired. He turned his wheelchair around, rolling slowly back toward the large bay window that looked out over the darkened mansion grounds.
"I am so sorry, Logan," Charles sighed, his voice heavy with a profound sense of failure. "We... we failed her. We failed you."
"Speak English, Charles," Logan snapped, his knuckles tightening at his sides.
"She left the institute, Logan," Ororo spoke up from beside the door, her voice cracking with suppressed emotion. "Three weeks ago. Shortly after we decided to scale back the active field searches for you."
Charles kept his back turned, staring out into the darkness. "When the weeks turned into months, and our leads on your location ran cold, the safety of the students had to take priority. I made the executive decision to cease the daily long-range scouting missions. Rogue... she did not handle it well."
Liam's mind was firing on all cylinders. He knew the emotional vulnerability of Rogue better than anyone. He knew that it hurt her when he vanished, he just didn't think it would get this bad.
"She thought we abandoned you," Charles continued, his voice a low, painful whisper. "She felt that if the X-Men could just... give up on you, then our concept of a 'family' was nothing but a lie. She refused to attend classes. She isolated herself entirely. And then... a voice found her in her dark place. A voice that promised her real loyalty."
Charles slowly spun his wheelchair back around to face Logan, his blue eyes filled with a terrifying, grim reality. "She has joined the Brotherhood, Logan. She left in the middle of the night. She has gone to Raven."
Ororo stepped forward, her eyes flashing with anger and sadness. "To Mystique, Logan. We tried to go after her, but Raven's cloaking measures are too advanced. She has her."
Raven, he thought. Mystique. As a fan, he already knew the deepest secret of Rogue's past—a secret that the rest of the X-Men were still completely in the dark about at this point in the timeline. He knew exactly why Rogue would run to her.
Logan let out a low, dangerous, animalistic growl that literally rattled the glass panes of the study windows. He gripped the edge of Charles' oak desk, his silver claws popping out with a sudden, violent SNIKT that buried the six blades deep into the expensive wood.
"Raven ain't just some mutant recruiter, Charles," Logan rumbled, his voice dripping with a terrifying, feral rage as he leaned directly over the desk into the Professor's face. "I know the truth about them. I know exactly why Rogue went to her."
Charles blinked, looking up at Logan in genuine, unmasked surprise. "What do you mean, Logan?"
Logan violently ripped his claws out of the desk, his eyes burning with an intense, unyielding fire. "Mystique ain't just her leader, Chuck. She's her mother. She's the one who left her with that lady Irene who was raising her, before she ever came to this school."
Ororo gasped softly, taking a step back. Charles' eyes widened as the telepathic implications of that secret crashed over him.
"And if that blue witch thinks she can use Rogue as a weapon in her twisted little war against humanity..." Logan clenched his fists, the adamantium blades gleaming with a lethal perfection under the study lights.
"...then I'm tearing her whole damn world apart to get her back."