CHAPTER 66 THE SCENT OF LIES
For a heartbeat, no one moved. The "Beast" sputtered where Logan had torn him open, sparks dancing across its ruined jaw. Half human, half machine no blood, no breath. Just wires.
Jean's hand flew to her mouth. Banshee swore under his breath.
Colossus whispered, "Bozhe moy... they are not real."
The fake Beast lunged again, voice crackling like a broken speaker. "DESTROY-MUTANTS
Logan met it with a roar. His claws carved upward in a single arc, splitting the machine from hip to shoulder. It collapsed in a rain of sparks.
The spell broke.
"Hit them HARD!" Scott shouted. "They're not our friends - they're MACHINES!"
The room exploded into chaos.
Thunderbird tackled Angel mid-flight, wings cutting air like knives. This time he didn't hold back. He seized the feathers, wrenched hard, and metal shafts snapped with a shriek. The machine let out a garbled cry before Thunderbird hurled it to the ground, stomping its chest until gears burst out like broken ribs.
Storm's eyes glowed white, her voice booming. "NO MERCY FOR SHADOWS!" Lightning seared down from her hands, striking Iceman full on. The ice shattered away to reveal chrome beneath, steam hissing from its fractured frame. Nightcrawler bamfed onto its shoulders, tearing circuits free with his claws.
Colossus squared against Polaris. She raised a hand, metal shrieking all around, trying to crush him beneath flying wreckage. He roared, planted his feet, and shoved through the magnetic storm. His fist drove straight through her chest - steel shrieking as he ripped out a core the size of a heart. Sparks showered the floor as the robot collapsed.
Havok's plasma beams tore craters into the walls, forcing Cyclops to dive for cover. Scott slid across the floor, visor blazing. The brothers' beams clashed mid-air, ruby red against searing white, shaking the chamber with raw energy.
But Logan smelled it no soul, no fear, no hesitation. Just programming. He charged straight through the clash, ignoring the searing burn against his skin. His claws punched through Havok's chest, ripping the machine apart from inside. The android toppled, its lights dying with a hiss.
And then silence.
The last machine collapsed in a heap, smoke rising. The floor was littered with broken wings, twisted claws, frozen shards, and the stink of burnt circuits. The old X-Men were nothing but scrap.
Scott's chest heaved. He looked at the broken face of the Havok machine, then at the real Alex still unconscious back at the mansion. His voice trembled with rage. "Lang... you son of a bitch."
Up above, glass shone. A control booth, lights glowing. And inside it - Stephen Lang, watching with cold, fanatic eyes.
His hand slammed the console. Doors slid open. He ran.