Chapter 237: Fire in the Ivory Tower
Logan came down the stairs scratching at his jaw, still half-groggy, when he caught the tail end of a goodbye. Some tall, broad kid was walking out of Xavier's office — head high, shoulders squared, like he owned the place though Logan had never seen him before. Chuck, standing on his legs like he'd never been in that chair, lifted a hand in parting.
Logan narrowed his eyes. "Who the hell was that?"
Xavier's lips pressed thin. "James Proudstar. Younger brother of John."
Logan snorted. "Figures. Even if I didn't catch the same scent under the skin, the arrogance gave him away. Man wears it like cologne." He leaned on the doorframe, arms crossed. "What'd he want?"
"He asked about John. Whether there was a way to communicate with him in the Savage Land." Charles sighed, the weight of helplessness pressing his shoulders. "I could not offer him what he sought. The Savage Land is… sealed, in ways that frustrate even Cerebro."
"So he just strolled in here, took a swing at fate, then walked out?"
"Not entirely. He has friends at the Massachusetts Academy. He feels tethered to them. He would not leave them to join us."
That drew Logan's head up fast. "You mean the Hellfire's backyard?"
"Friends are not always chosen for their affiliations." Charles' tone had that clipped, professorial patience. "James is young, angry, and searching. I will not judge him harshly for it."
"Yeah, well, I will." Logan grunted, then jabbed a thumb at Charles. "And what's with you walkin' around like you're born again?"
Charles gave him a pointed look. "I've been working on… new possibilities. But enough about me. I have a lecture to give at the university. You're coming along."
Logan scowled. "What for?"
"Because, Logan, you might learn something."
Logan lit a cigar right in the hall. "Every time I learn somethin', it's usually the hard way."
"Then perhaps a softer method will surprise you." Charles turned toward the foyer. "Kitty!"
A muffled giggle floated from the parlor, followed by the flap of wings. Kitty Pryde stumbled out, Lockheed perched like a crown on her head.
"Yes, Professor?" she asked, eyes darting between them like she'd been caught stealing cookies.
"You're coming too," Charles said briskly. "Your brain could use the exercise of higher learning instead of constant… diversions."
Kitty groaned, dragging her feet. "Aw, c'mon, Professor, it's my day off. Can't I just—"
"—play?" Charles arched a brow.
She wrinkled her nose. "I was gonna say study independently, but yeah, okay, maybe I was just playing. Fine. I'll come. But only if Logan promises not to fall asleep and snore through the lecture."
Logan smirked, puffing smoke. "Kid, that's a tall order."
An hour later they were parked in a packed auditorium, Charles on stage firing off words like he'd swallowed a Gatling gun. The man was electric, pacing, hands flying, voice ringing.
At first, Kitty tried to keep up, nodding along with the rhythm. By the ten-minute mark, her eyelids drooped. By fifteen, she slumped sideways against Logan's shoulder, whispering, "Does he ever breathe?"
Logan's lip twitched. "Man's got lungs like a bellows when it comes to talkin'."
"He's—" she stifled a yawn, "—excited. I don't think I've ever heard him go this long without stopping."
"That's 'cause he hates the hermit gig at the mansion. Stick him in front of a crowd, suddenly he's king of the world."
Another five minutes of relentless monologuing, and Kitty hissed, "I can't take it anymore. We'll die in here."
"Then we sneak," Logan muttered.
Kitty grinned, phased them both right through the side wall. They popped out into the crisp campus air, free.
"Phew!" She stretched wide, Lockheed fluttering behind. "Finally. I thought my brain was gonna melt."
"Don't let Chuck hear ya say that," Logan muttered, flicking ash. "He'll give ya homework just to punish ya."
They wandered between dorm buildings, Kitty rambling about a movie she wanted to drag Kurt to, when Logan stopped cold. His nostrils flared.
Powder. Sulfur. Chemical stink.
His hand shot out, catching Kitty's shoulder. "Stay sharp. Smells like someone's playin' with fireworks. Big ones."
Kitty's eyes widened. "What do you—"
The explosion ripped through the dorm before she could finish. The blast shoved them backward, glass shattering, flames licking skyward. Screams poured out of the collapsing building.
"Damn it." Logan ripped off his jacket. "Change. Now."
Within seconds, Logan's yellow and black suit clung to him, Kitty in hers, Lockheed shrieking overhead. They charged.
Inside was hell — fire chewing through drywall, smoke clawing at lungs, kids coughing and stumbling blind. Logan barreled in, claws unsheathed, hacking fallen beams apart. His lungs burned, but he crocodile oxygen storage ability, sinking into the calm space where his body outperformed human limits. He could last. He would last.
"Logan!" Kitty's voice called, muffled through flame.
"I'll haul 'em, you ferry 'em!" he barked.
They fell into rhythm. Logan grabbed three students in one arm, muscled past the fire like it was brushwood, and hurled them gently toward Kitty. She phased them through walls and out to safety, running back for more. Lockheed dove, spitting flame at fire like it was his personal rival, carving air pockets in the smoke.
The chain was relentless, mechanical. Five minutes of blood, sweat, and sparks. Students poured out alive, coughing, crying, but breathing. Even the would-be bombmakers — boys with burned hands and terror on their faces — were dragged out, alive.
Sirens wailed in the distance. Logan's ears flicked. "Time to ghost."
Kitty nodded, tears streaking her soot-stained face. They slipped away before the first firefighter broke the perimeter.
Half an hour later, they regrouped with Charles on the lawn, back in civilian clothes, hair still stinking of smoke. He didn't need to ask where they'd been; the grim cast of his face said he already knew.
"They were preparing a bomb," Charles said, voice low. "Not for the building. For mutants. It detonated prematurely."
Kitty staggered back. "For us? You mean… all those kids we just saved—" Her throat caught. "They wanted to kill us?"
Silence weighed heavy.
Her fists clenched. "If I'd known—" her voice cracked, "I wouldn't have saved them!"
Even Charles faltered, searching for words. For once, his dream had no quick comfort to give.
Logan lit a fresh cigar, hands steady though his chest tightened. He exhaled slow, smoke curling.
"That's the world, kid," he muttered, eyes hard. "Save it anyway."
Kitty looked at him, wide-eyed, and for once said nothing.
Charles turned his gaze to the darkening sky. He had no rebuttal. Only the weight of the dream, trembling in his hands.
The three of them stood there, silent, the smell of smoke still clinging, while the world screamed for their blood.