Chapter 238: Wanted
Logan padded down the stairs, bare feet heavy on the wood. He could smell the tension before he even hit the landing — that sour mix of sweat, fear, and rage when the team all huddled together. Sure enough, the whole crew was crowded in front of the television: Chuck in his chair, Kurt hunched forward with his tail twitching, Peter sitting stiff and stone-faced, Kitty curled tight with Lockheed perched like a gargoyle on her shoulder, Rogue hugging herself, Rachel standing off to the side with her arms crossed too tight.
Logan looked around, eyes scanning. One name missing. "Where's Ororo?"
Kitty answered, her voice soft but firm. "She went home. Kenya. Said she needed to search for her true self."
Logan exhaled slow through his nose. Lucky her, he thought bitterly. At least she's got a place left in the world to search. Some of us just get stuck staring at the same four walls.
Onscreen, the news feed stuttered, cutting from the anchor's fake smile to raw footage. A grim commentator's voice filled the room:
"Authorities have confirmed that the cause of the dormitory explosion was none other than the so-called X-Men. Witness testimony from multiple rescued victims identifies them as the perpetrators. Following public outcry and protests from parents and students alike, the government has declared the X-Men wanted fugitives. Citizens are urged to provide information to the nearest police station."
The camera panned to crowds, angry parents waving placards: MONSTERS IN OUR SCHOOLS. MUTANTS GO HOME. PROTECT OUR CHILDREN.
The room froze.
Kitty's lips trembled, her voice cracking like glass. "Th-they… they were the ones who made the bombs against us. We saved them! We pulled them out of the fire!" Her fists shook. "And now they say we lit it?"
Charles folded his hands, his face a mask of calm that didn't fool anyone. "They were terrified. Afraid of being imprisoned, exposed. To protect themselves, they shifted the blame."
Peter's chair screeched as he stood, metal skin shimmering across his arms without him meaning to. "You are still defending them, Professor? After all of this? After lies and betrayal?"
Charles' jaw tightened, but he kept his voice level. "I am explaining, not defending. Fear makes children do reckless things."
"And fear makes mobs," Kurt cut in, golden eyes glinting sharp. His tail lashed once, twice. "I told you — let us disband. End this dream before it strangles us. These hypocrites do not want us. They never did."
Rachel's breath caught audibly. Her eyes burned red, hair shimmering like embers. One look at her face was enough — fury balanced on the edge of despair.
Kurt's words faltered, the edge of his voice melting into guilt. He lowered his head, shoulders slumping. "I… was only talking, Mädchen. My mouth runs ahead of my brain. Don't… don't take me so seriously."
Rachel turned away, but the wet shimmer in her eyes said she'd heard every word.
Logan stayed quiet in the corner, arms folded, cigar unlit between his fingers. He let the others clash, their voices bouncing off the walls.
Onscreen, the commentator's tone flipped, shifting into praise:
"Meanwhile, in Midtown, an extraordinary event occurred earlier today. A dangerous robbery attempt was thwarted by a new protector: the heroic Nimrod."
The footage rolled — Juggernaut roaring through a bank wall, only to be met by the sleek, towering sentinel. Nimrod struck like a machine god, blasting Cain Marko back down the street in a hail of energy. The crowd in the video cheered, clapping, waving banners: OUR HERO NIMROD. THE FUTURE IS SAFE.
The broadcast cut to citizens giving soundbites.
"He's amazing!"
"Finally, someone to keep us safe from the muties!"
"The only hero we've got!"
Rogue's mouth hung open. "He… he just did what we do. Repelled a villain. Saved folks. That's our job." Her voice cracked, the weight in it raw. "We've done that over an' over, and what'd we get? Outlaws. And now this Nimrod does the same thing once, and they're callin' him a hero?"
Kitty blinked at the screen, dazed, whispering like she'd forgotten anyone else was in the room. "Why…? Why's it different for him?"
The silence stretched.
Finally, Logan struck a match, the tiny flame flaring in his eyes as he lit the cigar. He pulled in smoke, exhaled it slow, let it cloud the room.
"Because we're mutants, kid." His voice was gravel and steel. "That's all it takes. Doesn't matter what we do, doesn't matter how many lives we pull outta the fire. To them, it ain't about good or bad, right or wrong. It's about what we are. And what we are scares the hell outta them."
Nobody argued. Not Xavier, not Kurt, not even Peter.
The smoke hung heavy between them all, thicker than the silence.
And for the first time in a long time, the dream felt smaller than the nightmare.