CHAPTER 141 — SCATTERED THROUGH SHADOWS
The halls of Muir were narrow, cold stone lined with sterile lights. Too clean. Too empty. Every footstep echoed like they were walking inside a tomb.
"Fan out," Cyclops said, visor gleaming as he scanned the corridor ahead. "Pairs. We cover more ground that way."
Thunderbird grinned, cracking his knuckles. "About time we got to work."
Logan rolled his eyes. "Keep barkin', rookie. Walls don't care how loud you are."
Nightcrawler let out a low chuckle. "I would go with you, Logan. Perhaps I can balance that charm of yours."
Logan gave him a sideways look. "Great. A clown and a grump. Real subtle pair."
They split. Storm and Colossus down one hall. Banshee and Thunderbird another. Cyclops stalking alone, visor glowing faintly like a predator's eye in the dark. Logan and Kurt down the last.
The silence pressed heavy. Machines hummed in the walls, distant, too quiet to be normal.
Storm walked beside Colossus, her eyes tracing every flickering light. "This place… it feels wrong. Like the very air is heavy with dread."
Colossus kept his massive hands ready. "Da. My skin itches for steel. But we must keep calm. Moira would not abandon her home lightly."
Back in another wing, Banshee and Thunderbird moved briskly, tension hanging between them.
"Lad, ye might want to rein it in a bit," Banshee said. "Charge in blind, and ye'll be on the floor before ye can shout."
Thunderbird shot him a glare. "Don't treat me like a kid. I don't need babysitting."
"Suit yerself. But I'll not be carryin' ye out if ye get knocked on yer arse," Banshee muttered, though his eyes softened. He remembered his own rashness when he was younger.
Meanwhile, Cyclops pushed into the lab wing alone. His boots rang against tile, echo bouncing. A bed, a desk overturned, monitors humming faint. And there—Jean.
She lay against the sheets, skin pale, lips parted as though whispering in sleep. Scott's chest tightened. He stepped closer, careful, afraid to wake a dream.
"Jean…" His voice was low, almost gentle. He reached to touch her shoulder.
Her eyes fluttered open. Green light glimmered, but when she looked at him—she smiled.
"Jason," she breathed, relief flooding her features. "I knew you'd come."
Scott froze. Every nerve in his body locked. "What?"
Her gaze softened, lids heavy, and she slumped back into unconsciousness. Leaving him staring, hollow.
"Jason…" he whispered, the name tasting bitter. 'Who the hell is Jason?'
Elsewhere—
A metallic clang echoed as Logan pushed open a steel door. The stench inside made him gag. "Damn."
Nightcrawler blinked into the room with a BAMF, tail flicking nervously. "What is it?"
On the floor, Havok stirred, rubbing his temple. Beside him, another man groaned—Jamie Madrox, the Multiple Man.
"Alex?!" Logan barked, crossing fast. He sniffed, claws twitching. "You're alive."
Havok blinked, disoriented. Then his eyes widened. "Logan? You're—alive?!"
Jamie sat up, grimacing, clutching his chest. "It's true… they said you were gone. All of you. But you're here…" He shook his head in disbelief. "What the hell is going on?"
Logan smirked. "That's what we're here to find out, kid."
Havok staggered to his feet. "We thought—no, we were told you were all—" He stopped himself, still stunned, relief washing over him.
Nightcrawler tilted his head, eyes gleaming. "Looks like the rumors of our deaths were greatly exaggerated." He gave a little bow. "It is good to see you again, my friends."
The tension eased just a notch in the room. Just a notch.
And down another corridor, Storm and Colossus opened a door to find Moira McTaggart slumped at her desk, face pale, eyes bloodshot. She jerked awake as they entered, and her first words were a whisper.
"You… you shouldn't have come."
Colossus stepped forward, concern etched across his features. "Doctor McTaggart, what has happened here?"
She pressed a hand to her face, shaking her head. "You don't understand. You've walked into something none of you can fight."
Storm's voice was firm but gentle. "Tell us. What threatens this island?"
Moira's eyes glistened. "My son."
---
The walls of Muir swallowed the team, each in their own corner of dread. Some found friends. Some found truths. And Cyclops—Cyclops found only questions gnawing like fire in his chest.
'Jason… who the hell is Jason?'