CHAPTER 142 — GATHERING STORMS
The living room at Muir Island was dim, only a few lamps still working. Rain battered the windows, thunder rolling across the sea. The air smelled of damp stone, antiseptic, and fear.
Polaris lay curled on a couch, covered in blankets. Her green hair clung damp to her forehead, her chest rising shallow but steady. Banshee kept watch at her side, arms folded, eyes hard.
Jamie Madrox sat hunched in a chair, face pale, sweat beading at his brow. His hands wouldn't stay still, clenching and unclenching as if trying to hold something that kept slipping away.
Across the room, Havok leaned against the wall, arms crossed, still shaking off his disorientation. His gaze darted often toward Cyclops, tension humming unsaid.
Logan paced near the door, claws half-extended, a restless predator penned in by too much talk and not enough action. Nightcrawler perched on the mantel, yellow eyes glowing softly in the half-dark. Storm stood near the window, her silhouette framed by lightning flashes, silent and troubled. Colossus sat by Moira, who hadn't said a word since they dragged her here.
Cyclops stood at the center, visor gleaming like a furnace. He'd barely spoken since finding Jean. But now his voice cut through the storm outside.
"Alright. Enough silence. We found one corpse already, and we don't know if there'll be more. Moira—" He turned to her, sharp, unyielding. "—tell us what we're up against."
Moira flinched like the words struck her. She held her head in her hands, breath shaking. "You don't know what you're asking…"
"Then make us understand," Storm said softly, stepping forward. "You owe us that."
Jamie suddenly lurched forward, voice cracking. "It wasn't even me who saw him. It was—one of me." He clutched his chest. "I sent a dupe when Polaris screamed. He reached her first. He saw him. And then—" Jamie's face twisted, haunted. "—he was gone. Snuffed out. Like a candle."
Everyone froze.
Jamie's voice trembled. "I felt it. Like my soul split in half and one half was… erased. Not just killed. Erased. Like he'd never been born."
Colossus's fists clenched, metal scraping against itself. "That is monstrous."
"Yeah," Logan growled. He crouched low, eyes narrowing on Jamie. "What did he look like? Smell like? Anything."
Jamie shook his head, anguish spilling across his features. "I don't know. The dupe saw him. I only… felt it. Felt it go." He looked down, ashamed, tears threatening. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
Banshee placed a hand on his shoulder. "Ye did what ye could, lad. Don't carry the blame alone."
Cyclops turned sharply to Moira. "You know what this is. You said as much. Who—what—is he?"
Moira's breath caught. She looked at each of them, her face lined with guilt, with fear. Finally, her voice broke.
"He is my son."
The room went dead still.
Havok straightened, stunned. "Your—son?"
Storm's eyes widened, hand rising to her lips.
Colossus whispered, "Bozhe moi…"
Moira forced herself to meet their eyes. "Kevin. My boy. He was born… different. His father knew before I did. And when his powers manifested…" Her voice cracked. "He could not touch this world without breaking it. His body… it couldn't contain his gift."
Cyclops's tone was like steel. "What kind of gift?"
Moira's hands trembled as she clutched herself. "Possession. He can burn through flesh like paper and take it for his own. And worse—he bends reality itself. Warps it, reshapes it, until nothing and no one is safe. He is… Proteus. Mutant X."
Lightning flashed, throwing the room into stark relief.
"Mutant X," Nightcrawler repeated softly, tail curling tight. "A demon wearing human skin."
"Don't give him poetry," Logan snapped. He slammed his claws out, the sound sharp and final. "Call him what he is. A killer."
Moira's eyes filled with tears. "He's my son!"
"Not anymore," Logan spat. "Not after what I smelled in that lab."
"Logan." Cyclops's voice cut through like a whip, harsh. "Enough."
The two locked eyes, tension burning. Then Logan sheathed his claws with a click, pacing back to the shadows of the room.
Storm's voice was low, almost trembling. "If he needs hosts… then this will not end with one or two bodies."
"Right," Cyclops said. He looked around the room, eyes hard beneath the visor. "Which means if we don't stop him here, he'll move on. Bigger cities. More people. And none of us will be able to hide."
The team absorbed it in silence. Every face carried the weight of the storm.
Outside, the sea roared against the cliffs. Inside, every heartbeat pounded like war drums.
And Logan, crouched in the corner, thought to himself: 'Smells like the hunt's already started. Only question now… is who's hunting who.'