CHAPTER 145 — THE TRAP ON THE ROAD
Rain sheeted down in silver curtains across the narrow road. The car's wipers squeaked in rhythm, struggling to keep the windshield clear. Logan hunched over the wheel, cigar clamped in his teeth, smoke curling despite the cracked window and the storm's wet breath.
Beside him, Nightcrawler lounged in the passenger seat, tail twitching lazily, yellow eyes scanning the shadows. He'd been quiet a while—too quiet for Logan's liking.
"You're thinkin' loud, elf," Logan muttered, eyes on the road.
Kurt chuckled softly. "Ach, you can hear my thoughts now? I should charge rent, ja?"
Logan snorted. "Don't need telepathy. You wriggle your tail like that, means somethin's eatin' ya."
Nightcrawler's smile dimmed. He leaned back, arms crossed. "It is just… Moira's words. Reality twisting. Possession. I cannot fight what I cannot see."
Logan puffed out smoke, eyes narrowing through the rain. "You fight with what you got. Not with what you don't. Trick is not lettin' the other guy know what you got."
Kurt tilted his head, studying him. "And what do you have, mein freund?"
Logan's lips twitched into a grin, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Claws. And a nose that don't lie."
The words weren't out two heartbeats before the flash of blue and red lit up the rain. A police car. Siren wailing.
Logan slowed, rolling the car to a stop. The cruiser pulled up alongside, and a burly officer stepped out. Hat pulled low, rain dripping off the brim.
Nightcrawler leaned forward, blinking. "Strange. Police, here? I thought Moira said—"
But Logan's nostrils flared.
The smell hit him like a hammer. Ozone. Rot. That coppery tang of the corpses. He felt his claws twitch in their housings. His whole body tensed.
'Gotcha, bub.'
The cop stepped closer, flashlight cutting through the rain. "License and registration."
Logan's lip curled. He flicked ash into the wet road. "Sure thing, officer."
And then he lunged.
SNIKT.
The claws sang out, steel flashing under the stormlight. The officer staggered back, eyes wide—not with fear, but with something deeper. A warped shimmer rippled over his face, skin bending like water.
Nightcrawler shouted, "Mein Gott—Logan!"
The cop screamed—a sound like glass shattering and metal grinding at once. His eyes blazed white. "You—YOU BURN!"
It hit Logan instantly. A pressure. Something invasive, like claws digging into his skull from the inside. A hand trying to grab his mind, rip it open, crawl inside.
Logan roared, slamming his fists to his temples. But then—nothing.
The invader's scream doubled, twisted into agony. The "cop" staggered back, clutching his head. "Metal—your bones—they're poison to me!"
Logan bared his teeth, crouching low. "Should've picked another ride, bub."
Reality rippled. The road bent sideways. Rain froze in midair. The police car twisted like a toy, shrinking, stretching, then exploding into a storm of butterflies that evaporated in the wind.
"Logan!" Nightcrawler teleported with a BAMF, reappearing behind him. His tail lashed, his stance ready. "He's warping everything!"
Proteus—no longer masked—straightened, his form half-solid, half-light. His voice was a hiss and a scream in one. "You cannot fight what I am!"
Logan's claws gleamed as he stepped forward. "Funny. Folks been sayin' that to me my whole damn life."
The ground beneath them cracked open, the road becoming a writhing pit. Nightcrawler leapt, teleporting midair, reappearing on a warped lamppost that had bent into a spiral. Logan held his ground, claws digging into the asphalt to anchor himself.
For every strike, Proteus twisted the world. A tree became a writhing snake. A puddle became fire. Logan swung at shadows that were solid, dodged solid things that dissolved like smoke.
Nightcrawler darted in and out, teleporting behind Proteus, kicking, striking, but the blows landed like fists on fog.
Then Proteus snarled, his eyes locking on Kurt. "You—pretty demon. You'll wear well."
A wave of force slammed Nightcrawler into the air, spinning him toward the pit below.
Logan didn't think. He dove, caught Kurt midair, the momentum nearly dragging them both down. He snarled, stabbing his claws into the road, anchoring them as the warped pit yawned beneath.
Nightcrawler's chest heaved, eyes wide. "You… saved me?"
"Don't go spreadin' it around," Logan growled, hauling them both back onto solid ground.
Before they could regroup, a roar of wind split the storm. Lightning slashed the sky.
Storm descended, her cape snapping like a banner, eyes white with fury. "Proteus!" she cried, her voice a thunderclap.
She unleashed a gale so strong the rain blasted sideways, trees uprooted, the world itself bowing to her wrath. Proteus staggered, form flickering—but still he walked forward, one step at a time, against the hurricane.
Storm hovered, arms spread, wind howling. "You will not touch my friends!"
Proteus only smiled, his warped grin cutting across the storm. "Wind breaks, lightning fades. But I—I do not."
Nightcrawler tried to rise, but Logan shoved him down, crouching low, claws digging into the earth. "Stay down, elf. You'll get torn apart."
The gale screamed louder, Logan shielding them both with his body, claws stabbing deep to hold them fast. The world around them blurred into chaos—wind, rain, light, shadow—Proteus still advancing through it all.
And Storm, straining with all her power, realized he wasn't slowing.