CHAPTER 148 — THE FATHER'S BODY
The night air was heavy with rain and dread. The Blackbird touched down half a mile from the McTaggart estate, its turbines still whining as the team sprinted across wet grass and broken stone walls. No one spoke—no one needed to. They all felt it, the way reality shivered ahead of them like a fever dream.
Logan was first to slow, nose wrinkling. "He's here," he growled. His claws snikted out, glinting even under the storm-dark sky. "Smells like rot wrapped in rage."
Cyclops held up a fist, signaling them to fan out. Storm floated a few feet above the ground, lightning flickering in her eyes. Colossus clanked beside Banshee, while Nightcrawler crouched low, tail coiling and uncoiling like a whip.
Havok muttered, "This feels wrong. Everything feels… tilted."
He wasn't wrong. The closer they drew, the worse it became. Trees bent in impossible arcs, their branches folding like paper cranes. The cobblestone road rippled as if it were liquid. The McTaggart house itself swayed and groaned, windows sliding like eyes in a skull.
Then they heard it—Moira's voice, choked with terror.
"KEVIN—NO!"
They rounded the bend, and the sight froze even Logan in his tracks.
Joseph McTaggart—and yet not Joseph anymore—stood in the middle of the street, his features twisting and stretching like hot wax. One moment he was tall, another squat, another warped so badly it hurt to look. Around him, cars melted into puddles of chrome. Lamp posts curled like snakes.
Moira stumbled backward, rifle raised, her face pale.
Proteus's voice came out layered, half Joseph's bellow, half something alien. "Mother. You should be proud. Father and I… we are one now."
Colossus rumbled, his steel skin glinting under warped streetlights. "He defiles his own father's body."
"Not defiles," Proteus sneered, his voice echoing. "Perfects."
Cyclops snapped his visor into place, stance rigid. "X-Men—contain him. No killing blow. We drain him out."
"Easier said than done, Summers," Logan growled, crouching low. "This bastard bends the world like wet clay."
Proteus flicked a hand. Reality screamed. The road buckled, swallowing Colossus up to his knees. Banshee opened his mouth, let out a sonic blast that shattered the warped cobblestones—but Proteus waved again, and the sound bent sideways, slamming into Nightcrawler and sending him sprawling.
"Mein Gott!" Kurt gasped, rolling, tail lashing. "He twisted the very air! How do we fight this?"
"Same way we fight everything," Logan snarled, launching himself forward. "Up close an' ugly."
He swung, claws gleaming—but Proteus recoiled, a genuine shriek bursting from him as the adamantium neared. The warped Joseph-face split into a scream. "METAL—NO!"
"Thought so," Logan grinned savagely. "Ain't a fan of the hardware, eh?"
Proteus hurled him back with a swipe, the world itself cracking and hurling Logan into a streetlamp that bent like rubber around him. Logan spat blood, rolled, already pushing up again. His healing burned, stitching ribs.
Storm lifted both arms, voice carrying like thunder. "X-Men—strike together! We are more than his illusions!" Lightning split the sky, slamming into Proteus's warped form. For a heartbeat, his outline jittered, the stolen body flickering like a bad film reel.
"Ahh… mother's friends think themselves strong," Proteus hissed. "But I can taste you all. Your fears. Your loves. Your doubts." His warped eyes locked on Moira, narrowing. "And I know where to break you."
Logan staggered back into formation beside her, claws still dripping. He smelled it—the predator's intent. Proteus wasn't just lashing out. He was hunting.
He muttered low so only she heard. "He's lookin' at you like prey. Stick close."
Moira's hands trembled on the rifle. "He's… my boy. My Kevin."
Logan's eyes were hard. "Not anymore, darlin'. That thing wearin' your son's skin ain't leavin' you alive if you don't let me stand in front."
Proteus raised both arms. The street around them began to melt, cars twisting into skeletal beasts of chrome and glass. The X-Men braced as the world itself lunged for them.
And through it all, Proteus advanced, every step aimed straight at Moira.
Cyclops barked, "Hold formation! Don't let him—"
But Logan had already stepped out ahead, claws crossed before him, his body low and ready.
"Bub," he growled, eyes locked on the warped mockery of Joseph, "if you want her, you gotta get through me first."
The night screamed as reality shattered again.