Chapter 193: The White Queen's Gambit
Emma Frost's lips curled in that perfect aristocrat sneer. She leaned back against her chair, silk legs crossed like a cobra preparing to strike.
"I didn't expect Wolverine to tag along with you, Storm. But it doesn't matter. I'll just make you kill him instead."
Her hand slipped from beneath her white cloak, holding a gleaming, odd-shaped gun. Not bullets. Something nastier.
Logan's hackles rose instantly. His soul-scent told him everything — the stench of intent, oily and sharp, a predator's trick disguised in perfume.
'That thing ain't normal. Feels like Weapon X tech. Mind Tech? Dirty business.'
"Roro, MOVE!" Logan roared, shoving Storm aside with one hand just as Emma squeezed the trigger.
A lance of psychic-silver light shot out, and Logan took it full in the chest. His body convulsed, claws snapping free with a SNIKT, sparks scraping the floor. A low, guttural growl ripped out of him.
"Rrrghhh… White Queen… your mistake… usin' this trick on ME. I've had my mind torn apart by worse than this. Weapon X tried their best, and I'm still standin'!"
Storm's eyes went wide. "Logan!"
"NOW, ORORO!" he barked, fangs bared.
That was all she needed. Lightning crackled down her arms and roared out in a blinding bolt. Emma gasped, too slow to react, her consciousness burning out as the current slammed her across the room. The strange gun clattered from her hand, sparking.
Storm rushed to Logan, helping him to his feet. His muscles still twitched, his body fighting the invasive pulse of the gun.
"Logan, stay with me. Your eyes— they're flickering."
He spat to the side, shaking his head. "Takes more than some parlor trick to outdo me. My head's been scrambled eggs for years, darlin'. It just means I bite harder."
Before Storm could respond, the desk phone on Frost's table buzzed and came alive. A voice oozed through the receiver like oil.
"White Queen. What's the progress?"
Logan snatched it up, snarling into the mouthpiece. "Ain't her talkin', bub. It's me."
Silence. Then a cold, cultured chuckle.
"…Wolverine. I didn't expect the White Queen to prove so… ineffective. But it doesn't matter. Your little mansion is already under attack."
"Sebastian Shaw," Logan growled, his claws trembling with rage. "Figures you'd be behind this."
Shaw laughed. A rich, booming, smug sound that made Logan's blood boil.
"You can't protect them all, Wolverine. Enjoy watching your home burn."
The line went dead.
Storm's hands tightened on Logan's arm. Her eyes stormcloud-dark. "Logan. We have to move. Now."
They didn't waste time. They tore through the halls, found Kitty wide-eyed and shaken, Colossus hovering like a steel wall to shield her. Logan grabbed the keys, but Storm was faster — wind whipping the car around as they piled inside and sped back toward the mansion.
The drive was tense, silence broken only by Kitty's soft sobbing in the backseat. Logan didn't turn. He didn't need to. Her scent told him everything. Salt and grief. Fear layered beneath determination. Colossus's big steel hand on her shoulder was steady, warm.
The mansion came into view — and with it, chaos. Sentinels. Three of them stomping across the lawn, each one gleaming with death. Their massive heads turned in eerie unison toward the arriving car.
Cyclops's optic blasts flared red across the battlefield. Nightcrawler darted in and out of existence, but his movements were frantic, cornered. Amanda Sefton hurled mystic light that barely scratched a Sentinel's plating. Even Xavier sat outside in his chair, calm but sweating, telepathically straining to shield his students.
"Sentinels?!" Cyclops shouted as Logan jumped out of the car. "How are they still active? Lang is dead!"
"Lang ain't the only bastard who hates us," Logan growled, sniffing the air. His eyes narrowed, heat rising. And then he saw it — glowing inside each Sentinel. Thermal vision snapped into focus, a hunter's sight. He could see the energy cores pumping, hot as miniature suns.
"Pete!" Logan barked, pointing his claws. "Fastball Special. Aim me for the cores. Don't miss."
Colossus's steel jaw tightened. "Da. I understand."
"Scott! Cover fire! Keep their optics off me."
Cyclops didn't argue — not this time. His visor flashed, a torrent of red lancing across a Sentinel's chest. Nightcrawler bamfed on its shoulders, slashing wires. Storm's lightning seared the sky.
"Now!" Logan roared.
Colossus swung him like a baseball and hurled him with all his might. Logan streaked through the air, claws outstretched, a comet of fury. He plunged into the Sentinel's chest, claws carving straight through the glowing core. A shockwave of fire burst outward as the machine screamed and toppled.
Another throw. Another kill. Logan tore through all three, each time finding the glowing heart and ripping it out like a predator gutting prey. His body smoked, his uniform burned, but he didn't stop until the lawn was littered with smoking Sentinel husks.
When the last one fell, silence dropped heavy. The team gathered close, hearts pounding, sweat dripping.
Kitty stepped forward, staring at the ruins. Her hands trembled, but her eyes shone with something brighter than fear.
"So… I guess… I'm not going anywhere after all."
Storm touched her shoulder gently. "No, child. You are home."
Logan sheathed his claws with a final SNIKT. His nose wrinkled, catching the faintest lingering whiff of Shaw's smugness, carried on the air like a ghost. He spat into the dirt.
"This ain't over. Shaw's still out there."
But for tonight, the mansion stood. And Kitty Pryde, teary-eyed but smiling, stood with them.
'Biggest winner here's the kid,' Logan thought, lighting a cigar with shaking fingers. 'She don't know it yet… but she just earned her place.'