CHAPTER 208 — GATHERING THE BROKEN
Logan led, Kitty at his back. His senses stretched like a net: smell guiding, hearing painting a living map, thermal sight flashing in and out as needed. The tunnels were endless, pulsing veins of the Brood hive, but he trusted his instincts.
'Scott… Ororo… Kurt… hold on, I'm comin'.'
Kitty's shoes squelched in the muck. She whispered, "This place… it feels like we're inside a stomach."
Logan smirked without humor. "That's 'cause we are, darlin'. Whole damn ship's alive. And it's hungry."
Kitty shivered. "Gross."
"Keep your head straight. The walls can hear fear."
"…Can they really?"
He shot her a look. "No. But the bugs can."
That wrung a nervous giggle from her, shaky but better than the silence.
---
They found Scott first. His scent cut through the rot—burnt ozone, leather, the faint soap he always used. Logan's chest tightened as he rounded the corner.
Another egg. Taller, thicker. And Scott, trapped inside. His silhouette floated, limp, outlined in the slime.
Kitty whispered, "Scott…"
Logan didn't waste a heartbeat. SNIKT. His claws tore the egg open, slime and ichor spilling like a waterfall. Scott collapsed forward, choking on muck. Logan caught him by the collar and shook him half upright.
"C'mon, Slim. Eyes open."
Scott coughed hard, hacking out bile. He groaned. "Logan…? What—where…?" His voice cracked. "Lilandra—banquet—we were—"
"Yeah, I know," Logan growled. "You can piece the rest later. You're alive, that's what counts."
Scott wiped at his visor, slime streaking his face. His hands trembled. "The team—are they—"
"Workin' on it. You're the first stop."
Kitty helped steady him, murmuring, "It's okay, Scott. We're here."
Scott gripped her arm, his voice sharp. "Where's Jean—" Then he stopped, realizing his mistake. His throat locked, and he looked away, ashamed.
Logan clenched his jaw. "Not the time, Summers. Keep your mind on the ones we can save."
Scott nodded stiffly. His chest rose and fell too fast, panic bubbling under his surface. Logan smelled it clear: sour adrenaline, bitter fear.
---
Storm was next.
Her egg was nested deeper, in a chamber where the walls opened like a cathedral of flesh. The ceiling dripped viscous fluid, and the hum of Brood wings echoed faintly above.
Ororo floated inside the pod, her white hair splayed out like silver seaweed. She looked like some fallen goddess drowned in slime.
Kitty's breath caught. "She looks… beautiful. Even like this."
Scott swallowed. His voice broke. "Get her out, Logan."
Logan didn't hesitate. Claws tore. The egg burst, and Ororo fell into his arms. She jerked awake mid-fall, coughing, eyes wide.
"By the goddess—" She gasped, clutching at her chest. "What—what has been done to us—"
"Later," Logan grunted, lowering her down. "Right now, you're breathin'. That's the win."
But Ororo's eyes rolled up as a tremor ripped through her. She shuddered violently, her voice cracking. "No… there's something inside—"
Logan pressed a hand to her shoulder. "I know."
Her gaze shot to him, fierce even through the fear. "Tell me, Logan. Do not lie."
His throat worked. For a moment, silence hung like a blade. Then he growled, "Parasites. In all of us. I tore mine out. The rest of you… still got 'em."
Scott's jaw tightened. "What do you mean tore it out?"
Logan ignored him, eyes on Ororo. "Fight it for now. That's all you can do."
Her hand trembled as she reached to touch his face, as though needing the anchor. "If… if I lose myself, promise me…"
"Not havin' that talk," Logan snapped, pulling her up. His stomach twisted at the desperation in her voice.
'Not yet, 'Ro. Don't make me say it.'
---
Kurt came last.
His egg was smaller, but his body inside was twitching, spasming. His tail lashed weakly against the membrane, claws scratching uselessly.
Logan's nose flared. Kurt's scent was twisted—sickly, off-balance.
He slashed the egg open. Kurt fell forward with a wet splat, coughing, choking.
"Mein Gott—Logan?" His voice trembled, thick with panic. "Where—"
"Bugs' nest," Logan said, hauling him up. "You're still you, Elf. Don't waste it."
Kurt's yellow eyes darted to the others. Storm, Scott, Kitty—all pale, all trembling. His hands shook as he crossed himself. "This is Hell. We are in Hell."
Logan grunted. "Not yet. But close enough."
---
The five of them regrouped, slime-soaked and shaken. Logan looked at each face in turn.
Cyclops. Jaw clenched, sweat dripping, already trying to calculate the odds.
Storm. Regal even in fear, her eyes wet but defiant.
Kurt. Shaking, whispering prayers, but standing.
Kitty. Small, shivering, clinging to courage like a lifeline.
And Logan. The only one who knew how deep the rot ran.
Scott broke the silence. "Where's the exit, Wolverine?" His voice cracked like a whip, desperate to regain control.
Logan's gut twisted. He could smell the lie on his own tongue before it left his lips.
"Follow me," he growled. "Nose says it's this way."
Inside, he thought, 'Not an exit. A reckoning. Where the stink's thickest—that's where the Queen sits.'
The others didn't need to know that. Not yet.
They followed. And the deeper they went, the thicker the Brood came. Patrol after patrol, shadows scuttling from every corner. Logan's claws dripped ichor, his muscles moving faster than thought, reflexes firing in bullet-time as he carved silent paths of death. He kept the kills clean, no screams, no alarms.
But every third patrol, his teammates buckled.
Storm staggered, clutching her chest. Scott dropped to one knee with a groan. Kurt gasped, his heart hammering audibly in Logan's ears. Kitty cried out, clutching at her ribs.
Each time, Logan covered. "Something the bugs pumped into us. Keep movin'. We'll sweat it out."
Each time, the guilt carved deeper into his bones.
And still Scott pressed, his voice sharp. "Wolverine, we're seeing more of them, not less. Are you sure this is the way out?"
"Trust me," Logan growled, voice flat.
Kitty's small voice whispered, "I… I do trust him."
Logan nearly stumbled. That word again. Trust.
---
The hive opened wider. The stench hit first—overpowering, like rotting meat bathed in acid. Then the sound: a low, wet chitter, heavy wings beating.
And then the sight.
The Queen.
A mountain of chitin and muscle, mandibles dripping venom, wings like torn sails. Around her, guards—bigger, sharper, armored. The heart of the swarm.
Scott froze. His visor glowed faint, instinctive. "Logan… this isn't the exit."
Storm's eyes widened. "You brought us to—"
"The Queen," Kurt whispered, horror in his voice.
Kitty's hand slipped into Logan's without thinking.
Scott turned, fury snapping through his fear. "You led us here. WHY?"
Logan bared his teeth, claws snapping free.
"To avenge you," he growled.
And then he leapt.