Chapter 214: Breakfast Interrupted
The morning light streamed through the tall windows of the Xavier mansion, spilling across the long dining table where the X-Men gathered. Plates clattered, coffee steamed, and for once—just for once—there was a rare sense of normalcy.
Logan leaned back in his chair, boots up on the rung, a fork lazily twirling scrambled eggs. He chewed slow, savoring it. Breakfast was sacred. Storm sat across, elegant even in her robe, sipping tea like she'd been born in some Cairo palace instead of crawling gutters. Kitty had both elbows on the table, giggling while Lockheed—her newly discovered dragon—sniffed curiously at a bowl of cereal. Colossus, polite as ever, tried not to notice the tiny claw dipping into his orange juice.
Xavier, serene, guided his wheelchair into place at the head of the table, eyes soft, as though just watching them eat was satisfaction enough.
Only one chair sat empty.
Logan's eyes narrowed. He jabbed his fork toward it. "Where's boss-eye?"
Colossus glanced up from buttering bread. "Scott went with his father. To Alaska. He wanted to meet his grandparents."
That got Logan to snort around his coffee. "Grandparents? Thought Slim was an orphan."
Storm smiled faintly, her silver eyes distant. "He was. His life has been full of loss. To suddenly discover he has a father, and now grandparents… it is a gift. He was radiant when he left."
Logan chewed slowly, his grin never touching his eyes. "Hnh. Radiant. That what you call it."
Kitty tilted her head. "It's sweet, Logan. Don't you think it's nice he's not alone anymore?"
"Nice," Logan said flatly. He let the word hang, heavy. Then he stabbed another bite of egg and gave a faint, almost invisible smile. No one pressed him further.
The scrape of chairs, the low hum of conversation—domestic. Almost too domestic. The kind of peace that made Logan itch.
Then the phone rang.
A shrill, insistent tone. Everyone paused.
"Ach, I'll get it," Kurt said, vanishing in a burst of brimstone before the ring even finished.
Bamf!
From the foyer came a muffled, "Hallo? Ja, zis is Xavier's School—"
The next words weren't muffled. They were loud, desperate. "Nein, nein, please, calm down—" Kurt's voice broke across the hall, sharper, urgent.
Logan was already setting down his fork.
Storm's tea cup clicked against porcelain, her eyes narrowing.
Kurt reappeared with a frantic burst of sulfur. His face was tight, his usual smile gone. "Professor—it is Candy Southern. She is… she is panicking. She insists she must speak to you immediately."
Xavier's calm mask flickered at the name. He wheeled forward, voice quiet. "Patch her through, Kurt."
The room fell silent but for the static of the phone on speaker. Candy's voice poured through—ragged, half-screamed. "Charles! It's Warren! He's gone—he's missing—I don't know who took him—blood on the balcony—please—you have to help me—"
Her voice cracked, dissolved into sobs.
Xavier's expression hardened, every trace of gentleness burned away. "Candy. Listen to me. Stay where you are. I'll send people immediately. You are not alone."
The line went dead.
For a long moment, only Lockheed's crunching on cereal filled the silence.
Xavier turned, his voice iron. "X-Men. Angel has been kidnapped. You depart at once for Manhattan. Find him. Bring him home."
Logan scraped back his chair, muttering under his breath. "Don't even get to finish my damn breakfast." He shoved the last sausage into his mouth and grabbed his jacket in one motion.
Kitty stood quickly, Lockheed clambering up onto her shoulder. Her face was pale but determined. "We'll find him, Professor."
Colossus clenched a steel fist. "Whoever took Warren will answer for it."
Storm's calm, commanding voice cut through: "No rashness. We will bring him back. Alive."
Logan pulled his cigar from a breast pocket, chewing the end but not lighting it. His eyes were already distant, feral focus rising. "Let's move. Slim ain't here to give speeches, so I'll save us time: whoever messed with Angel's got claws comin'."
Kurt winced but gave a sharp nod. "Ja. But let us hope claws are not the only solution."
Logan just smirked. "Hope's a nice bedtime story, elf. But this is the real world."
The team filed out together, the warmth of breakfast abandoned like a dream they could never afford for long.
---
The Blackbird cut across the sky within the hour, engines rumbling like a predator's growl. Logan sat in the co-pilot seat, arms crossed, boots tapping against metal. He stared at the city lights growing larger below.
Storm piloted smoothly, her voice crisp over comms. "We fan out once we land. Manhattan is vast, but Warren is not subtle. We will find his trail."
"Subtle," Logan muttered, with a dry chuckle. "That ain't ever been Angel's strong suit."
Kitty leaned over from the back row. "Logan… do you think he's… okay?"
Logan turned his head slightly, just enough to catch her nervous eyes. He softened, just a hair. "Kid, Angel's tougher than he looks. And he looks tougher than you'd think. We'll get him."
Her lips curved into a nervous smile. "You promise?"
He grunted. "I don't make promises. But I don't like bein' wrong."
That got a small laugh out of Kurt. "Ever the optimist, mein freund."
Logan smirked sideways. "You want optimism, go talk to the kid. Me? I deal in facts. And fact is—someone's gonna regret makin' me miss breakfast."
---
The jet descended. New York shimmered below like a restless beast.
Logan inhaled deep through his nose, his senses reaching outward, already hunting. Beneath the scent of rain-soaked asphalt, of exhaust and hot pretzels, he was searching—waiting—for something off. Something that didn't belong.
And as his claws itched under his skin, he thought grimly, Hang on, Angel. We're comin'.