Chapter 2
The day after the dramatic events at the amusement park, which shook the young mutants, Emma Frost received an unexpected phone call from Megan Gwynn's father. The man, who just a few years ago had fought for his daughter to be admitted to the mutant school, was now adamantly demanding that she leave. Concerned and intrigued, Emma summoned Megan and her group's mentor, Shan, to her office. The two teachers waited for the student, who was once again running late.
"She must have forgotten she has responsibilities," Emma muttered, irritation creeping into her voice. "Maybe I should pay her a telepathic visit."
"Don't get worked up, Emma," Shan replied calmly. "Megan's always late, to classes, to Danger Room sessions… That's just how she is. But she's a good kid. She'll come around."
"I see you've failed to instill discipline in your group," Emma shot back with a mocking smile. "Maybe it's time someone else took over."
Shan narrowed her eyes, ready to respond, when the door to the office finally swung open. Megan and Mark entered the room. Emma raised an eyebrow at the sight of the boy.
"Mark, what are you doing here? I didn't call for you," she asked coolly.
"This concerns Megan, and if it's urgent and important, I'm not leaving her side. Not after what happened yesterday," DJ replied, holding Megan's hand tightly.
"Please, let him stay," Pixie added, stepping closer to the desk. Emma looked at her, then sighed, her gaze drifting towards the partially opened window.
"Fine. Sit down, both of you. We don't have all day," she said firmly. The young mutants took their seats, with Megan fidgeting nervously, her mind still occupied by the events of the previous day. She was certain this meeting had something to do with the attack.
"Megan, your parents want you to leave the school," Emma announced calmly. "I spoke to your father. They want you back in Wales by the end of this week."
Megan's eyes widened in shock. She stood up abruptly.
"What?!" she exclaimed. Mark immediately placed his hand on her shoulder, signaling her to sit down, calm down, and wait to hear everything before reacting.
"I'm only telling you what your father said," Emma replied.
"They can't do this to me! There's still so much I need to learn here!" Megan protested, her voice rising. "Why didn't they tell me themselves? Why didn't they call me earlier? Don't I have the right to decide for myself?"
"Megan, I don't know why you're hearing this from me and not directly from them," Shan interjected. "But remember, the final decision rests with your parents. The school can't override that."
Megan clenched her fists, tears forming in the corners of her eyes.
"This isn't fair…" she whispered. Mark, his face tense with concern, locked eyes with Emma.
"Why are they reaching out the day after Megan was attacked? Doesn't that seem suspicious to you?" he asked, anger simmering in his voice.
"How could they know about what happened yesterday?" Pixie asked, her voice shaking with anxiety.
"I don't know, Megan," Shan answered, casting a glance at Emma. Frost lowered her gaze.
"No one informed them about the incident," she said in a cold, measured tone.
"Do I really have to leave?" Megan asked, though she already knew what the answer would be.
"Yes, Megan. There's nothing I can do. You should start packing," Emma replied, unwilling to give her false hope.
Mark shot up from his seat again, frustration clear in his every movement.
"But what if this is a trap? What if it wasn't really her parents? What if it was someone from the group that attacked her yesterday? How can we let her travel knowing what happened?" Mark's voice trembled with emotion. Emma paused, thinking over his words before responding.
"The safety of my students is paramount. Megan won't be traveling alone. Shan will accompany her to Wales and ensure she gets safely to her parents' home. If anything seems suspicious, Shan can call in one of the X-Men teams for help."
"Is Shan enough? Shouldn't someone else be there to protect her too?" DJ pressed on.
"Are you volunteering to be her bodyguard?" Emma asked, a hint of irony in her tone. Mark's face lit up, and he glanced at Megan, noticing the smile forming on her lips.
"Absolutely!" he replied confidently. Pixie squeezed his hand, her smile warm but tinged with concern. She turned to Emma, her expression growing serious.
"Do you think this could be a trap?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
"I don't know, Megan," Emma answered, her voice cold and cautious. "But I need to be prepared for anything, especially since Logan hasn't returned from his mission yesterday."
Her final words sent a chill through the room. The young mutants paled, their hands instinctively tightening their grip on each other.
As the members of the Paragons left Emma Frost's office, Karma leaned against the desk, her gaze locking onto Emma's.
"We can't let anything happen to that girl — or any of her friends," she said, her voice steady but filled with concern.
"I'm fully aware of that," Emma replied. "But we'd be inviting serious trouble if we tried to force Megan to stay. Let's hope the attack was aimed at a mutant, not specifically at Megan herself, and that we'll catch whoever's responsible soon."
Shan prepared to leave the room, pausing for a moment with her hand on the doorframe. She turned back to glance one last time at Emma, her expression heavy with doubt.
"I just hope we made the right decision," she said softly, before walking out and closing the door quietly behind her.
Slowly, Wolverine's mind began to register scattered signals from the outside world: the scent of damp plants and soil mingled with the smell of asphalt and fresh air, carried from a nearby road. He could hear the distant hum of cars passing by, mixed with the sputtering noise of a malfunctioning radio and the clink of glassware and dishes hitting each other. Beneath his fingers, he felt the dampness of the grass and the sharp, uncomfortable prickle of tiny pebbles pressing into his skin. He opened his eyes, but the world before him was a blur, as though his brain couldn't quite process what he was seeing. A blue sky stretched out above him, with lazy clouds drifting across it, making him feel even more lost. His thoughts were disjointed, like scattered puzzle pieces he couldn't fit together. He raised a hand to his head, trying to force some sense into the chaos. Something wasn't right. His mind was overloaded, fragments of memories swimming to the surface. He could feel the rain that had poured down his body earlier, the hunt for a scent… a scent that lingered, yet eluded him. Who did it belong to? Familiar, but distant, like the echo of a long-forgotten memory. Then, images started to sharpen. Danger Room. His daughter. Emma's warning about the attack on the students. And the man, the one who caught him off guard… How could he have let that happen?
Logan shuddered as he sat in the wet grass, taking a deep breath as the remaining pieces of the puzzle slid back into place. He glanced down at his hands — his claws were still out, gleaming metal in the sunlight. He quickly retracted them, feeling a surge of frustration at himself. Where the hell was he?
He scanned his surroundings, and the confusion deepened. Nothing about this place resembled the grim funhouse he'd been in before… minutes ago? Hours ago? Time had lost all meaning. He was now in the middle of a desolate stretch of land, split by a rain-soaked highway. A few meters away stood a small, filthy gas station, its structure weathered and grimy, barely holding together.
Logan took a few steps toward the station but froze in place, as though he'd hit an invisible wall. His eyes locked on a faded, cheerful sign standing near the building.
"Welcome to Illinois," it read.
Megan frantically packed her belongings into two suitcases lying open on the unmade bed. Every movement was sharp, filled with anger and frustration — anger at the world, at Emma Frost, her parents, and most of all, herself. Her clenched jaw and hurried movements showed her inner turmoil, and every now and then, she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand to stop herself from crying.
Mark stood in the doorway, silently watching her toss clothes into the suitcases. At first, she tolerated his presence, but his quiet observation soon became unbearable.
"Did you come here to help!? Then get to work!" she snapped, her voice shaking with emotion as she reached for another piece of clothing.
"I can't. I'm not going to help my girlfriend leave," he replied, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"Then get out, because I'm busy!" Megan growled, slamming one of the suitcase lids shut with a loud thud. Mark stepped further into the room and approached her. He gently placed his hands on her shoulders, and though she initially tried to pull away, the warmth of his touch made her stop resisting.
"Megan, you have no idea how hard this is for me..." he whispered, his voice low and full of emotion.
"Please, don't start, or I'll just start crying," Megan murmured, closing her eyes and turning toward him.
"How could they do this to me?" she asked, not expecting an answer, her voice breaking.
"I don't know, Megan, but I'm not giving up. I'll fly with you, and I'll make them understand that you belong in this school. They'll have to let you come back," Mark said, pulling her into a tight embrace. Megan leaned into him, pressing her face against his chest.
"Thank you..." she whispered, her voice barely audible. Mark gently kissed her on the cheek, then on her neck. Megan tightened her grip around him, her body seeking comfort in his.
"I'm scared... after what happened at the amusement park yesterday," she admitted, looking up at him with teary eyes.
"Don't think about that. It's over. The X-Men will handle whoever attacked us. They'll find them, and they'll make them pay... I believe that," Mark tried to reassure her, though his words lacked confidence. Sensing this, he stopped talking and instead pulled her closer, showering her with soft kisses — on her neck, her hair, her face. His lips finally found hers, and he kissed her deeply. After a moment, he pulled back, only to kiss her again, this time with more passion. Megan responded without hesitation, dropping the item she was holding to the floor with a soft thud. She sat down on the edge of the bed, gazing up at Mark with a look that silently beckoned him to join her. Mark didn't need to be asked twice. He sat beside her, wrapping his arm around her, and kissed her again, long and tender. Gently, he laid her down on the soft bedding, hovering over her as he kissed her neck, her collarbone, and her shoulders. His hands traced the delicate line of her wings, moving down to her arms before resting on her hands. He squeezed them tightly.
"I love you," he whispered, looking deeply into her eyes before kissing her again, this time with an intensity that left no room for doubt. "They won't take you from me," he vowed silently. "I swear, I won't let them."
Logan sat inside a small, smoky bar attached to a gas station, lost in the heart of the wilderness, somewhere along a desolate highway. The place felt forgotten, worn down by time and neglect. Near the entrance stood an old, beat-up phone, which Logan was using to try and contact Xavier's Institute. He needed to tell them where he was and how he had ended up in such a remote location. The air was thick with the scent of stale oil, cigarette smoke, and a faint hint of mildew. A slow-turning ceiling fan lazily spun above, barely making a dent in the stifling heat. A crackling radio on the counter played morning news, its static merging with the low hum of conversation. Besides Logan, there were only three other people in the bar: two large, bearded men with bloated, whiskey-soaked faces sitting at a table, and the bartender – a tired-looking woman with bleached blonde hair, her face caked with heavy makeup. She wore a faded apron, the fabric worn thin from years of work in this forgotten hole. It was likely she was the owner, bartender, and waitress all at once. The bearded men laughed loudly, their voices rough and slurred, grating on Logan's nerves. The noisy, oppressive atmosphere made every sound feel like a blade, cutting into his rising frustration. Finally, the phone crackled, and a familiar voice answered. Emma Frost had picked up almost instantly, a mixture of relief and concern in her tone.
"Logan, what's going on?" she asked, sensing something off.
"You need to send the Blackbird," he said roughly.
"What? Where are you?" Emma asked, clearly thrown off.
"In the middle of nowhere, some highway in Illinois."
"Illinois? What are you doing there?!" Emma's confusion was evident.
"I wish I knew," he muttered. "One more thing. I need to talk to Laura. It's important. We need to act fast."
Still puzzled but understanding the urgency, Emma began searching telepathically through the school, looking for X-23.
The room was dark and stifling, likely part of an abandoned building left to decay years ago. The faded wallpaper was peeling, yellowed with age, and the once-soft carpet on the floor had turned gray from years of accumulated dust. There were no furnishings, no signs of life, except for a lone, withered plant in a cracked pot. In the center of the room, a pentagram glowed ominously on the floor, and within its confines lay a woman — the same one who had attacked the young mutants the day before. Her body, once riddled with bullets from a mysterious man's gun, was now completely healed, not a single wound remaining. She was pale and motionless, restrained by an invisible force, her face twisted in a hateful scowl. Just a few steps away, in the shadowy corner of the room, stood an unshaven man in a long, weathered coat. He smoked a cigarette, occasionally glancing at his captive while holding a finely crafted sword in his hand. The blade's hilt glimmered faintly in the dim light. Taking one last drag, he tossed the cigarette to the ground near her face and crushed it beneath his boot. Then he knelt beside her, staring into her cold, defiant eyes.
"For the last time, who are you?" he asked, his voice low and controlled.
The woman remained silent, not even glancing at him.
He sighed, his patience thinning. "Fine. Let's try this another way. Who sent you? Who wants Megan Gwynn dead?"
"Go to hell," she hissed, her voice dripping with venom.
"Not before I send you there first." His tone darkened. "But before that, I can make sure you experience an eternity of agony right here on Earth. Unless..." He leaned in closer, his breath hot against her cheek. "You cooperate. So, I'll ask again: who are you, and who sent you?"
The woman turned her head, smirking to herself, her defiance palpable. The man, clearly irritated, lifted his sword slightly, the sharp edge gleaming. "Enchanted cold iron," he said, his voice now tinged with menace. "Almost as ancient as your Old Homeland. I know how your kind fears its touch. I know the pain it causes when it pierces flesh. I'm not a torturer by nature, but I won't hesitate to use this if you don't start talking. Who sent you after Megan Gwynn? Why are you so far from your homeland?"
Sweat beaded on his forehead as his anger boiled just beneath the surface. "What is a Dark Fairy doing across the ocean?!" he shouted, his voice echoing through the empty room.
The woman laughed, a chilling, mocking sound. She looked at him, her eyes glinting with amusement. "Dark Fairy?" she asked before laughing again, louder this time.
"What's so funny?!" he roared, bringing his sword down hard next to her head, the blade sinking into the floor with a sharp crack.
"Your naivety, Aaron. Your complete ignorance of what's happening around you," she sneered, addressing him by name. Aaron froze, his grip on the sword tightening in surprise. She knew his name. How? He clenched the hilt even harder, trying to maintain control of his rage.
"Why did you try to kill Megan Gwynn?!" he bellowed, his voice trembling with fury.
"That's not something a mortal like you is meant to know. You'll never find out."
Aaron's temper snapped. With a savage cry, he drove the sword into her shoulder, the cold iron cutting through flesh, muscle, and bone, pinning her to the ground. The woman screamed in agony, her body convulsing as waves of pain tore through her. Aaron twisted the blade cruelly, ensuring that the wound would tear even further. He remained silent, not seeking pleasure in her suffering but driven by the need for answers. The woman cursed him in a language long forgotten, her voice hoarse from pain.
"I won't stop, you dark Tylwyth Teg," Aaron growled through clenched teeth. "I'll wound every limb if I have to. If you refuse to talk, I'll cut them off one by one, and the magic of this sword will make sure you never regenerate. I'll destroy your physical form and trap your spirit here forever, far from your homeland." His voice was hard, resolute. He was at the edge of his endurance, ready to end this once and for all. But he knew he needed to keep his cool — for Megan's sake, for those who cared about her. The pale woman trembled, her face contorted in agony, knowing she had to save herself.
"You have no idea what you're about to unleash..." she whispered through gritted teeth. "They're everywhere, in every corner of this world. They've been preparing for this day for years. The entire Homeland is teeming with their agents. Hidden in the bodies of ordinary people, waiting to awaken. Soon, very soon, they'll rise. And Gwynn... Gwynn will be the tool of their destruction."
"Who are you talking about?" Aaron asked, his heart pounding in his chest.
"Those you think are my brothers and sisters..." she gasped, her voice weakening.
"The dark Tylwyth Teg? You're not one of them?" Aaron's surprise was genuine. He lessened the pressure on his sword, giving her a moment of respite.
"You're blind, Aaron... so blind. But even though you've humiliated and imprisoned me, my mission is far from over. We never act alone. We always travel in pairs, so that one of us can complete the task if the other falls. My shadow... my other self... is already close to Gwynn. And they will carry out what we were sent to do..." Her voice faded into a hoarse whisper.
Aaron blanched. He cursed under his breath and stood abruptly, yanking the sword from her body with a swift, violent motion. The blade tore through her flesh, further damaging her muscles and splintering bone. Ignoring her cries of pain, he turned to leave, his mind racing. But after a few steps, he paused and looked back. He knelt quickly, smudging part of the pentagram on the floor.
"I'm not heartless, Tylwyth Teg," he muttered. "You're free. Remember that." With that, he left her writhing in pain on the floor. As he rushed up the stairs of the dilapidated building, his fists clenched in frustration. "I sent him off with Wolverine... damn it! Now, of all times!"
Arranging a seat on a flight to the British Isles took Emma Frost only a moment. She received another call from Megan's father, who insisted that his daughter return home as quickly as possible. He refused to talk to Emma or give any reason for his decision, and he wouldn't speak to Megan either. Frost decided not to mention the attack on his daughter or the mysterious disappearance of one of the X-Men.
All the Paragons, as well as Andrea, Megan's roommate, gathered in the Institute's hallway to say their goodbyes and accompany her to the airport. Only Megan herself and her boyfriend were missing.
"I can't believe she's going home," Hope said, looking at her friends.
"Neither can I. But Megan's taking it worse than any of us. She's been furious ever since she found out. She didn't even want me to help her pack," Andrea said sadly.
"You have to let her handle this in her own way," Jessica chimed in.
"I know, but I feel like I should be helping her right now," Andrea replied, her head hanging low.
"Our team is going to lose so much…" Ben said, staring out the window at the clouds drifting across the pale sky. "Megan was the heart of our group," he added with a heavy sigh.
"Don't talk about her like she's already dead!" Nicholas snapped at Ben. Then, after a moment of awkward silence, he calmed down, sadness creeping into his voice. "She would've made a great X-Man if she'd just been given the chance."
Just then, Laura Kinney appeared. Spotting Jessica, she quickly made her way over and gently touched her shoulder.
"Mission," she whispered in her ear.
"What? What are you talking about?" Jessica was confused. Her teammates exchanged puzzled looks as well. Laura walked a few steps away, motioning for Jessica to follow.
"Laura, what's going on?" Jessica asked, pulling herself free from Laura's grip.
"Wolverine. He called Emma Frost," X-23 replied.
"He's back? That's great! What's going on with him?" Jessica asked, her tone lightening.
"He's in Illinois," Laura said flatly.
"What? Illinois? What's he doing there?" Jessica was taken aback.
"It doesn't matter. What matters is the mission he gave me. It could be crucial for Megan's safety."
Jessica glanced at the rest of the group, signaling that she'd be back after hearing what Laura had to say. Then she turned her attention fully to her friend. Laura leaned in closer, as if worried someone might overhear.
"While investigating the area, Wolverine witnessed something interesting. A man in an amusement park had a heart attack, and the paramedics were fighting for his life. At first, Logan didn't think much of it, but today he remembered something important. That man had the same scent on him that was on Megan — the scent of the person who tried to kill her. The mission is to track down this man and get some answers. Wolverine said I could pick anyone from the X-Men to help."
"Anyone? But I'm not an X-Man," Jessica objected instinctively.
"That doesn't matter. Your abilities could be useful if getting information from him turns out to be impossible," Laura explained.
Jessica hesitated. She knew what was coming next, and it wasn't something she was eager to hear.
"If talking to him isn't an option… or if he's already dead, your gift might be the only way to learn anything."
"Great…" Jessica thought to herself, already picturing a grim scene in the hospital morgue, searching for a corpse that might hold the scent of a dangerous woman.
"Laura, I understand how important this is, but in a few hours, I'm supposed to go to the airport with the group to say goodbye to Megan. I can't just leave to go into the city with you."
"We'll be going there for Megan's safety. Go say your goodbyes now, and I'll wait for you outside the school," Laura said, turning away and heading toward the exit without waiting for an answer.
Jessica looked at Hope, who had been watching the whole conversation. After a moment of hesitation, she decided to go along with Laura's plan.
"I'm going to see Megan. Maybe Laura and I can find something we missed last night."
"Okay, take care," Hope replied, smiling faintly.
When Jessica reached the dorm floor where Megan's room was, she noticed Mark Shepard pacing down the hallway. She immediately approached him, but he only gave her a brief glance.
"You're going to see Megan? Better turn around. She doesn't want to talk to anyone right now," he said flatly.
"Have you been with her?" Jessica asked.
"Yeah, I helped her pack and… said my goodbyes. But a few minutes ago, she told me she wanted to be alone and kicked me out of her room."
"I understand, but I need to see her. I won't be able to say goodbye at the airport."
"Alright, but don't say I didn't warn you," DJ shrugged and walked calmly toward the stairwell.
Jessica knocked on Pixie's door, but when no one answered, she decided to enter uninvited. She saw Megan sitting at her desk, staring at posters of Dazzler hanging on the wall. Jessica tried to speak, but Megan turned her head toward her, tears glistening in her eyes.
"Jessica, please leave. I don't want to talk," Megan said softly, her voice breaking.
"Megan… I need to talk to you. I won't be able to see you off at the airport, so I wanted to say goodbye now," Jessica said, leaning against her friend's desk. After a pause, she added, "I'm going to the amusement park to find out more about the people who attacked you."
Megan perked up, quickly rising from her chair and standing in front of her.
"Jessica! That's dangerous…"
"Relax, I'll be fine… but that's not why I came here."
Megan went silent, sitting back down in her chair. She lowered her head, covering her face with her hands.
"It's so unfair... I was so happy here, with you, Hope, the guys..." She paused, the room falling into silence again. "With Mark…"
Jessica moved closer, gently embracing her and brushing her fingers through Megan's pink hair, then wiping away the tear that rolled down her cheek. Megan grabbed Jessica's shirt, gripping it tightly. She didn't want to cry. She wanted to show she was strong, but it was becoming harder to maintain that facade.
"Megan… I know exactly how it feels when someone forces you away from the person you love," Jessica whispered, her voice trembling as she stroked her friend's hair. "Thank you for everything… for treating me like a friend from the very first day at school."
Megan lifted her head, offering a fleeting, sorrowful smile.
"Thank you, Jessica…"
Aaron prepared to leave the area of crumbling buildings where he had tried to extract information from his prisoner. He was angry with himself for having to resort to using his sword. He despised causing pain, even when it was absolutely necessary. Furthermore, every time he used the weapon, cursed as it was, it filled him with energies from realms he loathed. But in that moment, none of it mattered. He knew he had to act swiftly to ensure that the person he had sworn to protect wouldn't come to harm. He had overlooked an obvious fact: assassins sent from the world of Eternal Dusk never worked alone — they always complemented each other. Time was not on his side. Aaron realized he would have to rely, once again, on a being that filled him with disgust. Its mere presence sparked a fury within him — a creature that had become his servant long ago, back when he and two companions had crossed boundaries meant for ordinary mortals. Stopping at the crossroads where two paths intersected at a right angle, he spread his arms wide, listening for sounds from afar, from other places and other times.
"Show yourself, Traveler! I need you!" he shouted, raising both hands above his head. In that instant, a bright light appeared before him, and a dark shape emerged from it. Aaron instinctively drew his pistol, never trusting how his companion might react to a sudden summons. The shape began to shift and ripple until it finally took the form of a black-as-night coyote — the skin the Traveler had chosen for this meeting.
"Do you wish for my help again, though it hasn't been long since last time?" the animal asked in a human voice.
"This is urgent. You need to open a passage for me. There's no time to waste!"
The coyote yawned lazily, casting a casual glance at Aaron, before lying down in the sand and closing its eyes.
"And what will I get in return for creating a passage for you?"
"Damn it!" Aaron cursed silently. "He's playing his games again."
"We don't have time for this! We can discuss terms after I've completed my task. Agreed?"
The coyote sat up in the sand, remaining silent for a long moment, watching Aaron's reaction with amusement. It relished drawing out the tension.
"Rules are rules," the creature finally said after nearly two minutes. "Payment first, then the work."
Aaron clenched his fists, tempted to empty his entire magazine into the pitiful creature or, better yet, slice it in half with his sword. But he couldn't. And how he regretted it. Resigned, he asked what the Traveler wanted in exchange for its services.
"Fine. What do you want?"
"You'll have to figure that out yourself..." the coyote replied, its eyes gleaming with satisfaction as it watched the man struggle with the predicament.
Jessica and Laura arrived at the park where the tragic event involving their friends had taken place the night before. With the help of the park employees, they quickly found the spot where Logan had seen the dying man. Laura decided to scan the area with her heightened senses, while Jessica, posing as a journalism student, engaged in a brief conversation with a man dressed as a giant egg with human legs.
"That was really awful," the man in the egg costume began. "I knew him since I started working here. He was honest, diligent, and amazing with kids. Being a clown was his life. I don't know if I could handle this job for as long as he did. I'm already thinking of quitting this ridiculous outfit and doing something else."
"I see..." Jessica responded, not particularly interested in the man's tale.
A heavyset woman in a frilly pink dress joined the conversation, dabbing her eyes with a white handkerchief.
"It happened so suddenly! Who could've seen it coming?" she wailed in a high-pitched voice.
Jessica, not wanting to hear more of their stories, quickly excused herself and made her way toward the path where Laura was standing.
"What did you find out?" X-23 asked as Jessica approached.
"The man Wolverine mentioned died last night. That's all I got. Apparently, it was a heart attack. How about you?"
"The rain washed away most of the tracks, but one thing is clear: she was here. The woman I was sent to find."
"So, what's the plan now?" Jessica asked.
"The body's probably been taken to the nearest morgue. We'll go there and get more information," Laura replied, following her training and treating this like another mission to complete.
"How do you plan to get inside? Even if we do, what then?" Jessica's frustration was growing.
"I know what I'm doing. It's important that the mission succeeds," X-23 responded, heading toward the parking lot. In no time, they were back in the car. Jessica's irritation with Laura's single-minded focus on "the mission" was mounting. Her own thoughts were with Megan and the rest of the group, her eyes drifting to the trees and houses passing by outside.
"Laura..." Jessica finally spoke after minutes of silence.
"Yeah?" Laura answered, eyes still on the road.
"Shouldn't we ask someone from the X-Men for help? We don't know what we're getting into."
"No. Wolverine gave this mission to me, and I chose you to help."
"But Wolverine didn't say anything about breaking into a morgue... And what are we going to do there? Dissect the corpse?" Jessica asked, disbelief in her voice.
"If necessary, yes," X-23 responded, her tone deadly serious.
Jessica turned her head to the window again, letting the silence return. Something about Laura's behavior gnawed at her, so she broke the quiet once more.
"Laura, why did you choose me?"
"I told you back at the institute. Your abilities could come in handy."
"Right...," Jessica sighed, closing her eyes. Laura wasn't finished, though. "And besides... I like you," Laura said softly, her gaze never leaving the road. Jessica smiled, a bit surprised.
"It's probably because we're similar. We like the same music, dress the same way..."
"No," Laura interrupted, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter. "We're nothing alike. But I enjoy your company," she added quietly, her voice steady but sincere.
Jessica wanted to talk longer, but Laura silenced her, pointing out that they were close to their destination. As they arrived in front of the hospital, they parked the car. The building was massive, either newly constructed or freshly renovated, and there was a lot of activity around. Groups of visitors made their way toward the main entrance, some in white coats — doctors, nurses, hospital staff. Jessica and Laura slipped inside unnoticed. The interior bustled with people, allowing them to blend into the crowd.
"Talk to someone, I'll scout the area," Laura suggested, moving deeper into the building. Jessica spotted a heavyset nurse with dark skin and approached her.
"Excuse me, I have a question…" Jessica began, a little hesitantly.
"Yes?" the woman responded in a low, stern voice.
"I heard one of the park employees was brought in here. Apparently, he's dead. Is that true?"
"And who are you to be asking about such things?" the nurse shot back, looking Jessica up and down with disapproval, from her black shirt and boots to her overall appearance.
"I... I've been going to that park since I was a kid. He was always so kind…" Jessica looked down, her voice softening. The nurse's expression relaxed. She placed a comforting hand on Jessica's shoulder.
"Oh, I see… Yes, it's true. They brought him in last night. It was the clown. I'm sorry, but there was nothing they could do for him."
Meanwhile, Laura was walking down the hospital corridors, discreetly observing her surroundings. She noted the location of the elevators and stairwells, as well as restricted areas accessible only to staff. She also found a small locker room with white lab coats hanging inside. After finishing her reconnaissance, she returned to the main waiting area and spotted Jessica.
"Jessica!" she called out as she approached.
"His body is here. I just found out from the nurse," Jessica said.
"Great. I've scoped the place out. Only staff can enter the morgue, so we'll have to disguise ourselves. I saw a place with lab coats. We'll pretend to be medical students."
"What?" Jessica asked, trying to keep up with Laura's fast-paced thinking. Before long, they found themselves in the small locker room, where X-23 locked the door behind them. Quickly, they slipped into the white coats.
"What if we get caught? Do you know enough about medicine to pose as a student?" Jessica asked.
"Yes. In the Organization, I studied anatomy and physiology from the age of eight," Laura replied coolly. They stepped back into the hallway.
"The bodies are transported to the morgue by that elevator," Laura pointed to the large metal doors, "but that route is too busy. We'll take the emergency stairwell. They're usually located at the ends of the hallways, where there's less traffic."
Laura grabbed Jessica's hand, leading her deeper into the hospital. They reached a wing where the stairwell entrance was located, but the door was locked with a rusty padlock.
"And now?" Jessica asked.
"Stand guard and make sure no one comes," Laura instructed. She extended her adamantium claws from her right hand and swiftly sliced through the padlock. They descended the creaky metal stairs to the lowest level of the building, where Jessica found a light switch. However, the only illumination in the cramped corridor came from a single, dim bulb hanging on the wall. The place was filthy and cluttered with old, discarded boxes, as no one dared venture there — not even the cleaning staff. Against one wall stood an iron lung, long out of use, its machinery rusting away.
"Creepy," Jessica remarked, her eyes wide with a mix of fascination and unease as she examined the barrel-shaped machine.
"Creepy? You haven't seen the medical devices in the Organization," Laura replied.
As they moved deeper, they passed more relics of a bygone era — rusty wheelchairs, archaic oxygen tanks, cracked glass vials, and creaky hospital beds from the 1950s. The area looked like a museum of medical devices. Soon, they encountered another locked door, which Laura quickly opened with her claws. Beyond it lay a more modern section of the hospital — the morgue. The corridor was bathed in cold, sterile light, making the place feel even more oppressive. Laura ensured that no one was nearby and entered the room, which contained rows of steel refrigerators for the dead and tables for autopsies. Jessica searched for a light switch, but Laura stopped her.
"We don't want to draw attention," she whispered. „We need to act fast. Someone might show up any minute," Laura urged.
"Okay…" Preview responded, her eyes darting around the cold, sterile room with growing unease.
Laura closed her eyes, focusing on the scent she had memorized from the previous night. There it was — faint, but unmistakable — coming from one of the refrigerated drawers. In a swift motion, she pulled open the metal door and slid out the drawer containing the body of a middle-aged man. He was a large man, his face still bearing faint traces of clown makeup, a haunting reminder of who he had once been.
"Oh!" Jessica gasped, quickly turning her head away in disgust.
"Jessie, this all depends on you now. Don't be afraid; you won't catch anything," X-23 said, her tone firm as she gestured toward the lifeless body.
"Easy for you to say," Jessica muttered. Slowly, she stepped toward the open drawer, her movements hesitant. With a deep breath, she extended her hand, her eyes squeezing shut and lips pressing into a thin line as her fingertips neared the cold, lifeless flesh. She touched the body, trying to summon a vision — some echo from the past or future linked to the man or someone who had been close to him in his final hours. The icy touch sent a shiver down her spine, but she forced herself to concentrate. Then, the images started flooding her mind: the amusement park at night, children laughing as the man handed them balloons, the bitter wind carrying the scent of approaching rain, the pale, mysterious woman, her touch causing an agonizing pain in his chest. Jessica's focus sharpened on this part of the vision, recognizing the scene from her experience the previous day. She saw the woman laughing, then a terrified Megan, and another figure — a tall man with long, blonde hair standing nearby, gripping a gilden sword that gleamed in the sunlight. The vision shifted, and suddenly, she was at an airport, the same man waiting for someone.
"Megan" Jessica's heart raced as the realization hit her, pulling her abruptly back into reality.
"Jessica, are you alright?" Laura asked, her voice concerned as she noticed the shaken look on her companion's face.
"There's another… there's a second killer! We have to warn Megan, now!" Jessica gasped, her breath shallow and panicked.
"We're leaving," X-23 said, her voice calm but resolute. She slid the drawer back into the refrigerated compartment, sealing the dead man behind the cold metal door.
Aaron was furious. He glared at the coyote standing before him, seething at the creature's endless games – even when lives were on the line. He thought of the day he would no longer need its services, the day he could finally send it to the darkest depths of hell. Clenching his fists, Aaron shouted into the animal's eyes.
"Fine! You win! I'll open the next corridors for you! We don't have time for these stupid games! I'll open the American trails! Just start doing something!"
"I see we understand each other perfectly, as usual," the Traveler replied, lowering his head slightly.
"Can you find Gwynn?" Aaron asked, his voice tense.
"Of course. You insult me by asking..." the coyote replied, feigning outrage. At that moment, a bright light appeared behind him, forming a portal into a tunnel that transcended time and space.
"What are you waiting for? The gate won't stay open forever!" the Traveler shouted, urging Aaron, who stood there observing the unusual phenomenon with growing curiosity.
Meanwhile, at the airport, the remaining members of the Paragons – all except Jessica – were saying goodbye to Megan, who was set to fly with Shan and Mark to her family home in Wales. Every one of the young mutants believed the strange behavior of her parents would have a rational explanation and that Megan would soon return to the school.
"Take care, Megan," said Ben.
"Don't give up, fight for what's yours," added Nicholas.
"I'll miss you," Andrea said, giving her roommate a tight hug.
"Let's go, or we'll be late," Mark urged his girlfriend.
"Thank you... all of you," Megan replied, walking toward the terminal. At that moment, a police officer approached the trio. He was a tall man, with golden curls peeking out from under his hat.
"Excuse me, but for security reasons, every departing mutant must undergo a thorough inspection." He glanced at Megan's wings, which shimmered in the sunlight. "You'll need to come with me to see a specialist in homo superior, who will assess whether you pose any risk to the flight. It'll take no more than five minutes, but we have to be sure you're not associated with any terrorist group."
"What?" Shan was instantly outraged.
"How dare you treat her like this!" Mark shouted, his hand crackling with the energy his voice had gathered. Megan quickly grabbed his hand to calm him.
"Relax. Five minutes won't make a difference. I'll go with him," Megan said calmly.
"Thank you for your cooperation," the officer replied, gesturing for her to follow. They walked through a quiet section of the airport, passing small doors until they found themselves outside the terminal. Megan noticed they were now in a technical area filled with wooden crates, loading machinery, glass, and metal remnants, likely from the recent renovation of the terminal. In the distance, she could see planes parked on the runway. After a few minutes, Megan began to feel uneasy. They were moving farther and farther away from the populated areas of the airport.
"Are you sure we're going the right way?" she asked. The officer remained silent, taking a few more steps ahead of her. Suddenly, a rose petal fell onto Megan's head. She looked around, searching for the source, but there were no plants in sight. More petals began to fall around her like some strange, magical rain. Fear gripped Pixie's heart – she knew something this extraordinary couldn't be a good sign. She looked ahead and realized the man before her was no longer a police officer. He had long, golden hair and pointed ears, dressed in a blue uniform that resembled something historical, with a cape billowing in the wind. The stranger drew a sword from its sheath, gilded.
"Megan Gwynn, prepare to die," he said, smiling as he spoke.
