The air was thick with the cloying scent of cotton candy, the metallic squeak of roller coaster wheels, and the constant laughter of a bustling crowd. Logan had had enough.
He wore his classic brown leather jacket, worn and tight, which seemed to absorb the scorching sun of the amusement park with the same intensity as it absorbed his patience. Beside him, Ororo Munroe, also known as Storm, wore a vaporous white dress that shone with an almost heavenly elegance under the sun. Her snow-white hair floated lightly in the wind, as if she herself controlled it with her power. On the other hand, Raven Darkhölme—or Mystique to friends and enemies—walked around carefree, wearing a tight black leather outfit that seemed more suited for a spy mission than a day at an amusement park. Her normally intimidating blue skin looked almost relaxed under the reflections of the colorful balloons sold nearby.
"Why the hell are we here?" "Logan growled, his voice deep and rough like used sandpaper. We could be doing something useful. A bar, a fight, even reading a damn book… but no, here we are! In this hellhole full of sticky brats and flickering lights."
Mystique, with a wry smile, replied as she took a bite of a churro she had probably stolen from some clueless person:
"Come on, Logan, what better place to torture yourself than a park full of 'happiness'? It's like putting a grizzly bear in a glass cage full of children. Fascinating spectacle."
Logan let out a guttural growl, his green eyes flashing with something between irritation and eternal exhaustion. He lit a cigar—illegally, of course, because Logan being Logan—while Ororo looked at him with a mix of motherly disapproval and barely contained amusement.
"Logan, you can't smoke in here," Storm said, raising an eyebrow. Her voice was soft but firm, the kind of tone that made even the most stubborn mutant obey. Except Logan.
"Of course I can, 'Ro. Look," she said, exhaling a thick cloud of smoke that almost formed a skull before Storm snapped her fingers and a light breeze extinguished the cigarette.
Mystique let out a laugh, almost choking on her joint.
"Serves you right for being so... well, you."
"Shut up, Smurfette," Logan muttered, crossing his arms with an expression that seemed to say "I'm stuck here, but I don't have to enjoy it."
Storm sighed and pointed to one particular ride: a roller coaster that ascended into the sky as if trying to reach the clouds, with twists and drops that made even the bravest of us scream.
"Look at that. How about we start with something exciting? It could be fun."
"Fun"? "What's wrong, Logan?" Logan replied incredulously, pointing at the ride with the unlit cigar still in his hand. "Waiting forty minutes in a line with a bunch of sweaty guys, paying a fortune to be thrown into the void, and feeling like a truck had run over you? Sure, a lot of fun."
Mystique narrowed her eyes, a mischievous glint in them.
"What's wrong, Logan? Scared? I thought you were the tough guy who could take on anything."
He looked at her as if she'd just suggested she wear a pink tutu.
"I'm not scared, blue lady. I just have common sense, which is more than I can say for you two."
Storm interceded, placing a hand on Logan's shoulder in a reassuring gesture.
"Come on, Logan. A day out won't kill you. You might even have fun… if you can get that scowl off your face."
He sighed deeply, as if he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. —Okay, but if someone touches me or asks me to smile for a photo, I swear to God I will not be held responsible.
Logan was sitting on a bench next to a hot dog cart, his shirt slightly unbuttoned and his hair messy. Ororo was fixing his collar while Mystique, still giggling, tried to catch her breath.
"The face you made!" Mystique exclaimed, wiping away an imaginary tear. "You looked like a cat stuck in a washing machine."
"It wasn't fear," Logan muttered, his jaw clenched as his hands shook slightly as he held a beer. "It was… survival strategy. I knew something was going to go wrong with that mechanical piece of crap."
Storm looked at him with infinite patience, her silver eyes filled with affection.
"You did well. Plus, it was kind of romantic when you held my hand on the highest descent."
"It wasn't 'romantic,' 'Ro. I was saving you." Logan looked away, but a faint shadow of blush appeared on his cheeks. Mystique, as always, didn't let the opportunity pass.
"Saving you," of course. You know, Logan, you're adorable when you get all grumpy.
"Keep talking and the next donut will end up buried in your forehead," Logan replied with his usual dark humor.
Storm simply smiled, her laughter soft as the wind, as she rested her head on Logan's shoulder for a moment. Mystique, without losing her style, leaned into him from the other side, resting an arm on his knee.
"You know?" Mystique said with a cheeky grin. "Maybe it wasn't such a bad day after all. With you, drama is guaranteed. And with 'Ro, we have a reason to keep smiling."
Logan sighed, looking at both women with something akin to resignation and, deep down, a genuine affection he would never admit.
"Anyone who sees me will think I'm in hell. But you two…" he paused for a second, before adding quietly, "…maybe you make it all worth it."
After regaining some composure from the roller coaster fiasco, Mystique pointed to a nearby attraction with a garish sign reading "The Mansion of Horror." Manic, pre-recorded laughter emanated from the speakers as red lights and fake shadows gave the place a macabre feel.
"Perfect for us, don't you think?" Mystique asked, her eyes narrowing in that expression that indicated she was up to something.
Logan snorted.
"What kind of idiot pays to be scared?" He glanced at the entrance where an entertainer dressed as a zombie was posing for pictures. A little girl screamed at the sight and ran after her parents. "This is a fucking circus."
"The same could be said for our daily lives," Storm replied with a smile. She seemed unusually animated at the thought. "Though I admit this kind of terror is more… theatrical."
Mystique gave Logan a mocking pat on the shoulder.
"Come on, 'man without fear.'" Unless you'd rather stay here guarding bags like a bored grandpa.
Logan narrowed his eyes at her, his jaw clenching as if he was seriously considering leaving. But no. If anything defined Logan, besides his stubbornness, it was his damn need to always prove he was above the rest.
"Fine, let's go in," he growled. "But if anyone dressed as a clown tries to touch me, I'm not responsible."
Inside the Horror Mansion
The darkness was total, broken only by intermittent flashes of strobe lights and the whines of hidden speakers. The decor, meant to be terrifying, didn't impress any of the three. They'd seen much worse in their lives as X-Men. And yet, the atmosphere was enough to put Logan in a bad mood.
"This isn't scary," Logan said as he walked to the front, pushing aside a curtain of rusty chains with a grunt. His voice reverberated through the space, causing a recording of sinister laughter to automatically activate.
"This is pathetic. I've had worse nightmares."
Storm, walking behind him, barely held back a giggle.
"Logan, stop ranting. It's just a bit of fun."
Mystique, beside him, smiled mischievously and faded from her visible form.
"Fun? I think I can make this more interesting."
"What?" Logan had barely turned his head when an "undead" emerged from the shadows, screaming at the top of his lungs and extending its hands towards him. Out of reflex, Logan activated his claws with an unmistakable metallic sound, slicing through the air inches from the actor's face.
"LOGAN!" Storm screamed as she grabbed his arm before he could do any more damage.
"WHAT THE HELL?!" the actor screamed, falling to the ground with his hands up. Mystique, now visible again, was laughing so hard she had to lean on the wall to keep from falling.
"Please! It's a temp job! Don't kill me!" the actor pleaded.
"Put your claws down!" Storm ordered, using his most authoritative tone. Logan snorted, putting the blades away as the man ran away screaming.
"That was… brilliant," Mystique said between laughs. Her blue skin gleamed under the flickering light as she wiped away an imaginary tear. "It was definitely more exciting with Wolverine on the loose."
"It wasn't funny, Raven," Storm said sternly, though a small smile played on her lips. "Logan, could you please try not to traumatize people?"
"I'm sorry, 'Ro. I'm an animal, remember?" Logan replied with dark sarcasm. He crossed his arms, clearly lacking any real remorse. "Blame the damn zombie for getting so close."
Mystique sighed dramatically, moving behind Logan and resting her hands on his shoulders.
"That's why we love you, Logan. Because you're a walking disaster."
Logan shot a murderous look over his shoulder, but didn't move away. Storm stepped closer, standing in front of him with a softness that seemed to defy her own imposing nature.
"And because, deep down," Storm said, looking straight into his green eyes, "you always protect your own. Even in absurd places like this."
For a moment, Logan didn't say anything. His eyes wandered between Ororo and Mystique, and though his face was still a mask of irritation, his lips curved slightly into a barely perceptible smile.
"Fine. But if they try to get me on another one of those death-dealing contraptions… I don't respond."
Mystique smiled, linking her arm through Logan's as Storm did the same on the other side.
"Whatever you say, grumpy bear." Now let's get out of here before someone calls security.
And so, the trio exited the ride with Logan still grumbling, Mystique sneering, and Storm with that unwavering calm that only she could maintain. The strange mix of chaos, humor, and complicity enveloped them, as always. Because, deep down, that's what they were: a beautiful, unpredictable mess.
It had been a couple of hours since the Horror Mansion ordeal, and the park was starting to fill up even more. Logan, Storm, and Mystique were walking through a less crowded area, with neon lights flickering and the sound of a fair nearby. It was an oddly quiet moment… until it wasn't.
A door swung open into a nearby event hall, from which emerged a group of women in tight dresses and an energy that screamed "bachelorette party." One of them, clearly the leader, wearing a sparkly tiara that read "Bride-to-be," stopped dead in her tracks upon seeing Logan.
"There he is!" she yelled, pointing at him as if she had just discovered a hidden treasure.
Logan looked up, a cigarette hanging from his mouth and an eyebrow raised.
"What the…?"
Before he could react, five more women surrounded him, pulling him toward the entrance of the hall decorated with pink balloons and streamers. Mystique and Storm barely had time to exchange a glance before one of the women slammed the door shut in front of them.
"This is going to be interesting," Mystique muttered, with a mischievous grin.
Storm crossed her arms, her face taking on an expression of tense patience.
"Interesting is not the word I would use."
"Listen, ladies, I think you got the wrong guy," Logan growled, as the women pushed him toward a chair in the center of the room. The air was saturated with cheap perfume, and deafening reggaeton filled the space.
The bride, clearly already drunk, leaned toward him, her tiara glinting under the strobe lights.
"Don't play hard to get, handsome? We know you're the stripper we hired. Show on!"
"What?" Logan repeated, his tone so dry he could have evaporated a puddle. He looked around, trying to figure out how many women he'd have to push aside to get out without bringing out his claws. "Listen, I don't know what they told you, but I'm not—"
Before he could finish, a woman activated a portable speaker, and a suggestive pop song began to play. The bride snapped her fingers.
"Take that jacket off!"
Logan stood stock still, his eyes fixed on the woman as if she had just suggested jumping off a bridge.
"Not in your wildest dreams, princess," he growled, his voice low and laden with menace.
But the women surrounded him, laughing and tugging at his jacket. In one corner, a camera was recording everything. Logan gritted his teeth. This was going to be a damn problem.
"What do we do?" Mystique asked, clearly enjoying the situation as she watched through the crack of a window.
"We get in and get him out before something explodes," Storm replied, frowning.
"It's Logan. Something always explodes." Mystique smiled and changed her form to that of a typical park security guard. "Let me handle it."
"Enough!" Logan roared, jumping to his feet so fast that the chair tipped over behind him. The women fell silent, shocked by the intensity in his voice and the furious look in his green eyes.
The door slammed open, and Mystique stepped in in her security disguise.
"What's going on here?" she asked with feigned authority, though there was a glint of amusement in her yellow eyes.
"This guy refuses to do his job!" the bride shouted, crossing her arms.
Mystique sighed dramatically.
"Ladies, this man is not the stripper. He is…" she paused, enjoying the moment, "…my husband."
"What?" the women all said in unison, as Logan turned to Mystique with an expression of utter disbelief.
Storm appeared behind Mystique at that moment, radiating an almost dangerous calm.
"And we would like to take him away now, if you don't mind."
The women began to murmur, hastily apologizing as Mystique and Storm led Logan out of the room. Once outside, Logan exhaled deeply, lighting a cigarette without saying a word.
"My husband," he repeated, looking at Mystique with a mix of irritation and amazement.
"What?" It was the first thing that came to mind. Mystique smiled, amused. "Besides, you suit the angry husband role well."
Storm looked at him with a worried glint in her silver eyes.
"Are you okay?"
Logan blew a puff of smoke into the air and shook his head.
"I'm fine. But next time you have a "fun" idea, make sure it doesn't end with people trying to undress me."
Storm couldn't help but smile a little, and Mystique, as always, threw in a final comment.
"Oh, come on, Logan. Admit it, the ladies were charmed by you."
He simply turned and began walking towards the park exit, leaving both women following him with knowing smiles.
And although he would never admit it, there was something comforting about the fact that, despite the chaos, they were always together, ready to face anything… even confusing bachelorette parties.
The trio finally reached the parking lot, under the night sky that was now filled with stars. The bustle of the amusement park was behind them, and Logan lit another cigar, inhaling deeply as if the smoke was the only thing capable of calming him after the day he'd had.
Mystique leaned against the car, arms crossed and a cheeky smile on her face.
"Well, it was definitely a memorable day. Who knew Logan could be the star of a bachelorette party?".
Logan exhaled the smoke slowly, his eyes fixed on some distant point.
"Memorable" is not the word he would use. "Hell" is closer.
Storm, who had been watching him with a soft expression, walked over and placed a hand on his arm. Her touch was warm, comforting.
"At least now you have a story to tell. Although you probably don't want to repeat it".
"Damn right." Logan dropped the cigar to the ground and crushed it with his boot. He looked at both women, his face hardened, but his eyes showed something else. Something only they could see.
Mystique tilted her head toward him, her tone changing slightly, more intimate but still playful.
"Admit that, despite everything, you like spending time with us."
Logan snorted, shaking his head.
"The only thing I like less than you two is admitting it."
Storm let out a soft laugh, and the sound made Logan look at her. There was something about the way her face lit up under the stars that made his grumpy heart beat a little faster. Mystique noticed, of course, and rolled her eyes theatrically.
"Oh, please, just kiss each other and get this over with. It's like watching a slow soap opera."
"Do you want me to end something?" Logan replied, turning to Mystique with a sarcastic smile. "Because I can start with you."
"Oh, Logan, always so menacing. It's part of your charm." —Mystique blew him an air kiss and climbed into the car, leaving Logan and Storm alone for a moment.
Storm, still smiling, looked at Logan.
"You know she's not right… but she's not wrong either".
"About what?" Logan asked, though he knew exactly what she meant.
Storm leaned slightly toward him, her gaze soft but intense.
"About you liking being with us. In your own… grumpy, complicated way".
For a moment, silence enveloped them. Logan looked at her, his frown relaxing just slightly. Then, with a resigned sigh, he said,
"I don't know how the hell you did it, but yes… I like it. You guys are the only thing that makes all this madness worth it".
Storm smiled, and before he could answer, Mystique poked her head out the car window.
"Enough with the intense staring! Are we getting in the car or what? Someone has to drive because I've already done my good deed for the day!"
Logan growled, but this time there was a hint of amusement in his tone.
"I'm coming, you fucking blue GPS."
He climbed into the car, Storm behind him, with the same serene grace as always. As they drove away from the park, Mystique, from the passenger seat, glanced at Logan in the rearview mirror.
"Admit it was fun."
"It was... something." Logan turned on the radio, trying to avoid further conversation.
Storm, from the backseat, leaned forward and placed a hand on Logan's shoulder.
"The important thing is that we survived the day... together."
Logan didn't answer, but a slight smile appeared on his lips as he drove towards the horizon. And although he would never say it out loud, he knew that, with them, even a day in hell could be unforgettable.