George stared at the frail figure being wheeled out of the water tank by Logan.
So this is the legendary Professor X. Looks younger than the movies.
It made sense. If this were 2029 like in Logan, Charles Xavier would be ninety-seven. But now? Only seventy-seven.
If we can restore his powers—or even just his sanity—he could shield us. And train the kids.
Right then, George decided: once he got to Hogwarts, he'd prioritize healing magic. If modern science couldn't fix Xavier, maybe magic could.
Because Charles Xavier wasn't just powerful—he was apocalyptic.
A telepath who could read, erase, or control minds without physical contact. With Cerebro, he could kill every human and mutant on Earth.
"New mutants… new life…"
Xavier's voice trembled as he gazed at the children—especially Laura. Tears streaked his withered cheeks.
"Logan, you must help them. They need you."
He clutched Wolverine's arm with surprising strength.
"Wait… just wait. You'll have family again. Don't give up. It gets better."
Something hardened in Logan's eyes. For a moment, he looked like the fearless warrior of old.
"Then promise me you won't quit either." His voice was gravel. "They need guidance. Like we did."
George approached.
"We can't stay. The lab will hunt us."
He mapped out the plan swiftly:
Him and Logan → New York. Rescue Tony Stark.
Xavier, Caliban, Gabriela, and Isa → Take the kids to North Dakota. Hide.
"Watch for a Logan clone. Caliban—sense anything, you move."
Caliban's pupils contracted. He pointed south.
"Too late. He's here."
A convoy snaked across the barren horizon.
George's lips thinned.
"Good. Let's end this now."
He'd expected pursuit. Alkali-Transigen's resources meant traffic cams, satellite sweeps—no hiding a truck that size.
Earlier, this would've been deadly. Even with his magnetic bullet-bending, X-24 was immune to gunfire. Run out of ammo? Game over.
But now—
Logan has that adamantium round. The one meant for his own skull.
Eliminate X-24, and the lab loses its trump card. No time to grow another Logan clone.
And if they could kill Dr. Rice? Perfect.
"Here's how we do it—"
Meanwhile, in the lead armored Jeep:
Commander Pierce adjusted his headset.
"Surround the factory. Leave no exits."
His orders crackled through the comms:
"Shoot on sight. Especially Experiment 757."
Transigen had mobilized every asset to track the fugitives. Finding them with Wolverine? Unacceptable.
They'd known about Logan and Xavier's hideout. Let them rot—Dr. Rice's words.
But now? With the mutant kids? That changed things.
Hence the backup: X-24.
Twenty vehicles fanned out, sealing the derelict factory in a steel noose. A hundred armed men in Kevlar took positions.
And in the distance—a sniper atop an armored bus. Inside? The ultimate weapon: X-24, coiled and ready.
Pierce stepped forward, smirking at the lone figure barring the factory doors.
"Never thought I'd meet my childhood hero like this."
His tone dripped mockery.
"Hand over the kids, and you and the old man can go back to… whatever this is."
Logan's jaw clenched. Stall. Buy time.
"Private property. Get lost."
Pierce gestured to the truck.
"Lying to me? Bad move."
"Don't know whose truck that is. Nobody here but me."
A nod from Pierce. Twenty soldiers stormed the factory.
Five minutes later: Empty.
Pierce's gaze slid to the rusted water tank beside the building.
"Clever. They're in there. Him too."
Logan's hand crept toward his pocket.
"Just a tank. Told you—"
Pierce ignored him, signaling the assault.
"Check it."
Logan moved.
A syringe flashed—jammed into his own arm.