Shmd

This chapter was a total chore to write. I'm not entirely satisfied with it, it is meaty and unending, I globally disliked coming with clever ways to make the Purple Man's power seems less evil because it still is, but I so very wanted to just properly set up the next chapter that I ended up just rushing headlong so that I would be done with it and wouldn't have to write anymore of something that was necessary for the story, yet so frustrating.

No matter, now it is done and I'm back to having some fun.

CW :

Spoiler

Mention of mind control and loss of agency, one and only time where the PM power will be used.

[collapse]

Happy (?) reading,

With love, Sh'

 

Chapter 6 : Aamon

 

Bayville High, Poughkeepsie, Upstate New York, 24th of January, 14:37

 

The tour had stayed until 10:30, longer than expected due to an impromptu spider-hunt that failed due to the intervention of yours truly. I just had to ‘thoughtlessly’ step on it while feigning that all was right in a wonderful world for my blood-sister to snatch it.

What I supposed was the body of specimen 42 remained in her personal dimension for safekeeping.

 

The bus trip back to Midtwon High had taken forever and I had to deal with my growing impatience and anxiety while Gwen was giving me pleading looks and busied herself freaking out.

 

I just had the time to whisper to her to pretend to be sick, which she will be in a few hours anyway, that I had a good reason to tell her to stay mum and that I will talk to her tomorrow at the first hour before playing hooky myself.

 

I had to use the Purple Man’s power on our teacher for her to let me leave and I fully expect her to be extremely confused tomorrow once the effects vanish.

 

The drive toward Poughkeepsie had been a test of my patience and I was now bulldozing my way toward Principal Darkholme’s office amid deserted hallways. I had at least the luck that everybody was still attending their classes and the school day wasn’t over by the time I reached it.

 

There it was.

 

“Showtime.”

 

My blood-sister flows over me, changing my look for something similar to the one I had during our previous sortie. Our minds melt, and we become one.

 

Except that I am, at my express demand, the only one in charge today. Knowing what was at stake, she agreed.

 

I open the door towards Mystique’s office, finding myself face-to-face with her secretary.

 

“Remain calm and announce a visitor.” I softly declare as she startles.

 

She immediately settles and presses her finger on the intercom on her desk.

 

“A visitor for you, Ms. Darkholme.” She says in a monotone.

 

Could have been less flagrant that something’s amiss, could have been worse.

 

A muffled “A moment” resounds. The voice is exactly as I expected, embodying perfectly the strict persona Mystique goes with as the Principal of her children’s highschool.

 

My heart is hammering inside my chest but my mask is perfect and glossy-purple so my nervousness is only known to me and my sister.

 

She sends feelings of strength and victory over the mind-link and it settles me a bit.

 

I can do this.

 

“They may enter.” Mystique’s overbearing voice tells her secretary.

 

“Nothing is amiss and we are not here.” I declare to her benefit as I reach the door.

 

I enter, and as Mystique’s head raises from her computer screen, I rapidly fire a few commands.

 

“Stay seated, no powers, no screaming.”

 

She stiffen, her expressions rapidly alternating between bewilderment and rage.

 

“What…” She starts, but there is more.

 

“You can freely talk but cannot lie.” I declare as I seat myself in front of her desk.

 

She pales. She knows I’m onto her.

 

“You will answer our questions when we ask them. A pleasure to meet you, Ms. Darkholme, or should we call you Mystique ?” I ask, crossing my fingers in my lap.

 

She struggles, grinds her teeth, then finally cedes.

 

“Either works, I guess.” She snarls.

 

Her being positively seething at this stage will not do.

 

“You may call us Aamon, and we came bearing a trade. Would you happen to be interested in the gift of knowledge ?”

 

I tilt my head as she struggles anew, only to sigh and concede the fact that I’m holding all the cards here and she has none.

 

“I do.” She reluctantly admits.

 

I never specified which kind of knowledge. But I know just the thing that will make her both cooperative and interested.

 

“A cure to lift the veil of the unseen, in the hand of a lover. Would you bargain for it ?”

 

She blinks, then answers before her mind can completely catch up.

 

“I would.” She blurts out, bending on her desk, eyes begging me not to let her down.

 

I nod sagely, fully channeling the evil personna I chose for the day.

 

“You merely have to call to your office the young x-men that are currently attending school. And before you start second guessing yourself, we only wish to offer them the same choice as you had.”

 

I lean forward, watching her intently through my black and purple mask.

 

“So, what will you do, Mystique, for the gift of sight to your lover ?”

 

***

 

Bayville High, Poughkeepsie, Upstate New York, the same day, 14:48, in Jean Grey’s mind.

 

“Ms. Rogue, Ms. Grey, Ms. Pryde, Mr. Summers, Mr. Wagner, Mr. Daniels and Mr. Warren, Principal Darkholme is expecting you in her office. Now.”

 

Jean jerked her head upward, looking at the intercom as if it held the answer to the questions storming through her mind.

 

What did the others do this time ?

 

She glanced at Scott who was looking in askance at her, visibly sharing her dismay. She could feel confusion and worry in his mind. The professor had warned them that they were on thin ice with the principal since the last incident, incidentS, after all.

 

Ms. Mawlson was scowling impressively at her and her friends, silently urging them to go right now. Jean rose up.

 

They followed after her and Scott like a gaggle of little ducklings outside of the classroom.

 

“Does anyone have something to say before we get chewed on ?” Asked Scott, red sunglasses scanning the assembled crowd.

 

“I…” started Evans, visibly wincing when everyone’s attention turned on him, “I may have spiked another basketball.” He finally admitted sheepishly while scratching the back of his head.

 

“One of my school books got half-stuck through my locker’s door and I may have shredded a few pages.” A blushing Kitty confessed, eyes downcast.

 

When nothing more was added, Scott nodded and looked at Jean, waiting for her to share her thoughts.

 

Jean pinched her nose, exhaling slowly. Aside from the feeling of guilt of those two, confusion was prevalent in the air.

 

“Well, we will know for sure once we are there, I guess.” Scott drawled, annoyance transpiring from him.

 

They shuffled, and started to make their way to the principal’s office.

 

Scott stepped next to her and asked, voice low under the usual prattle of the rest of the gang.

 

“Can you feel anything ?”

 

Shaking her head, Jean answered, brows furrowed.

 

“There’s a lot of things going on next to the principal : from here, I feel fear, expectation and sadness in equal measure.”

 

Scott furrowed his brows in turn.

 

“That doesn’t make sense…” He pondered aloud.

 

Jean nodded.

 

“From the summon, I expected pissed, pissed and pissed.”

 

Scott had a slight smile at that, and her heartbeat accelerated.

 

Gosh, he’s so cute.

 

They soon enough reached the principal office, whose door was already open.

 

Jean’s eyes landed on Ms. Darkholme, who was radiating hope, expectation and glee, which was worrying at several degrees, then shifted to land on the back of a tall blond boy wearing non-descript black clothes.

 

His mind reeked of sadness, determination and urgency.

 

“Close the door behind you.” ordered Ms. Darkholme.

 

Jean felt the boy getting tenser.

 

Her brows furrowed.

 

The realization hitted her just as Kurt obediently shut the only exit.

 

“It’s a…” She started, but he had been faster.

 

“No powers, no movements, no screams.” He talked, and the mental switches that were always here, always present, suddenly were out of reach.

 

She stood, frozen amid her friends, as something rippled through the boy’s skin, something black and glossy, taking the shape of a mask with terrible upslanted purple eyes and a mouth stretching too far to belong to a human as he turned around. On his forehead, two littles nubs indicated what he was : the devil.

 

And they were at his mercy.

 

“Line up before us, in an orderly manner.” He softly spoke, and Jean and the other obeyed, panic rising inside each of them.

 

When they were done, he nodded his masked head once before turning toward the principal.

 

“Principal Darkholme, you may leave at your leisure and speak as you wish.”

 

To Jean’s dismay, Ms. Darkholme smiled genuinely and left the room at speed, side-stepping their group.

 

The door opened, then shut.

 

“I’m sorry for the scare, but our options were limited,” he started, then pointed toward her, “Jean, you may call us on our lies freely.”

 

What ?

 

Jean was bewildered. The stranger with the awful face was giving her back some of her agency.

 

Why ? And how did he know her name !

 

“You may not leave this room, nor attack us, yet you can move, sit and talk at your leisure, but cannot lie.”

 

The motions around them resumed, all of her friends sporting varying states of befuddlement.

 

“What is the meaning of this ?” Bravaded Scott, who was trying to reach for his glasses but couldn’t.

 

“We are Aamon.” The stranger started.

 

Deceit.

 

“A lie.” Jean blurted.

 

The stranger startled, one of their purple eyes comically growing in her direction.

 

To her surprise, they chuckled, and their joy was genuine.

 

“Well, forgive us for not giving our name while we are impersonating a demon of knowledge, Ms. Grey. It would betray the purpose of wearing a mask in the first place.”

 

Her friends looked at them, googly eyed.

 

“No matter,” They shaked their head slowly.

 

“As we were saying,” they started again, “We came to offer each of you a bargain. The gift of knowledge, for a price.”

 

They paused, and Jean could feel the other still, worry and attention in equal measure, eyes shifting from the stranger to her, waiting for her to call him out.

 

But the guy is genuine ! I can’t help it !

 

“We do not wish you any harm,” they waited for her companions to understand that it was true, “And in exchange for a drop of your blood, freely given and for our personal usage only,” they marked a pause again, but she still had nothing to say about that, “and the promise of meeting your mentees on our terms under your escort”, again, a pause, but still nothing, “We will tell you something that you wish to learn or will.”

 

In the cacophony that rose in her mind after the statement ended, Jean knew that she wouldn’t be able to quell the enthusiasm of her friends.

 

If they were in the institute, after all, it was because they all wanted something that they couldn’t obtain otherwise.

 

And the masked devil, Aamon, just told them they could.

 

“Would you be interested ? Answer the question.”

 

The chorus of “yes” that resounded around her, told her she was right.

 

She said yes too, after all.

 

***

 

At the Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters outskirts, North Salem, New York, the same day, 16:14

 

The trip to the institute had been ‘interesting’. I had to lay several commands to make sure the two cars in which they came would not try to jerk me off as I followed them.

 

Luckily for me, there was only one student that was harder than the other to maintain under wraps, but Warren Jr., aka Angel, being here was a boon to me.

 

The face he made when I told him that his blood would be able to cure others in the future had been priceless. It almost made all of that jazz worth it. That perticular mutation already allowed him to partially shrug the virus' influence, his body defending against it naturally.

 

I was still feeling like shit for taking agency of teenagers like that, but I had made my bed when I decided to stack the odds in my favor for my blood-sister and I continued survival.

 

So it was while doing idle chatter with the panacea blood pack seated shotgun with the seat nearly parallel to the floor to let him stretch his wings (like Kurt, he was wearing a holo-watch to hide them daily)  that I finally parked my car outside of Xavier’s property.

 

To Jean, I told her what the dear professor never had. Of her link with the Cosmic Force of Life and Destruction whose avatar she was and would become. Then promptly told her to move her ass and learn to master her powers before said Force lost the little patience he had if she wanted to have an ego. She got very googly eyed, gulped and nodded meekly when she understood the emphasis I put on that.

 

To Scott, I told him about his long-lost brother. That he, too, survived the plane crash and where he could find him. I stayed mute about the Shi’ar.

 

To Kitty and Rogue, I gave them the same advice. Both wanted more control of their powers, and I told them how, then underlined that a modified version of the SHIELD’s collars that neutered mutants that could be turned on and off at will could ease their life. Strangely, they never thought about it.

 

I had to hide my urge to groan at that. Rogue's whole character in the series was that she craved physical contact, but she never rubbed together the two brain cells necessary to come up with the idea.

 

To Evans, who simply wanted to get stronger, I told him about using his bony extrusion like an exoskeleton, and that with sufficient training, he may superheat them. The kid was starry eyed at that.

 

Kurt wanted the truth about his birth, and was devastated to learn that his mother ‘belonged to the bad guys’ and his father fashioned himself as a demon. The more you know.

 

As Angel and I rejoin the others, I take the lead anew.

 

“Jean, you will shield us from Xavier’s telepathy.” I clip.

 

I feel something going over my two-fold shield, and my mind eases a little.

 

“Let us meet your mentees, shall we ?” I mock-asks as we open the door.

 

Finding ourselves face to face with a frowning and sniffing Wolverine.

 

When he sees the unknown face, he promptly starts to run towards us, adamantine claws surging.

 

“James Howlet, in the flesh.” I lightly say.

 

He stumbles, and promptly face-plant.

 

“Wha…” A bewildered Jean starts.

 

“His real name, borned and raised Canadian in the late 19th century,” I rattle, and he is clutching his skull, whimpering on the ground as memories start to come back to him.

 

I do not even try to puppet him because I suspect his healing factor would fuck my virus up even faster than Warren’s.

“Say, James,” I ask, stepping closer carefully, “Would you like to know about your past and your future ?”

 

He looks at me with a haggard look. Behind me, the whole team of teenagers is ready to blast him to smitherness to calm him down if I say so.

 

“Damn it,” he growls, “What did you do to them ?”

 

“We’re wearing white.” I answer back.

 

“A lie.” Quipp Jean, the compulsion to calling me on my deceit still ongoing.

 

“We do not wish to harm them.” I continue.

 

The silence is pregnant.

 

“Yes, we do control their actions, but we told the young empath behind us to call us on our lies each time we do so.”

 

“You could be playing a mind game with me !” He growls.

 

My blood-sister and I roll our eyes simultaneously.

 

“Tell me, dear Wolverine, would you like to know about your past-life and cloned daughter ? Answer me truthfully.”

 

He wanted me too, and I got one drop of his blood.

 

***

 

Charles Xavier’s office, Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters, North Salem, New York, the same day, 16:37

 

After encountering a miffed up Storm, that I promptly complied to follow us, where she could find her mother’s tribe and shattering the hopes of the Beast when I told him that if he got rid of his blue magnificence he would also rid himself of his genius, I was finally face to face with the Professor, who, feeling that there was nothing he could do to stop me, decided to talk.

 

That was just fine for me since it was my secondary objective.

 

After the standard No power, No fleeing rule was established, I took a seat.

 

The most-powerful telepath and mind controller on the planet was sort of cross that I was beating him at his own game.

 

“What do you want ?” He asked, tone rather cold.

 

“You may call us Aamon.” Yes, I’ve learned, this way it isn’t perceived as a lie, “You may only speak the truth in our presence.”

 

The bald man pales. Same reaction as Mystique, I totally wonder why.

 

“Consider us as a connoisseur of secrets, we would like to know yours.” I started.

 

“And on what pre…” He starts.

 

“You will only speak when asked too.” I clip, and he becomes mum, eyes twitching in irritation.

 

I consider him for a while.

 

“Were you pertinent to the young Grey’s link with the Cosmic Force known as the Phoenix ?” I start.

 

He pales further, clenching his jaws.

 

“Answer me.”

 

His silence is damning and I hear Jean gulping in realization behind me.

 

“I was.” He finally blurts out, the urge too strong as the virus’ concentration is getting denser in the room.

 

“Was it Lilandra of the Shi’ar that told you about the Phoenix ?”

 

He is going whiter, trying to hold it in, but he folds soon enough.

 

“Yes.”

“Did you neuter the young Grey’s potential in fear ?”

 

“I did.” He gasps.

 

“Did you know that it was pointless since the Phoenix will merge with her, one way or another ?”

 

The fact that Jean isn’t, once again, calling me on that lie is chilling to everyone around us.

 

“I did not.” He answers after a beat, probably questioning his life choices.

 

“Did Lilandra tell you that if the Shi’ar fear the Phoenix it is because their empire is old and remains stagnant even after multiple accidents ?” I ask as I tilt my head.

 

I always wondered about that.

 

“She did not.” He’s starting to look like he swallowed a lemon.

 

“What did you do with the technology she willingly shared with you ?”

 

He is biting the inside of his cheeks, but it doesn’t work.

 

“We needed an edge.” He finally blurts.

 

Ah, technically, the truth.

 

I chuckle.

 

“Are you going to tell me that you safekept a body-part of En Sabah Nur for the same reason ?” I marvel aloud, shaking my head.

 

This time, it is I that goes mum when I watch him getting agitated.

 

Seriously ?

 

“Where ?”

 

His struggle increases, beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

 

“Answer me.” I clip.

 

“Under Cerebro’s core.” He finally blurts out.

 

I ponder for a beat.

 

“[Excitation, need]”

 

I happen to agree.

 

“Scott, you will go into cerebro’s room, find the object in question, and come back immediately.”

 

A few seconds later, everybody behind me is mumbling with each other as the doors shut.

 

I am still watching the Professor struggling while I’m exposing his lies before his minions.

 

“Did you deliberately choose to maintain the status quo concerning the mutant’s bill of rights ?”

 

Yeah, that thing is still regularly discussed in the senate a decade after its proposition.

 

“I did.”

 

“Why, pray tell ?” I happen to be genuinely curious about it.

 

“Eric asked me too, telling me it wasn’t good enough, that we needed more and that with the steadily rising number of mutants each year, we would one day have something better. I agreed.”

 

I have to chuckle at that.

 

“Did you wipe his memory after the fact ?”

 

“I did.”

 

“Why ?”

 

“I thought I could make him stop his warmongering ways.”

 

“Didn’t really work obviously.” I say archly.

 

This time he sighs, the picture of a man beaten by too much shit uphanded on him by years of strife.

 

“No, it did not.” He morosely answers back.

 

I ponder for a beat, getting a better idea of the current picture.

 

“He found some discrepancies between his memories and some records and is now massively pissed at you ?”

 

“Yes, he is.”

 

I digest that. Mending that bridge is going to be an uphill battle that I’m not sure I can win.

 

“Our sympathy.” I tell him simply.

 

The man lost his only real friend remaining in the world due to a mistake and will have to live with that.

 

“Did you use compulsions on your students to make them loyal to you ?”

 

The outraged look on his face is answer enough.

 

“I’d never,” he scowls.

 

“That only makes you misguided instead of dishonorable.” I chid him.

 

The doors open behind me, and I turn on my side to watch Scott Summers bringing in what looks like a severed cyberoid leg. He wordlessly hands it to me when in range. It is promptly absorbed in my blood-sister’s dimension.

 

“Verdict ?”

“[Amazement, giddiness] : There’s still a valid DNA sample in it, it has been conserved in some kind of solidified oil.”

 

The best news of the day so far.

 

“Did you know about Munroe and Logan’s origins ?” I ask after a while.

 

“I did not, I swear.” He precipitously answers.

 

I sigh. At least the guy is sort of decent in this universe.

 

“Well, that was that.” I mutter under my breath.

 

I raise up, stretching like a languid cat.

 

Everybody is sort of gawking and I cannot find in myself any fucks left to give.

 

“Everyone, as long as you don’t attack us nor hamper us from leaving, you are free to do as you please. You will not follow us, nor attempt to track us.”

 

“We ask for forgiveness, but will not renege on what we did, it was merely the fastest course of action to enact our goal.” I added after a thought.

 

As I turn around, a very confused Jean interjects.

 

“What goal ?”

 

The question hangs.

 

“To save someone.” I answer softly.

 

I start making my way out of the property under the bewildered gaze of the X-Men while Xavier starts to answer some really pointed questions.

 

***

 

At the Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters outskirts, North Salem, New York, the same day, 17:03

 

I was about to enter my old Buick, whose number plates I had tapped before the whole thing happened when he caught up to me.

 

“Wait, kiddo.” Logan sort of barks at me in his gruff way.

 

I can’t help it and softly chuckle. I knew I couldn’t control the guy with that parlor trick.

 

“Yes, Mr. Howlet ?”

 

He shakes his head, and starts scowling at me again like he was born to do so.

 

“Logan, I’m no Howlet.”

 

“Why, with you breaking that many eggs, I would’ve been fooled !” I drawl, a smile stretching on my face.

 

It takes him a second to get the pun, but he doesn’t look impressed.

 

“The blood.” He starts.

 

“What of it ?”

 

His claws slide slowly open and he takes a menacing step towards me.

 

“What will you do with it ?” His voice is low and threatening.

 

I know the guy, he would probably march in hell with a smile to follow me if my next words do not convince him.

 

“Could you uncover my eyes and heart, please ?”

 

“[Worry, agreement] : Done.”

 

As my eyes come into the light, Logan and I stare at each other.

I see his head twitch, probably acknowledging the fact that he can now hear my heartbeat again.

 

Enhanced five senses cover increased audition. If Murdock is able to tell that someone is lying with his cardiac rhythm, that guy sure does too.

 

“What if I knew that the conflict brewing between homo mutatis and sapiens is just a petty squabble compared to the dangers that the world at large is going to be confronted to in the near future ?”

 

He pauses, eyes narrowed.

 

“Humanity, mutants and not, only inhabit one small planet, and we are going to be thrown from the kiddy pool towards the deep end in the decades to come. I didn’t do what I did today only for my egoistic desires. I did it because I wish to be able to safekeep that planet myself.” I elaborate.

 

His eyes pierce right through me.

 

“You’re no mutant,” he gruffs at me, “Why should I trust you ?”

 

I cannot help the look of deep sadness from escaping my eyes, and he sees it too.

 

“I’m surprised you could tell.” I sigh.

 

I ponder for a beat and he lets me.

 

“I’m not, you’re right, but I have a vague idea of what it is to be persecuted for what you are,” I drawl, the hurt thick in my voice, “Besides, I’ll be one by tomorrow morning. And I’ll share that burden happily if it means that we,” I gesture vaguely around us and he gets the message, “gets to see another day.”

 

After all, there is me and my sister in this us.

 

His claws slide back in as he shakes his head slowly.

 

“I can tell that you believe what you’re telling me kiddo, but I think you’re mad.”

 

I can’t help but laugh at that.

 

“To me, it is this world that is mad.” I quipp back, and my sister and I smile at the same time.

 

Logan rewards us with a quick step back, eyes bulging a little.

 

“Tell you what, I’ll do you a solid.” I add after a thought as he is probably asking himself what the hell he just saw, “The adamantium on your bones will start to corrode in one or two decades. I’ll look into a solution to this problem before you die due to it slowly overwhelming your healing factor.”

 

He blinks and tries to center himself.

 

“Why would you do that ?”

 

“Because I like you, Logan, and what you represent. It’s as simple as that.”

 

He says nothing, brows furrowed.

 

“If you still have his number in your backpocket, you shall call Nick Fury,” I say as I about-turn and open my car’s door, “He may know where to find Sarah Kiney. He’ll be doubly convinced to help you when you tell him that ‘squids are on the steering wheel’.”

 

I leave the man with no past with his considerations as I sit myself into my car.

 

“Let’s go home and take some ‘me’ time.”

 

“[Anticipation, happiness]”

 

***

 

At the Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters outskirts, North Salem, New York, the same day, 17:09, in Logan’s mind.

 

After making sure that the erratic, yet strangely polite, youngster with the face of a devil had left, Logan started to make his way back to the mansion.

 

That whole thing had been a mess, but the kid had given him back his memories, those continuously emerging randomly in his brain and he was still kind of reeling about it.

 

And now, he supposedly had a daughter ?

 

Nothing made much sense anymore.

 

Patting his back-pocket, Logan fetched his cellphone.

 

He looked at it and dialed a number he swore to never reach again.

 

After a few phone tones, the other side picked up.

 

“Weapon-X,” the clipped tone of Nick Fury didn’t betray his surprise, “What prompted this call ?”

 

“Call me Logan, Commander,” the Wolverine answered gruffly, “Let’s just say that I had an interesting encounter.”

 

“How interesting ?”

 

“Is the line secured ?”

 

A beat passed.

 

“It is now.” The steel in the voice of the SHIELD’s commander had lost a bit of its edges.

 

“An unknown player, calling themselves Aamon, just barged into the Institute with all the younglings on his thrall.”

 

A pause.

 

“Casualties ?” Nick Fury exhaled.

 

“That’s the thing : none. They just came in and bargained for a drop of the blood of each mutant present in exchange of knowledge appropriate for each of them, then interrogated the professor after making sure he couldn’t lie, and left.” Logan rattled.

 

He was rather satisfied that his retelling of the events made the other side of the conversation stay mum.

 

“Any chances they were lying ?”

 

“Possible, but low. They used their thrall on our empath to make sure to be called on their lies before us. After they left, I confronted them to seek further information, and they allowed me to hear their previously hidden heartbeat. They firmly believed that what they were doing was, quote, ‘the best course of action possible’.”

 

The other side of the line stayed silent, analyzing.

 

“They knew about my past, Commander,” Logan added, “They told me about my old name, events of my life, and the memories are coming back, like their words triggered something.”

 

“Possible precog ?” Fury finally asked.

 

“Doubt it, maybe a time traveler, I’m not sure.” Logan conceded.

 

“And they escaped ?”

 

“I was able to successfully shrug off their thrall on me, but they let me see that it was only the tip of the iceberg. For a second, I thought I was facing a predatory beast, something of infinite hunger. With the students still inside, I couldn’t risk it.”

 

The sound of a fist hitting a desk in frustration was heard on the other side of the line.

 

“There’s more : I’m calling you because they suggested I do so. They told me to look for a place called the Facility, a woman named Sarah Kiney and her daughter.” Logan admitted.

 

Another pause.

 

“Why me specifically ?”

 

“They said you would be inclined to help if I told you that the squids were at the steering wheel, whatever that meant.”

 

The sound of a metallic chair falling punctuated his statement.

 

“Tell me more, Logan.” Fury clipped.