NOVEL WEB Chapter 5: Logan
Logan sat behind the wheel of a battered jeep, watching through the side window as the dense forest of Vermont's Green Mountains raced by. The smooth asphalt road ran between tall pines and maples, winding through the mountainous landscape. Despite the sharp turns, the road surface was smooth and well-maintained, allowing him to maintain a decent speed.
He had recently returned from the depths of the forest, where he was checking the condition of special equipment created by Hank to protect the school. This technology was a masterpiece: a network of camouflage devices scattered throughout the mountain forest, creating an extensive blind zone for satellite surveillance. The school, skillfully built into the mountainside, was practically invisible from the air, its outlines naturally blending with the surrounding landscape.
Logan stopped the jeep near a particularly dense part of the forest. To an ordinary observer, there was nothing remarkable here—just another group of tall pines. But Logan knew what to look for.
He approached one of the trees, which at first glance was no different from the others. The bark looked real and even felt that way to the touch. Logan ran his hand along the trunk, feeling for a barely noticeable protrusion. A light press—and part of the bark slid aside, revealing a small control panel.
These artificial trees were Hank's masterpiece. Outwardly indistinguishable from real ones, they contained the most complex equipment for creating a protective field. Each tree was equipped with various sensors, transmitters, and jamming generators.
Logan entered the access code and began checking the systems. A holographic display that appeared right in the air showed the condition of the equipment and the parameters of the protective field.
"Hank, you damn genius," Logan muttered, reviewing the data. The system worked flawlessly, creating an impenetrable dome of invisibility around the school.
After finishing the check, Logan closed the panel. The bark merged with the trunk again, leaving no trace of interference. He looked around: dozens of such trees stood throughout the forest—inconspicuous sentinels guarding their safety.
Logan remembered how Hank had explained the principle of this system. The devices generated a complex electromagnetic field that distorted any signals passing through it. On satellite images, this area looked like an ordinary forest—no buildings, roads, or signs of human activity.
But that was just the beginning. The system also included acoustic suppressors masking any sounds coming from the school, and thermal dispersers hiding heat signatures.
Logan frowned, recalling the events of five years ago that led to the creation of such a complex defense system and the relocation to these remote mountains. The first Xavier School, their former home and refuge in suburban New York, had been discovered by Sentinels. That day remained forever in his memory—the sky blackened by flying death machines, the screams of students, the smell of burning trees and melting metal.
They fought desperately, trying to protect the children and what they had built. Logan still felt phantom pain in his bones, remembering how his body regenerated after near-fatal wounds. Scott used his power at full strength for the first time that day, leaving a huge trail of destruction. Each of them faced something that left an indelible mark on their soul.
They managed to evacuate most of the students, but the price was high. The school, their home, was destroyed to the foundation. After that, Hank devoted years to developing a new protection system, working day and night. He vowed that he would never allow such a catastrophe again.
The result of five years of intense work was this new school, hidden so deeply and securely that even the most advanced technologies could not detect it. Logan respected Hank for his genius, but even more for his unwavering determination to protect those who could not protect themselves.
These memories made Logan grip the steering wheel tighter. He swore to himself that he would do everything possible to prevent history from repeating itself. Even if it meant checking every tree in this damn forest.
A cigar smoldered in the corner of Logan's mouth, and its smoke floated smoothly in the air, mixing with the smell of pine and damp earth. Sunlight breaking through the tree crowns created a whimsical play of shadows on the road.
The radio was silent—it couldn't pick up a single station in this zone. Only the noise of the road, the gurgling of motor oil, and the occasional creaking of the suspension broke the forest silence.
Logan momentarily thought about the two strange teenagers found two weeks ago. Their appearance added a new level of tension to the already difficult situation at the school. What if their discovery was somehow connected to Sentinel activity? This thought gave him no peace.
Suddenly the phone rang—a special model capable of working even in this signal suppression zone. Logan, pulling it out of the pocket of his worn jeans, took the cigar in his hand to speak normally.
"Where are you, Logan?" Cyclops' voice sounded through a slight crackle in the communicator. Scott was waiting for a report on the security systems check, but Logan, as usual, decided to take a couple of extra laps around the area. The dense forest masses around the school always had a calming effect on him, allowing him to temporarily distract from everyday worries and relax.
"Already on my way," he replied, momentarily distracted from the winding road. "Don't get bored, cupcake." He grinned, imagining Scott's irritated face on the other end of the line.
At that moment, the silence of the forest was torn by the roar of an engine. A car flew into the oncoming lane, racing at a crazy speed. Logan sharply jerked the wheel, avoiding a collision. The tires squealed, the jeep swerved, nearly flipping over.
"Fuck!" Logan cursed, straightening the car.
And then he saw it. A huge metal figure cutting through the air—a Sentinel was chasing the car, inexorably closing the distance.
"Goddamn it," Logan hissed through his teeth, adrenaline instantly hitting his bloodstream. "Metal asshole!"
Without thinking for a second, Logan spun the wheel, turning the jeep around, and pressed the gas pedal to the floor. The engine roared, and the car shot forward, catching up with the Sentinel.
The asphalt road turned into a blurred strip. Logan, not taking his eyes off the target, maneuvered on the sharp turns. The car ahead zigzagged, trying to escape pursuit. The Sentinel was catching up to it, preparing to strike.
Logan pulled up alongside the Sentinel. The metal giant raised its hand for a shot. There was no time to think.
Grabbing a heavy wrench, Logan jammed the gas pedal with it. The cigar was clenched between his teeth, his eyes narrowed in concentration. In one motion, he jumped out through the window and then rolled over the jeep's roof.
The wind hit his face, the roar of the engine deafened. Logan tensed, waiting for the moment. The Sentinel began charging an energy beam.
Now or never.
Logan jumped. Time seemed to slow down. He flew through the air, claws emerging with a metallic clang.
Impact. Logan clung to the Sentinel's steel shell. It jerked, trying to shake off the unexpected hindrance. Logan, gritting his teeth, drove his claws deeper, climbing toward the Sentinel's head.
Sparks flew in all directions as the adamantium blades ripped through metal. Logan, growling with tension, reached the main control circuit. One powerful blow—and the electronics exploded in a shower of sparks.
The Sentinel tumbled through the air, losing control. The ground was rapidly approaching. At the last moment, Logan pushed off, landing on his feet in a cloud of dust. The Sentinel crashed behind him, shaking the earth.
Breathing heavily, Logan raised his head. A terrified silver-haired girl ran out of the car that had stopped ahead. Her face was as pale as chalk.
Logan spat out the remains of his cigar and moved toward her, ready for any surprises.
"Are you okay?" Logan asked, his rough voice softened as he addressed the girl.
She looked up, silver strands of hair stuck to her cheeks wet with sweat. Her pupils were dilated with fear, and her hands were trembling. She tried to nod, but instead, her lips quivered, and she burst into tears.
"I... I thought he would catch me," she sobbed, her voice breaking. "He was so close... I felt... felt his metal hands..."
Logan awkwardly put his hand on her shoulder, feeling her flinch at his touch.
"Hey, it's over. You're safe."
He looked back at the fallen Sentinel sprawled in the middle of the road. The massive metal hulk presented a serious problem. Their hideout with the signal jammer was nearby, and the discovery of a Sentinel could attract unwanted attention.
"Damn it," Logan muttered, pulling out his phone. He quickly dialed a number. "Summers? We have a problem," he began as soon as Scott answered. "A big, purple, and metal problem. In the middle of the damn road."
He heard Cyclops sigh heavily on the other end of the line.
"Coordinates?"
Logan dictated them and added:
"And hurry up. We've got a scared girl here..."
"Got it. Taking off in the 'Blackbird,'" Scott replied before hanging up.
Logan turned to the girl, who was now quietly sobbing, hugging herself.
"Hey, what's your name?" he asked, trying to distract her.
She raised her tearful eyes to him.
"E-Emily," she whispered.
"Okay, Emily. Listen, help is on the way. We're here to help you, understand?"
She nodded, and Logan noticed how the tension slightly released her shoulders.
Suddenly, the air was torn by a deafening crash. Logan turned sharply and saw how his jeep, left with the gas pedal jammed, crashed into a tree on the roadside. The hood crumpled like paper, and moments later, flames burst from under it.
"Son of a bitch!" Logan cursed, remembering the bottle of excellent whiskey in the trunk.
Before he could take a step toward the burning car, a powerful explosion rang out. Glass shards and burning debris scattered in all directions.
Logan instinctively shielded Emily, feeling shards embedding in his back. He growled in pain but didn't move until he was sure the danger had passed.
"Are you okay?" he asked, pulling away and carefully examining the girl.
Emily nodded, her eyes wide with shock.
"And... and you?" she uncertainly asked, noticing blood on his shirt.
Logan waved his hand.
"It'll heal," he grumbled, turning to the burning remains of his jeep. "But my whiskey is beyond saving," he added with bitterness.
Emily unexpectedly giggled, and Logan looked at her in surprise. Her laughter was nervous but sincere, and Logan felt the corners of his mouth also creeping upward.
"Well, at least someone finds this amusing," he grumbled.
Scott Summers sat at the massive oak desk in his office—his face was tense after just finishing a conversation with Logan. He slowly put down the receiver, momentarily closing his eyes behind ruby quartz glasses.
"Damn it, Logan," he muttered under his breath. "You can never get by without problems, can you?"
Scott took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. The situation was serious: a downed Sentinel in the middle of the road, a frightened young mutant, and all this not far from their secret refuge. There was no time for deliberation.
With a decisive motion, he pressed a button on the communicator.
"Jean, Peter." His voice sounded firm and confident, despite the internal tension. "Urgent assembly in the hangar. We have a problem."
Not waiting for an answer, Scott rose from his desk. His gaze lingered for a second on the maps and reports scattered across the table. An ironic smile touched his lips—plans had to be changed on the fly again.
"Well, just another day in the life of the X-Men," he muttered, heading for the exit. His steps were quick and decisive—the leader of the X-Men was ready for another mission.
Jean was sitting on the floor in the corner of the living room, legs crossed. Several students were around her—some on the sofa, some right on the carpet. The atmosphere was informal and relaxed.
"Okay, guys," said Jean, tossing a small rubber ball in the air using telekinesis. "Who wants to try?"
Clarissa, a girl with purple hair, hesitantly raised her hand. Jean smiled and gently directed the ball to her.
"Just concentrate," she encouraged. "Imagine that the ball is an extension of your hand."
Clarissa frowned, looking at the ball. It trembled slightly, rose a couple of centimeters, and immediately fell.
"Damn," the girl muttered.
"Hey, that's progress!" exclaimed a guy sitting nearby. "Last time, you accidentally launched it at the ceiling."
Everyone laughed, including Clarissa.
"Exactly," Jean nodded. "The main thing is practice and..."
She was interrupted by the sound of the communicator. Jean sighed, seeing the message from Scott.
"Sorry, guys, we'll have to finish early. X-Men business." She winked, getting up.
"Can we practice on our own in the meantime?"
"Of course," Jean replied, already on her way. "Just try not to break anything!"
She heard laughter and playful promises behind her back as she headed for the exit. A light smile played on Jean's face—even in the most tense days, these moments with students helped her remember what they were fighting for.
In the spacious school kitchen, Colossus was working at the stove. The massive figure seemed inappropriately large among the kitchen utensils, but the giant's movements were surprisingly agile and precise.
"So-so," he muttered with a noticeable Russian accent, "a bit more protein, a little superfood, and it will be the perfect breakfast for a healthy body."
He proudly surveyed the result of his work—a huge bowl filled with a strange-looking but undoubtedly healthy mixture.
"Hey, people!" he shouted toward the dining room. "Who wants to taste my signature..."
He was interrupted by Scott's voice from the communicator. Colossus sighed heavily, looking at his creation.
"Well, it'll get cold again," he grumbled, but then his face brightened. "Although... maybe I'll take it with me? Logan could use some energy after battle."
Quickly transferring the contents of the bowl into a container, Colossus hurried to the exit.
The "Blackbird" silently landed on the forest road—its stealth systems deactivated, revealing an elegant black hull. The ramp lowered, and Scott was the first to exit, quickly assessing the situation through ruby glasses.
"Logan!" he called out, noticing the stocky figure of his comrade next to the fallen Sentinel. "How's the situation?"
Logan, leaning against a tree with his arms crossed over his chest, nodded toward the metal corpse.
"As you can see, Summers. A big, purple, and very dead problem."
Jean and Colossus descended next, looking around. Jean immediately noticed the trembling girl sitting on the roadside.
"This is Emily," Logan introduced. "Our new friend who was being chased by this tin jerk."
Jean smiled gently at her.
"Hello, Emily. I'm Jean. Don't worry, you're safe."
While Jean was taking care of Emily, Scott approached Logan.
"How did you manage to create such a mess?" he asked, glancing at the burning remains of the jeep.
Logan shrugged.
"You know, a regular day. Saved a girl, destroyed a Sentinel, crashed a car. Oh, and lost a bottle of excellent whiskey."
Scott shook his head.
"You're incorrigible. Okay, we need to get this robot out of here before rubberneckers or, worse, government agents show up."
"Any ideas on how to dismantle this pile of metal?" asked Logan.
"That's why we have Colossus," Scott replied, turning to the Russian giant. "Peter, get to it."
Colossus nodded, but before transforming, he took out his container.
"First, we need to fuel up! I have the perfect breakfast for restoring strength."
Logan looked skeptically at the container's contents.
"What kind of slop is this?"
"It's not slop!" Colossus protested. "It's a super protein cocktail with the addition of..."
"Peter," Scott interrupted him, "we appreciate your care, but we really don't have time. How about you treat us to... this... when we get back to school?"
Colossus looked disappointed but nodded.
"Alright, comrade. But you don't know what you're missing."
With these words, he activated his ability, and his skin was covered with organic steel. Approaching the Sentinel, Colossus effortlessly tore off one of the mechanical arms.
"Jean," Scott called, "we'll need your help with telekinesis."
Jean nodded, giving Emily one last encouraging look. Raising her hands, she concentrated, and the Sentinel's huge head rose into the air.
"Where should I put it?" she asked.
"In the Blackbird's cargo hold," Scott replied. "We need to load as many parts as possible. Whatever doesn't fit, Logan will cut into small pieces that we'll scatter throughout the forest."
Logan grunted, extending his claws.
"Finally, something fun."
The next half hour passed in intense work. Colossus methodically dismantled the Sentinel into large parts, which Jean telekinetically moved into the aircraft. Logan, like a skilled butcher, cut to pieces what remained. Scott coordinated the process, periodically glancing at the road and listening for any suspicious sounds.
"Hey, Summers," Logan called, cutting another piece of metal, "what are we going to do with the girl?"
Scott glanced at Emily, who was now sitting on the Blackbird's ramp, wrapped in a blanket.
"Take her with us, of course. You saw she was being pursued by a Sentinel. Means she's a mutant."
"What if it's a trap?" Logan persisted. "We already messed up with those two teenagers a couple of weeks ago."
"Logan," Jean intervened, lowering another part of the Sentinel to the ground, "you don't really think this frightened girl could be a threat?"
"I think that in our position, we can't afford to be naive," Logan snapped.
"Enough," Scott interrupted them. "We'll take her with us. Of course, we'll be careful, but we won't leave her here alone."
Logan muttered something unintelligible but didn't argue.
After another twenty minutes, no details remained on the ground. The "Blackbird" rose into the air, and its stealth systems activated, making the plane invisible.
In the cabin, Jean made Emily more comfortable, covering her with another blanket.
"Everything's alright," she said softly. "You're safe. We're flying to a place where they will help you."
Emily nodded weakly, her eyes still wide open from the shock she had experienced.
"Hey," called Colossus, taking out his container, "maybe now is the perfect time for my super nutritious cocktail? We could all use some nourishment after such work."
Logan groaned.
"God, Russian, you're incorrigible."
"Actually," Emily unexpectedly spoke up, "I wouldn't mind something to eat."
Colossus beamed.
"See? At least someone here appreciates healthy eating!"
The "Blackbird" flew low over the Atlantic Ocean surface—its stealth systems made it invisible to radars and satellites. Scott piloted the plane, carefully watching the instrument readings that tracked vessel movements within a radius of several hundred kilometers.
"This will do," he said, slowing down. "Depth about five kilometers, the nearest vessel three hundred miles from here."
Logan grunted.
"Not a bad grave for our iron dick."
Jean stood by the cargo hatch, ready to use her telekinetic power. On Scott's command, she opened the hatch, and cold sea air rushed into the plane.
"Go ahead, Jean," Scott commanded.
Jean raised her hands, concentrating. Huge pieces of the Sentinel rose one by one into the air and flew out of the hatch, falling into the dark waters of the ocean. She directed each piece to fall at a significant distance from the previous one.
"I hope the fish will enjoy their new artificial reef," Colossus joked, watching the process.
When the last fragment disappeared into the waves, Jean closed the hatch and tiredly sank into a chair.
"Done," she exhaled. "Now no one will find these parts."
Scott nodded, turning the plane back toward the shore.
"Great job, team. Now we can head home."
The "Blackbird" gained altitude, leaving behind the boundless ocean, reliably keeping their secret at its bottom.
Bolivar Trask stood by the panoramic window of his office on the top floor of a skyscraper, watching as the first rays of sun colored the New York sky in orange tones. His reflection in the glass looked tired—the last few weeks had been particularly tense. Increasing cases of sabotage, disappearances of Sentinels, growing resistance from mutants—all of this required his constant attention.
A quiet metallic sound made him turn around. A holographic projection of the Prime Sentinel appeared in the center of the office—a ten-foot figure emitting a cold blue glow. Its presence always evoked mixed feelings in Trask: pride in his creation and a slight trepidation before its power.
"Dr. Trask," the Prime Sentinel's voice was mechanical, but notes of intelligence could be heard in it, "I have information requiring your attention."
Trask adjusted his glasses and sat at his desk.
"I'm listening carefully."
"Sentinel model Mark VII, serial number SN-2749, disappeared while performing a mission in the Vermont mountains. The last signal was received at 15:43 yesterday. Coordinates: 44.5588° N, 72.5778° W."
Trask frowned, his fingers drumming on the desktop.
"Again? This is the third case this month. What was the mission?"
"Pursuit of a class D mutant. Young female, presumably with electricity manipulation ability. The Sentinel detected her on highway I-89 and began pursuit. The last telemetry data shows an abrupt communication loss in the mountainous area."
The holographic projection changed, showing a three-dimensional map of the area. A red dot marked the Sentinel's last known location.
"Interesting," Trask leaned forward, examining the map. "What's there?"
"According to official data—nothing remarkable. National forest, mountainous terrain, several abandoned mines. The nearest settlement is thirty kilometers away."
"But?..." Trask caught a note of uncertainty in the AI's voice.
"Analysis shows several anomalies. First, this is not the first case of signal loss in this area. In the last five years, seven similar incidents have been recorded within a hundred-kilometer radius of this point. Second, satellite images of this area demonstrate strange features."
The projection changed to a series of satellite photos.
"Pay attention to this forest section," the Prime Sentinel enlarged a fragment of the image. "Over the past five years, the configuration of trees has not changed by a millimeter. No seasonal changes, no traces of natural phenomena. The statistical probability of such constancy: 0.0001%."
Trask got up from his desk, approaching the hologram closer.
"Camouflage?"
"High probability. I suggest conducting an extended scan of the territory using new quantum analysis protocols."
"Elaborate," Trask crossed his arms over his chest.
"The recent update to the satellite system includes quantum scanning technology. It allows detection of anomalies in the space structure caused by the operation of masking technologies. Theoretically, this could allow us to see what is hidden behind the fake forest image."
Trask slowly nodded, his eyes lighting up with a familiar fire of excitement.
"What resources do you need?"
"Need full access to the 'Argus' satellite system and additional computing power for data processing. Analysis time: approximately 48 hours."
"Good," Trask returned to his desk and began typing quickly on the keyboard. "I'm giving you all the necessary permissions. But first, answer one question for me."
The holographic face of the Prime Sentinel tilted slightly, imitating a human gesture of attention.
"Why do you think this might be important? We lose Sentinels in other places too."
"Analysis of recent events indicates increasing organization of mutant resistance. Their actions are becoming more coordinated, suggesting the existence of a control center. The geographical location of the anomalous zone, its isolation, and the consistency of masking correspond to the parameters of a possible operations base."
Trask leaned back in his chair, thoughtfully rubbing his chin.
"You think we might find their main refuge?"
"Probability of a large mutant base in the investigated zone: 73.8%. Probability that this is the main resistance base: 64.2%."
"What do you suggest after the scan is completed?"
"First stage: confirm the presence of a base and determine its exact coordinates. Second stage: detailed reconnaissance using advanced Mark X Sentinels. Third stage: full-scale operation to neutralize the threat."
The projection created a three-dimensional model of the proposed operation, showing the movement of Sentinel squads and attack options.
"Mark X?" Trask raised an eyebrow. "They haven't passed full testing yet."
"The current situation may provide ideal conditions for field trials. Mark X possess improved systems for countering mutants and more sophisticated artificial intelligence."
Trask stood up and approached the window again. The sun had risen higher, its rays reflected from the glass facades of skyscrapers.
"Proceed," he finally said. "You'll get access to all necessary resources. Keep me informed of each stage of the operation."
"Acknowledged, Dr. Trask," the holographic figure bowed slightly. "Beginning scanning procedure. Estimated completion time of primary analysis: 47 hours 23 minutes."
When the hologram disappeared, Trask continued looking at the city below for a long time. After so many years of struggle, they could finally be close to a decisive strike against the mutant resistance. He took out his phone and dialed a number.
"Colonel? This is Trask. I need you to prepare a special group. We might soon have an important target... Yes, it seems we've finally found them."
Hanging up, he smiled at his reflection in the glass. The series of defeats and failures might soon end. He just had to wait a little.
Initialization of scanning protocol: 06:12:47 EST. Activation of "Argus" satellite system: successful. Calibration of quantum sensors: completed.
Primary analysis of the target zone revealed an anomaly in the space-time continuum structure. Standard data processing algorithms recorded static interference in an area with a radius of 3.7 kilometers.
Data comparison:
— Visible spectrum: normal
— Infrared range: normal
— Radio frequency spectrum: minimal interference
— Quantum scanning: significant distortions
Probability of natural origin of the anomaly: 0.0003%
Probability of technological intervention: 99.9997%
Activation of extended analysis protocol at 06:15:22 EST. Redirecting 47% of available computing power to process quantum fluctuations. Each microsecond of scanning created a new layer of data, forming a multidimensional map of distortions.
Patterns discovered in the anomaly structure:
— Fluctuation periodicity: 3.7 seconds
— Oscillation amplitude: stable
— Geometric shape: regular polygon
Comparative analysis with known masking technologies revealed similarity with developments by Dr. Henry "Hank" McCoy. Authorship probability: 89.4%. The technology surpasses all known analogs by 47.3%.
07:45:19 EST: Detection of the first weak point in the masking field. Quantum fluctuations created microscopic tears in the protective structure every 3.7 seconds. Tear duration: 0.003 seconds.
Deep scanning protocol initiated through the discovered tears. Each penetration through the protection lasted fractions of a second but allowed collecting critical data about the contents of the protected zone.
Analysis of collected data fragments:
— Anthropogenic structures: detected
— Thermal signatures: multiple
— Energy emissions: significant
— Biological markers: present
09:23:55 EST: Formation of a primary three-dimensional model of the object under masking. The structure corresponds to parameters of a large building complex integrated into the mountain landscape. Architectural features indicate an educational institution with elements of defensive infrastructure.
Comparison with historical data indicated a high probability (97.2%) that the discovered object is the new location of Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters.
Analysis of movement in the protected zone revealed:
— 147 unique biological signatures
— 89% X-gene carriers
— 1% probability of human presence
Special attention was drawn to two anomalous signatures that did not match known mutation patterns. Energy profile: unknown. Potential threat: requires separate assessment.
10:17:33 EST: Beginning mapping of the object's defensive systems. A network of camouflaged sensors was discovered in a radius of 15 kilometers. Masking technology is distributed through a system of artificial trees containing complex electronic equipment.
Analysis of vulnerabilities in the defense system:
— Main generator of the masking field: localized
— Backup generators: 7 units
— Critical points: determined
— Optimal attack vectors: calculated
11:45:09 EST: Formation of the final report for Dr. Trask. Recommendations include the use of specially modified Mark X Sentinels with enhanced protection against telepathic interference and the ability to counter masking technologies.
Calculated probability of successful target neutralization using standard protocols: 43.2%
Calculated probability of successful target neutralization using modified Mark X Sentinels: 89.7%
12:00:00 EST: Completion of primary analysis. Initiation of preparation protocol for operation. Object classified as highest priority target. Awaiting further instructions from Dr. Trask.