Fervent Feelings

X-Logan Chapter 20 - It's Permanently Night

"Ya know, running isn't gonna solve anything..." A slow, taunting voice echoes through the facility's speakers, its drawl crawling over the concrete walls. My bare feet slap against the wet floor, each footfall sharp and frantic, reverberating through the endless corridors. The cold air clings to my skin, mingling with my ragged breath as I sprint, my pulse pounding in my ears.

I round a corner, chest heaving, lungs burning. The dim fluorescent lights flicker overhead, casting long shadows that stretch like claws across the cold, gray concrete. Every hall looks the same—an endless maze beneath Alkali Lake, and I'm lost in it. Panic claws at the edges of my mind as I try to orient myself, every turn twisting deeper into uncertainty.

A low hiss fills the air, insidious, like the whisper of a predator. My breath catches in my throat, eyes widening as I see the thin tendrils of fog unfurling from the vents above. The gas is thick, heavy, curling toward me like an unseen hand ready to choke the life from my body.

"It's a shame you wouldn't cooperate with us..." The voice is closer now, almost mocking, watching from some unseen vantage point. The threat in his words lingers in the air like poison.

My hands tremble as I grit my teeth, anger swelling in my chest. "Go fuck yourself!" I shout, my voice bouncing off the steel and stone, but the words feel hollow against the growing haze.

I stumble forward, dizziness settling in, the edges of my vision blurring. The gas is working fast, creeping into my lungs, making each breath more labored than the last. Footsteps thunder in the distance, growing louder, sharper, until I can hear the unmistakable clink of boots on metal and the rattle of guns being raised.

The guards pour in from the adjoining corridors, closing in like wolves. For a moment, pure instinct takes over. I reach out with my mind, pushing past the fog in my head, grasping for control. Their minds snap to attention—an invisible tether linking them to me. With a surge of will, I twist their perception, turning their weapons on each other. The sharp crack of gunfire echoes through the corridors as they fall one by one, the air thick with the scent of blood and smoke.

But the victory is fleeting.

The gas dulls my senses, my hold on their minds slipping like sand through my fingers. My legs give out beneath me, muscles turning to lead. My vision narrows, the world around me becoming a blur of gray and red. I collapse to the cold, unforgiving floor, the concrete biting into my skin.

Numbness seeps into my limbs, heavy and paralyzing. The last thing I feel is the chill of the floor beneath me, the fog thickening in my lungs as my body succumbs, limp and defenseless.

The voice crackles through the speaker again, distorted and distant. "Sleep tight..."

***

Sometimes the darkness recedes, and fragments of my past flicker through the void, like old film reels half-faded and stuttering. I catch glimpses of my childhood—the rough, lonely years on the road after my parents kicked me out. The smell of gasoline and dirt roads fills my mind, the sting of rejection biting at the edges of every memory. I see my teenage self, desperate and sorrowful, drowning in the haze of mind-numbing pills. They dulled my empathetic powers, blurred the edges of the world so I wouldn't have to feel the weight of everyone else's pain. But they also dulled me—left me hollow, drifting through those years like a ghost, half-alive.

Sometimes, I see him. An old man with a bald head, eyes full of purpose, always searching for something—someone—but never finding them. His face is a distant silhouette, his presence like a whisper at the edge of my consciousness, haunting but never close enough to touch. His search feels endless, like a dream that loops without resolution, just out of reach.

I don't know how long it's been like this—this strange limbo, floating between memories and darkness, caught in the space between life and death. Time doesn't exist here. The weight of it presses down on me, heavy and suffocating, like I'm suspended in an endless night. Not dead, but not really living either. Always close to the edge, but never quite crossing over.

Suddenly, an icy chill runs through my veins, my body stiff as though frozen in time. My chest convulses, forcing a ragged breath into my lungs, bringing me violently back to consciousness. "Welcome back..." A voice, sharp and foreign, greets me, cutting through the daze clouding my mind. I stumble forward, disoriented, stepping out of the suffocating glass coffin that held me, only for my legs to buckle beneath me. I crash to the cold floor.

"Whoa there! Where you think you're going?" The man's laughter grates against my ears, his tone mocking.

Blinking, I lift my head, forcing my gaze up to meet his. My brows furrow as I try to focus, but he waves a robotic, metal finger in front of me, his motion slow and chastising, like scolding a child. "Ah-ah-ah!" he clicks his tongue, eyes gleaming with smug amusement. Two guards step out from the shadows, their presence sudden and looming, and before I can react, they fasten a cold, heavy collar around my neck.

The instant it clicks into place, the cacophony of emotions swirling around the room—the fear, the tension, the chaotic noise that I'd sensed—snuffs out. What did he do to me?

"Can't have you turning us against each other now, can we?" the man continues, his voice dripping with superiority. "We've had you stashed in storage for God knows how long, now it's about time you made yourself useful. " He chuckles again, a cold, empty sound that crawls under my skin.

I grit my teeth, struggling to form words as my body fights to regain control. "Who the hell are you? And where the hell am I?" My voice is hoarse, the words thick and heavy on my tongue.

"Name's Pierce," he drawls, hovering over my broken form as though savoring the moment. "And you, my friend, have been asleep for twenty-five years. Gotta say, you haven't aged a day." His lips curl into a cruel smile. "Looks like that shitty cryosleep tech held up after all. Good thing too, considering you've been bounced around from place to place since Stryker went down."

His words hit me like a punch to the gut—twenty years. Stryker. My mind reels, fragments of the past clawing their way to the surface.

Pierce kneels down to my eye level, his cold, metallic hand gripping my chin with a vice-like force, making my skin burn where the metal meets flesh. His eyes narrow as he studies me, as though I'm some kind of specimen rather than a person. "Hmm..." he mutters, his head tilting slightly, lost in thought. There's a calculating coldness behind his gaze, one that makes my stomach twist with unease.

"Hold her down," he orders, his voice casual, like he's asking for the time. The soldiers obey without hesitation, their hands gripping my shoulders, lifting me off the floor with a brutality that sends pain shooting through my limbs. They slam me down onto a metal gurney, their hold unrelenting. I thrash against their grip, but it's useless, I'm too tired.

The nurses, standing in their sterile white uniforms, move closer, some of them with guilt flickering in their eyes. But that guilt doesn't stop them. They reach for needles, cold and gleaming, jamming them into my veins with precision, siphoning off my blood like I'm nothing more than a resource to be harvested. The sharp sting of each needle is nothing compared to the cold dread that sinks deeper into my chest.

Hot tears prick at the corners of my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. Staring up at the harsh, sterile light of the hospital ceiling, I force my voice to work, though it trembles with fear. "What do you want with me?" My lip quivers, the question hanging in the cold, clinical air between us.

Pierce strolls over, his steps slow and deliberate, hands clasped in front of his waist like he's enjoying the show. "Stryker tried to tame you," he says smirking, voice dripping with disdain. "Tried to manipulate you, bend you to his will. But we both know that'll never work, don't we?" His eyes flick to one of the nurses, who labels a vial of my blood with careful precision. The label reads, 'Y/n L/n Genes.'

Pierce's eyes gleam with twisted satisfaction as he turns back to me. "So, we're just gonna nab that DNA of yours. And from it, we'll create something new. Something better. Something improved." His smile widens, cruel and full of dark promises. "You're just the blueprint, sweetheart. Nothing more."