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POV: Third Person
Location: Xavier's Office, Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters
The quiet hum of Xavier's office was broken only by the ticking of the antique clock on the far wall. Sunlight streamed through the tall windows, casting long beams of gold across shelves lined with books and old photographs — reminders of both triumph and tragedy.
Charles Xavier sat behind his desk, fingers folded, eyes half-closed in thought. The soft buzz of conversation beyond the walls — the students, the laughter, the chaos — all faded as he focused on the four minds in front of him.
Storm, Logan, and Beast stood in a loose semicircle around his desk, each wearing that particular mixture of fatigue and alertness that came from teaching gifted teenagers who could blow up a building if they sneezed wrong.
"So," Charles began, his calm baritone cutting through the silence. "It's been one week since our two new students arrived. I'd like to hear your honest impressions."
For a moment, no one spoke. Logan crossed his arms, the faint creak of leather the only sound. His expression was unreadable, though Charles could sense the irritation bubbling just beneath the surface.
Logan finally broke the silence.
"They're both healthy," he said bluntly. "Physically speaking, at least. The girl — X-23 — she's a fighter, a well-trained one. You can see it in how she moves. Discipline, awareness. She's dangerous, but in control. The other kid…" He exhaled through his nose. "He's above average, sure, but nothing stands out. No mutant readings. No enhanced physiology. Physically, he's just a regular kid."
Beast adjusted his glasses, flipping through a thin stack of notes. "I concur, for the most part," he said thoughtfully. "Shawn's physical metrics are unremarkable, though certainly healthy. Laura — X-23 — exhibits a rather fascinating regenerative profile, of course, it's much like Logan's own healing abilities. Academically, both are performing above average, though Shawn's writing style indicates a more—" he hesitated, searching for a diplomatic word, "—creative interpretation of structured instruction than X-23's writing style."
That earned a chuckle from Logan. Even Xavier's lips twitched.
"Good to hear," Charles said with a faint smile, turning toward Ororo. "And you, Ororo? You've had them both in your power training classes. What are your thoughts?"
Storm remained silent for a long moment, her gaze distant. The sunlight caught in her white hair, a faint breeze stirring the air around her as if her thoughts alone carried the wind.
When she finally spoke, her tone was measured, careful.
"Both have not caused any problems," she began. "They attend every class, complete every assignment. They're diligent students… perhaps too much so. But there are concerns."
Charles's eyebrows lifted. "Concerns?"
She nodded. "X-23 has made almost no progress in communication. She doesn't speak and refuses to engage with classmates. She communicates exclusively with and through Shawn — verbally or otherwise. And Shawn, for all intents and purposes, has become her translator and vocal piece."
Logan grunted. "Can't say I'm surprised. Kid's been her handler since before they got here."
"Perhaps," Ororo said, crossing her arms, "but it goes deeper… It's symbiotic. When he's present, she's calm. Focused. When he's not, she becomes guarded. Isolated. I believe her progress depends heavily on his presence, maybe far too much so."
Charles's expression softened slightly. "And Shawn himself?"
"That," Storm said, "is the other concern."
The room grew quiet again. Beast stopped jotting notes. Logan tilted his head.
Storm took a breath. "He's… an anomaly. Not in a mutant sense — the Cerebro readings confirm that. But his energy signatures are inconsistent. They fluctuate wildly, particularly during training. During multiple exercises, he demonstrated abilities that are clearly magical in nature, but it's not any form I recognize — It's something else."
Charles leaned forward slightly, fingers steepled. "Do you believe he's hiding something?"
"I believe he's testing his own limits himself and doesn't truly know what he's capable of," she corrected. "And from what I've seen so far, whatever his powers truly are, it is powerful.
Logan grunted. "So do you think he's dangerous to himself, the students, the school?"
Storm met his gaze evenly. "I think he could be."
A heavy silence followed that statement. The ticking clock filled the space once more.
Charles finally spoke, his voice calm but firm. "Every young mutant — or gifted human — carries potential for danger, Ororo. What matters is intent and actions."
Storm's eyes softened, though her concern remained. "And intent can change, and the actions taken can affect many, Charles, you know this."
Charles nodded solemnly, "I do know Ororo..." he said, eyes distant.
---
POV: Shawn Valon
I watched as students left for home when the school day ended. Some flew on wings or by other means, and left in more exotic fashions, like opening portals or simply digging really fast. Aquatic students jumped into the nearby river and swam off in different directions.
And then there were the kids who actually got a ride home by some family members who didn't care about the fact that their kids or family members were mutants.
a small hill just inside the school grounds with a tree on top
I glanced down at my two decks, one Red-Eyes and the other Dinomorphia, and now I was thinking about what I wanted the third to be.
I felt a weight on my shoulder and knew it was X-23. A glance showed me she was looking at my new dinosaur deck.
I smiled and slid it over to her, and she quickly started looking over the cards.
"You know if you wanted to look at my deck, all you had to do was ask?" I said, but X-23 didn't even respond, causing me to chuckle lightly.
It was a strange contrast to see X-23, one of Marvel's deadliest characters, flickering through a deck of Yu-Gi-Oh cards.
It was... surreal.
But so has my whole life in this world, I mean seriously, I was going to school with mutants with the X-Men as my teachers witg X-23 as a roommate in my own mansion with a robot maid and a system.
I sighed inwardly and shook my head, getting back on topic... a new deck.
But what archetype to choose?
I opened the system and looked over my current cards while faking to glance over my Red-Eyes deck to others around.
Looking through my current cards, I didn't have many Iconic cards, so none of them popped out to me.
I sighed, now slightly down, "Guess I need to open a few card packs..." I said to myself and glanced to see how many gems I had available to spend.
[Gems]
Current Amounts: 12,300
'More than enough to build a deck,' I thought to myself, opened the system shop, and looked through the current packs available.
But to my disappointment, I had no secret packs available.
"Just great..." I sighed, then I rubbed my chin. "Guess I could open a masterpiece pack, see what appears?" I let the idea simmer before nodding and spending one thousand gems.
In a burst of light, the ten packs appeared, and I quickly tore each one open, revealing five secret packs.
[Secret Packs]
• Luster Dragon
• Savage Crimson Dragon
• Justice from Light
• Interdimensional interoperability
• Dragon of Miracles
My eyes widened at the packs available. Three I recognize immediately, but I wasn't familiar with [Interdimensional interoper].
I looked through each pack and immediately wanted to make all five, but I knew if my luck was fickle, I wouldn't be able to make two decks, let alone five.
Luster Dragon was a pack full of Starry Knight cards, and I already had some cards for the archetype, but it was a pretty slow deck in general, and it can brick easily with the wrong hand.
Justice of Light was the Lightsworn archetype, a favorite of my past life to play, but I also knew its downside of easily misplaying and decking yourself out.
Interdimensional interoper was an archetype I hadn't heard much about. Dream Mirror is a fusion deck all about tributing between light and dark monsters.
All three were interesting, but it was the last two that had my full attention.
"Stardust Dragon and Red Dragon Achfeind..." I muttered under my breath
*Grrrr*
The growl of Red-Eyes vibrated through my bones, and I smirked as I glanced at the scarlet glow of my partner's eyes in my shadow.
I smirked.
'Well, partner looks like we'll have some new friends soon,' I thought, and I felt Red-Eyes growl in a mix of approval and anticipation.
---
POV: Third PersonLocation: New York City – Rooftops
The New York skyline glittered beneath a blanket of stars, neon lights reflecting off glass towers like fractured constellations.
A white blur vaulted across the rooftops.
Felicia Hardy moved like moonlight given form — graceful, effortless, untouchable. Her boots barely made a sound as she cleared the gap between two buildings, coat fluttering behind her like a silver flame.
She landed lightly on a balcony several stories up, crouched low for half a second, then rose smoothly to her feet.
The sliding glass door was already unlocked.
Of course it was.
She stepped inside without knocking.
Waiting for her were three men in tailored black suits and one very distinctive figure standing at the center of the room.
Hammerhead adjusted his cuffs, his reinforced skull gleaming faintly under the dim chandelier light.
Felicia tilted her head, unimpressed.
"So," she said coolly, brushing imaginary dust from her sleeve, "what job is so important the big man has to call in his last favor?"
Hammerhead shrugged, rolling his thick shoulders.
"The big man's business is his own," he replied gruffly. "Details ain't for stray cats."
Her lips twitched.
"Careful," she purred. "Stray cats have claws."
One of the suited goons shifted uncomfortably.
Hammerhead ignored her and extended a thick hand, holding a folder.
Felicia took it lazily, flipping it open.
Inside was a photograph of a middle-aged man. Clean-shaven. Lab coat. Glasses slightly crooked. The kind of face that screamed career academic.
She arched a brow.
"Let me guess," she muttered. "Egghead."
Her eyes skimmed the text beneath the photo.
Dr. Curt Connors.
Recognition flickered across her expression.
"And what exactly has this doctor done," she asked casually, "to get himself involved with the big man?"
Hammerhead grunted.
"Curiosity kills the cat."
Her eyes lifted slowly to meet his.
"Only if it gets caught."
He stepped closer.
"Just do your job. Everything you need is in that file. You've got one week."
He paused.
"When it's done… your father's debt is wiped clean."
Silence filled the room.
For just a split second, something flickered in Felicia's eyes — not fear, not anger.
Calculation.
She closed the folder with a soft snap.
"Pleasure doing business," she said smoothly.
She turned toward the balcony—
—and three suited men stepped in front of it.
Her expression didn't change, but her posture did. Subtle shift of weight. Ready.
She glanced back.
Despite his shorter stature, Hammerhead suddenly felt much larger in the room.
"Don't mess this up," he said coldly. "You don't want to end up like your dear old man."
The air thickened.
Felicia held his gaze for a long moment.
Then she smiled.
A slow, dangerous smile.
"I never do."
Without another word, she moved. A blur of white and black. One step onto the railing, a backward flip into open air—
—and she was gone.
Swallowed by the night.
Hammerhead watched the empty balcony for several seconds before speaking.
"Keep eyes on her," he muttered to the room.
Because even stray cats sometimes bite the hand that feeds them.