The four teenagers stood before me in a ragged line, their postures tense with determination despite the nervous energy radiating off them. Forge met my gaze first, his chin lifted in that particular brand of teenage bravado that couldn't quite mask the uncertainty beneath.
"We want to follow you, Sir." His voice cracked slightly on the last word.
I studied them each in turn - Forge with his grease-stained fingers and too-clever eyes, Kwannon's coiled stillness, Clarice's fidgeting hands that kept forming abortive portal shapes, and little Melancon who looked like she might bolt at any moment.
"Why?" I kept my tone neutral. "Why me?"
Kwannon stepped forward, her English halting but deliberate. "World... dangerous for us. Many bad people. No trust." She gestured sharply at the ruined base around us. "You save. Speak truth. Are strong." The other three nodded vigorously.
Clarice twisted her fingers together. "We don't know anything about that school. And Magneto's people..." She shuddered. "They're sounded like they were terrorist…"
"You saved us," Melancon whispered, her French accent coloring the words. "We want to be strong like you." The way her small hands clenched into fists would have been adorable if not for the fresh scars circling her wrists.
I pinched the bridge of my nose, exhaling slowly. The tactical advantages were obvious - Forge's engineering genius, Kwannon's lethal precision, Clarice's spatial manipulation, even little Melancon's untapped potential. But taking them meant responsibility. The kind I hadn't carried since my guild-leading days in YGGDRASIL.
Memories surfaced unbidden - coordinating forty players through the Tomb of Nazarick, managing resource allocation across conquered territories, the endless politicking of maintaining a top-ranked guild. I'd been good at it. Maybe too good. My gaze drifted to the loading trucks where the other children were boarding. In another life, these four would have become soldiers in someone else's war. Kwannon's mind shattered and rebuilt, Forge's inventions turned to weapons, Clarice dying too young on some battlefield, Melancon... I didn't even know her comic counterpart. That might have been the most damning part.
"Alright," I said at last, watching their eyes light up. "You'll study under me. Live with me. But understand - my lessons won't be gentle."
Clarice actually squealed, grabbing Melancon in a spinning hug. Forge punched the air with a loud "Yes!" while Kwannon simply bowed, though I didn't miss the slight tremble in her normally steady hands.
"Introductions first," I said, cutting through their celebration. "Proper ones."
Forge straightened immediately. "John Allerdyce, but everyone calls me Forge. I can... well, forge anything really. Machines just make sense to me." His fingers twitched like they itched for tools.
"Clarice Fong!" The portal-maker practically vibrated in place. "I make purple holes in space! Well, they're more like doorways really but-"
"Kwannon," the Japanese girl interrupted flatly. "Ninja. Psionic knife." She demonstrated by manifesting a violet blade that hummed dangerously before dissipating.
All eyes turned to Melancon. The blonde girl shrunk slightly before mumbling, "I'm Elodie Melancon. I... I don't know what I can do yet."
I filed away each piece of information, though most matched what I already knew from their files. "Sai Morvayne," I reciprocated. "But you'll call me Wraith or Sir in front of others."
Outside, the last trucks rumbled to life. My shadows moved with eerie efficiency, loading not just the liberated children but every piece of valuable equipment from the base. Normally I'd just take the essentials, but this place... this place warranted special treatment. Every computer, every weapon, even the damn stainless-steel tables from the labs were being hauled away.
"Sir?" Forge asked as we moved toward the exit. "Why take do you take everything in the base?"
"It's because this sort of stuff is quite expensive to buy…besides, just because the bad guys were using them, doesn't mean we can't use them…also, my current situation forced me to do this sort of things….". I not gonna lighten my words to them, the truth is better for these kids in this sort of situation.
"Are you going to destroy this place, Sir?" Melancon timidly asked.
I didn't look back as the first charges detonated behind us, the base beginning its fiery collapse. "Because some places deserve to be erased completely."
The four exchanged glances but followed without question. In the rearview mirror as we drove away, flames licked at the sky where HYDRA's nightmare factory once stood. Four new shadows sat in my vehicle - not prisoners, not experiments, but my apprentices.
The last truck rolled away from the abandoned HYDRA facility, its cargo hold packed to the brim with everything that wasn't bolted down—desks, chairs, lab equipment, even the damn light fixtures. If it had value, my Shadows took it. No sense letting good resources go to waste when I had a new base to furnish and four new mouths to feed.
Forge, Melancon, Kwannon, and Clarice had already been sent ahead to the warehouse under Magina's watchful eye. That left me to deal with the X-Men.
Michelle picked up on the third ring, her voice thick with sleep. "Wraith? Do you have any idea what time—"
"I need a pickup. Sixty-six kids, most under eighteen. Some need medical attention."
A pause. Then, resigned: "I'll call the others."
By the time they arrived—Michelle, Logan, Storm, and Beast—I had already loaded the survivors into the transport trucks. The X-Men's reactions were... predictable.
Storm's eyes widened as she took in the sea of young faces. "So many..."
Beast adjusted his glasses, scanning the children with a furrowed brow. "This is... troubling."
Logan just grunted, though his jaw tightened when he spotted the scars on some of the kids' arms. Honestly by now, their reaction had become far too lame for me.
I crossed my arms, unimpressed. "You all have Cerebro. A machine designed to track mutants worldwide. And yet, somehow, an entire base full of kidnapped kids slipped under your radar."
Beast opened his mouth to protest, but I cut him off.
"Don't. Just take them. Get them to Xavier…. Maybe this time, he'll actually do something useful with his mansion."
Logan shot me a look but didn't argue. He knew I was right. Sure, I don't have to be this salty, but by now, the image of X-Men was somehow the beacon of Meta-Human had become nothing but an empty statement for me. As the X-Men herded the children onto their jet, I turned away. My part here was done. Let them play heroes.
The warehouse loomed ahead, its exterior nondescript but its interior now home. The moment I stepped inside, Magina's voice greeted me from the speakers.
"Welcome home, Father. Food and a bath are ready for you."
I exhaled, rolling my stiff shoulders. The adrenaline of the past week had finally worn off, leaving behind nothing but exhaustion and the dull ache of healing wounds.
The shower was heaven. Scalding water sluiced away blood, sweat, and the lingering stench of antiseptic and fear. My Shadows worked silently around me, scrubbing my armor and gear with meticulous care. I caught my reflection in the fogged-up mirror—pale skin, dark circles under my eyes, and two jagged puncture wounds on each shoulder where Logan's claws had gone clean through.
"Never thought I'd get stabbed by Wolverine himself," I muttered, prodding the injuries. The flesh had already knit back together, thanks to my enhanced healing, but it still stung like hell.
A Shadow approached with antiseptic and bandages, its movements precise as it dressed the wounds. I didn't flinch. Pain was an old friend at this point.
Dressed in fresh clothes, I made my way to the dining room. A steaming meal waited—Magina's doing, no doubt. As I ate, I finally allowed myself to relax.
"How are the kids?" I asked between bites.
Magina's hologram flickered to life beside me. "All four are asleep. They've eaten and showered. Clarice insisted on seeing the 'training room' tomorrow."
I snorted. "Eager, huh?"
A pause. Then, softly, Magina asked, "Why did you bring them here, Father?"
I set my fork down, considering the question. "To teach them. To give them a chance Xavier or Magneto never would." I leaned back in my chair. "If we're going to change things, we've got to start somewhere."
Magina nodded. "Should I initiate the Sprout Initiative?"
I didn't hesitate. "Permission granted."
The Sprout Initiative—my contingency for building something more than just a hideout. A place where mutants like Forge, Clarice, Kwannon, and Melancon could grow. Not as soldiers. Not as weapons. But as something better. As I finished my meal, a thought struck me: for the first time in a long time, I wasn't just surviving. I was building something, trying to make a change, something that worth something in this world. And that... that was worth the exhaustion.