As the mutants stared blankly at the broadcast of Captain America taking the oath of office, a cold voice suddenly cut through the air:
"From this moment on… Captain America is our enemy."
Everyone turned. Magneto and Cyclops were walking in from the courtyard gate, having just finished their discussion. And the one who declared Captain America an enemy was, unsurprisingly, the man who had always taken a hardline stance against humankind—Magneto.
"I think this might be a misunderstanding," Jean objected calmly. Her words echoed the thoughts of many present. Challenging the U.S. government was one thing—but opposing Captain America felt like standing against justice itself.
Magneto looked over the hesitant young mutants with disdain, his tone sharp and cold:
"Wake up. Your 'hero' now serves the government. Do you really think Congress will change its stance simply because he's President? Their decision to treat mutants as enemies was made long ago."
Cyclops shot him a glare and countered,
"He may be your enemy, but he has always been our friend. I believe he will do what's right. With him mediating, this crisis may end without violence."
Most of the students wavered between the two viewpoints.
But Marcus knew exactly who was right—Magneto saw the situation clearly. The government needed Captain America's influence, not his moral objections. They needed a scapegoat for New York, and if not him, someone else would eventually be framed.
And now Marcus intended to give both sides the final push.
---
BOOM!
A massive explosion erupted outside the academy building. The ground trembled violently, alarms screamed across the campus, and panic swept through the halls.
"We're under attack!" Cyclops shouted.
Another shell slammed into the academy wall, blasting concrete and metal inward. Students shrieked as debris rained down.
Through the smoking hole in the wall, a colossal dark silhouette hovered in the sky—its engines roaring like thunder.
A monstrous aircraft, like some alien warship, loomed over the academy.
"Evacuate all non-combat students! X-Men, prepare for battle!" Cyclops barked, forcing some order into the chaos.
But this was a school, not a military base—most present were untrained teenagers.
The alarm had only gone off after the first explosion. Security was utterly unprepared.
"Do you require assistance?" Magneto asked, effortlessly suspending falling steel beams with magnetic force to protect the students. If not for Cyclops's earlier request, he might have already turned the attackers into scrap metal.
"No," Cyclops answered sharply. "This academy belongs to the X-Men. We can handle it."
And with that, he charged outside with the others—determined to prove that the X-Men could stand on equal footing with Magneto, even without Professor Charles Xavier.
But once outside, one look at the sky nearly made his heart stop.
Hovering above them was—
A S.H.I.E.L.D. Helicarrier.
Cyclops's voice trembled.
"What… why is the Helicarrier here!?"
BOOM!
Another explosion drowned out his words. The Helicarrier had fully activated its weapons—hundreds of gun barrels and missile pods aimed directly at the academy, radiating unmistakable killing intent.
"Someone explain this!" Cyclops roared, stunned that S.H.I.E.L.D.—formerly their ally—had turned against them overnight.
But the Helicarrier didn't answer.
It fired.
A storm of bullets and missiles descended like a metallic monsoon, tearing open the ground and buildings.
"No time to freeze!" Jean cried, stepping forward. She thrust out her hands, unleashing a wave of psychic force. Countless bullets froze mid-air and clattered harmlessly to the ground.
But the strain was immense. By the time the final missile streaked toward them, Jean's vision blurred; her consciousness wavered. Her knees buckled.
Everyone expected her to stop it—until they saw the missile inches from her face.
Too late.
Flames engulfed her in a roaring blast. Shockwaves hurled even the rescuers backward.
"JEAN!!" Cyclops screamed, his voice cracking with terror.
But a calm voice cut through the chaos:
"Stop shouting. She's fine."
A gust of wind swept away the smoke.
Standing at the epicenter of the blast was Marcus—Jean unconscious in his arms. Neither bore so much as a scratch.
He carried Jean effortlessly, turning toward the main building. The X-Men instinctively parted to give him room.
Only Cyclops hurried after them.
"You said you'd handle this," Marcus said dismissively, glancing at Cyclops as if scolding a child. "Is this what you call handling it?"
He didn't wait for a response.
He walked into the academy.
Outside, the Helicarrier—unmoved and unrelenting—launched its next wave of attacks.
_____
T/N:
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