"That's really Wolverine! Oh my god, he looks exactly like he does in the comics—no, he looks even scarier in person!"
A freckled teenager gasped, his knuckles turning white as he clenched a crumpled issue of *Uncanny X-Men*.
The children huddled together, craning their necks to get a better look, though they stopped short of the perimeter, wary of the armed mercenaries still standing nearby.
On the edge of the crowd, Laura stood silently. Her eyes, sharp as blades, shifted between the well-worn comic book in her hands and the wild, hairy warrior standing a few yards away.
She looked at the drawing of the yellow-clad hero, then at the man in the leather jacket. When the sunlight caught the glint of Adamantium between Logan's knuckles, a ripple of emotion finally disturbed her stoic expression. It was a flicker of recognition.
Peter Parker watched the scene unfold with his enhanced senses.
He'd seen the comics in bookstores. While much of it was fiction, the portrayal of the heroes captured their essence. Especially Logan—the warrior walking the razor's edge between man and beast, possessing a rage that could tear the world apart and a heart that fiercely guarded the innocent.
However, everyone picks their own savior. Peter noticed that while the kids were enamored with Wolverine, Gabriela was looking elsewhere.
Her gaze was fixed on Professor X. It was a look of overflowing reverence, almost religious in its devotion. To her, the bald man in the wheelchair wasn't just a powerful Mutant; he was a messiah.
"Kids! Let's go. We're taking you home."
Logan shouted around the unlit cigar clamped in his teeth. His unsheathed claws hovered loosely by his sides—a silent promise of violence that hung over every mercenary's head like a guillotine.
Peter didn't need to lift a finger. Not a single guard dared to move.
Captain Lister lowered his head, his face a mask of defeat. He had calculated the odds, accounted for the variables, but he hadn't anticipated that Spider-Man would have the foresight—or the connections—to call the X-Men in advance.
"A Blackbird jet. Mach 3.5..." Lister muttered through gritted teeth, staring at the sleek aircraft. "Westchester is 200 kilometers away. Unless they launched before I even knew I had a problem, there's no way they could be here."
Hovering above, Tony Stark smirked inside his helmet.
He was proud of the kid. Peter wasn't just reacting anymore; he was strategizing. Calling in the heavy hitters was a pro move.
Through his HUD, Tony zoomed in on Lister's twitching facial muscles.
"See that? The beauty of nature's food chain," Tony quipped to himself. "No matter how big the wolf is, when the T-Rex shows up, the wolf tucks its tail."
The law of the jungle applied to geopolitics, too. With the X-Men present and the Mutant Rights Act technically still in effect, Lister and Donald Pierce had no cards left to play. The mercenaries parted like the Red Sea, creating a wide berth for the children.
As the kids filed past, Peter took the opportunity to show off. He fired a web line and swung gracefully over the soldiers' heads.
The mercenaries instinctively flinched, but nobody raised a rifle. Without a firing order, shooting at Spider-Man while Wolverine watched was a death sentence.
"Nice work, Pajama Boy." Peter landed lightly on top of a utility pole, and Tony offered a rare, unironic compliment. "Calling the X-Men was a solid play. Much more reliable than, say, falling into a sewer or getting slapped by a radioactive kitten."
"Thanks for the compliment, Mr. Stark. But I'd appreciate it if you didn't add the blooper reel to the end of every sentence."
Down below, Professor X was conducting some "aggressive diplomacy" with the Institute's commander.
The previously arrogant Captain Lister was nodding repeatedly, his smile so ingratiating it looked painful.
Peter wasn't surprised. In this timeline, the catastrophe that wiped out the X-Men hadn't happened yet. Charles Xavier wasn't a fugitive with a decaying mind; he was a respected political figure. The government maintained a polite, if treacherous, relationship with the mutant school. Lister wouldn't dare start an incident here.
"Alright. The X-Men have custody. Nobody is going to stop them."
Tony turned his faceplate toward Peter. "Can we go now? I'd rather head back and listen to Pepper lecture me about board meetings than spend another second in this dustbowl."
Peter knew that "board meetings" was likely code for nursing a hangover, but he didn't call it out. "Sure thing. The sun is high, and I don't want to miss dinner."
Before they could depart, however, Charles Xavier and Cyclops approached them.
Iron Man landed, the heavy suit thudding against the dirt. He flipped his faceplate up and stifled a yawn. "Professor. Looks like our Friendly Neighborhood Charity Case did your job for you."
Charles halted his hover-chair, his smile as warm as the winter sun. "Mr. Stark. Thank you for extending a helping hand to these children."
"Professor, I was just the Uber driver. You're thanking the wrong guy," Tony deflected, looking like he wanted nothing more than a nap.
Charles smiled faintly, accepting the deflection. He turned his gaze upward, toward the figure perched on the utility pole.
But as his mind brushed against Spider-Man's, Charles froze.
The smile vanished. His brows furrowed.
Charles Xavier possessed the most powerful telepathic mind on Earth. He had scanned millions of minds, including Peter Parker's, in passing. But now? The young man's mind was... different.
It was like staring into a dense, impenetrable nebula. The familiar patterns were there, but they were overlaid with something new. Something profound.
*Could it be?*
The Professor's eyes narrowed, his telepathic senses drilling deeper, analyzing the bio-electric signature radiating from the boy.
It was a power that felt strangely familiar, yet evolved. It carried the resonance of magnetism, but with a potential that terrified him.
"An Omega-level Mutant..."
The Professor murmured the words silently, a flash of astonishment in his eyes quickly replaced by a profound, complicated joy.
For a fleeting second, Charles Xavier felt as though he had been transported back in time—back to the moment he first touched the mind of Jean Grey.
But this... this was different.
He stared at the young man before him and saw a vast, terrifying potential. A power so immense that even Apocalypse could not rival it.
This was no illusion. He was certain of it.
The Professor's fingertips trembled on the armrest of his wheelchair. He leaned forward unconsciously, his eyes—eyes that had witnessed billions of thoughts, dreams, and fears—now looked dazed. He was lost in the signal, staring blankly at the vibrant young hero, unable to pull his mind away.
"My God..." Charles murmured into the silence. "Is this the hope we have been waiting for?"
No one understood the magnitude of this discovery better than he did. The emergence of an Omega-level Mutant at this critical, dangerous crossroads could determine the future of their entire race. The realization left him in a rare state of distraction.
Meanwhile, Peter, the subject of this intense scrutiny, felt a phantom chill crawl up his spine and lodge itself in his brain.
Instinct took over. He fired a web line, yanked himself into the air, and hung upside down from a utility pole in a defensive crouch—like a spider sensing a predator.
He knew that physical distance was meaningless against the world's most powerful telepath, but his body reacted before his brain could catch up.
*Who said Professor X doesn't peek?* Peter grumbled internally. *So much for privacy. Did he just read my browser history? Or worse... did he figure out who I am?*
However, his Spider-Sense remained silent. There was no screech of danger, no feeling of mental violation. It wasn't an attack; it was just... observation. This realization allowed Peter to relax slightly. Perhaps the Professor had just noticed something unusual about his biology rather than digging through his memories.
The sudden movement alerted Scott Summers. He noticed the Professor's trance-like state and stepped closer, placing a hand gently on the older man's shoulder.
"Professor? Are you alright?"
Scott's voice was laced with concern.
Charles blinked, the trance breaking as if he were waking from a deep dream. He looked up at Peter with apologetic eyes.
"Forgive me. I lost my composure. Child, you... you are very special."
Given Spider-Man's guarded identity, Charles chose his words carefully. He did not immediately announce that this boy was likely another Omega-level Mutant. In an era hostile to their kind, outing Spider-Man as a Mutant would only invite unpredictable danger.
Peter took a deep breath and dropped back to the ground. Avoiding the telepath was pointless; he had to face the music. Besides, his stress response might have been triggered by his own subconscious—memories from a past life warned him that telepaths were dangerous to transmigrators. If Charles saw too much, it could either expose Peter's secret or overload the Professor's brain.
"Wow! Professor Charles Xavier! In the flesh!" Peter ramped up the enthusiasm, masking his nervousness with the persona of a fan meeting his idol. "I know you founded the Academy... big fan of the whole 'selfless leader' vibe. And, you know, being the strongest telepath on the planet..."
Listening to Peter's barrage of nervous compliments, the elderly Professor simply smiled and nodded, listening with the patience of a grandfather.
Behind him, Scott straightened his back, a hint of pride flashing in his eyes behind the ruby quartz visor. His opinion of this talkative street hero went up a few notches.
"I heard you're the ultimate authority on identifying us," Peter pivoted suddenly, dropping the fanboy act. "Unfortunately, someone told me I might be part of the club. So, what's the verdict? Am I a Mutant?"
Charles narrowed his eyes slightly.
Suddenly, a gentle voice echoed directly inside Peter's skull, bypassing his ears entirely.
*Peter. Do not doubt yourself. You are one of us. But Mutant or human... it makes no difference, as long as you remain the Good Neighbor.*
After the private telepathic assurance, the Professor spoke aloud, addressing everyone present with a voice full of gravity.
"Child, labels do not define you. I believe that Mutants and humans will one day coexist peacefully. As for what I see in you? I see... a new hope. I see the future."
Scott's jaw tightened. He gasped softly. He had never heard the Professor speak of anyone with such reverence—not even Jean had received such an evaluation.
He looked at the hero in the red and blue suit with new eyes.
"Ahem."
Iron Man, prompted by a notification from Jarvis, cleared his throat over the suit's external speakers. The thrusters hummed as he stepped forward. "Hey, Pajama Boy. Didn't you have a little favor to ask the Professor?"
"I did?" Peter tilted his head. How did he not know that himself?
"It seems you are in trouble, child." Although Charles respected Peter's privacy, the emotional fragments radiating from the surrounding crowd painted a clear picture.
"You're compromised, kid," Tony said bluntly. "Jarvis tells me you took a nap after that rocket hit. The four mercenaries who grabbed you? They lifted the mask. They saw the face."
*Identity exposed?*
Peter's stomach dropped. He didn't remember that—he had been unconscious. But if his identity was out, the safety of Aunt May, MJ, and everyone he knew was at risk. He couldn't let Tony's vigilance go to waste.
He looked at Charles.
"If they saw my face... four mercenaries know who I am. For the safety of my family, that secret cannot get out."
He said it as a test. Asking a telepath to alter minds was a heavy request.
To his surprise, Charles didn't hesitate. He closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them, a gentle smile played on his lips.
"You are fortunate, child. If it were any later... I might not have been able to help."
Peter was stunned.
The implication was clear: Charles was willing to do it. But for Professor X to wipe memories or install psychic blocks... wouldn't that violate his strict moral code against interfering with free will?
Scott's expression changed instantly. He stepped forward, alarmed. "Professor, no. You cannot use your abilities like that. The Doctor warned you specifically..."
He wasn't against helping Spider-Man, but he knew the truth about Charles's health. The Professor was ill. Using high-level telepathy could worsen his condition—perhaps fatally.
"Scott, I understand my physical condition better than anyone," Charles said, his voice calm but laced with steel.
Scott knew that tone. Once the Professor made a decision, there was no changing his mind. He lowered his head in defeat.
Peter caught the tension. He wanted help, but not at the cost of a hero's life.
"Whoa, hold on. Professor, if this hurts you, don't do it. Seriously. I can find another way. I'll call Dr. Strange or something."
Peter wasn't being polite; he meant it.
Charles smiled and shook his head. "You are mistaken, child. I do this not just for you, but to aid a race teetering on the brink of extinction."
The weight of those words hung in the air. Peter wondered—did the Professor already know what the government was planning? Did he see the dark future looming for Mutants?
As Peter pondered, Charles extended two fingers and pressed them gently to his own temple.
The air grew heavy for a second. Then, Charles lowered his hand and smiled.
"It is done. They never saw your face. No one in that facility knows who you are. You have nothing to worry about."
Peter let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. The relief was overwhelming.
Suddenly, a white light flared on his wrist.
As the brilliance faded, a new shape etched itself into his skin.
It was the symbol of the Wolverine.
----
Title: Peter Unlocks the Wolverine Patch Notes