I turned toward the meeting hall, jaw tight, steps steady. Done with the circus.
Then it hit me.
Literally.
A red beam slammed into my chest like a freight train. Cyclops' optic blast tore through the air with surgical violence, lifting me clean off my feet. The world spun into heat and static as I bounced across the ground like a goddamn skipping stone. Trees snapped. Branches shattered. I stopped only after colliding back-first into a thick trunk, bark exploding around me.
My suit screamed in my ears—kinetic energy overload, temperature warnings, suit damage. I tasted blood.
The armor on my back? Nearly fused from the heat.
I groaned, rolled to my side, and pushed myself up through a haze of pain. My body ached like I'd gone twelve rounds with the Hulk.
I looked up.
There he was. Cyclops. Still standing in the same spot. Visor glowing red-hot, eyes locked on me like a target he wasn't finished with. That smug, righteous stance. Like this was justice.
No one moved to stop him. Not yet.
Magneto and his crew watched in silence, eyes narrowed, gauging. Jean—the redhead—was trying to pull Cyclops back, her voice sharp and desperate. But he wasn't listening.
He never did.
Another beam shot out. I darted into the trees jumping and rising above the treeline. His blast missed, slicing a pine in half behind me. I sat on the branch, smoke trailing from my armor, and stared him down.
"You done, boy?" I called, voice echoing. "Or are you still throwing tantrums?"
His answer was another shot. Then another.
That was it. I'd had enough.
I gritted my teeth. "Go Turbo: Flight"
My suit shifted with a mechanical snarl—plates folding, heels splitting into twin thrusters, wings unfurling like serrated blades. Jetlines along my spine glowed blue-hot. The ground dropped beneath me as the boosters roared to life, punching me into the sky like a bullet from a railgun.
I broke the sound barrier.
And went straight at him.
Dodged the first beam. The second. The third. He fired wildly now, desperate to stop me. Too slow. I was a missile with intent.
I had one shot—and I was about to take it.
Until the metal came.
A wall rose from the ground like a steel coffin on fast-forward. Thick. Cold. Impossibly quick.
Magneto.
I growled through clenched teeth.
"Go Turbo: Strength."
Armor plates snapped into place like a vault sealing shut. My limbs thickened—hydraulics hissing, servos tightening. Gauntlets expanded into reinforced crush-cages, fingers capped with impact cores. Exoskeletal support flared up along my back and spine. Every movement felt like I was dragging a thunderstorm behind me.
I slammed into the metal wall.
It cracked.
Twisted.
Collapsed.
I burst through with a roar, trailing shrapnel, seconds from flattening Cyclops—
And then I hit something harder than steel.
Vibranium.
It absorbed all the motion I had.
A shield braced in front of me, gleaming with purpose. Sam Wilson stood there—legs grounded, wings flared out for extra resistance, every muscle straining to hold the line.
But that wasn't all.
My momentum froze mid-way even before that.
Telekinesis wrapped around me like invisible chains, suspending me in place. Jean's face was tight with focus, sweat on her brow. She was pushing herself. Hard.
And beneath it all—like a whisper inside my skull—was Charles Xavier.
Silent.
Present.
Holding me back with sheer force of mind.
I hovered there, trapped in a triangle of restraint—metal behind me, vibranium in front, and psychic pressure wrapping every inch of my armored shell.
"Enough." Xavier's voice echoed—not out loud but final.
They weren't going to let me hit him.
Not even when he fired first.
I slowly unwound from Strength mode, armor clicking back into its default shape. I landed on my feet, breathing hard, eyes still locked on Cyclops.
He looked ready for round two.
So did I.
But now—so did everyone else.
Magneto's hands floated near his sides, curled like claws. The red haired girl still had her eyes on me, heart pounding. Sam hadn't lowered his shield.
No one trusted me.
For I was dead center in the powder keg.
I spat on the dirt.
I looked at every single one of them.
"Ah, fuck it." I smiled at them. I was going to light the powder keg.
"Go Turbo: Titan Clone."
--------------------
I spun in my chair like a bored kid in detention.
Eyes rained down on me from every corner of the room—judgmental, cautious, murderous. Did I care?
Not even a little.
I especially savored Captain Knockoff's glare. Eyes sharp as razors, jaw clenched like he was trying not to punch me through the table. Gotta hand it to Wakanda—they make some fine ass armor. Either that, or he's running on pure plot armor disguised as vibranium. Because no way my Titan form punch shouldn't have snapped every bone in his body. Vibranium or not.
But here he was. Breathing. Scowling. Intact.
Probably got iced down in a hyper healing tube while Mutant, Wakandian and Stark nanobots sang him lullabies.
Cyclops sat at the far end of the table. Bruised. Bandaged. Still radiating that "I did the right thing" martyr energy. I shot him a grin—wide and unapologetic. I knew he'd hate it. That was the point.
I'd already earned a lifetime spot on his hit list. Might as well enjoy the view.
Erik—Magneto, for the people who still speak his name like it's scripture—looked at me like he was planning my execution in real-time. His eyes tracked every twitch in my muscles, every breath, like he was daring me to flex wrong. Can't really blame him. I might've demolished a piece of the island during that whole "Cyclops forgot his meds and tried to incinerate me" incident.
Then again, he didn't exactly try to stop the fight. Mostly just hurled razor-sharp metal around like we were fencing in a blender. If Xavier hadn't stepped in, I'm pretty sure Erik would've tried to pull the iron out of my blood like a juice box.
Speaking of the psychic bald angel of mutants—there he sat. Calm. Composed. Powerful in that quiet, eerie way that makes you forget he could fry your brain like an egg if he wanted to.
He was the only reason I didn't escalate things from "bad" to "mutual annihilation."
I don't love mind-readers.
But goddamn it, the guy's necessary.
Even if he's got a bad habit of wiping the memories of the wrong people.
The rest of the table? Hostile silence.
Except for few.
The White Queen herself for example.
Emma Frost gave me a look. Not a hostile one. Not exactly friendly either. Curious. Calculating. A touch amused. Probably already trying to read my thoughts. Not that it mattered. Everyone on this island was some flavor of psychic, telepathic, empathic, or god-knows-what.
Privacy here was a myth.
Still—gotta admit, she's a hottie.
I placed my arm on the metal table. My finger raining down on it. One by one. It sounded like a horse running.
The silence stretched too long. Nobody spoke. Everyone just kept watching me like I'd personally slept with their spouses and burned their childhood homes down.
I sighed—loud, obnoxious. Such a sad life a man can't even drum on the table.
"So…" I drawled. "Are we starting this thing, or are we just gonna keep playing the world's longest staring contest?"
The answer came sharp.
"It begins." a voice said from behind. "When I find out why the hell you were fighting the mutants."
The doors opened with a hiss.
Nick Fury walked in, trench coat swaying like it had its own gravitational pull. Natasha followed, arms crossed, face set to 'disappointed parent.' A few other agents trailed them—extras for dramatic effect.
I leaned back, grinning.
"Don't blame the innocent guy, bestie." I said, nodding toward my best friend. "Apparently, I wasn't on the guest list."
I threw a glance at Sam, just long enough to make it sting. Fury caught it.
"People around here don't like the uninvited." I added, kicking my boots up on the table.
"And I don't like being shot at. Ohh and I love to discipline brats. Simple as that."
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I get it. No fight scene, lol. I mean I could have written it in this chapter but that's the thing. It would show a lot, like a lot and many, many question would come. So, I won't or maybe give me powerstone or something and I will post it later on.
And Goddamn. Just because the first few chapter is of flirting and all that. You didn't have to give me that bad of a score, Tasha. While I understand I am posting this on Webnovel and Scribblehub and the readers here just want smut and overpowered stuff. I just can't write stuff like that. I tried and I couldn't.
I am a slow writer and If I had the skills, I wish I had, I would have elongated the scene and made it more natural and all that. I like writing in details, contemplating details and all that and make it fucking complicated which the reader here would hate no doubt.
All in all I am saying is read, criticize my fanfic, give me low rating, matters not but for the sake of the manners your parents taught you at least don't be negative just cause you didn't see some written paragraph of two people humping to fulfill your deranged fantasy.