Purple explosions light up the lawn as we sprint through the mansion's corridors, my heart slamming against my ribs like it's trying to break free. Jubilee's hand is wrapped around my wrist, dragging me forward with surprising strength.
"Sentinels are mutant-hunting robots," she yells over her shoulder, narrowly avoiding a collision with a terrified younger student. "Government-funded killing machines designed to identify, capture, or terminate anyone with the X-gene!"
We skid around a corner, nearly wiping out on the polished floor. The mansion trembles beneath our feet as another explosion rocks the foundation.
"How many?" I shout, ducking instinctively as a chunk of plaster falls from the ceiling.
"Too fucking many!" Jubilee's face is a mask of focused fury, so different from her usual nervous demeanor that she might as well be a stranger.
We burst through the double doors into the mansion's grand foyer, and absolute chaos greets us. Students are everywhere, some crying, others shouting directions, a few frozen in panic. The giant windows that normally showcase the pristine grounds now frame a nightmare of destruction and combat.
Professor Xavier is at the center of the chaos, her wheelchair pivoting with military precision as she shouts orders. "All students, proceed to the lower levels immediately! Security Protocol Zeta is now in effect!"
Jubilee tugs on my arm again, her grip tightening. "Jack, you need to follow the other students downstairs to the bunker. It's reinforced against pretty much anything, even Sentinel attacks."
"What about you?" I ask, watching as she releases my wrist, her eyes already darting toward the front doors where flashes of combat illuminate the lawn.
"I'm on the team," she says, straightening her shoulders, a fierce pride replacing her earlier fear. "I've trained for this. You haven't."
My jaw clenches. "I can help. I can heal, remember? And I can fight…"
"Not against these things," she cuts me off, her voice gentler than I expected. "Your powers are amazing, Jack, but you're still new here. You don't know the drills, the formations... you could get hurt or get someone else hurt."
Before I can finish my protest, Jubilee sprints toward the door, leaving me standing there with my words hanging in the empty air. As she races across the threshold, her hands erupt with brilliant multicolored sparks, not the tiny fireworks I'd seen her playing with during training, but devastating plasma bursts that explode against a Sentinel's metal chest with enough force to make it stagger backward.
I'm frozen in place, suddenly alone in the sea of panicking students rushing past me toward the lower levels. The evacuation route is clear, but I can't tear my eyes away from the battle unfolding outside.
Through the doorway, I see Scotty standing firm amid the chaos, her hand pressed to the side of her visor. A blinding red beam erupts from her eyes, cutting through the air and striking a Sentinel dead center in its metallic face. The robot's head separates cleanly from its shoulders, crashing to the ground with a thunderous impact that I feel through the floor.
"Holy shit," I whisper, awestruck despite the danger. It's like watching the movies come to life, but a thousand times more visceral, more terrifying.
In the distance, Morgan tears through a Sentinel's midsection, her adamantium claws slicing through metal like it's tissue paper. Her face is contorted in a feral snarl as she disappears inside the machine's chassis, followed by a shower of sparks and mechanical fluids.
I spot a woman I recognize from one of the Deadpool movies. She's flipping what look like playing cards between her fingers, each one glowing with pinkish energy before she launches them at a Sentinel's joints, causing small but precise explosions.
A blue streak zigzags across the battlefield, teleporting from one position to another with puffs of sulfurous smoke marking each disappearance and reappearance. The demonic-looking mutant moves with impossible grace, drawing fire away from her teammates.
It's beautiful and horrifying all at once. These women move like a well-oiled machine, covering each other, communicating with nothing but glances and slight hand gestures.
I'm about to move toward the bunker when suddenly, my eye catches movement behind Scotty. One of the Sentinels, damaged but still operational, swings its massive metal fist directly at her back.
"Scotty! Behind you!" I scream, but it's too late.
The impact is sickening. The sound of bone shattering echoes across the lawn as Scotty crumples to the ground, her leg bent at an impossible angle. Through the tear in her uniform, I can see the jagged edge of bone protruding from her thigh, white against the crimson flood pouring from the wound.
"Oh shit!"
I don't think. I just move. My feet are already carrying me across the battlefield before my brain fully processes what I'm doing. Bullets of debris rain down around me as I sprint toward Scotty, ducking and weaving through the chaos.
I slide to my knees beside her, my hands hovering uncertainly over her mangled leg. Her face is contorted in agony behind her visor, jaw clenched so tight I can almost hear her teeth grinding.
"Jack?" she gasps, her voice barely audible over the cacophony of battle. "You have to get to the bunker right…"
I don't listen. Instead, I place my palms directly on her shattered leg and focus. I've never tried this with broken bones before, but if I can transfer cuts and bruises, why not this? I concentrate, imagining the damage flowing from her body into mine, like water finding the path of least resistance.
For a terrifying second, nothing happens. Then it hits me.
Pain explodes through my leg, white-hot and all-consuming. I feel the bone in my thigh crack, then splinter, then completely snap in half. The discomfort is beyond anything I've ever experienced, even with my mother's worst beatings. It feels like someone's driving a burning railroad spike through my femur while simultaneously trying to twist it in half.
But it's working. Beneath my trembling hands, Scotty's leg straightens, the bone retracting back beneath her skin as muscle and tissue knit themselves back together. Her face relaxes slightly as the pain transfers to me.
I don't stop. I keep pulling, taking everything I can from her, not just the broken bone but the torn muscles, even the bruised tissue. My vision blurs as sweat pours down my face, my entire body shaking with the effort.
When it's done, I collapse onto the ground beside her, my leg now a mangled mess of bone and tissue. The pain is blinding, but through the haze of agony, I feel a strange sense of satisfaction. I've done something useful. Something that matters.
"Jack, what the hell did you just do?" Scotty's voice sounds distant through the roaring in my ears. She's on her feet now, testing her weight on her fully healed leg with disbelief written all over her face.
"Just leave me here," I gasp through gritted teeth, every syllable a knife. "I need a few minutes. My healing factor's already working. I can feel it."
It's not a lie. Beneath the excruciating pain, I can sense the tiniest tingle of regeneration starting at the edges of the wound, my body's feeble attempt to knit itself back together. It's nowhere near as fast as Morgan's healing, but it's something.
Scotty's face hardens as she glances from me to the battlefield, clearly torn between helping me and rejoining the fight. The decision is made for her when a massive shadow falls over us both. I look up to see a Sentinel's enormous metal foot descending toward us like the world's deadliest boot.
Without hesitation, Scotty's hand flies to her visor. The ruby quartz lens flashes as another devastating beam erupts from her eyes, striking the Sentinel's foot. The impact sends shockwaves through the metal behemoth, its leg buckling sideways with a screech of twisted metal. The robot staggers, its balance compromised, before crashing into one of its companions.
"TARGET PRIORITY: LOCATE MUTANT DESIGNATION SABRETOOTH," booms a mechanical voice from the fallen Sentinel.
Sabretooth? The name sounds vaguely familiar from Gabe's comic book rants, but I can't place who that is. My leg throbs as bone fragments slowly shift beneath my skin, the healing process excruciating but unmistakably working. I can feel the jagged edges starting to align, cells multiplying at an accelerated rate.
Scotty kneels beside me, her face a storm of conflicting emotions. "That was incredibly reckless, Jack," she says, her voice tight with concern even as her eyes scan the battlefield.
I manage a weak smile through the pain. "The X-Women need their leader," I gasp, watching her expression soften for just a fraction of a second.
"Nightcrawler!" Scotty shouts, her voice cutting through the chaos like a knife.
In a blink, a puff of smoke materializes next to us, and the blue-skinned mutant appears, her yellow eyes quickly assessing the situation. My leg throbs with pain so intense I can barely focus on her demonic features.
"Get him to the bunker, now!" Scotty commands, already turning back toward the battle.
"You got it, fearless leader," Nightcrawler responds, her German accent thick with tension.
Before I can protest, she grabs me with surprising strength, and the world dissolves into darkness. My stomach lurches violently as reality seems to fold in on itself. The sensation lasts only a split second, but it's enough to make bile rise in my throat.
Then we're somewhere else, a reinforced underground room filled with terrified students huddled together in small groups. The sudden change in scenery makes my head spin, or maybe that's just the agony radiating from my mangled leg.
"Kitty!" Nightcrawler calls out, still supporting most of my weight. "This one needs help!"
Kitty Pryde rushes over, her eyes widening when she sees the state of my leg. Nightcrawler carefully transfers me into Kitty's waiting arms.
"Got him," Kitty confirms.
Nightcrawler gives me a quick nod, then disappears in another flurry of smoke, presumably heading back to the battle where she's needed more.
"Jesus, Jack," Kitty mutters as she helps me to a makeshift medical area in the corner. "What the hell happened to you? Your leg is completely smashed."
I grimace as she eases me onto a cot.
"I helped someone."