The assembly hall feels like a prison break in progress, everyone scrambling for the exits, desperate to get away from the bombshell Xavier just dropped about harboring a serial killer under our roof. Can't blame them. Finding out Sabretooth is hanging around is like discovering your roommate keeps a pet tiger in their closet.
"Jack! Hey, Crackwell!"
I turn to see Scotty Summers cutting through the crowd toward me, her ruby quartz glasses catching the light. Something about the determined set of her jaw makes my stomach do a weird flip.
"Come with me," she says, voice low. "Official X-Women business."
My heart rate kicks up a notch. "Alright."
Being the new guy means I'm still figuring out the hierarchy around here. When the team leader says jump, you don't ask why, you just hope you land somewhere soft.
I follow Scotty out of the assembly hall and toward the elevator that leads to the lower levels. The doors slide shut with a soft pneumatic hiss, sealing us in together.
"So..." I venture, watching the floor numbers tick downward. "Is this about the whole Sabretooth situation?"
Scotty nods, punching in a code on the elevator's panel. "Yes. Professor Xavier wants to brief the team."
"The team?" I raise an eyebrow. "Like, the actual X-Women? All of them?"
"A good chunk of them," Scotty clarifies as the elevator slows to a stop. "The ones who aren't currently on assignment."
The doors slide open to reveal the X-Women's war room. It's sleeker than I expected, all polished metal and holographic displays, like something out of a sci-fi movie but with better lighting.
Several women are already gathered around the circular table in the center. I recognize Morgan leaning against the wall, arms crossed over her chest, looking like she'd rather be anywhere else. Professor Xavier sits at the head of the table, her wheelchair locked into a special dock built into the floor.
As we enter, all eyes turn toward us.
"Ah, perfect timing," Xavier says, her voice carrying that natural authority that makes everyone straighten up a little. "Now that we're all here, I'd like to officially introduce our newest prospective team member."
Scotty gives me a small nudge forward, and suddenly I'm standing there with what feels like a spotlight on me.
"Everyone, this is Cracker Jack," Xavier announces with a hint of pride in her voice.
"Hi," I manage, giving an awkward little wave. "Just Jack is fine too."
A blue figure suddenly materializes beside me with a soft bamf and a puff of smoke. I jump back instinctively, my heart trying to escape through my throat.
"Welcome to the team!" she exclaims, yellow eyes bright with enthusiasm. She extends a three-fingered hand toward me. "We met yesterday. But I'm Nightcrawler. You can call me Katrina if you prefer."
I shake her hand, trying not to stare at her blue skin and pointed ears. "Nice to meet you, Nightcrawler."
"You were very brave during ze Sentinel attack," she says with a thick German accent.
"Thanks," I say, genuinely touched by her compliment. The sincerity in her yellow eyes makes my chest feel warm in a way I'm not used to. "Just did what anyone would do."
"Hey again," Jubilee's voice pipes up from across the room. She gives me a small wave, her cheeks still faintly pink. She's standing by one of the holographic displays, trying to look casual despite the obvious tension still lingering between us after the whole face-explosion incident.
Morgan chuckles from her corner, a rough sound like gravel in a blender.
"You must be Jack," interrupts a smooth Southern drawl. A woman with a striking white streak in her auburn hair approaches, extending a gloved hand. "I'm Rogue. Heard you can take injuries from others. That's quite the gift."
I shake her hand, noting how the fabric completely covers her skin. "Nice to meet you."
"The pleasure's all mine, sugar," she says with a smile.
Before I can respond, another woman slides into view, moving with the fluid grace of a predator. Her red-on-black eyes gleam with mischievous interest as she shuffles a deck of playing cards between her fingers with impossible dexterity.
"So you're the new boy toy everyone's talking about," she drawls in a thick Cajun accent, cards dancing between her fingers. "Remi LeBeau. Gambit to most." She plucks a card from the deck, the king of hearts, and charges it with glowing pink energy before extinguishing it with a flick of her wrist. "Welcome to the madhouse, mon ami."
"Thanks," I reply, trying not to stare at her hypnotic eyes.
Dr. McCoy lumbers over, her massive blue-furred form somehow managing to move with surprising grace despite her size. "Good to see you vertical, Mr. Crackwell," she says, adjusting her glasses with one massive paw.
As I scan the room, taking in all these legendary figures I once thought were fictional, I realize someone's missing. "Is Gene not joining us?" I ask, trying to sound casual despite my curiosity.
Xavier's expression shifts subtly. "Mr. Grey had other matters to attend to."
Something in her tone makes me think there's more to the story, but before I can dwell on it, Xavier clears her throat.
"Now that introductions are complete," Xavier says, folding her hands on the table, "I'd like to discuss the reason I've gathered you all here today."
The room settles into an expectant silence as Xavier activates a holographic display in the center of the table. A 3D model of what looks like a reinforced holding cell materializes, rotating slowly for everyone to see.
"As you're all aware, Victoria Creed, Sabretooth, has been in our custody for over a month now," Xavier begins. "The neurological recalibration treatments have shown promising results, but we need to move to the next phase of rehabilitation."
I lean forward, fascinated despite myself. The hologram shifts to show brain scans with certain areas highlighted in different colors.
"I believe it's time for controlled social interaction," Xavier continues. "Specifically, I want to introduce Sabretooth to our team, under heavily monitored conditions."
Morgan pushes away from the wall so violently I'm surprised she doesn't leave a dent. "You've gotta be fucking kidding me," she growls, stalking toward Xavier. "That psychopath has tried to kill half the people in this room!"
"I'm well aware of Victoria's history, Morgan," Xavier replies calmly.
"History?" Morgan barks out a harsh laugh. "You make it sound like ancient past. She gutted those hikers in Colorado six months ago!"
Scotty shifts beside me, her posture stiffening. "I have to agree with Morgan on this one, Professor. Bringing Sabretooth face-to-face with us seems unnecessarily risky."
Xavier raises a hand, silencing further objections. "The purpose of this controlled meeting is diagnostic. I need to observe how Sabretooth responds to individuals she previously viewed as enemies. Her reaction will tell us more about the effectiveness of the treatment than any brain scan could."
I glance around the room, taking in the team's reactions. Jubilee looks terrified, Nightcrawler concerned but trusting, Rogue skeptical, and Gambit oddly amused. Beast is the only one who seems genuinely interested in the scientific merits.
Morgan slams her fist on the table hard enough to make the hologram flicker. "This is a terrible idea. What happens when she snaps?"
"I've taken every precaution," Xavier assures her, unmoved by the outburst. "The interaction chamber has been specifically designed with Sabretooth's capabilities in mind. Reinforced walls and emergency containment protocols.
After Xavier finishes explaining the containment measures, we file out of the war room and head deeper into the lower levels. The group falls into an uneasy formation behind Xavier's wheelchair as she leads us down a sterile corridor I've never seen before.
Morgan trails at the back of our little parade, muttering curses under her breath. "What could possibly go wrong?" she growls sarcastically. "Nothing like a friendly chat with a homicidal maniac to brighten the day."
The hallway narrows as we approach a reinforced door marked "Containment Wing." A series of security scanners hums to life, bathing Xavier in blue light before the massive door slides open.
And there she is.
Sabretooth.
She's massive, easily six and a half feet of pure predatory muscle, with wild blonde hair cascading down her shoulders like a golden mane. Even restrained, there's something hypnotic about her presence, dangerous and magnetic. Her face is all sharp angles and feline grace, those elongated canines just visible beneath her upper lip.
She sits in the center of a transparent cell, heavy cuffs binding her wrists and ankles. Her eyes track our movement with predatory focus, pupils dilating as we approach.
Professor Xavier wheels a bit closer to the containment cell, her posture relaxed despite the tension crackling through the room.
"I'm going to open the containment now," she announces, fingers already tapping a sequence on the control panel.
The transparent barrier slides open with a soft hiss. Sabretooth's nostrils flare instantly, her head tilting back as she takes a deep, exaggerated inhale. Her amber eyes lock directly onto me, lips pulling back into something between a grin and a snarl.
"Well, well," she drawls, voice like gravel wrapped in velvet. "I smell cock in here. And it ain't that Red bitch's cock this time!"
The room goes deadly silent. I feel every pair of eyes snap toward me, gauging my reaction to the crude comment. Morgan's hand twitches, ready to unsheathe her claws. Scotty's jaw tightens so hard I can practically hear her teeth grinding.
But honestly? I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. After years of my mother's psychological warfare and my father's fists, this oversized cat lady thinking she can intimidate me with a dick joke is almost adorable.
"Victoria," Xavier's voice cuts through the tension, sharp with disapproval. "That kind of language is inappropriate and counterproductive to your progress."
I shrug, surprising myself with how genuinely unbothered I feel. "It's fine, Professor. I really don't care."
Sabretooth's eyes narrow, clearly disappointed by my lack of reaction. She leans forward in her restraints, studying me with renewed interest.
"Fresh meat, huh?" she says, sniffing the air again. "You don't smell scared, boy. That's unusual."
"You're not my mom," I reply simply. "Or my dad. So you don't really register on my fear radar."
Confusion flickers across her feral features. She settles back in her chair, head tilted like a curious predator encountering something unexpected.
"So what exactly is the purpose of this little get-together?" I ask, glancing between Xavier and Sabretooth. "You just want us to talk with her?"
"Precisely," Xavier confirms, her fingers steepled beneath her chin.
I scratch the back of my neck, trying to think of something to say to the massive predator watching me like I'm a particularly interesting mouse. "Uhh, have you seen Star Wars, Ms. Sabretooth?"
A snort of laughter escapes Scotty, surprising me. She places her hand on my shoulder, the weight of it warm and reassuring. "That's a commendable try, Jack, but not exactly what Xavier is looking for in this interaction."
Morgan pushes herself away from the wall, stalking forward with barely contained rage. "This is bullshit," she snarls, pointing a finger at Sabretooth. "You can dress her up in restraints and pretend she's getting 'better,' but this mad dog is still a psychopath. You don't rehabilitate rabid animals, you put them down."
"Aww, runt," Sabretooth purrs, her amber eyes gleaming with malice. "Still sore about that time in Madripoor? When I pinned you down and carved my name into your back? The way you screamed..." She makes an exaggerated chef's kiss gesture with her bound hands. "Music to my ears."
Morgan's claws slide out with that distinctive snikt sound, her face contorting with fury. "You lost that night, you just don't remember. Why don't we go another round, Creed? I'd be happy to remind you."
"Enough!" Xavier's voice cracks like a whip, her calm demeanor suddenly replaced by steel. "Morgan, stand down immediately."
For a second, I think Morgan might actually lunge at the restrained woman, but after a tense moment, she retracts her claws with visible effort.
Xavier studies Sabretooth with clinical interest, her eyes narrowing as she observes the interaction. "Fascinating," she murmurs, almost to herself. "Victoria isn't responding to Morgan with her usual aggression patterns. The neurological recalibration appears to be having significant effects on her limbic system."
Morgan snorts, crossing her arms over her chest. "It's a joke, Charlene. A ruse. She's manipulating you into thinking she's changed so she can get closer to us."
I watch the exchange with morbid fascination. It's like witnessing a nature documentary where the cameraman got way too close to the apex predator. Despite the restraints, Sabretooth radiates lethal potential with every breath.
Gambit shuffles her cards absently, those eerie red-on-black eyes flickering between Morgan and Sabretooth. "I don't know," she drawls, a smirk playing at the corner of her lips. "Might be nice having two Wolverines on the team. One who follows orders and one who actually smiles occasionally, non?"
Morgan whips around to glare at her. "Fuck off, Cajun."
"See what I mean?" Gambit winks at me, completely unfazed by Morgan's hostility.
I can't help but laugh, which earns me a death glare from Morgan and an approving nod from Gambit. The tension in the room shifts, becoming something more complex than simple hostility.
Xavier clears her throat, drawing everyone's attention back to her. Her fingers drum thoughtfully against the arm of her wheelchair as she surveys the room.
"I believe we've learned enough from this initial interaction," she says, her voice calm but authoritative. "Victoria's responses are within expected parameters, though there's clearly more work to be done."
"Going forward," Xavier continues, her gaze sweeping across our group, "starting tomorrow, I'd like at least one of you down here, keeping an eye on Sabretooth and engaging her in controlled conversation."
Morgan's growl is low but audible. "You can't be serious."
"I am entirely serious," Xavier replies without missing a beat. "You will document any interactions you deem aggressive or concerning. The data will be invaluable for tracking her progress."
A holographic schedule materializes above the central console, names arranged in a rotating roster. My eyes scan the list automatically, stopping when I spot my own.
"I'm on the schedule?" I ask, unable to keep the surprise from my voice.
Xavier nods. "Every team member will participate, including our newest addition."
I look more carefully at the screen. My name appears second on the list. Tomorrow night. A strange mix of anxiety and excitement bubbles in my chest.
"This is my first official mission," I say, a grin spreading across my face despite the gravity of the situation. "Hell yeah."