Morgan's adamantium claws slide between my ribs with surprising gentleness, like a hot knife through butter. There should be agony, three razor-sharp metal blades currently piercing my vital organs, but all I feel is a strange pressure and mild discomfort, like someone's pressing their fingers too hard against my chest.
"So this doesn't hurt at all?" she asks, genuine curiosity lighting up her usually stern face. She pushes the claws deeper, the metal disappearing further into my torso.
I concentrate on the connection point where her adamantium meets my flesh, focusing on the flow of energy between us. It's becoming easier with practice, this strange redirection of injury.
"As long as I'm pushing it into you, I barely feel it," I explain, watching fascination replace the skepticism in her eyes. "It's like... the pain gets rerouted before it can fully register."
My gaze drifts down to her stomach where my hands are pressed firmly against her abdomen. Blood gushes from three identical wounds in her midsection, soaking her white tank top with crimson. The sight is jarring, her blood flowing freely while my own body remains unmarked despite the foot of metal currently skewering me.
"Are you okay?" I ask, suddenly worried I've pushed too far with our experiment. "That looks pretty bad."
Morgan barks out a rough laugh, her blue eyes bright with something that might be excitement. "Yeah, it's a bitch though," she admits, grimacing slightly as she slowly retracts her claws from my chest.
The metal slides out with that distinctive snikt sound, leaving not even a drop of blood on my pristine X-Women uniform. Meanwhile, her own body is already healing, the wounds in her chest closing visibly as her legendary healing factor kicks into overdrive.
"That's one hell of a trick, kid," she says, wiping blood from her hands onto her already-ruined shirt.
"Thanks," I reply, trying not to sound too proud.
The Danger Room door hisses open behind us, and Scotty's authoritative voice cuts through our moment of mutual appreciation.
"Hey, Morgan! What the hell? I told you to stop stabbing him!"
Morgan rolls her eyes dramatically, not even bothering to turn around. "Relax, Summers. The kid's fine. Not a scratch on him."
Scotty marches toward us, her ruby quartz visor catching the light as she surveys the bloody scene with obvious disapproval. "That's not the point. We discussed this. His powers aren't fully understood yet, and…"
"And we're figuring them out," Morgan interrupts, gesturing at her blood-soaked shirt. "Look, I'm the one bleeding here, not him."
"I'm the one who asked her to do it," I interject, stepping between them. "This was my idea, Scotty. I needed to see what my limits were."
Scotty's mouth tightens into a thin line. "You should have consulted me first. This is exactly why we have training protocols."
"Sorry," I say, genuinely feeling bad for going behind her back. "I just wanted to test it out. I figured Morgan was the perfect person since she heals so quickly."
I turn to Morgan, excitement bubbling up as the possibilities of my power crystallize in my mind. "Hey, what if on the battlefield, you could like... cut my arm off completely, and I could transfer that to an enemy? Imagine their surprise when their arm just falls off and mine's totally fine!"
"ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR GODDAMN MIND?" Morgan and Scotty roar in perfect unison, their voices echoing off the metal walls of the Danger Room.
I take an instinctive step back, hands raised defensively. "What? It was just an idea..."
"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard," Morgan growls, her face contorting with disbelief. "You want me to deliberately dismember you on the off chance you can transfer it?"
"Do you have any idea how traumatic limb loss is?" Scotty adds, her voice rising with each word. "Even if you could transfer it, the psychological impact alone…"
Scotty pinches the bridge of her nose where it meets her visor, letting out a deep sigh that carries the weight of a woman who's dealt with one too many reckless mutants.
"Morgan, can I have the room alone with Jack for a minute?" she asks, her voice strained with barely contained frustration.
Morgan snorts, gesturing at me with a blood-stained hand. "Because he wants to chop off his own arm?"
"No..." Scotty replies, shaking her head. "But that is stupid."
"You got it, Slim." Morgan wipes her bloody hands on her already ruined shirt and walks toward the exit, pausing only to give me a look that's half amusement, half warning. The Danger Room door shuts behind her, leaving me alone with Scotty's disapproval.
"What's up?"
Scotty crosses her arms over her chest, her posture softening just slightly. "We've been busy since the Sentinel attack, but I finally reviewed the footage of you with Sabretooth." Her lips curve into what might almost be a smile. "You handled yourself well, but I'm a little nervous you were too bold."
I shrug, remembering the terror and exhilaration of facing down the feral mutant. "I kind of had to be. To avoid any serious injury, I figured close quarters was my best option. The less time she had to think about her attacks, the better chance I had of redirecting them."
Scotty's expression shifts into something more serious as she takes a step closer to me. "That's... smart tactical thinking, but I'm worried about something else. What if she had tried to... assault you? I'd hate to see you get traumatized that way."
I can't help but snort, which clearly takes her by surprise. "I don't think Sabretooth could have actually 'raped' me," I say, making air quotes with my fingers.
Scotty's face goes blank with confusion. "What do you mean? Of course she could have."
"No, I mean..." I search for the right words. "It would have been consensual."
Her eyebrows shoot up so high they nearly disappear behind her visor. "You'd willingly sleep with a serial killer?"
"No, but..." I rub the back of my neck, suddenly feeling awkward. "If she tried to rape me, I'd probably just have enjoyed the ride, I guess. I'm not from this world, and I imagine you heard what happened with Jubilee and me, but sex seems fun." I quickly add, "Not that I'm seeking it out, but if it found me and bought me time to fight back, why not enjoy it?"
Scotty stares at me, her face frozen in a mix of shock and concern. The silence between us stretches until it becomes uncomfortable. I shift my weight from one foot to the other, suddenly aware of how my casual attitude about sexual assault might sound to someone from this world.
"Jack," she finally says, her voice gentler than I've ever heard it, "I think that might be a trauma response."
I can see she's struggling, venturing into territory outside her comfort zone. The fearless leader of the X-Women looks genuinely out of her depth, like she's navigating a minefield blindfolded.
"I'm pretty sure a trauma response like that needs the initial inciting event." I say without having any clue how it actually works.
She takes a hesitant step closer. "But your parents..."
"They beat the fuck out of me," I cut her off, my voice sharper than intended. "But they never did anything that creepy to me. There's a difference between getting your ribs cracked for forgetting to take out the trash and... whatever you're implying."
Scotty just stares at me again, her expression unreadable behind that ruby quartz visor. I can tell she wants to say more, to dig deeper into the mess that is my psyche, but she's clearly at a loss for words.
The awkward silence is shattered by a piercing alarm that makes us both jump. Red emergency lights begin flashing throughout the Danger Room, bathing us in crimson pulses.
Then Xavier's voice cuts through our minds, the telepathic intrusion making me wince despite having experienced it before.
'To me, My X-Women.'
Scotty's entire demeanor shifts instantly, personal concerns vanishing as she snaps back into leader mode. Her posture straightens, shoulders squaring with military precision.
"We can put a pin in this for now," she says, already moving toward the door with purposeful strides.
I nod, equal parts relieved and curious about what new crisis awaits us. "Sounds good."