The Blackbird plunges through storm clouds as my stomach drops faster than the aircraft. I white-knuckle the safety harness, grateful for my helmet as we hit turbulence that rattles my teeth.
Then suddenly, we break through. The Massachusetts Academy spreads below us, or what's left of it. Half the campus is engulfed in flames, the other half reduced to smoking rubble. But what really makes my blood run cold is the small figures darting between debris, pursued by women in identical uniforms.
"They're shooting at kids," I mutter, pressing my face against the window. My breath fogs the glass as I watch laser fire cut through the air, missing a teenage boy by inches.
"Prep for landing!" Scotty shouts from the cockpit. "Nightcrawler, get ready for immediate aid of any injured students you can reach!"
The jet banks hard, swooping toward a relatively clear section of the courtyard. The landing gear hasn't even fully deployed before Scotty's already unbuckling, her face set like granite.
"Jack!" She locks eyes with me. "Stay close to me. This is your first combat mission, and I don't need any heroics."
"Got it," I reply, my heart hammering against my ribs. The adrenaline feels different than when my parents would come after me, cleaner somehow, purposeful.
The moment the ramp lowers, chaos hits us like a physical wall. The air reeks of burning plastic and ozone, thick with smoke and screams. We pour out of the Blackbird in formation, the X-Women moving with practiced precision while I struggle not to trip over my own feet.
A laser blast sizzles past my ear, close enough that I feel its heat. I dive for cover behind a chunk of fallen wall, Scotty right beside me. From here, I get my first good look at our attackers.
At least two dozen women in identical navy-blue bodysuits move through the ruins with military precision. Red piping runs along their seams, matching their gloves and tall boots. Each wears a full-face helmet with a smooth tan surface, angular eye slits, and a small rectangular mouth opening that gives them an unsettling, expressionless appearance. The rifles in their hands glow with deadly energy.
One of them takes aim at a student trying to crawl away from the battle. The kid can't be more than fourteen.
"Are they killing students?" I ask Scotty, horrified.
She doesn't answer with words. Instead, her hand flies to her visor. A beam of concentrated energy erupts from her eyes, striking the soldier square in the chest. The woman flies backward, her weapon clattering to the ground as she slams into a wall and crumples.
Three more soldiers swing their weapons toward us. Scotty adjusts her visor again, sweeping her gaze in a controlled arc that drops all three attackers in quick succession.
"Don't kill them, Cyclops!" Gene's voice carries across the chaos, his auburn hair whipping around his face as he sprints toward us. "They're all brainwashed!"
Scotty's jaw tightens as she adjusts her visor setting with practiced precision. "I figured," she shouts back, her voice strained with tension. "It's better when they're robots!"
I scan the battlefield and spot Morgan moving like a deadly dancer through a cluster of soldiers. Her claws flash silver in the firelight, but I notice she's aiming for shoulders, legs, and arms, painful but non-fatal strikes that leave her opponents incapacitated rather than dead.
Scotty grabs my arm, yanking me down as laser fire peppers the wall above us. "On my command," she says, pointing toward a partially collapsed structure about fifty yards away, smoke billowing from its shattered windows. "We're making a break for that building over there. That's where the east wing was."
I nod, swallowing hard as I brace myself against the rubble.
"Move! Move!" she barks, already sprinting forward.
I follow close behind, my boots pounding against the debris-strewn ground. Lasers sizzle through the air around us, scorching the earth where my feet were seconds before. My lungs burn with each breath of smoke-filled air, but I keep pace with Scotty, ducking and weaving as she does.
We're almost to the building when a soldier steps out from behind a collapsed column, weapon raised directly at my chest. Pure instinct takes over, I lunge forward, shoving the barrel of her rifle upward just as she fires. The blast tears through empty air as I kick out hard, sweeping her leg from under her. She crashes down with a grunt of pain, her helmet cracking against the concrete.
Beside me, Scotty unleashes another controlled optic blast, taking down three more soldiers advancing from our right.
"Nice move," she says, grabbing my shoulder and pulling me toward the building entrance. "But stay focused!"
We burst through the charred doorway into what must have been a beautiful foyer before the attack.
That's when I see her, a tall, statuesque blonde woman in gleaming white, standing with her back to us. She's positioned like a shield in front of a huddled group of terrified students, her stance radiating cold fury even from behind. This has to be Emma Frost.
The wall to our right explodes inward. Chunks of concrete and plaster blast across the room, and through the dust steps a woman with short black hair and a cruel smile. Before I can even react, she drives her fist directly into Scotty's stomach with devastating force.
Scotty doubles over, the air driven from her lungs in one violent rush. She drops to her knees, gasping.
"You think I'm going to let you meddle, Cyclops?" the attacker sneers, towering over Scotty's hunched form. Her voice carries the casual confidence of someone used to winning.
Despite being winded, Scotty's hand flies to her visor. A blast of ruby energy erupts, catching the woman square in the chest, but instead of flying backward, she seems to absorb the energy, growing stronger before my eyes.
"Shaw, you bastard!" Scotty wheezes, struggling to her feet. "How could you do this?"
Shaw laughs, the sound chilling in its delight. "You should know by now. Power is meant to be taken."
I lunge forward, desperate to help Scotty, but strong fingers suddenly grasp my arm, yanking me backward with surprising strength. I spin around, fist already cocked, only to find myself face-to-face with a woman whose features seem to shift and blur like smoke in the wind.
"Don't worry about them," she purrs, her voice soft but commanding. "You're dealing with me, pretty boy."
The battlefield around us fades away, replaced by swirling colors that make my stomach lurch.
"Who are you?" I manage to choke out, fighting against whatever hold she has on me.
Her lips curl into a smile that doesn't reach her eyes. "Some call me Mastermind," she whispers. "Others call me a nightmare."
She leans closer, her breath cold against my ear as reality warps around us. The battlefield fades completely, replaced by swirling darkness that pulls at my consciousness like quicksand.
"Let me show you your greatest fears, child."