Carrion Cove smells like rust. The ocean breeze carries that distinct tang of industrial decay mixed with salt water as we make our way through streets that feel like Hammer Bay's forgotten cousin. Less gleaming chrome, more weathered concrete, but still way nicer than most human cities I've seen.
"This is it," Magik says, stopping in front of a modest two-story house sandwiched between similar structures on a nearly deserted street near the docks. "Firestar was following up on a missing child case. This family reported their daughter vanished three weeks ago."
"You sure this is a good idea?" I whisper to Emma, who's standing rigidly beside me, her white outfit practically glowing in the fading evening light.
She doesn't answer, just stares at the house with those ice-blue eyes, her jaw set in a way I've learned means she's scanning the place telepathically.
Magik steps forward without hesitation, her armored fist knocking sharply against the door. The sound echoes unnaturally loud in the quiet street. For a long moment, nothing happens.
Then the door creaks open, revealing a man with sunken cheeks and hollow eyes that speak of sleepless nights and endless worry. His clothes hang loosely on his frame like he's lost weight recently, and his hair is disheveled in that way that suggests personal grooming stopped being a priority a while ago.
"Can I help you?" he asks, his voice rough and wary as he takes in our little group.
Magik straightens her shoulders, her voice shifting to something almost diplomatic. "We're looking for a woman named Fire…"
"YOU FUCKING TRAITOR!" Emma suddenly screams, shoving past Magik with such force that I stumble back. Before any of us can react, she slams into the man, driving him backward into his own house with her forearm pressed against his throat.
I freeze in shock, my brain struggling to catch up with what just happened. The man's eyes bulge with terror as Emma pins him against the wall inside his own entryway.
Mystique's lips curl into a knowing smile, like she's watching a particularly entertaining show unfold. Magik whips her head toward Emma, her hand instinctively moving to the hilt of her soul sword.
"What is he hiding?" Magik demands, stepping over the threshold after Emma.
I follow them inside, my heart hammering against my ribs. The house smells of stale coffee and desperation.
"Emma, what the hell?" I gasp as she holds the terrified man against the wall.
Emma's face contorts with fury, her nails digging into the man's shirt collar. "This piece of shit drugged Firestar!" she snarls, her British accent getting thicker with rage. "He slipped something into her drink and handed her over to those... butchers on a boat. Women in black… diving suits waiting at the dock."
"I can see it all," Emma hisses, her eyes never leaving the man's face as she digs deeper into his mind. "He's not even a mutant. He's human scum pretending."
The man whimpers, his eyes darting frantically between us. "Please... they made me do it... they have my daughter..."
"Does he actually have a daughter?" Magik demands, her eyes narrowing as she steps closer.
Emma's face tightens in concentration, her pupils dilating as she digs deeper into the man's mind. After a moment, she nods. "Yes. A little girl, about seven. She was taken first."
My stomach drops. The bastards took a child as leverage. I feel sick.
"Where are they now?" Magik presses, her hand still gripping the hilt of her sword.
Emma's lips curl into a predatory smile. "We're actually in luck. According to his memories, they're still at the docks. Pier 17. A ship called the Veronica."
The man collapses into sobs, his body going limp against Emma's grip. "Please... I had no choice. They showed me pictures of what they'd do to her if I didn't help them."
"Let me see what we're dealing with," Magik says, cutting through the man's pitiful blubbering.
The air in front of us suddenly rips apart like someone's taken a cosmic blade to reality itself. A glowing white portal materializes in the middle of the dingy living room, bright enough to cast eerie shadows across the walls.
"Come on," Magik commands, stepping through without hesitation.
Emma shoves the sobbing man aside and follows, her white outfit disappearing into the light. Mystique slips through after them.
I take a deep breath and step into the portal. The sensation is bizarre, like walking through an ice-cold waterfall that doesn't actually get you wet. When my vision clears, I'm standing on a weathered wooden dock, the smell of salt water and fish overwhelming my senses. The evening sky has darkened further, casting long shadows across the water.
Emma's already scanning the harbor, her eyes constricted in concentration. "It's that one over there," she says, pointing to a large fishing vessel moored about fifty yards away. The name "Veronica" is painted on its hull in faded letters.
I squint at the boat. "They're divers and fishers?"
"I don't know," Emma replies, her voice tense. "The man's memories only showed women in black suits taking Firestar aboard."
As we approach the vessel, something feels off. The deck is completely empty, no crew members visible anywhere. The only sound is the gentle lapping of waves against the hull and the distant cry of seagulls.
"I don't like this," I mutter, the hairs on the back of my neck standing up.
Magik draws her soul sword, the mystical weapon glowing with ethereal light. "Stay alert," she whispers. "This feels like a trap."
We reach the side of the boat, and Mystique is the first to climb the metal ladder attached to the hull. She moves with liquid grace, barely making a sound as she slips over the railing. I follow after her, my hands gripping the cold metal rungs, heart hammering in my chest.
Once aboard, the silence feels even more oppressive. The deck is clean, too clean for a working fishing vessel. No nets, no catch, nothing that would suggest this boat is used for its stated purpose.
"They've got to be below deck," Mystique says, moving toward a hatch near the center of the boat.
Emma pauses at the hatch, her fingers pressed against her temple. "I'm not sensing much down there..." she murmurs, brow furrowed in concentration.
Before she can say anything else, the hatch flies open with a metallic screech. Four figures emerge from below deck, all wearing sleek black environmental suits with opaque helmets that completely hide their faces. Each one clutches a military-grade rifle aimed directly at us.
"Looky what we have here," one of them says, voice distorted through the helmet's speaker system but distinctly female. "Four more nice specimens found their way on board."
Another one chuckles, the sound mechanical through the suit's filter. "Try not to aim for their good organs."
They open fire without another word, bullets spraying across the deck in a deafening barrage.
"Their suits are blocking me!" Emma shouts, her telepathy useless against whatever tech these people are using.
The memory of Jubilee rings in my mind like a bell. Emma is in danger. I must protect her at all cost. I don't think more than that, I just move. In two strides, I'm in front of Emma, my body between her and the hail of bullets. The first impact feels like getting punched by my mom, then the second, third, fourth. Pain explodes through my chest as the bullets tear through flesh and muscle.
Mystique dives behind a stack of crates, rolling into cover with inhuman agility. Magik stands her ground, deflecting bullets with her armored forearms, the ricochets sparking in the dim evening light.
Warm blood fills my mouth, metallic and familiar. My legs wobble as more bullets find their mark.
"Jack, what the fuck are you doing?" Emma screams, her face twisting with horror as she watches holes appear in my body.
I cough, spraying blood across the deck. "Get to cover," I manage to rasp, pushing her toward where Mystique has hidden.
My knees buckle, but I stay upright through sheer stubbornness. My healing factor is already kicking in but this will take a while.
Emma scrambles behind the crates, finally listening to me. Magik charges forward, her soul sword blazing with otherworldly light as she cleaves through one of the attacker's rifles like it's made of butter.
"Who the hell are these women?" I gasp, staggering as another bullet tears through my shoulder.
"We're the U-Women, pretty boy!" one of them shouts, her distorted voice almost gleeful as she adjusts her aim toward my face.
Before she can pull the trigger, a deafening crack splits the air. The woman's helmet explodes in a spray of black polymer and red mist. Her body crumples to the deck like a marionette with cut strings.
Mystique stands with her smoking gun extended, yellow eyes narrowed with cold precision. "Talk less, die faster," she mutters, already swinging her aim toward the next target.
The remaining women scatter, cursing through their helmet filters. One lunges at Magik, who meets her with that glowing sword, the blade singing through the air. Another U-Woman joins the fight, both of them circling Magik like predators. Their movements are synchronized, almost mechanical, as they engage her in close combat.
I stagger forward, blood bubbling from at least a dozen bullet wounds. Each step sends white-hot pain shooting through my body, but I keep moving. The last U-Woman keeps firing at me, bullets tearing through my torso and limbs. Luckily, she keeps missing my face.
"What the hell are you?" she hisses, backing away as I continue my relentless approach.
I reach out, my fingertips finally brushing against her suit. The connection forms instantly, that familiar push as my power activates. I focus harder than I ever have, channeling every ounce of injury into her body. The bullets inside me push outward through my skin with wet popping sounds, dropping to the deck like spent casings.
My wounds seal themselves as hers open. Blood begins to pour in her suit. Her body convulses as the transferred trauma takes hold.
"What... what did you..." She doubles over, coughing violently inside her helmet. Blood sprays against the inside of her visor, turning it into a crimson window.
I breathe out a long sigh of relief as the last of my wounds close. "Just returning the favor."
The woman collapses to her knees, then pitches forward onto the deck, her body twitching as blood pools beneath her.
A metallic groan cuts through the chaos, another hatch opening somewhere behind me. I spin around just in time to see a new U-Woman emerging, this one carrying what looks like some kind of energy weapon.
I launch myself at the new arrival without hesitation. The energy weapon in her hands looks painful.
My shoulder connects with her midsection before she can take aim. We crash to the deck in a tangle of limbs, her weapon clattering away. She's strong, unnaturally so, and fights with the precision of someone with military training. Her elbow smashes into my jaw with enough force to make my vision blur, but I manage to pin her arms.
"Stay down!" I growl, struggling to keep her contained.
She bucks beneath me, helmet butting against my forehead. "Get off me, mutant!"
I'm so focused on keeping her restrained that I don't notice Mystique approaching until I hear the deafening crack of her pistol. The U-Woman's helmet shatters, spattering me with blood. Her body goes instantly limp beneath me.
"Thanks, kid," Mystique says coolly, already scanning for more threats.
I roll off the corpse, my stomach churning as I wipe blood from my face. Emma rushes over, her pristine white outfit now stained with gunpowder and splashes of red.
"You should have left her alive, idiot!" she snaps at Mystique. "We need information!"
Mystique shrugs, seemingly unbothered. "She was trying to kill Jack."
"Where's Magik?" I ask, getting to my feet.
Emma points toward the bow where Magik appears to have finished her own battle. Two U-Women are sprawled on the deck, unmoving. We hurry over, and Emma kneels beside them.
"Are they alive?" she asks.
Magik nods, sheathing her soul sword. "Yes. I was careful not to kill them."
As if on cue, one of the downed women starts thrashing, her arms and legs jerking in violent spasms. The other follows suit, body arching off the deck.
"They're gonna open our suits!" one screams, voice distorted through her damaged helmet.
We rush forward, but it's already too late. Both women convulse once more, then go completely still, bodies relaxing into death's final pose.
"Cyanide," Mystique mutters, kicking one of the helmets with disgust.
Emma's face is filled with annoyance. "Oh, I don't like this at all."
Then Emma's eyes fix on me, her expression morphing to something much more dangerous.
"Are you alright?" I ask, reaching toward her blood-spattered white outfit.
Emma stares at me like I've just asked if water is wet. The temperature around us seems to drop ten degrees from her icy glare alone.
"Me? I'm fine," she says, her voice dangerously quiet before it explodes into full volume. "But YOU! Are you fucking stupid? Jumping in front of me like some heroic idiot! I know you can heal, but who fucking knows how many bullets to the head you can survive!"
I take a step back, surprised by her intensity. She advances on me, jabbing a perfectly manicured finger into my chest.
"I'm very cross with you, Jack! Very cross indeed!" Her British accent getting impossibly thicker with each word.
"I just wanted to protect you," I blurt out.
"I get that," Emma cuts me off, her voice dropping to something more controlled but no less intense. "But I can't have you dying on me either."
"Don't admonish him for this," Magik interjects, stepping between us with surprising confidence. Her blonde hair catches the fading light as she turns to face Emma. "He was brave. I thought it was awesome." She gives me an approving nod. "A true warrior."
Having someone that badass call me a warrior feels pretty damn good.
Emma's eyes narrow dangerously. "Don't encourage that sort of reckless behavior," she snaps at Magik. "He's not invincible, despite what he thinks."
"When did you get so soft, Emma?" Mystique drawls from where she's examining one of the fallen U-Women, her yellow eyes gleaming with amusement. "Worried about your little pet project?"
Emma whirls on her, face contorting with rage. "Fuck you."
"Stop bickering," Magik commands, her voice cutting through the tension. She gestures toward the open hatch with grim determination. "We have to go below deck."