The air rips open like somebody's taken a cosmic chainsaw to reality itself. One second we're standing in Xavier's garden, and the next I'm stumbling through Magik's portal, nearly face-planting onto hardwood floors that definitely need refinishing.
"Welcome to your new headquarters," Magik announces as the glowing doorway snaps shut behind us, sealing off the mansion grounds we just left behind.
I blink a few times, adjusting to the change in lighting as I take in our surroundings. The apartment is spacious but showing its age, exposed brick walls with patches of crumbling mortar, tall windows that probably leak when it rains, and scuffed hardwood floors that have seen better decades. Still, someone's clearly made an effort here. New furniture, fresh paint in spots, and the unmistakable smell of recent renovation work.
"This is nice."
"Not as nice as the mansion, though." Kitty says, phasing through a nearby wall just because she can. Her nose wrinkles slightly as she surveys our new digs.
Magik sheathes her massive sword with practiced ease. "Xavier is graciously lending us this property here in Mutant Town," she explains, gesturing around with casual authority. "It's five floors. Just take whatever room you want."
"I'll take a room on this floor," I say, letting my duffel bag slide from my shoulder. "I want to be near all the action anyway."
Magik gives me an approving nod. "Smart choice. The upper floors have better views, but down here is where things will happen."
I wander toward the back of the apartment, peeking into rooms as I pass. The place has this weird vibe, half abandoned building, half superhero clubhouse. I push open a door to find a decent-sized bedroom with a mattress on the floor and not much else.
"This one's mine," I announce to nobody in particular, tossing my bag onto the bare mattress. I'll need sheets and stuff, but whatever. After growing up with my parents, I could sleep on concrete and call it luxury.
My stomach growls, reminding me I haven't eaten since breakfast at the mansion. I follow the hallway toward what I hope is a kitchen, and hit the jackpot.
The kitchen is surprisingly well-stocked for a place that just became our headquarters. And apparently, I'm not the first one to discover it.
Mystique is leaning against the counter, munching on celery sticks she's dipping into a jar of peanut butter. What catches me off guard is her casual appearance, she's wearing nothing but a tight black sleeveless shirt and underwear, looking completely at home. Her blue skin seems to shimmer under the kitchen lights, making the whole scene feel surreal.
"Sup," she says around a mouthful of celery, those yellow eyes tracking me with lazy interest.
"Uh, hey," I manage, trying not to stare and failing miserably. This is definitely not the assassin who shot people on that boat in Genosha. This is... domestic Mystique? I didn't know that was a thing.
"You settling in okay?" she asks, dipping another celery stick with practiced precision.
"Yeah, just grabbed a room down the hall." I gesture vaguely behind me, still processing the whole underwear situation. "Didn't realize you'd be living here too."
She shrugs one blue shoulder. "Orders are orders."
"Jack!" Firestar's voice comes from the refrigerator, which I somehow missed her standing behind with the door open. She pops her head around it, her flame-red hair glowing softly in the kitchen's dim light. "You want a soda? We've got like, everything."
"Sure," I say, grateful for the distraction. "Whatever's cold."
Firestar tosses me a can of something, and I catch it reflexively. She's also dressed more casually than I've seen her before, jeans and a faded t-shirt with some band logo I don't recognize.
"So this is really happening, huh?" I pop the tab on my soda, the carbonation hissing into the quiet kitchen. "X-Factor. Missing mutants. The whole deal."
Mystique crunches another celery stick, watching me with those unnerving yellow eyes. "Having second thoughts already, boy?"
"No," I say quickly, maybe too quickly. "Just... processing. Twenty-four hours ago I was in Genosha with Emma, and now I'm in some old building in Mutant Town."
Mystique caps the peanut butter jar and sets it aside, her eyes studying me with uncomfortable intensity. "You look sad," she observes, putting the celery back in the fridge. "Do you miss your owner?"
"My owner?" I blink, the words hitting me like a slap.
"Emma," she clarifies, her blue lips curving into a knowing smirk.
"She doesn't own me!" The words burst out louder than I intended, echoing slightly in the kitchen. I feel heat rising to my face as both Mystique and Firestar turn to look at me. I sigh, deflating a little. "But... she isn't happy I came here. That's for sure."
Firestar steps closer, her fiery hair dimming slightly as her expression turns serious. "Emma Frost is legitimately an evil person, Jack," she says, her voice gentle but firm. "Trust me, it's better to not be near her. I know from experience."
Mystique rolls her eyes so dramatically I can practically hear them spinning in her head. She pushes away from the counter, walking past me with deliberate slowness. As she passes, she leans in close, her breath warm against my ear.
"Well, if you want," she whispers, voice dropping to a silky purr, "I can pretend to be her for you tonight."
Before I can even process what she's saying, her blue skin ripples like water, features shifting and reforming until Emma's face is staring back at me, complete with that signature icy stare and perfect platinum hair. She winks and then turns the corner, her form already melting back to blue as she disappears down the hallway.
I stand there frozen, my soda forgotten in my hand, mind reeling from what just happened. Did Mystique seriously just offer to...?
"Don't mind her," Firestar says, misreading my shocked expression. "Mystique likes to mess with people's heads. It's kind of her thing."
"Yeah, I'm getting that," I mutter, taking a long swig of my soda to hide my embarrassment.
Heavy footsteps on the stairs draw my attention as Kitty phases partially through the ceiling, then drops down the rest of the way. She's holding a thick white envelope between her fingers, examining it with suspicious interest.
"Oh, Jack," she says, spotting me by the fridge. "By the way, Emma told me to give you this." She extends the envelope toward me. "She cornered me right before we left."
I take it hesitantly, turning the pristine white paper in my hands. My name is written on the front in Emma's perfect, flowing script. No return address, no stamp, just "Jack" in elegant blue ink.
"Thanks, Kitty," I say, taking the envelope from her and turning it over. The paper feels expensive, heavy. Classic Emma.
My heart does this stupid little flip-flop thing that I immediately try to ignore. "I'm gonna..." I jerk my thumb toward the hallway. "Just gonna check this out."
"Don't let her get in your head," Firestar calls after me, concern lacing her voice. "Even from a distance, she's dangerous."
I nod without turning around and make my way back to my new room, closing the door behind me. The bare mattress sags under my weight as I sit down, envelope clutched between my fingers like it might explode.
The seal tears easily, and the first thing that spills out is cash. Not just a few bills, but a thick wad of hundreds that lands on my lap with enough weight to make me gasp. I rifle through it quickly, there must be several thousand dollars here, all crisp bills like they just came from a bank.
Beneath the money is a folded note on cream stationery, Emma's flowing handwriting immediately recognizable.
Jack, while I am incredibly disappointed in your decision to leave, the thought of you struggling in that decrepit city building with those incompetent fools fills me with genuine concern. I would have provided more, but this was all I could fit in this envelope on short notice.
You will be hearing from me very soon.
Emma
I stare at the letter for a long moment, reading it three times before setting it down beside me on the mattress.
I weigh the envelope of cash in my hand, feeling conflicted. It's a ridiculous amount of money, more than I've ever held at once, and yet there's something about it that makes my chest ache in a weird way.
Emma didn't have to do this. She was pissed when I left, furious actually, and she still made sure I wouldn't be struggling out here. No one in my life has ever looked out for me like that.
I run my thumb across the edge of the bills, feeling the crisp paper. The mattress creaks beneath me as I shift my weight, thinking about the way Emma held me when Jubilee died. How she never once made me feel weak for breaking down. How she's been watching out for me since the moment we met.
And now this. Even when I choose a different path, she's still looking out for me.
I carefully fold the money and tuck it into my pocket, then pick up her note again. My eyes linger on her elegant handwriting.
I should get her something for Christmas. Something meaningful. Not just some generic gift, but something that really shows I care about her too. That even though I'm with X-Factor now, she still matters to me.
I just need to figure out what that could possibly be.