Location: New York City
Date: January 2nd, 1989
Mark POV:
Mark stood by a window, staring out at the snow-dusted streets of New York as the city slowly woke up. The morning of the first day back to school found him both thoughtful and in rather high spirits, despite the cold.
His cracked ribs had healed far faster than any doctor would have believed possible. The lingering soreness was almost gone now, thanks to that second application of Kingsfoil while helping Felicia. The ancient herb had really worked wonders.
'I wonder how Felicia is doing.' he thought absently.
Beyond his rapidly improving injury, his status had shown real progress. Force fundamentals, in particular, was advancing at an impressive rate. He could move small or light objects with consistent control and of all his abilities telekinesis had been his biggest struggle so far.
Mark pulled up his status screen with a thought.
Name: Mark Smith
Race: Human (Numenorean)
Age: 17
Equipped Template:
-Jedi Padawan
Traits:
-Keen Mind
-Fair of Face
-Force Sensitive
Powers:
-Grace of the Valar: 27%
-Aura of Majesty: 3%
Disciplines:
-Force Fundamentals: 43%
Skills:
-Weapon Mastery: 10%
-Wilderness Survival: 1%
-Elvish Language: 21%
Items:
-None
Mark dismissed the screen with a satisfied nod. Forty-three percent in Force Fundamentals already. Not bad for someone who had only recently gained access to the Force. But with only the movies and shows as reference, he wasn't sure where he truly stood. Padawan? Closer to Knight? He doubted the latter, but the rapid growth was encouraging.
The Items section still sat empty however, even though he had purchased both that key and Kingsfoil. He was curious what exactly the System considered "real" items.
Points were coming in faster than expected, too.
He had figured out that his system convert effort and practice into increasing percentages, and reaching 100% meant he had equal strength or skill in that domain as the subject template.
But he could not see a clear pattern regarding points gain.
It left Mark with many questions, 'What exactly are the points based upon? How exactly are they earned? Is there a limit? Can I earn any amount I want, or are my points and/or shop purchases limited?'
A thought opened the shop page as he considered, though he had no answers, yet.
Current Points: 4
Time Until Restock: 2 Months+
1. Discipline: Spiral Energy(Gurren Lagann) - 256 points
2. Character: ★ Morrigan Aensland(1/3 Power)(Darkstalkers) - 32 points
3. Character: Cortana(Halo) - 8 points
4. Item: Saiyan Space Pod(Dragon Ball Z) - 16 pts
5. Item: Bludgers x2(Harry Potter) - 4 points
6. (Empty)
7. Template: Shino Aburame(Naruto) - 8 points
8. (Empty)
9. Power: Quirk(Earphone Jack)(My Hero Academia) - 2 points
10. Mundane Object: Spider-Man Suit(Marvel) - 1 point
The store seemed to be mostly random, yet he suspected at least one item was always relevant to one of his templates.
'A long sword in my very first store selection... what are the odds of that? And Kingsfoil in the second?'
Both seemed like quite specific inclusions to Mark, and the odds felt too convenient to be pure chance.
'Or maybe I am reading to much into it.' he thought as he rolled his shoulders, testing the ribs one last time. Still tender, but manageable. Whatever the day may hold, he felt ready for it.
Grabbing his coat, Mark headed for the door. The city outside was cold, loud, and he was actually looking forward to what came next.
---
Midtown High after Winter Break had all the usual symptoms of students mourning the end of freedom. The hallways were loud with complaints, half-finished stories about Christmas gifts, and the usual sluggishness that always seemed to settle over a school after vacation.
Mark moved through it with his backpack slung over one shoulder, weaving between clusters of students without interest in their conversations. He had a mission, and it had carried him straight to the counselor's office before first period even began.
When he stepped inside, the woman behind the desk looked up over her glasses.
"Mark? Class hasn't even started for the day. Is everything alright?"
"Everything is fine Mrs. Brown," he said. "I wanted to ask about graduating early."
She blinked, then gestured for him to sit. "Alright," she said slowly. "Let's talk about that."
Mark sat across the desk from her and folded his hands in front of him, "I want to know if it's possible and what it would take."
She leaned back, studying him. "Graduating early isn't usually as simple as deciding you'd like to. There's coursework, credit requirements, testing, and scheduling complications."
Mark nodded, "I figured."
"You don't seem surprised."
"I assumed there would be a mountain of paperwork trying to kill me."
That earned a small smile, "A reasonable assumption."
She stood, pulled a thin manila folder from a filing cabinet, and returned to her seat. For a minute she flipped through his records in silence. Finally she looked up.
"You know, your teachers generally seem to like you."
Mark raised an eyebrow, "Generally?"
She adjusted her glasses and read aloud. "'Capable student, but needs to participate more actively in class.'" She turned the page. "'Demonstrates strong understanding of material despite occasional inattentiveness.'"
Mrs. Brown closed the folder and regarded him quietly. "Why the sudden desire to graduate, Mark?"
His answer came without hesitation. "I'm ready to move forward. I can do more than I've been doing here, and it's time I did."
She folded her hands. "You understand this means real work. Extra assignments, independent study, probably giving up a lot of free time."
He met her eyes with complete seriousness. "I am prepared to heroically suffer through the homework."
She stared at him for a beat, then laughed despite herself. "Well, that's the first time anyone has ever walked into my office volunteering for more schoolwork." She tapped the folder. "I'm not promising anything, but I'll speak with your teachers and see if we can build a plan."
His expression softened. "Thank you."
Mark stood up, slinging his bag over his shoulder as he headed toward his first class. His thoughts drifted back over the past few months. Mark had come a long way since the days when he depended on school lunches just to survive.
'Well, maybe survive was a slight exaggeration.' he thought with a wry smile as the bell rang.
---
It was later that afternoon when a strange ripple disturbed the Force around him.
Then he instinctively recoiled as an invasive presence pressed against his mind. It felt like a cold steel brush was scraping across the surface of his brain, mechanical, probing, and utterly alien.
Fortunately his equipped Padawan template immediately guided him in defending against mental probes and Mark quickly focused his mind. The scraping feeling faded as he defended from the intrusion and it lost purchase on his mind.
Mark could feel that a faint thread of intent lingered behind the intrusion. It was focused, disciplined, and powerful.
Reaching out through the Force he turned his head slowly to the north, eyes narrowing. The source was coming from outside the city, though he did not have an exact location. But whoever it was, they were no ordinary mind.
Then, almost the instant Mark focused his attention on the person at the source, the probe vanished. Severed cleanly. The oppressive mechanical presence disappeared as though it had never been.
Mark remained still for several long seconds, breathing steadily as the Force settled around him once more.
"What the hell...?" he muttered.
Then the realization hit him fully. That was not a scan, it was a targeted probe. Somehow, someone not only knew he existed, they had just tried to peek into his mind.
-----
Location: Xavier Mansion
Hank McCoy POV:
Beneath the Xavier Institute, a newly upgraded Cerebro hummed with power. It had been offline for the last several weeks while Hank was buried in its intricate machinery, recalibrating the neural amplifiers, expanding the sensor array, and fine-tuning the bio-signature filters. The goal was to get clearer, more precise mutant detection with fewer false positives.
He had nearly finished the final diagnostic sweep when something unusual caught his attention in the archived logs.
Hank leaned closer to the console, adjusting his glasses as he pulled up the file. When the data streamed across the display, his golden eyes slowly widened with growing surprise and excitement.
"Professor!" he called out, his voice bright with enthusiasm. "You need to see this! I believe I have discovered something quite extraordinary."
A moment later, Professor Xavier glided into the chamber in his wheelchair, his expression one of mild curiosity. "What have you found, Hank?"
"According to this, Cerebro detected and logged an anomalous reading in early October in the New York City area. It never triggered a review because the system classified the subject as human and found no X-Gene signature. But the actual reading has a significant divergence from normal human baseline."
Xavier's brow lifted at once.
"A divergence?" he repeated, already sounding more interested than surprised.
Hank nodded eagerly, "Indeed, Professor. Come and see."
As Xavier moved closer to the screen, his attention sharpened as Hank pointed to the entry. "At first glance, one might assume some form of external alteration such as cosmic exposure perhaps, or a mutation that escaped detection. The Fantastic Four came to mind, naturally. But the more I examined the record, the less that explanation held together."
Xavier folded his hands. "Go on."
"The subject is human," Hank said, tapping the display for emphasis. "Cerebro is certain of that. No X-Gene. No obvious signs of mutation. No indication of the sort of broad disruption one would expect from radiation, experimentation, or other external enhancement."
He glanced up, excitement bright in his eyes. "And yet the reading is not ordinary. It is coherent in a way that is difficult to describe. It is not damaged, unstable, compensating for trauma or alteration in any way we can detect. If they had been altered, I would expect to see strain somewhere in the profile. Some sign that the body had been forced to adapt. But this reading does not suggest adaptation. It suggests something else entirely."
Xavier was quiet for a moment, his gaze fixed on the log. Then he looked back to Hank. "Something natural?"
Hank hesitated, then gave a small, uncertain nod. "Yes, Professor. Given these readings, it appears to be natural."
The room fell silent except for Cerebro's low hum.
Xavier's expression changed as he considered that. Human, yet divergent. Not mutant. Not obviously altered. Something else, and something that had somehow slipped past Cerebro's usual classifications.
At last he looked up. "You said this was in New York?"
"Yes."
"And Cerebro never brought it to our attention?"
"No. The system had no reason to. It saw a human reading and moved on."
Xavier's eyes narrowed slightly, but not in suspicion. In concentration. "Then either Cerebro missed something, or we are dealing with a person whose nature is more unusual than the machine knows how to interpret."
Hank gave a quick, excited nod. "That is my conclusion as well."
Xavier turned back to the screen, his mind clearly moving ahead. His gaze remained on the display, his voice calm but intent. "If Cerebro found something it could not properly classify, then I want to understand why. And if this person is out there alone, then perhaps we may be able to help them."
"Hank, prepare Cerebro," Xavier said, already wheeling toward the chamber's interface. "I'll interface directly. I should be able to pinpoint their location, and perhaps reach out before they feel truly isolated."
Hank's smile returned, though more cautiously this time. "Very well, Professor."
A few minutes later, Hank looked up from the console, startled, as Xavier abruptly pulled the Cerebro helmet free. The Professor's face was pale, but his breathing measured as he pressed two fingers to his temple.
"Charles!" Hank moved swiftly to his side, genuine alarm in his voice. "Are you all right? What happened?"
Xavier took a slow breath, composing himself before he spoke. "I found him… or, more precisely, he found me."
His voice remained calm, yet carried a note of deep unease. "He is human, Hank. There was no trace of the X-Gene, yet his mind was extraordinarily disciplined. The moment my probe touched him, he sensed it immediately and generated some kind of resistance. Not with telepathy, it was something else entirely. Then I felt him look back. He traced the connection toward me."
Beast's eyes widened behind his glasses. "He back-traced Cerebro? That should be virtually impossible without psionic ability."
"Indeed," Xavier said quietly, his expression troubled. "I disengaged the moment I realized he was aware of me. To press further would have been unethical… and quite possibly dangerous. Whoever this young man is, he is no ordinary human. We must proceed with great care."
After a moment of contemplative silence, Xavier straightened slightly in his chair and pressed the intercom beside him.
"Jean, Scott, Warren, Bobby, please report to the briefing room." then he released the button.
Beside him Hank blinked, "Professor?"
"I believe," he said quietly, "it is time for the X-Men's first mission."