Chapter 1: An X-Tream School
Chapter Text
XXX
XXX
XXX
XXX
XXX
XXX
Jaune's mind slowly drifted toward consciousness, but everything felt... heavy. His head throbbed, and a dizzying fog clouded his thoughts. He was exhausted, his body sluggish as if weighed down by something unseen. As awareness crept in, so did the faint murmurs of voices around him—some hushed, others more expressive.
"Is he, like, going to be okay, Professor?" a girl's voice asked, tinged with concern. "He took one nasty fall!"
'Who is that?' Jaune wondered groggily, the voice unfamiliar yet filled with genuine worry.
"Yeah, no kiddin'," another female voice chimed in, this one carrying a distinct accent Jaune couldn't quite place.
Then came a deeper, more measured voice—older, calm, and filled with a sense of wisdom that reminded Jaune of Ozpin. "Hmm... He appears to be unharmed, despite the height he fell from," the man noted thoughtfully.
"You should've zeen it, Professor!" a younger male voice exclaimed, his words laced with disbelief. His accent was thicker than the others, though Jaune couldn't immediately place its origin. "It vas so crazy!"
"Can you read his mind, Professor?" another male voice asked, his tone more controlled but carrying an edge of urgency. "See how he got here?"
"It's not a bad idea, Scott," the older man—now confirmed to be the Professor—replied evenly. "It wouldn't hurt to get some answers before he wakes up."
Jaune felt a slight twinge of unease at those words. Read his mind? Just who were these people?
'Wait!' Jaune's thoughts raced in panic. 'Is he really going to read my-!?'
Before he could even finish the thought, a sudden pressure settled against his temples. A pair of fingers, firm yet gentle, made contact with his skin. Then, like a dam breaking, something flooded into his mind—a foreign presence, vast and powerful.
His breath hitched as his entire world unraveled before him. In quick, overwhelming flashes, his memories surged forward, playing out as if they were happening all over again. He was no longer just remembering them—he was reliving them. And he wasn't alone.
The presence saw everything.
His family, the warmth of home, his sisters' laughter. The joy of arriving at Beacon, the pride of wearing his uniform. The camaraderie of his team, the bonds formed with Team RWBY. Then came the fall—Beacon in flames, the air thick with fear and despair. Pyrrha's final moments, her piercing green eyes full of sorrow and acceptance before she was ripped away from him forever.
The attack on Haven, the desperation of battle. Weiss, her life hanging by a thread, barely clinging to existence. Atlas, a once-mighty kingdom reduced to ruin. The relentless pursuit of the military, the weight of being hunted like a criminal.
And then Penny. Brave, kind, innocent Penny. Her laughter, her unwavering trust in him. Her death.
Jaune wince, his mind drowning in the sheer force of it all. The presence inside him felt it too—not just the images, but the raw emotions behind them. Every ounce of pain, grief, and guilt. Every moment of joy and fleeting hope. It was as if his very soul had been laid bare.
A sharp gasp tore through the room as the Professor recoiled, his hands pulling away from Jaune's temples as if he had been burned. At that exact moment, Jaune's eyes snapped open, his breath hitching as he bolted upright. His heart pounded against his ribs, his chest rising and falling in quick, panicked breaths.
He barely had time to process what had just happened before his surroundings came into focus. He was in some kind of medical room, sleek yet unfamiliar, sterile yet not unwelcoming. Around him stood five figures—one older man seated in a wheelchair and four teenagers, two male and two female, all watching him with mixed expressions of concern and surprise.
"Professor, are you alright?" one of the boys asked, stepping forward slightly. His voice was familiar—Jaune recognized it from earlier. Scott. It had to be him.
Jaune barely registered the question. His survival instincts were already kicking in, and his gaze darted around the room, searching for an exit. His breaths grew shallower, his muscles tensed. He didn't know where he was, who these people were, or what they wanted from him.
"Where am I!?" Jaune demanded, his voice raw with anxiety. His eyes flicked to each of them, gauging their reactions. "Who are you people!?"
"Whoa! Chill, man! Itz alright!" The other male teen, the one with the heavy accent, held up his hands in a calming gesture.
Jaune didn't feel reassured. He pushed himself off the cot, his stance defensive as he took a step back. "Where am I!?" His voice was sharper this time, more desperate. "Vacuo!?"
"Hey, it's a-right! You're safe!" The girl with the accent spoke this time, her tone gentle but firm.
Jaune wasn't convinced. His instincts screamed at him to be cautious. He reached down to his waist, his fingers searching for the familiar grip of Crocea Mors—only to find nothing. His stomach dropped. His sword was gone.
His expression darkened, and he turned back toward the group, his eyes now filled with suspicion and anger. "Where's my sword!?" he demanded. "What did you do with it!?"
"Listen, just take it easy, okay?" the second girl said, trying to soothe him.
But Jaune wasn't in the mood to listen. He wasn't getting the answers he needed, and staying here felt like a mistake. His mind screamed at him to move, to act. Without another word, he shoved past the group, ignoring their protests as he sprinted toward the door.
He didn't know where he was going, but he knew one thing for certain—he had to get out of there.
As Jaune burst through the doorway, his boots clanged against the sleek metallic floor of a long corridor. The entire place was made of smooth, reflective metal, and the cool air sent a chill down his spine. His heart pounded in his chest as he sprinted forward, his eyes darting frantically in search of an exit—anything that could lead him outside.
He ran past several doors, all of them shut tight, offering no indication of what lay beyond them. Was this some kind of underground facility? A military base? His mind raced with possibilities, but he didn't have time to dwell on them. He needed to get out.
After nearly a minute of running, his lungs burning from exertion, Jaune finally spotted an elevator at the end of the corridor. Without hesitation, he dove inside, slamming his hand against the panel. His fingers hovered over the buttons before he hit the one labeled with the highest floor he could find. If he was underground, getting to the surface was his best bet.
The moment the doors shut, he took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. His reflection in the polished walls stared back at him—disheveled hair, a panicked expression, and sweat beginning to form on his forehead. The elevator barely gave him time to gather his thoughts before it reached its destination with a soft chime.
The doors slid open, revealing a stark contrast to the metallic bunker below. This floor was completely different—like stepping into another world. The hallway stretched before him, decorated with towering stone statues and elegant paintings lining the walls. The air smelled of polished wood and faint traces of old parchment. Unlike the cold sterility below, this place had warmth, history—something far more refined.
It looked like a mansion.
Jaune hesitated for only a second before stepping out. The sound of his own breathing filled the quiet space as he took in the grand architecture. This wasn't a prison... at least, it didn't look like one. But before he could take another step—
"Stop right there, bub,"
The deep, gruff voice came from behind him, cutting through the silence like a blade.
Jaune spun around, muscles tensing instinctively. Standing a few feet away was a broad-shouldered man, built like a brawler. His thick black hair was slightly unkempt, his rugged face framed by pronounced sideburns and a short, scruffy beard. He wore a worn brown leather jacket over a simple black shirt, blue jeans, and a pair of well-worn cowboy boots. His stance was relaxed, but there was a weight to his presence—a quiet, restrained intensity.
"I don't wanna hurt ya," the man said, his voice as rough as gravel. "But I will if you don't make this easy,"
Jaune's eyes narrowed. Every instinct told him this man was dangerous. His confidence, the way he held himself—he wasn't just some guy playing guard duty. He was a fighter.
Jaune clenched his fists, feeling the familiar hum of his Aura rushing to his skin. He wasn't the best at hand-to-hand combat, but that didn't mean he was defenseless. If this guy thought he'd just roll over and surrender, he was dead wrong.
Jaune planted his foot back, bracing himself, his muscles coiling like a spring ready to snap. If this was going to be a fight, he was going to make sure he got the first hit in.
The man's sharp eyes flickered to Jaune's clenched fists, reading his intent in an instant. Instead of backing down or shifting into a defensive stance, he responded in a way Jaune hadn't anticipated.
With a slow, deliberate motion, he raised his hands, his fingers curling slightly—then, with a distinct snikt, three gleaming metal blades extended from the skin between his knuckles.
Jaune's breath hitched. His eyes widened in pure shock as he instinctively took a step back. "What the—?"
His mind scrambled to make sense of what he was seeing. The blades were real—not just some weapon strapped to his hands, but actually coming out of him. There was no mechanism, no sleight of hand. It was as if they were a part of his very body.
'Is he some kind of Faunus!?' Jaune thought frantically, his heart pounding. He had seen Faunus with claws before—Blake's dad's retractable nails, Velvet and Blake's ears, Sun's tail—but this was something entirely different. 'I—I've never seen anything like that!'
The man exhaled sharply, his expression unreadable, but there was no mistaking the weight of his warning. He lifted one of his clawed fists, the blades catching the soft glow of the hallway lights, their edges gleaming with an unmistakable sharpness.
"Last chance, kid," he said, his voice low and steady, edged with a dangerous certainty. "Don't make this harder than it has to be,"
Jaune hesitated, his gaze flicking between the man with the claws and the blades still extended from his knuckles. His mind struggled to process what he was seeing, but he had to ask. "What... are you?" Jaune finally said, his voice laced with confusion. "Faunus?"
The man's brow furrowed. His expression shifted from mild irritation to genuine bewilderment. "Huh?" He tilted his head slightly, his rugged face scrunching up. "What the hell are you talkin' about, kid?"
Jaune swallowed, still struggling to make sense of the situation. "Just who—no, what are you?" His confusion overshadowed his previous anxiety, his survival instincts momentarily forgotten in favor of pure curiosity.
Before the man could answer, another voice cut through the air, calm yet firm.
"We're Mutants, Mr. Arc,"
Jaune's head snapped toward the direction of the elevator. Standing, or rather, sitting there, as composed as ever, was the Professor. The four teens from before were behind him, each of them wearing expressions that ranged from concern to intrigue.
Jaune took a step back, still wary. His hands twitched by his sides, fingers itching for a sword that wasn't there. "How do you know my name?" he demanded, his blue eyes narrowing in suspicion.
The Professor's small, knowing smile didn't falter. "I'm a telepath, Jaune," he explained, his tone gentle yet firm. "When I read your mind, I learned everything about you... and I know that you are not of this world,"
A stunned silence followed.
Jaune stiffened, his breath catching in his throat. His mind reeled at the Professor's words, a whirlwind of thoughts colliding all at once. 'Not of this world?' Jaune asked himself with horror. 'No...! There's no way!'
The weight of the statement wasn't lost on the others either. The teens exchanged confused, uncertain glances, while the gruff man's expression darkened.
"Professor, what do you mean?" Scott asked, stepping forward slightly. His usually composed voice had an edge of uncertainty now.
"I'm with the kid on this one," the man with the claws muttered, his deep voice carrying an undertone of irritation. His claws retracted with a soft snikt, but his sharp eyes remained locked on the Professor. "Just what the heck's goin' on, Charles?"
"It's just as I said, Mr. Arc is not of our world," the Professor spoke again, his voice steady yet tinged with a solemn weight.
The room fell into an uneasy silence, tension thick in the air as everyone processed his words. The Professor glanced at Jaune, his expression gentle but unwavering.
"He comes from a world vastly different from ours, isn't that right, Mr. Arc?" The Professor asked.
Jaune's breath grew uneven as he stared at the man in the wheelchair. His entire body felt cold, as if a pit had opened in his stomach and swallowed every ounce of warmth. His hands trembled, fingers twitching as if trying to grasp onto something—anything—that could anchor him back to reality.
"No..." he muttered, shaking his head slowly. His voice was barely above a whisper, but the denial in it was loud. "No, this... this can't be right,"
His legs felt unsteady beneath him, but he forced himself to stay standing. His frantic blue eyes darted around the hallway, searching for something—some landmark, some detail, some proof—that this was still Remnant. That this was some elaborate trick or misunderstanding.
"You're... you're lying, right?" His voice cracked slightly, fear creeping in despite his efforts to suppress it. "I-I... I'm still on Remnant, right?" His tone wavered, desperate, as if saying it out loud could make it true.
The Professor's expression darkened, the glimmer of sympathy in his gaze only making Jaune's stomach sink further. "I'm afraid not, Mr. Arc," he said softly.
Jaune's breathing hitched. His whole world—his entire existence—felt like it was unraveling before him.
Jaune's legs finally gave way beneath him. He crumpled to his knees, his body giving in to the overwhelming tide of emotion that surged through him. It felt as if everything—his guilt, his fears, the unbearable weight of his past actions—had come crashing down all at once, like a freight train barreling through him. The tears he'd been desperately holding back now flowed freely, spilling down his face in hot, steady streams.
He couldn't escape the image. The memory. Penny's final moments, her bright eyes flickering with pain before... before he had done the unthinkable. He had taken her life.
He had killed Penny.
The weight of it hit him harder than anything else. His breath hitched as his heart twisted in agony. He had taken the life of someone who meant the world to Ruby, to all of them. It may have been Penny's choice, but he could've refused, could've... he should've done something else besides going through with her request. He should've saved her instead of doing what he did. That thought only made the guilt burn deeper.
And now, here he was, in some strange world. A world so different from Remnant, it was impossible to wrap his mind around it.
His punishment, it seemed, was not just losing everything and everyone, but being cast into an entirely new existence—one where he knew nothing, could trust no one, and felt completely and utterly alone.
It was then that he felt a gentle pressure on his shoulder. A firm, warm hand settled there, offering some semblance of comfort.
The Professor's voice was soft, yet filled with a quiet strength. "I do not know everything that you are feeling, young man, but I promise you, we will help you as much as we can," He paused for a moment, his words weighing heavily in the stillness. "Please, follow us... There is much to discuss,"
Jaune's breath caught in his throat as he slowly wiped his eyes, his hands trembling. He didn't feel ready to face what lay ahead, but he forced himself to stand. He couldn't stay on the floor, broken and lost. He had to move forward—even if it was only one step at a time.
As he pushed himself upright, the Professor began to roll down the hallway, the gruff man following close behind him. Jaune hesitated for just a moment, feeling the presence of the four teens standing behind him. They were silent, their eyes filled with sympathy, curiosity, and perhaps a little uncertainty, but they didn't push him, they just waited.
Jaune followed slowly, his thoughts a chaotic storm inside his head. He had so many questions—so many things he needed answers to—but in that moment, he could only hope that the Professor had at least some of them.
He wasn't sure what was happening, why he was here, or what he was supposed to do next, but one thing was certain: in this new world, he was lost, and he needed help to find his way back—if there even was a way back...
The group made their way through the elegant hallways of the mansion-like school before entering what appeared to be an office. The room had an air of sophistication, lined with bookshelves filled with aged tomes and neatly arranged files. A large wooden desk sat near the far end of the room, and the warm glow of a nearby lamp cast a soft light over the space. Comfortable-looking chairs and a set of couches were positioned near the center, giving the space a welcoming yet professional atmosphere.
Jaune hesitated for a moment before taking a seat across from the Professor, his hands resting uneasily on his lap. The gruff man, who had remained silent for most of the walk, sat beside the Professor, his arms crossed as he eyed Jaune with a skeptical expression. The four teens, still watching him with curiosity, stood near the couches, waiting for the conversation to unfold.
Jaune exhaled sharply before finally speaking. "So... am I really not on Remnant anymore?" His voice wavered slightly as he forced himself to ask the question, despite already knowing what the answer would be. "I'm... in a different world?"
Professor Xavier nodded, his expression calm but serious. "I'm afraid so, Mr. Arc," he said gently. "My name is Professor Charles Xavier, and you are currently on a world called Earth, in a region known as Westchester, New York, this place—where you now find yourself—is the Xavier Institute for Gifted Youngsters, a school I founded to help those with special abilities learn to control and understand their powers, in many ways, it is not unlike the academies you have in your world, training those who are gifted in ways beyond the norm,"
Jaune furrowed his brow at that, still trying to process everything. "Wait… so you're saying this place is like a Huntsman Academy?" His gaze flickered between the Professor and the others in the room. "You train people to fight? Do you have Grimm in your world?"
Professor Xavier chuckled softly and shook his head. "No, the creatures of your world do not exist in this one," he explained. "But there are young people here who possess extraordinary abilities, not unlike the ones you and your friends wield, the difference, however, is that while your powers—your Aura, your Semblance—are a manifestation of your soul, the abilities of those in this world are something we are simply born with... A mutation, if you will,"
Jaune blinked, caught off guard by how much the Professor seemed to know about his world. Then, he remembered—he had read my mind. The thought made him shift uncomfortably in his seat, but he forced a small, wary smile. "You know, it's kinda scary how much you know about my world," he admitted. "Still… what exactly do you mean by mutation? What kind of powers are we talking about here?"
Professor Xavier folded his hands together, his expression patient as he explained. "We call it the X-Gene, a unique genetic factor that causes some individuals to be born with extraordinary abilities, these powers manifest in different ways—some gain enhanced strength, others heightened senses, some can manipulate elements, and a few even possess abilities that defy conventional science itself, we refer to ourselves as Mutants,"
Jaune’s gaze flickered toward the teens standing near the couches. He had assumed they were just students—regular people—but if what the Professor was saying was true, then that meant all of them had some kind of ability. He looked at them with renewed curiosity.
"So… all of you have these mutations too?" he asked.
Scott gave a firm nod. “Yeah,” he said, adjusting the red-tinted glasses resting on his face. “I’m Scott Summers, by the way, and these shades? They’re not just for looks, if I take them off while I’m awake, I’ll be blasting lasers out of my eyes nonstop,”
Jaune’s brow furrowed as he processed that. “Wait… so you just have laser vision all the time?” he asked.
Scott shrugged. “Pretty much,” he replied. “I can’t turn it off, that’s why I need these glasses—special ruby quartz lenses, they keep my powers in check,”
Jaune let out a low whistle. “Damn… that sounds like a pain to deal with,”
Scott chuckled. “You have no idea,”
Before Jaune could respond, the other teen with the heavy accent stepped forward, a playful grin on his face. “And I am Kurt Vagner,” he introduced himself, his tone lighthearted. “But you can call me the Incredible Nightcrawler!”
With a sudden BAMF! and a puff of dark smoke, Kurt vanished from where he stood—only to instantly reappear right in front of Jaune.
Jaune flinched back slightly, startled by the sudden movement. “Whoa!” he exclaimed. “That’s… okay, that’s cool,”
Kurt beamed. “Ja? It is quite useful,” he said, clearly pleased with Jaune’s reaction.
However, before the conversation could continue, Professor Xavier’s voice cut in. “Kurt,” he said gently, “Isn’t there something else you should show Jaune?”
The smile on Kurt’s face faltered for a moment, and he let out a small sigh. His fingers hesitated over the watch strapped to his wrist, but after a brief moment of internal debate, he tapped a few buttons. A faint buzz filled the air, and the image of a normal-looking teen flickered away—revealing his true form.
Jaune’s eyes widened slightly as he took in Kurt’s appearance. His skin was a deep shade of blue, his ears pointed, and a long, spaded tail flicked behind him. His hands only had three thick fingers, and his feet were more digitigrade than human, with only two toes on each.
“I… also look like this,” Kurt said, his voice carrying an uncertain edge. It was clear that he was used to people reacting poorly to his appearance.
Jaune blinked at him for a moment before breaking into a small smile. “Honestly? Not the weirdest thing I’ve seen,” he admitted.
Kurt’s glowing yellow eyes widened. “Really?” he asked, his tone surprised.
Jaune nodded. “Yeah, my world has Faunus—people with animal traits,” he explained. “I’ve met people with rabbit ears, lizard tails, even full-on gills and scales, compared to some of them, you’d fit right in,”
Kurt’s expression instantly brightened. “Whoa! That’s awesome!” he said excitedly, his tail flicking behind him with renewed energy.
Everyone either chuckled or smiled at Kurt’s enthusiastic reaction, the tension in the room easing just a little. Even Jaune felt himself relaxing, despite the whirlwind of emotions still swirling inside him.
The next to step forward was one of the girls—a brunette with her hair tied up in a neat ponytail, dressed in a cozy-looking pink sweater. She had an easygoing air about her as she grinned at Jaune.
"I'm Kitty Pryde," she introduced herself. "And I can, like, phase through stuff,"
Before Jaune could ask what she meant, she casually demonstrated—reaching her hand straight into Scott’s stomach as if he wasn’t even solid.
“Wha—!? Hey!” Scott yelped, instinctively jerking back, though it did nothing to stop her.
Kitty giggled as she pulled her hand free, clearly enjoying messing with her teammate. “Relax, you big baby, it’s not like you can even feel it,”
Scott muttered something under his breath while the others snickered. Jaune, however, was watching Kitty with open curiosity. “That’s… actually kinda amazing,” he admitted. “So you can just walk through walls and stuff?”
“Yup! Pretty useful for sneaking around,” She smirked. “And for pranking people,”
Jaune chuckled before shifting his attention to the last girl, who stepped forward with a more reserved expression. She had pale skin and brown hair, though the front of it was strikingly white—whether that was natural or dyed, Jaune wasn’t sure.
“I’m Rogue,” she said simply, her voice carrying a Southern drawl. “Ah can copy other people’s powers with just a touch… but it knocks ‘em out cold in the process,”
Jaune raised a curious brow. “Wait, seriously? That sounds pretty strong.”
Rogue shrugged. “It can be,” she admitted. “But it ain’t exactly a power you wanna use on just anyone, it ain’t exactly pleasant experiance,”
Jaune’s curiosity only grew. “Mind if I try?” he asked, wondering what it would feel like.
Rogue gave him a skeptical look. “You sure ‘bout that?” she asked, crossing her arms. “You did just wake up, and Ah’d hate to have to pick ya up off the floor,”
Jaune chuckled. “I think I can handle a quick touch, what’s the worst that could happen?”
Rogue smirked at his confidence but shook her head. “A-right, your funeral,” she said before pulling off one of her gloves. She reached out her bare hand toward Jaune.
Rogue strode toward Jaune, tugging off her glove as she did. He followed suit, pulling off his own glove—if only to ensure that nothing interfered with her ability.
"Ready?" she asked, her expression a mix of curiosity and caution.
Jaune nodded and extended his hand toward her. Rogue hesitated for just a moment before pressing her palm against his.
The room fell silent, everyone expecting Jaune to collapse or react in some way—but nothing happened.
Rogue’s brows furrowed as she stared at their joined hands. “What the…?” she muttered, tilting her head in confusion. “You ain't feelin' anything?”
Jaune looked down at their hands as well, just as confused. “Uh… no,” he admitted. “Maybe it’s because of my Aura? I think it sees your touch as a threat and is blocking it,”
Rogue’s eyes narrowed slightly as she tried to focus. “But Ah can still feel your hand,” she pointed out.
Jaune thought for a second before nodding in realization. “That makes sense, Aura acts like a protective barrier—it softens blows, deflects damage, and keeps us safe, even though it looks like we’re touching, you’re actually just feeling my Aura, not my skin,” he explained.
Rogue’s eyes widened slightly. She glanced down at their hands again, squeezing his just a little. It still felt real, as if she were actually holding someone’s hand without the fear of hurting them.
"Whoa…" she breathed out softly. "That’s… pretty nice, honestly,"
Jaune shrugged. “I guess,” he said before finally pulling his hand away.
Rogue blinked, suddenly realizing how long she had been holding on. A light blush dusted her cheeks as she awkwardly lowered her hand and stepped back.
“Uh… well,” she muttered, clearing her throat. “That was… different,”
Jaune smirked slightly. “Not what you were expecting?”
Rogue scoffed, crossing her arms but unable to fully hide the small smile tugging at her lips. “Not exactly,” she admitted. “But… Ah ain't complainin’,"
Scott and Kitty exchanged amused glances while Kurt grinned. “I think someone's got a crush, am I right?"
Kitty giggled at his comment.
Professor Xavier, who had been watching the entire exchange with a thoughtful expression, finally spoke. “Indeed, this is quite fascinating," Professor Xavier. "Jaune, your Aura provides an unprecedented level of protection, Rogue, this might be the first time you’ve ever been able to ‘touch’ someone without consequence,”
Rogue’s expression softened at that realization. She had gone so long fearing her own power, afraid of hurting others with the simplest of touches… but for the first time, she didn’t have to worry.
“…Yeah,” she murmured, glancing at Jaune. “Ah guess it is,”
Jaune turned back to Professor Xavier, a thought forming in his mind. “You can read minds, right?” he asked, curiosity edging into his tone.
The Professor gave a small nod, but instead of replying verbally, his voice echoed smoothly inside Jaune’s head. “Correct, Jaune,”
Jaune blinked in surprise before a grin spread across his face. That was really cool—he had to admit. Was this what Oscar had to deal with when Ozpin spoke in his mind? The idea made him chuckle to himself.
Turning to the gruff-looking man who had been watching him with an unreadable expression, Jaune tried to push past his lingering nervousness. The guy still looked like he could tear through a brick wall without breaking a sweat.
“Metal claws, right?” Jaune asked cautiously.
The man gave a slow nod, his rugged face unreadable. “Yeah, and you can call me Logan, kid,” Then, as if it were an afterthought, he added, “Though, on the job, call me Wolverine,”
Jaune nodded, taking mental note of that. “Nice to meet you, Logan... And nice to meet all of you,” he said, glancing at the rest of the group. “I’m Jaune Arc, and… well, as you heard from Professor Xavier, I’m definitely not from around here,”
Scott, who had been listening closely, crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes slightly in thought. “Yeah… about that,” he said. “You called it Remnant, right? That’s where you’re from?”
Jaune nodded. “Yeah, that’s the name of my world,” he confirmed. “And, uh… I get the feeling it’s a lot different from yours.”
Kitty raised an eyebrow. “Different how?” she asked.
Jaune sighed, rubbing the back of his head. “Well, for starters… do you guys have, uh… monsters? Like, actual monsters? Because where I come from, we’ve got creatures called Grimm, and they’re basically nightmare-fueled killing machines,”
Kurt’s tail flicked in interest. “Monsters? As in the big, scary, "I will eat you" kind?”
“Exactly,” Jaune said with a nod. “They don’t have souls, they don’t feel emotions—just pure destruction, and that’s why people like me train to become Huntsmen, to fight them and protect the world,”
Logan snorted. “Kid, you’re tellin’ me you were training to be some kinda monster hunter?” he asked.
Jaune gave a half-smile. “Pretty much, though, I was… kind of a late bloomer,” he admitted.
Scott raised an eyebrow. “A late bloomer? What do you mean?”
Jaune hesitated, but eventually sighed. “I, uh… kinda faked my way into my school, I didn’t have the same training as the others, and I had to catch up real fast,”
Logan smirked. “Heh, gotta respect the hustle,” he muttered.
Jaune chuckled. “Yeah, well, it wasn’t exactly easy, but, I had good friends who helped me along the way,” His expression darkened slightly, memories surfacing of those he had left behind—especially the ones he’d lost. He quickly shook the thought away, forcing himself to focus. “Anyway, that’s just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to Remnant, We’ve got Aura, Semblances, Dust, the whole deal,”
Rogue tilted her head, her expression skeptical yet intrigued. “Semblance? Dust?” she repeated, trying to process the unfamiliar terms.
Jaune nodded. “Yeah, a semblance is like a secondary power we get from our Aura—it’s unique to each person, kind of like your mutations, but more… individualized,” he explained. “It’s like having a personal superpower that only you can use,”
Scott raised an eyebrow. “So, what’s your Semblance?”
Jaune hesitated for a moment before sighing. “Mine’s… kinda weird, It’s called "Aura Amplification", basically, I can boost my Aura and even enhance other people’s Auras or Semblance, I can make them stronger, help them recover faster… stuff like that,” he said. “Not the flashiest ability, but it’s come in handy more times than I can count,”
Rogue nodded, taking that in before shifting gears. “And this… Dust? What’s that?”
“Oh, right, Dust is… well, think of it like magical rocks,” He scratched the back of his head, searching for a better way to explain. “I mean, they’re actually crystallized energy, but we use them like fuel for weapons or to create elemental effects, fire, water, ice, lightning—you name it, there’s probably Dust for it,”
Kitty let out a breath, clearly trying to wrap her head around everything. “Okay, so let me get this straight—you’re from another world, you fight soul-eating monsters, you can use your soul to protect yourself and you have magical rocks?”
Jaune shrugged. “That’s the simple version, yeah,”
Kurt grinned. “I like this guy,” he declared.
"I'm sure you do, Blue," Logan muttered, casting a brief glance at Kurt before shifting his attention back to Jaune. "Tell me, kid, how'd you end up here in the first place?"
Jaune's expression darkened instantly, his shoulders tensing as his gaze dropped to the floor. A hollow pit formed in his stomach, his mind flashing back to the last moments before he was swallowed by whatever force had thrown him into this world. The weight of his actions, of Penny’s lifeless body in his arms, came crashing down like an avalanche.
"I..." Jaune swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. "I really don’t want to talk about it, ff that’s alright," he said, his voice quieter than before.
Logan frowned, about to say something, but before he could, Xavier gently raised a hand to stop him.
"Logan, please," the Professor said calmly. "Do not press further,"
There was a softness in his tone, but also a firm finality. Logan wasn’t the type to back down easily, but he knew Xavier well enough to understand when to let something go. If the Professor was stepping in, that meant he had already seen enough inside Jaune’s mind to know the wounds were still fresh.
Logan sighed through his nose, crossing his arms. "Alright, I won’t push it," he relented.
Xavier offered him a grateful nod. "Thank you," he said before turning his focus back to Jaune.
Jaune exhaled shakily, grateful for the reprieve, but the tension in the room remained thick.
"So, uh… what do we do now?" Scott asked, breaking the silence. He looked at Jaune with curiosity and concern. "Is there a way for you to get back home?"
Jaune let out a humorless chuckle, shaking his head. "I don’t know," he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "I ended up here by accident, one second, I was… falling, and the next I was here, I-I don’t even know if getting back is possible,"
"I'm certain there's a way, and we will do everything in our power to help you find it," Xavier assured Jaune, his voice calm and steady. "However, for the time being, it would be best if you stayed with us, adjusting to a new world is no small thing, and we can offer you guidance, support, and resources to help make the transition easier, besides, we could use someone like you here at the Institute,"
Jaune fell silent, mulling over the offer. The Professor was right—he had no idea how long he'd be stuck here, and trying to figure everything out on his own would be reckless. He needed help adjusting to this strange new world, and these people—despite the differences between their powers and his—seemed willing to give him that.
If he was trapped here for the time being, then he might as well make himself useful. Maybe, in some small way, he could repay them for their kindness.
But even as he accepted that reality, his thoughts drifted back to Remnant—to Team RWBY, to his friends, to what remained of their fractured world. He had no way of knowing what was happening there. Were they safe? Were they fighting for their lives? Had things gotten worse since he vanished?
A lump formed in his throat as his mind returned to the last thing he saw before ending up here. Penny… her bright, hopeful eyes going dark, her body going still in his arms.
Maybe this was his punishment. To be exiled to another world, unable to know what had become of the people he cared about. To be left with nothing but the weight of his actions and the uncertainty of whether or not he could ever set things right.
Maybe… he deserved this.
Jaune swallowed hard, pushing those thoughts aside as best as he could. Right now, there was only one thing he could do: move forward.
"Thank you, Professor," he said at last, his voice quiet but sincere.
Xavier nodded. "Of course, Jaune,"
The Professor then turned to the others. "For now, you can take Evan's old room," he informed Jaune. "Kurt and Scott will help clear out his belongings and move them to the attic,"
Before anyone else could speak, Rogue stepped forward, tucking a strand of her white-streaked hair behind her ear. "Ah can help with that, Professor," she offered.
Xavier regarded her with a small, knowing smile. "Are you sure, Rogue?" he asked, raising a brow.
"Yeah, it's a-right," she said with a little shrug, though there was a softness to her expression. "Ah don’t mind,"
Jaune glanced at her, surprised by the offer but grateful nonetheless. It was a small thing, but after everything, just knowing that someone was willing to help him settle in made the situation feel a little less overwhelming.
"Thanks, Rogue," he said, offering her a small smile.
"Very well Rogue, you may help them clear out Evan's belongings," Professor Xavier said with a knowing smile.
Logan let out a low grunt, arms crossed over his chest. He shot Xavier a skeptical look. "You sure that's a good idea, Chuck? Moving Porcupine’s stuff outta his room might not sit well with Storm,"
"If she has an issue, I will discuss it with her personally," Xavier responded calmly. "However, she must understand that Evan has made his decision, he chose to leave, and until he returns, his room can be put to use for someone in need,"
Logan exhaled sharply through his nose, clearly still unsure but unwilling to argue further. "Yeah, yeah… you're right," he muttered.
"Good," Xavier said with a nod before turning his gaze back to the teens. "Scott, Kurt, Rogue—please take Jaune to his new room and assist in moving Evan’s things,"
"Sure thing, Professor," Scott replied without hesitation. He turned to Jaune with an easy-going smile. "C'mon Jaune, once we get Evan’s stuff moved, we’ll show you around the place,"
Jaune returned the smile, grateful for the gesture. "Sounds good," he said, following the four teens out of the office.
As the door clicked shut behind them, the room grew quiet, save for the faint crackling of the fireplace in the corner. Logan remained standing, his rugged features twisted into a look of skepticism. His eyes never left the Professor.
"You sure we can trust him, Chuck?" he asked, voice low and gruff.
"Of that, I have no doubt," Xavier said softly, his voice carrying a sense of unwavering confidence. "From what I saw within Jaune's mind, he's an incredibly brave young man, despite his inner turmoil and the self-doubt that clouds him, I have every faith that he will be a valuable addition to our home, more than that... I hope that during his time here, he can learn to let go of the guilt that burdens him and allow himself the chance to heal after everything he’s experienced in his world,"
Logan crossed his arms, the lines of his face hardening as he looked at Xavier. "And what exactly has he gone through in his world, Chuck?" His voice was gruff, as though he'd be willing to listen but wasn't going to take any half-truths.
Xavier’s expression softened as he considered the question, his mind reaching for the delicate balance between truth and respect for Jaune’s privacy. "It's not my place to say, Logan," he replied, his tone calm but firm. "But trust me on this, old friend—Jaune is a good kid, he has a weight on his shoulders, one that I believe he will be able to shed in time, and I believe he can be trusted,"
Logan let out a low hum, a sound that signified both thought and hesitation. After a beat, he finally nodded. "Alright, Charles," he said, the edge of skepticism still lingering in his voice, but softer now. "If you say the kid checks out, then I’ll trust ya, but just so you know, I’ll be keepin’ an eye on him,"
Xavier smiled gently, a flicker of amusement in his eyes. "I wouldn’t expect anything less, Logan," he said, his voice warm with understanding.
With that, the two men shared a quiet moment before going their separate ways. Xavier rose from his seat and made his way down the hall, his mind already turning toward the next steps. He would need to inform Storm and Hank about Jaune's arrival, and perhaps it was time to prepare a small introduction for the other students. As much as he hoped Jaune would find his place here, he knew the adjustment wouldn’t be easy for the young man.
Meanwhile, Logan grunted in acknowledgment and turned toward the exit, a familiar scowl settling back onto his face. Whether he was heading to the kitchen, his bike, or the training grounds, he wasn’t sure. What mattered more was that, for now, Jaune was under Xavier’s roof, and Logan couldn’t help but feel be both skeptical of the kid and a bit worried for him.
If the kid was a threat, Logan would take care of it, but if Xavier was right about Jaune, then when the kid needed help, Logan would make sure to lend a hand when the time came.
For now, the future lay shrouded in uncertainty, an intricate web of unknowns for both Jaune and those who called the Xavier Institute their home. There were questions yet to be answered, challenges yet to be faced, and binds yet formed, but amid all the confusion and chaos, one constant remained... There was still something worth fighting for.
XXX
XXX
XXX
Hey there! If you're wondering why Rogue’s dialogue sounds a little different, it’s because I’m writing out her Southern accent. I’m trying to keep it distinct without making it too similar to the 90s cartoon version (not that there’s anything wrong with that Rogue!). So when she says “Ah,” she means “I.” I know it might take a little getting used to, especially in lines like:
"Ah… A-Ah really didn’t think ‘bout that,"
But I hope you’ll bear with me—I want to capture her accent as best as I can!
As for Kurt, his accent in X-Men: Evolution isn’t as heavy as it was in X2 or Wolverine & The X-Men, so I won’t be writing him with a super thick German accent. It’ll still be there, just not as intense. Funny enough, both Kurt and Magneto are German, yet Kurt has the heavy accent while Magneto barely has one at all.
Oh, and if you want a fun fact! Magneto’s voice actor in Evolution was Christopher Judge. Yep, that Christopher Judge, the voice of Old Kratos!
Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I’ve got a lot of exciting ideas for this story, and I can’t wait to share them with you!
Chapter 2: Adjusting
Chapter Text
A/N:
So real quick, here are the future Storylines that are coming up after a few Chapters of Jaune somewhat adjusting to Earth:
The Dark Pheonix Saga:
We'll be introducing both Mister Sinister and the Hellfire Club in the Arc with Sinister working in the background and trying just to get close enough to the X-Men to steal their DNA while Jean and the Hellfire Club will be the main focus point.
Mutant Massacre:
A couple of chapters introduce The whole Marauders team causing more grief within the team as one of their own is lost.
War with Marauders:
The X-Men and the Brotherhood must team up to finally put an end to Sinister and his plans, but Sinister has a trump card that neither group was prepared for...
Captain America, X-23 returns, Colossus, & Doctor Strange Chapters:
A few chapters that deal with the cure for Captain America, the return of X-23 and the reveal of Stryker, Colossus becoming an X-Men, and the appearance of Doctor Strange as he needs the help of the X-Men to defeat agatha harkness from trying to find the Darkhold
Days of Future's Past:
Introducing Nimrod and the X-Men who travel to the past to fix the future and trying to prevent the end of the world.
House of M:
Everyone is living their most perfect lives, the world is runned by Mutants with Humans being the minority, but something doesn't feel right as and Rogue and Logan remember everything... This perfect life is fake and they can't live in a world built on lies.
Anyway! I hope you enjoy the 2nd chapter of this story, because boy oh boy, we're building up to something interesting~!
XXX
XXX
XXX
XXX
XXX
XXX
After a long while of clearing out Evan's belongings and moving them into the attic, Jaune took a step back and looked around what was now his new room. It felt strangely empty without the posters, clothes, and personal touches that once filled it, making the space seem much larger than it actually was. There was an odd hollowness to it—like he was stepping into someone else's life rather than starting a new chapter of his own.
Turning to Scott with a curious expression, Jaune raised a brow. "If you don't mind me asking... what happened to Evan?" he asked. A small frown tugged at the corner of his lips. "He's not... dead, is he?"
Scott let out a small chuckle, shaking his head. "Nah, it's nothing like that," he reassured him. "Evan's alive and kicking, but he left the Institute to protect a group of mutants who live in the sewers, they call themselves the Morlocks,"
Jaune's confusion deepened. "Mutants? Living in the sewers?" he repeated, trying to wrap his head around the idea. "Why? Couldn't they live here, like you guys do?"
Scott sighed, running a hand through his hair. "They could, but a lot of them choose not to," he explained. "And honestly? Some of them don't have much of a choice, ever since people found out about mutants, most of them treat us like freaks—kids, teens, adults, it doesn't matter, but the ones who don't have a human-like appearance? They've got it the worst," His voice carried a bitterness that told Jaune just how deep the prejudice ran.
Jaune clenched his fists, his stomach twisting at the thought. "Oum... that's terrible," he muttered. His mind immediately flashed to the Faunus of his world—the discrimination they faced, the hardships they endured. "That sounds a lot like what happens to the Faunus where I come from, a lot of them are treated just as badly,"
Scott gave him a small, understanding nod. "Yeah, I guess that kind of thing isn't just limited to one world," he said. "But it's not all bad, there are good people out there—humans who don't treat us like we're some kind of disease, Kurt's girlfriend, for example—she's human, and she's been incredibly supportive, she doesn't see him as a monster or anything like that, She's just... understanding," His expression brightened slightly.
Jaune found himself smiling at that. "At least there are still people like that," he said, his tone lighter than before.
Scott nodded in agreement, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. "Yeah... And sometimes, that's enough to keep going,"
Jaune nodded in agreement, a small smile tugging at his lips. It was comforting to know that even in a world so different from his own, there were still people willing to stand up for those who were treated unfairly.
Before he could dwell on the thought for too long, Rogue stepped into the room, her arms casually crossed over her chest as she leaned against the doorframe. "Scott, Jean's lookin' for ya," she announced.
Scott turned to her with a curious expression. "Yeah? Where is she?"
"Down en the kitchen," Rogue replied, tilting her head slightly.
Scott raised a brow. "I thought you were helping Kurt put the rest of Evan's things away? What were you doing in the kitchen?"
Rogue shrugged. "Ah was, but Kurt figured he'd just teleport everythin' up to the attic," she explained. "So ah figured, why not grab a quick snack? ran into jean while ah was down they-yur, 'n she asked meh where ya were, told her, 'n she asked meh to come git ya,"
Scott chuckled, shaking his head. "Duty calls, I guess," he said before turning back to Jaune. "I'll see you later, Jaune."
"Yeah, see you later," Jaune replied, watching as Scott made his way out of the room.
As he left, Jaune turned to Rogue, who was still watching Scott disappear down the hall. "So... who's Jean?" he asked, curiosity piqued.
Rogue turned back to him with a smirk. "Oh, little miss perfect?" she said with a teasing drawl. "She's scott's girlfriend—another mutant, just lak us,"
Jaune nodded, filing that information away. "She must be pretty great if Scott's with her."
Rogue let out a small chuckle. "Oh, she's somethin' a-right," she said, her tone somewhere between fond and exasperated.
Rogue leaned casually against the doorframe, a playful smirk tugging at her lips as she crossed her arms. "So, ya still want that tour, blondie?" she asked, her Southern drawl giving the words a teasing lilt.
Jaune chuckled, rubbing the back of his head as he returned her smile. "Yeah, I'd like that," he replied. "Gotta figure out where everything is before I start wandering around aimlessly and get lost,"
Rogue let out a light laugh. "Good call, this place is bigger than it looks, 'n trust me, it ain't fun gettin' turned around, especially when ya end up in Mr. McCoy's lab, last time Ah did, Ah nearly lost mah ankles,"
Jaune blinked. "Why?"
"Some new weapon he was testin' out for the danger room," She told him.
Jaune snickered. "I'll make sure to stay clear of his room labs then,"
"Smart move," Rogue said with a grin before motioning for him to follow. "Come on, Ah'll show ya 'round, first stop—where we stuff our faces,"
Jaune laughed as he followed her out of the room, feeling a little more at ease. Maybe being stuck here for a while wouldn't be so bad after all.
As Jaune and Rogue descended the grand staircase, he couldn't help but take in the sheer scale of the mansion's entrance hall. The high ceilings, intricate woodwork, and large windows made the space feel almost regal. It was a far cry from the more utilitarian structures back in Remnant. His gaze wandered toward the outside, where a group of teens clad in sleek black training suits were engaged in some kind of sparring session. However, what truly caught his attention was the figure among them—a large, fur-covered creature moving with surprising agility.
Jaune squinted, watching as the blue-furred figure effortlessly flipped through the air before landing in a crouch, correcting a student's stance with a precise motion. "Uh... who's that?" he asked, pointing out the window.
Rogue followed his finger and smirked when she saw who he was referring to. "That? That's Mr. McCoy," she said casually.
Jaune's eyes widened in shock. "That's him?" He turned to her in disbelief. "No offense, but when you said he was some kind of scientist, I figured he'd be more... I don't know, cyborg-looking or something,"
Rogue chuckled. "Yeah, Ah get that reaction a lot," she admitted. "But don't let the fur fool ya—Mr. McCoy's one of the smartest guys 'round here, he helps out with repairin' our gear, tech, 'n all kinds of other stuff,"
Jaune hummed thoughtfully. "Wonder if he could help me keep up with Crocea Mors' maintenance," he muttered under his breath, making a mental note to ask later.
Rogue resumed walking toward the kitchen, and Jaune quickly fell into step beside her. The enticing aroma of food drifted through the halls as they neared their destination. However, as soon as they stepped inside, they were met with a sight neither of them had been prepared for—Scott and a red-haired girl, who Jaune assumed to be Jean, locked in an enthusiastic make-out session against the counter.
Jaune immediately froze in place, unsure of what to do, but Rogue had no such hesitation.
"Aw, c'mon!" she groaned loudly, throwing up her hands in exasperation. "In the kitchen!? Really!?"
Scott and Jean jerked apart, both looking equally startled, Jean's face flushing while Scott awkwardly adjusted his visor.
"Some of us actually eat in here, ya know?" Rogue added, wrinkling her nose in disgust. "Ain't nobody wanna see y'all swappin' spit where we make sandwiches!"
Jaune pressed his lips together, trying—and failing—not to laugh at Rogue's dramatic outrage.
Scott awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck, clearly flustered as he avoided Rogue's pointed glare. "Uh... sorry, guys," he mumbled, shifting uncomfortably.
Jean, her face turning a shade of red that nearly matched her hair, averted her gaze and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "We, uh... we didn't think anyone would walk in," she admitted, her voice sheepish.
Rogue raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms as she fixed them both with a skeptical stare. "Really?" she drawled. "Y'all seriously thought no one was gonna walk into the kitchen? the kitchen, of all places? where people come to, ya know, eat? 'n that y'all could just have a whole little make-out session without gettin' interrupted?"
Jaune, unable to hold back any longer, snorted. He quickly covered his mouth, but the damage was done.
Scott let out a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Okay, okay, we get it," he muttered. "Poor judgment on our part,"
"Yeah, no kiddin'," Rogue shot back, rolling her eyes before gesturing toward Jaune. "An' way to give our guest a first impression, by the way, Jaune, meet Jean Grey, team psychic, Scott's girlfriend, 'n apparently a real romantic opportunist,"
Jean groaned, still trying to recover from the embarrassment, but she managed to turn toward Jaune and offer him a small, apologetic smile. "Uh... nice to meet you, Jaune," she said.
Jaune, still amused, gave her a small wave. "Nice to meet you too," he replied. "And, uh... don't worry, I'll just pretend I didn't see anything,"
"Please do," Jean muttered, still looking mortified.
Rogue huffed. "Right... Well, now that we've walked en on that, let's git to another room where there ain't two people makin' out," She turned to the fridge, muttering under her breath, "Ah swear, caint keep their hands off each other now,"
Jaune chuckled, shaking his head as the awkward tension in the room lessened as he and Rogue moved on to another room.
As Rogue continued leading Jaune through the halls of the mansion, he took the opportunity to ask more about Earth. He quickly learned that while there were some similarities between Earth and Remnant—such as cars and some advanced technology—there were also massive differences. For one, Earth had multiple countries, each with its own government, economy, and way of life. They didn't use Dust for energy, instead relying on electricity, fossil fuels, and nuclear power. The currency also varied widely between nations, unlike Remnant's more unified lien system.
But what stood out the most to Jaune was the complete lack of Faunus. Instead, Earth had Mutants and if some of the stories Rogue told him were true, there were even superhumans beyond that, people whose powers weren't linked to mutation at all.
What really threw him, though, were the insane news reports Rogue casually mentioned.
"So, wait," Jaune said, trying to wrap his head around it all. "You're telling me there's some giant green monster that fights the military?"
"Yep," Rogue confirmed with a smirk. "Big, mean, and stronger than anything Ah've ever seen, it was all ovah tv,"
Jaune blinked. "Okay... and there's also some guy just, swinging around a city with webs?"
Rogue nodded. "hey call 'im... Spider-something, real do-gooder from a few things Ah heard, but the papers ain't too fond of 'im,"
Jaune rubbed his temple. "And New York is a city and a state?"
Rogue chuckled at his confusion. "Yeah, ah know, it's weird, the city's called New York City, but it's inside New York State, The professor's school is upstate, far from the city, so ya ain't gonna see spider-man swingin' 'round here,"
Jaune let out a breath, shaking his head. "Alright... and this Fantastic Four? What's their deal?"
"They're a group of super-powered fellahs who save people," Rogue explained. "Real famous too—got their own buildin' 'n everythin', There's some stretchy guy, a fire guy, invisible woman, 'n some big rock dude,"
"That name still sounds weird, but I guess I can't judge, I mean my team's named after a berry,"
Rogue laughed. "Yeah? What, Team Blueberry?"
Jaune chuckled. "Close, we're called Team JNPR, pronounced Juniper, it's a mixture of some of my team's initals,"
Rogue gave him an amused look. "Huh, well, ah guess ah caint talk, Ah'm runnin' 'round with people callin' themselves X-Men, after all,"
Jaune smirked. "Fair point,"
They continued walking, and after a moment of silence, Jaune let out a breath.
"You know, all this sounds pretty crazy," he admitted with a smile.
"Yeah, Ah know," Rogue agreed. "Earth is a pretty weird place... but ah guess your world is too, Ah mean, you've got magical rocks, soulless monsters, people with animal parts—can't imagine livin' en a world lak that,"
Jaune scoffed. "Funny, I was about to say the same thing about Earth," Jaune told her. "Back home, a world like this would be a dream come true... No Grimm, no walls keeping people trapped, no constant fear that one bad day or too much negativity could bring an attack,"
Rogue's smile faded slightly at that. "Huh... never really thought about it that way," she murmured. "Guess every world's got its own kinda problems,"
Jaune nodded. "Yeah, grass is always greener, right?"
Rogue smirked, nudging him with her elbow. "Sure, blondie, just don't expect this place to be all sunshine 'n roses either, we've got plenty of problems of our own,"
Jaune chuckled. "Wouldn't expect anything less,"
As Jaune and Rogue stepped outside, the fresh air greeted them, along with the sight of Hank McCoy overseeing a training session with a group of younger mutants. The "New Mutants," as Rogue had briefly mentioned earlier, were decked out in black and yellow training suits, sparring and honing their abilities under Hank's watchful eye. From blasts of energy to sudden shifts in the terrain, it was clear this wasn't just an ordinary workout—it was controlled chaos with superpowers.
Despite the intensity of the training, Hank's deep, scholarly voice rang out, calm and instructive. "Good form, Roberto, but try to keep your footing steady! And Rahne, excellent reaction time—keep reading your opponent!"
When Hank finally caught sight of Rogue and Jaune, he raised a hand, signaling the group to pause. With a warm smile, he turned toward the two newcomers and began striding over, his movements graceful despite his large, beastly frame. The students followed closely behind, some curious about Jaune, others still buzzing with energy from their training.
"Ah, Rogue," Hank greeted, his deep voice carrying an unmistakable warmth. "A pleasure to see you, as always,"
"Hello, Mr. McCoy," Rogue replied with an easy smile.
Hank then turned his attention to Jaune, his keen eyes observing him with interest before he extended a large, clawed blue hand. "And you must be our guest, a pleasure to meet you, young man, I am Dr. Henry Philip McCoy, though you may call me Hank, Mr. McCoy, or if you prefer, simply Beast,"
Jaune took his hand, surprised by the firm yet gentle grip. Despite Hank's somewhat intimidating, animalistic appearance, his demeanor exuded nothing but warmth and intelligence. "Jaune Arc," he introduced himself with a polite nod. "Nice to meet you too, Mr. McCoy,"
Hank's smile widened. "Ah, a strong handshake! A good sign of character! And I see you're none the worse for wear after that rather, shall we say, sudden arrival of yours," Hank said. "You must be made of steel, young man,"
Jaune chuckled, rubbing the back of his head. "Something like that," he said. "I'm sure the Professor will fill you in on all the details later,"
"Indeed," Hank agreed with a knowing nod. "Though I have no doubt your story is quite the fascinating one,"
Then, stepping aside, he gestured toward the students behind him. "In the meantime, allow me to introduce you to some of our promising young students. They are quite the remarkable bunch."
A short haired brunette teen with an easygoing smirk stepped forward first. "Bobby Drake," he said, offering a handshake. "But you can call me Iceman,"
Jaune took his hand, but immediately regretted it when an icy chill spread through his fingers. His eyes widened slightly as he pulled back and saw a thin layer of frost on his palm.
Bobby laughed. "Whoops! Sorry about that, man... Reflex,"
Jaune shook off the cold with a chuckle. "No worries, just didn't expect a literal icebreaker," Jaune joked.
Next to step forward was a girl with long brown hair and a tanned complexion. She crossed her arms, giving Jaune a confident smile. "I'm Amara Aquilla," she introduced herself, then added with a smirk, "or Magma, if you prefer the cooler name,"
Jaune raised an eyebrow, grinning. "Let me guess... you control lava?"
Amara chuckled. "Bingo, but it's not just lava—I can also turn into molten rock myself," She told him. "Makes for a great party trick," she joked.
Jaune nodded in understanding. "Noted," he replied. "Just remind me not to stand too close if you decide to show off,"
Amara smirked. "Good call,"
Stepping up next was a tall, lanky young man with short, sandy-blond hair, and a fair complexion. "I'm Samuel Guthrie, but you can call me Sam, or Cannonball, if you wanna go by codenames,"
Jaune shook his hand, tilting his head slightly. "Cannonball? Lemme guess—you control water or something?"
Sam let out a hearty laugh. "Nah man, I propel myself forward like a human rocket, and once I get goin', ain't nothin' stopping me! I can smash clean through walls, cars, even Sentinels, without so much as a scratch,"
Jaune blinked. "That sounds both awesome and terrifying,"
Sam grinned. "It has its perks,"
Before Jaune could respond, another student stepped forward—he had fair skin and blonde hair with three orange streaks. "Name's Ray, Ray Carter, but everyone around here calls me Berzerker,"
Jaune offered his hand. "Nice to meet you, Ray,"
Ray grinned as he took Jaune's hand, though there was a slight flicker of energy between them, making Jaune pull back instinctively.
"What was that?" Jaune asked, flexing his fingers as a faint tingling sensation ran up his arm.
Ray chuckled. "That's my power, I generate, absorb, and manipulate electrical energy," He snapped his fingers, and a small spark of blue electricity danced between them before fizzling out. "Comes in handy when the power goes out, or when I wanna give Bobby a shock for freezing my locker shut,"
Jaune tilted his head slightly, recalling a certain hammer-wielding friend of his. "Huh... I actually knew someone back in my world who could do something like that," he said, thinking of Nora and her Semblance, which allowed her to absorb electricity and use it to enhance her strength.
Ray raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. "Your world?" he echoed, clearly thrown off by Jaune's choice of words. "What do you mean by-?"
Before he could finish, another student eagerly stepped forward, effectively cutting off the conversation.
"My name's Jubilation Lee, but just call me Jubilee," she introduced herself with a bright smile. "Way easier to say, trust me,"
Jaune chuckled at her enthusiasm. "Got it, Jubilee it is," he said. "So, what's your power?"
Jubilee grinned and held up her hands, wiggling her fingers. "I can generate bursts of colorful energy from my fingertips, I call them fireworks!"
Jaune's brow lifted in interest. "Fireworks?"
"Yup!" Jubilee nodded. "They're not just for show, either, I can use them to blow things up, blind enemies, and all sorts of other fun stuff, great for celebrations, too," She smirked.
Jaune nodded. "Sounds pretty versatile,"
Just as he finished speaking, a younger boy, about Amara's age, stepped forward. He had short brown hair and an easygoing grin. "Name's Jamie Madrox," he introduced himself. "But when we're training, I go by Multiple,"
Jaune tilted his head. "Multiple?" he repeated. "Why do they call you that?"
Before Jamie could answer, Bobby clapped a hand on his back—hard. Instantly, with a series of soft pops, three identical copies of Jamie stumbled forward, all looking just as surprised as the original.
Jaune's eyes widened, and then a grin spread across his face. "Whoa! Clones!" he said, clearly impressed. "That's pretty cool!"
The original Jamie rubbed the back of his head sheepishly as the duplicates steadied themselves. "Yeah, it's kinda my thing," he admitted. "Anytime I get hit with enough force—boom! More of me,"
Jaune folded his arms, grinning as he nodded in approval. "That could be super useful in a fight, I bet you can overwhelm your opponents by outnumbering them,"
Jamie chuckled. "That's the idea! Though, keeping them all in check can be a little tricky sometimes,"
Jaune watched as the duplicates started playfully shoving each other, clearly not in sync and he laughed. "Yeah, I can see that," Jaune said.
Next to step forward was a tall, athletic young man with dark brown, somewhat curly hair and deep brown eyes. His confident posture and easygoing smile radiated energy. "Hey there, man, name's Roberto Da Costa," he introduced, his Brazilian accent adding a smooth cadence to his words. "But like everyone else here, you can call me Sunspot,"
Beside him, a petite girl with fiery red hair tied into two small pigtails stepped up. Her emerald green eyes gleamed with a mix of warmth and quiet curiosity. "And I'm Rahne Sinclair, or Wolfsbane," she said, her Scottish accent immediately catching Jaune's ear.
Jaune smiled at them both, nodding in greeting. "Nice to meet you both," he said, taking in their names. "Sunspot and Wolfsbane, huh? Sounds like you guys should be in a band,"
Roberto grinned. "Heh, not a bad idea, actually, we'd be the hottest act around—literally, in my case," he joked, holding up his hand as golden energy flickered across his fingers.
Rahne chuckled, shaking her head at Roberto's usual confidence. "Aye, and I suppose I'd be the one scaring off the fans when I transform," she said with a playful smirk.
Before Jaune could respond, a sultry voice cut through the conversation.
"Don't forget about me, handsome~!"
The crowd of mutants parted as a blonde girl sauntered forward, her hips swaying slightly with each step. She wore deep red lipstick, and her smirk carried an unmistakable flirtatious edge. With little regard for personal space, she closed the gap between her and Jaune, tilting her head as she eyed him up and down with half-lidded eyes.
"Nice to meetcha, stud, name's Tabitha Smith, but you can call me Boom-Boom," " she purred.
Jaune barely had time to react before she leaned in slightly, resting a hand on her hip.
"Jaune, right? I like that name," she continued, her voice dripping with amusement. "Rolls off the tongue real nice, ya know what I mean?"
Jaune stiffened slightly, caught off guard. Back when he worked as a crossing guard in Mantle, he had been flirted with plenty of times—sometimes playfully, sometimes aggressively. You'd think he'd be used to it by now, but nope. It still threw him off every time.
His brain scrambled for a response, and what came out was—unfortunately—not his finest moment.
"Uh, ha... yeah... the ladies love it?" he said, his face turning a light shade of pink as he immediately cringed internally.
Roberto outright laughed, while Rahne covered her mouth, stifling a giggle. Tabitha, on the other hand, seemed thoroughly amused.
Tabitha's grin widened as she trailed a single finger down the center of Jaune's chest, her touch slow and deliberate.
"Ohoh! I bet they do~!" she purred, her voice dripping with mischief.
Jaune's entire body went rigid, his brain short-circuiting as he struggled to figure out whether to step back, laugh it off, or simply combust on the spot. His face burned hotter than a furnace, and he wasn't sure if it was from embarrassment or sheer panic.
Rogue, standing just a step away, narrowed her eyes at the scene unfolding before her. She knew Tabitha well enough to understand that the girl loved to push people's buttons, teasing them just for the fun of it. And Jaune, being new and clearly easy to fluster, was a prime target.
But that wasn't the only reason irritation flared in her chest.
Rogue clenched her jaw slightly, arms crossing over her chest as she shot Tabitha an unimpressed glare. It wasn't just about Tabitha's antics—it was the fact that Jaune was one of the only people Rogue could touch without fear. He didn't recoil from her, didn't have to be cautious around her like everyone else did. That kind of closeness, that kind of normalcy, was something she never got to experience. And now here was Tabitha, casually invading Jaune's space, brushing her fingers against him without a second thought.
Rogue barely got to feel what it was like to be close to someone without gloves, and seeing someone else take that opportunity so lightly... it frustrated her more than she wanted to admit.
"A-right, Boom-Boom," Rogue drawled, stepping in before things got any worse. She grabbed Jaune's wrist and pulled him slightly back, creating a bit of distance between him and Tabitha. "Quit messin' with Jaune before ya give 'im a heart attack,"
Tabitha pouted playfully, "Aww, c'mon, Rogue, I'm just havin' a little fun! Can ya blame me? He's cute, and that dorky blush is adorable,"
Jaune, still recovering, let out an awkward chuckle. "Uh... thanks? I think?"
Tabitha smirked, winking at him. "Anytime, stud,"
Rogue rolled her eyes, gripping Jaune's wrist just a little tighter before finally letting go.
"Whatever... We still got more of the tour left, so if ya're done, let's git movin'," she said, her tone carrying just the slightest edge.
Tabitha chuckled, clearly enjoying how much she was getting under Rogue's skin. "Fine, fine," she relented, stepping back with a knowing grin. "But I'll be seein' you around, Jaune~,"
Jaune gave an awkward wave before quickly falling in step with Rogue. As they walked away, he let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding.
Rogue glanced at him, noticing how red his ears still were. "You a-right there, Casanova?" she asked, unable to hide a smirk.
Jaune groaned, rubbing his face. "I don't even know what just happened..."
Rogue chuckled. "Welcome to the X-Men, trust meh its only gunna git weirder from here," she said.
As they continued their tour around the mansion grounds, Jaune found himself taking in the sprawling landscape, impressed by the sheer size of the estate. He had never seen so much open land surrounding a single place before. Back in Remnant, even the wealthiest estates weren't quite like this.
However, his admiration was cut short when he noticed Rogue had suddenly stopped walking. Her gaze was locked onto the treetops, her brows furrowed in suspicion.
Jaune followed her line of sight but saw nothing unusual—just the trees swaying slightly in the breeze. At least, that's what he thought until he noticed something odd. The way the branches shook wasn't natural. It wasn't the wind; something—or someone—was up there.
Before he could ask what was going on, Rogue bent down, grabbed a decently sized stick, and gripped it firmly in her hand.
Jaune raised a brow. "Uh… what are you-?"
Without answering, Rogue pulled her arm back and hurled the stick like a spear toward the last tree that had rustled.
A second later, a loud thwack echoed through the air, followed immediately by a startled yelp. Then, to Jaune's shock, and mild disgust, a figure came crashing down, landing first on the top of the estate's wall before tumbling unceremoniously onto the grass in front of them.
The instant the newcomer hit the ground, Jaune gagged, recoiling as an awful stench filled the air. It was like a mix of mildew, sweat, and something even worse—something that made him wonder if this guy had ever heard of soap.
Rogue let out a groan, pinching the bridge of her nose as she recognized the unfortunate soul sprawled on the ground.
"Toad," she said, her voice laced with irritation. "What the hell are you doin' here?"
The teen, who Jaune now realized had some rather... unique features. Greasy brownish-green hair, sickly pale skin, and oddly large, bulbous eyes.
Toad groaned as he pushed himself up, rubbing his head where the stick had hit him. "Man, I wasn't doin' nothin', yo!" he insisted, glancing up at Rogue with an almost guilty look.
Jaune, still reeling from the smell, took a step back, covering his nose. "What is that smell?" he muttered under his breath.
Rogue, completely ignoring Jaune's suffering, crossed her arms and shot Toad an unimpressed glare. "Right, 'n I'm the wicked witch of the west," she deadpanned. "Now, tell meh what ya were really doin' here before Ah knock ya ovah the head!"
Toad chuckled nervously, raising his hands in mock surrender. "C'mon, Rogue, ya wound me! Can't a guy just hang out in some trees without gettin' assaulted?"
Jaune gave him a flat look. "You were spying on us, weren't you?"
Toad snapped his fingers, pointing at Jaune. "Hey, man, spyin' is such a strong word, ya know, I prefer... observin' from a respectable distance,"
Rogue scoffed. "Yeah? well, Ah prefer mah personal space not bein' invaded by some slimy creep," She told him.
Rogue crossed her arms, her glare sharp enough to cut through steel as she loomed over the cringing Toad. She had no patience for his usual antics, and she wasn't about to let him slither his way out of this one.
"Now who sent ya here? Pietro? Magneto?" Her expression darkened as she uttered the last name, her tone dripping with bitterness. "Mystique?"
At the mention of the name, Toad visibly flinched. His eyes darted around, looking for an escape route, but he knew better than to try running. Not with Rogue standing so close, ready to strike.
"A-Alright, look!" he stammered, raising his hands defensively. "Pietro sent me, alright? Said to keep an eye on you goody-goods! That's all I know, I swear!"
Rogue narrowed her eyes, unimpressed. "That right? Pietro ain't got the brains to plan somethin' lak this himself, so that means he's takin' orders from someone," She tilted her head, her Southern drawl growing more intense as her frustration built. "'n lem-me guess… Magneto?"
Toad winced, his silence telling her everything she needed to know.
Rogue took a step closer, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "So what's Magneto up to, Toad? Tell meh now, or we do this the hard way,"
With a slow, deliberate motion, she raised her right hand and tugged off her glove, revealing her bare palm.
Toad's throat went dry, and his pupils shrank in fear as he took an involuntary step back. "Aww, man, c'mon, Rogue! No need to go nuclear!" he pleaded, sweat forming on his brow. "I swear—I don't know anything! Really! Pietro didn't tell me squat! He knows I'll crack under pressure!"
Rogue stared at him for a long, tense moment, searching for any sign of deception. Eventually, she sighed, clearly irritated, and slid her glove back on.
"Fine," she muttered. Then her glare sharpened once more. "Beat it. Now. Before Ah change mah mind,"
Toad didn't need to be told twice. With a frantic nod, he sprang into the air, leaping toward the wall in a single bound. His webbed fingers gripped the stone surface, and in seconds, he had vaulted over it. The sound of his retreating thwaps echoed as he hopped further and further away, disappearing into the distance.
Jaune, still trying to process what had just happened, finally turned to Rogue with a bewildered expression.
"Okay… what the hell was that?" he asked, looking ar Rogue with a confused expression. "Who was that guy, and what was all that about?"
Rogue let out a heavy sigh, crossing her arms as she watched the last traces of Toad's presence disappear beyond the wall. "That was Todd Tolansky, but most folks just call him Toad," she explained, her tone laced with annoyance. "He's part of the brotherhood of mutants, Magneto's personal little troublemakin' squad, they've bin' causin' us problems for a while now,"
Jaune frowned. "Brotherhood of Mutants?" he echoed, trying to wrap his head around the situation.
Rogue nodded. "Yeah, a group of mutants who reckon they don't need to follow anyone's rules but their own," she said, then exhaled sharply. "'n they take orders from one man—Magneto,"
Jaune's brow furrowed. "Magneto?"
"That's what he calls himself," Rogue said, her voice darkening slightly. "He's got the power to control metal, any kind, any shape, at will, but that ain't even the worst part... He's a mutant supremacist, believes mutants are superior to regular people, 'n that we oughta be the ones runnin' the world,"
Jaune absorbed that information, his jaw tightening as an uncomfortable sense of familiarity crept in. The way Rogue described Magneto—it reminded him way too much of the White Fang back home, of their more radical beliefs. His thoughts drifted to Blake's story about Adam Taurus, about how he twisted their movement into something dangerous, something violent.
His grip unconsciously tightened into a fist at his side.
No matter what world he ended up in, there always seemed to be people who thought the only way to make things right was through force.
Rogue, unaware of his inner turmoil, sighed and turned back toward the mansion. "C'mon, let's go,"
Jaune shook his head, pulling himself out of his thoughts. "Go where?"
"To the Professor," Rogue said, glancing back at him. "We gotta let him know about toad spyin' own us, this ain't somethin' we can ignore,"
Jaune exhaled, already sensing that whatever was going on, it was big. And the worst part? He had just arrived in this world, and already, trouble was finding him.
His shoulders sagged slightly as he muttered to himself, "Figures…"
XXX
XXX
XXX
Meanwhile, across town, in the Brotherhood's run-down hideout—a house that looked like it had been abandoned for years—Toad made his less-than-graceful return. He hopped through an open window, landing with a thud on the creaky wooden floor before shaking himself off. The place smelled like stale pizza, old gym socks, and whatever science experiment Blob had left in the sink.
In the living room, Pietro lounged on a worn-out recliner, lazily tossing a baseball up and down at ridiculous speed. Wanda sat on the couch beside him, flipping through channels with a look of pure boredom, occasionally stopping on something before clicking away just as fast.
Hearing Toad's arrival, Pietro perked up, suddenly appearing next to him in a blur of silver and blue. He leaned in with that smug smirk of his, tapping his foot impatiently. "So, what'd you find out?" he asked, voice carrying that usual cocky edge. "Anything on Lance and Blob? The X-Geeks got them locked up somewhere or what?"
Toad scratched the back of his head, looking a little hesitant. "Nah, man, they weren't there, far as I can tell, the X-Men don't know nothin' about what happened to 'em,"
Pietro scowled. "Great," he muttered, crossing his arms.
"But—" Toad interrupted, holding up a finger. "—somethin' crazy happened while I was watchin', like, you ain't gonna believe this, yo,"
Pietro raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued. "Oh yeah? Try me,"
Toad grinned, knowing he had his attention now. "Alright, so get this—I was spyin' on 'em like you told me to, right? Next thing I know, outta nowhere, this blonde dude in freakin' armor comes fallin' outta the sky like some kinda human missile!"
Pietro blinked. "Wait—what?"
"I know, right!?" Toad said, throwing his hands up. "Dude hit the ground like a freaking meteor! Thought he was paste for sure, but when the dust settled? Guy was completely fine! No broken bones, no bruises, nothin'! Just got up like it was a Tuesday,"
Pietro narrowed his eyes, suddenly a lot more interested. "Huh… that is weird." He tapped his chin. "What happened after that?"
"Well, they took him inside, kept him there for a bit, probably askin' him questions," Toad explained, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "Then later, Rogue took him outside and started showin' him around like he was some kinda guest or somethin',"
Pietro's smirk returned, though it was a little more thoughtful this time. "So the X-Men are babysitting some mystery guy who fell from the sky? That's new,"
"Yeah, no clue who he is," Toad admitted, rubbing his chin. "I think his name was John or somethin', sounded French, ya know?"
Pietro paced back and forth, his usual restless energy making it hard for him to stay still. His mind was racing, piecing together the situation as he muttered to himself at super-speed. "Okay, so we still don't know what happened to Lance or Blob, and now the X-Men have some random guy who fell out of the sky just hanging out at their mansion like it's no big deal... This might be something Dad needs to know about,"
Wanda, still lounging on the couch, finally turned away from the TV, her sharp eyes now focused on her brother. "Do you really think the X-Men had something to do with Lance and Blob disappearing?" she asked, her tone skeptical but serious.
Pietro stopped pacing and shook his head. "Nah, kidnapping ain't their style, they're all about playing heroes, remember? But I wanted to make sure, just in case," He crossed his arms, his expression thoughtful. "Still, we should pay 'em a visit, maybe they do know something about Lance and Blob just vanishing on us outta nowhere,"
Wanda studied him for a moment before sighing. "Alright, but we do this the easy way, If we show up looking for a fight, we're gonna lose,"
Pietro scoffed, flashing her a cocky grin. "Maybe, but that's why we've got you, sis! You can take 'em, no problem,"
Wanda rolled her eyes. "Most of them? Sure, but if the Professor decides to step in, I'm screwed," She gave her brother a pointed look. "I don't have Dad's helmet."
Pietro's smirk faltered for a second before he quickly covered it up. "Right… forgot about that," he admitted, rubbing the back of his head. "I could just zip in there, knock him out before he messes with our heads,"
Wanda raised an eyebrow. "You could, but if you do that, the X-Men definitely won't hold back," She leaned forward, resting her arms on her knees. "And if we start a fight, we lose any chance of them helping us find Lance or Blob,"
Pietro clicked his tongue in frustration, crossing his arms as he muttered, "I hate when you make sense," He let out a sigh, rolling his shoulders before relenting. "Alright, alright… fine, We'll do this the easy way, for now,"
Wanda smirked, arms still crossed. "Good,"
Pietro nodded back, mirroring her stance. "Good," There was a brief pause before Pietro added, "Now, I'm gonna let Dad know about this 'Rocket Man' before we head over to the home of those X-Geeks,"
With that, he became a blur of white and blue, zipping upstairs so fast that loose papers around the room fluttered in his wake.
As soon as Pietro was gone, Toad, who had been oddly quiet for once, took his chance. With a quick hop, he launched himself onto the couch, landing right next to Wanda with a grin far too wide for her liking. Before she could react, he draped an arm around her shoulder, pulling her in just slightly.
"So," Toad drawled, his voice dripping with misplaced confidence, "now that we're all alone, what do ya say we have ourselves a little quality time, babe?" He waggled his brows at her, his breath carrying the distinct scent of something unholy—like old gym socks and expired fast food.
Wanda froze for a split second before her expression darkened. Her fingers twitched, crackling faintly with reddish energy. "Yeah, no," she deadpanned.
Before Toad could react, an invisible force yanked him off the couch and sent him hurtling through the air. He crashed into the far wall with a THUD, knocking over a couple of loose picture frames before sliding down in a heap. A low groan escaped him as he lay sprawled on the floor, dazed.
Wanda, now completely unbothered, casually grabbed the remote and resumed flipping through channels. Eventually, she landed on a rerun of Charmed and leaned back, watching as if nothing had happened.
Toad, still facedown on the floor, weakly lifted a hand. "So, uh… rain check?"
Wanda didn't even glance his way. "Try it again, and I'll really get creative,"
Toad let out a defeated whimper, deciding it was in his best interest to stay right where he was.
Chapter 3: What Lies Ahead
Chapter Text
A/N:
I decided to kinda cut back on Rogue's southern accent, I'm not gonna do the whole "Ah = I" thing anymore but the rest will be present, just like how Kitty in the show uses "Like" and "Totally" in certain parts of her sentence, but even that won't be overused.
I just got a few comments saying that Rogue's southern accent didn't really translate to writing form, and I get that, so just to make it easy, I'm not going to make it heavy like I did in the last two chapters.
XXX
XXX
XXX
XXX
XXX
XXX
In the quiet stillness of the Professor's office, Rogue and Jaune stood before Charles Xavier and Logan, having just finished recounting their unexpected encounter with Toad. Sunlight filtered through the tall windows, casting long shadows across the polished floor, as the tension in the room settled in like dust.
Logan leaned back against the wall, arms crossed over his broad chest, brow furrowed in thought. He let out a low, rumbling hum that bordered on a growl as he turned his sharp gaze toward Xavier.
"So, what do you make of this, Charles?" he asked. "You think Magneto's pulling strings again?"
Professor Xavier folded his hands atop his desk and closed his eyes momentarily, deep in thought. "Possibly," he said slowly, his voice calm but measured. "But I find it curious… if Magneto was truly behind this, why send someone as conspicuous as Toad? We haven't made any moves against him, not recently, why spy on us now?"
Rogue shrugged. "Maybe he thinks we're on to him—just waitin' to make a move, could be he's just keepin' tabs en case we stumble onto somethin' he doesn't want us to know,"
Logan scratched at the stubble on his chin, his nose twitching instinctively. "Still doesn't add up," he muttered. "Toad's about as stealthy as a dump truck, If he really wanted eyes on us, he could've sent Wanda, or Pietro,"
The Professor nodded in agreement. "Precisely, and you would've detected Toad the moment he got within range—if Rogue hadn't spotted him first, of course." He gave her a small smile before continuing. "That's what leads me to believe this wasn't Magneto's idea, I suspect this may have been Pietro's doing, but why he'd act without orders is the real question,"
"Probably just bored and lookin' to stir the pot," Logan said with a scoff. "Don't think that kid has a long-term thought in his head, never struck me as the mastermind type,"
Rogue smirked. "Heh, you'd be right about that," she said, clearly amused by the jab.
"Whatever the reason, we'll keep a close watch," Xavier said, his voice steady. "But until we have more information, we can't act recklessly, if the Brotherhood is planning something, we'll find out in time, but for now… we wait,"
"Uh, hate to butt in," Jaune spoke up, raising a hand awkwardly, "but I'm kinda lost here, who exactly are the Brotherhood? And who's this Magneto guy I keep hearing about?" His voice drew the attention of Xavier, Logan, and Rogue.
Rogue shifted her weight, arms crossed as she leaned against the edge of the Professor's desk. "The brotherhood's a bunch of reckless punks who lak throwin' their weight around 'n makin' life harder for the rest of us," she said, her tone tinged with annoyance. "They claim they're fightin' for mutant rights, but all they're doin' is makin' things worse,"
"And Magneto, He's the one callin' the shots—most of the time, anyway," Logan told Jaune. "Real name's Erik Lehnsherr, he's powerful, real powerful, controls metal with his mind,"
"More than just powerful," Rogue added, "He's a full-on mutant supremacist, believes we're the next stage en evolution 'n that humans should git outta the way, thinks it's our right to rule,"
Jaune let out a long sigh and ran a hand down his face. "Wonderful," he muttered. "And here I thought the White Fang meant I'd seen the last of these extremist types,"
Rogue blinked, brow furrowing. "White what?"
"Long story, but to make it short, they were a Faunus rights group turned terrorist group," Jaune said. "Thought violence was the only way,"
Logan's eyes narrowed. "Sounds familiar," he muttered.
Jaune gave a weak laugh. "Yeah, guess fanatics are universal,"
"There's more," Rogue added with a frustrated sigh. "We still don't know if Mystique's back under Magneto's wing or doin' her own thing,"
"Mystique?" Jaune echoed.
"She's a shapeshifter," Rogue said bitterly. "She can mimic anybody—voice, face, the whole dang package, when she's 'round, ya never sure who you're really talkin' to, 'n believe me… ya don't ever wanna turn your back own her,"
At that, Jaune let his head fall back with an exhausted groan. "Are you kidding me?" he asked the ceiling like it had wronged him personally. "First Neo, now Mystique? Is there some cosmic joke where I'm just destined to be stalked by creepy women with identity issues?"
Rogue raised a brow. "Neo?"
"Another long story," Jaune muttered. "Let's just say I've had more than my fair share of shapeshifting assassins,"
Xavier gave a gentle, knowing smile. "You don't have to worry about facing her alone, Jaune, you're among friends now, and whatever dangers lie ahead, we'll face them together," He told Jaune.
Jaune managed a small, tired smile in return, though the weight in his chest hadn't lifted. It never did, not completely. Still… hearing that, it helped. Even just a little.
"As we wait to uncover more about what the Brotherhood might be up to, I'd like to see how you handle yourself in a fight, Jaune," Xavier said, folding his hands calmly on his desk and offering a gentle smile. "If you don't mind, I'd like the others to run you through some exercises in the Danger Room tomorrow, consider it a bit of a… stress test, to see how you measure up against mutants in combat,"
Jaune gave a polite nod, his tone light but confident. "Yeah, I don't mind at all," Jaune said. "Sounds like a good way to stretch my legs,"
Rogue let out a low chuckle as she leaned against the desk. "Heh, sugar… ya really have no idea what ya just signed up for" she teased, a mischievous smirk tugging at the corners of her lips.
Jaune blinked. That smirk sent a chill of doubt crawling up his spine. He'd fought robots, Grimm, and soldiers—but something about the way she said it made him think the Danger Room was gonna live up to its name.
His brow furrowed slightly. "Actually," he said, shifting a little, "There's something important I should bring up. It might sound weird, but… is there anyone here who can repair a sword?"
Logan raised a brow. "A sword?"
Jaune nodded, growing more serious. "Yeah, it's been in my family for generations and more than that, it's… part of me, it broke not long before I landed here, and fighting without it just feels wrong,"
Xavier considered his words thoughtfully. "I'm afraid repairing weapons is not one of my strong suits," he said with a slight smile, "But we may have someone who could assist, there's a young man named Forge—very gifted with machines and materials, he may be able to repair your weapon,"
Logan crossed his arms and grunted thoughtfully. "Forge might manage it, yeah, but if not…" He glanced at Jaune. "I know a guy, little off the grid, bit of a hermit, but a master smith, if anyone can bring that blade back to life, it's him,"
Jaune perked up, eyes lighting with hope. "You know someone who can reforge my sword?"
"Yeah," Logan nodded. "But it'd take a few days to track him down, remote place, off the beaten path, but I'll wait to see what Forge says before I pack a bag, And knowin' him, he'll take an interest in that shield of yours too,"
Jaune blinked. "Wait—how do you know about the shield?"
Logan gave him a sly grin. "You landed hard, kid, The crater might've erased your tracks, but your gear was still intact, I had a peek,"
Before Jaune could respond, Xavier was already reaching for the phone on his desk. "I'll call Forge now. We'll see what he says—and if he's unavailable, then Logan can pursue his… alternative,"
Logan gave a small nod and turned to Jaune. "In the meantime, you can borrow one of my old blades," he offered. "It's not exactly a family heirloom, but it'll get the job done,"
Rogue arched a brow and looked at Logan with a smirk. "You own swords?" she asked, clearly amused. "Ain't claws enough for ya?"
Logan gave a low chuckle, the kind that hinted at a story or two he wasn't about to share. "There's still a lot you don't know about me, kid," he said with a crooked grin. "Besides, sometimes it's good to have a little variety."
Rogue rolled her eyes playfully. "Guess so," she said. Then she turned to Jaune and nodded toward the door. "C'mon, Jaune, let's git ya somethin' to eat, you've bin' crash-landing, meetin' new people, 'n gettin' a dose of all our problem's you've earned some lunch,"
Jaune gave a grateful smile, turning back briefly to nod at the two older men. "Thanks, Professor, thanks, Logan, I appreciate it,"
"Anytime," Xavier said warmly.
"Don't break my sword," Logan added with a smirk.
With that, Rogue and Jaune left the office, their voices fading as they made their way down the hall, Rogue already teasing him about what passed for food in the mansion's kitchen.
As the door clicked shut, Logan let out a low, amused chuckle.
Xavier glanced up from his desk, eyebrow raised. "What is it, Logan?"
Logan leaned back in his chair with a knowing grin. "Rogue called the guy him "Sugar", Chuck,"
Charles tilted his head, catching the significance in Logan's tone.
Logan's smirk widened. "I've never heard her call anyone that,"
"Ah," Xavier said, a faint smile forming. "You believe she's developing feelings for Jaune?"
Logan shrugged. "I've seen the way she looks at most people—wall's always up, but with him?" He shook his head. "She's already letting it down a little, kid's barely been here a day, and she's acting different,"
Xavier sat in thoughtful silence for a moment before giving a soft chuckle of his own. "Well, perhaps Jaune's arrival will have more impact than we first thought,"
Logan glanced toward the door. "Let's just hope he doesn't get himself killed before she figures it out."
As the day quietly faded into night, the Xavier Institute settled into peaceful stillness. The lights were dimmed, and the sounds of life gave way to silence, broken only by the occasional rustle of wind through the trees. Within the mansion, students and staff alike had turned in for the evening, seeking rest after another long day.
In one of the many guest rooms, Jaune lay under the covers, his breathing steady and even. The bed was softer than anything he'd ever slept on back home, and for the first time since his unexpected arrival in this strange world, he allowed himself a moment of true rest. The trials of the day melted into dreams, ones unburdened by battles, loss, or falling through the sky.
But while peace reigned within the walls of the X-Men's sanctuary… the same could not be said for their rivals across town.
At the Brotherhood's run-down boarding house, the night brought something far less restful.
In the pitch-dark hours, just beyond the fence of their property, a ripple shimmered in the air like heat off pavement—before a swirling portal burst open with a low hum. From its depths, two limp forms were hurled out like discarded garbage. Lance and Blob hit the ground with a heavy thud. Blob's sheer mass caused the earth to quake beneath him, jostling the very foundation of the decrepit house. A few loose shingles rattled off the roof, but somehow, no one inside stirred.
The portal remained open for only a moment longer—long enough for three shadowy figures to emerge. Their movements were sharp, practiced, and silent as they slipped through the front door, which creaked open as if expecting them.
Inside, the house was silent save for the occasional snore or the hum of an old refrigerator. The intruders split off, moving with eerie synchronicity.
Two of them crept down opposite halls, stopping at the bedrooms of Toad and Pietro. Doors were pushed open just wide enough for them to slip through. With precision and care, they moved to the beds, injected each boy with a quick-acting sedative, and hoisted their bodies up effortlessly. Neither mutant made a sound as they were carried off.
But upstairs, something different awaited the third intruder.
They entered Wanda's room cautiously, eyes adjusting to the faint moonlight filtering through the cracked blinds. They moved toward the bed slowly, already drawing the syringe from his coat—prepared to put the scarlet-haired girl under just as easily.
But they had made a critical mistake.
As the figure loomed over the bed and leaned in to strike—they realized too late that the figure in the bed was nothing more than an illusion.
The soft hum of energy suddenly burst behind him.
Wanda stepped out of the shadows, the cloaking spell that had concealed her flickering and vanishing like mist. Her eyes glowed crimson as she raised her hand.
Without a word, she summoned a surge of scarlet magic that coiled and wrapped itself around the intruder like living rope. The figure thrashed in the air, struggling against the arcane bindings, but they held tight and dropped them hard onto the floor with a dull thud.
Their mouth opened, but before he could shout or cast, Wanda snapped her fingers—and a magical gag silenced him.
Wanda narrowed her eyes, storm swirling in her gaze. "Wrong room, pal," she whispered coldly. "And definitely the wrong girl to mess with,"
Before Wanda could cast another hex or interrogate the would-be kidnapper, a sudden sharp pain exploded across her back. She was hurled forward by a crackling, glowing harpoon of pure energy. It struck with enough force to blast her into her dresser, shattering it into pieces as she crashed to the floor, groaning in pain.
"Dammit, I said don't kill her, you idiot!" barked a deep, commanding voice from the hallway, tense with frustration and authority. "Sinister will skin us alive if we don't bring her back breathing!"
"What was I supposed to do?!" shouted another voice—this one younger, sharper, definitely that of a panicked teen. "She looked like she was gonna tear Vertigo apart!"
'Vertigo,' Wanda thought. 'That gotta be the name of the one I'd captured'
Through gritted teeth, Wanda pushed herself up, rage burning through the pain. Crimson light flared in her palms. With a furious snarl, she unleashed a violent burst of chaos magic through the doorway, sending the two newcomers flying backward with a blast of raw force that cracked the walls and scorched the ceiling. Their shouts echoed as they were thrown down the hallway like ragdolls.
But the momentary victory came at a cost.
The bindings she had wrapped around Vertigo flickered and faded, the magical restraint unraveling like threads in the wind. The intruder—now free—rose to her feet, smirking as she held out her hands and focused her mutant power.
A strange pulse filled the room.
Wanda staggered, her vision blurred, the floor beneath her seemed to tilt and ripple like water. Her ears rang with a high-pitched tone. Every instinct screamed at her—Vertigo was living up to her name.
"No—no, not now!" she hissed, trying to anchor herself with another surge of magic. But her control was slipping fast. The walls bent in unnatural ways, and her knees buckled.
She knew the signs. Her mind was being tampered with—twisted. If she lost consciousness, they'd drag her back to whoever "Sinister" was.
Mustering the last of her focus, she pivoted, stumbling toward her bedroom window. Each step was like wading through syrup, her balance shot to hell. She clenched her jaw, ignored the pounding in her skull, and threw herself through the glass.
The window shattered into a thousand fragments as she sailed through it, landing hard on the ground below. Pain flared in her shoulder and side, but the fresh air hit her lungs like a reset button.
The dizziness began to lift and her vision cleared.
"Holy crap!" Vertigo shouted from inside, rushing to the window in shock.
Wanda didn't wait. She pushed herself up and bolted, boots crunching against grass and gravel as she sprinted into the night. The chill bit into her skin, but she welcomed it—it kept her alert.
She didn't know who these people were or what they wanted with her, but one thing was clear: they weren't Brotherhood, and this wasn't some petty skirmish. Whoever sent them had resources, coordination, and powers that could rival her own.
But they underestimated one thing... She wasn't about to be taken. So Wanda ran, disappearing into the night like a ghost, her thoughts racing with one singular focus:
'Get help, regroup, and make those jerks pay!' Wanda thought.
XXX
XXX
XXX
The morning sun filtered through the tall windows of the Xavier Institute, but deep beneath the mansion, in the metallic expanse of the Danger Room, the light was artificial—cold and clinical.
Jaune stood in the center of the training arena, gripping a simple arming sword lent to him by Logan. The weight was familiar, though the blade lacked the signature heft and balance of Crocea Mors. Still, the design brought back memories—memories of how his sword looked before it was reforged with Pyrrha's metal. The nostalgia was bittersweet, but he tightened his grip, letting the past settle in his chest without slowing his breath.
Above him, in the observation room, the X-Men watched intently through the glass wall. Cyclops stood with his arms crossed, Beast scribbled notes on a tablet, Jean observed with a measured expression, and Rogue leaned forward slightly with a smirk playing on her lips. Even Kitty and Kurt had come to see what the "new guy" could do.
Logan was already at the control console, arms folded over his chest as he leaned toward the mic and pressed the intercom button.
"Alright, kid," Logan's voice echoed through the chamber with that familiar gruffness. "Before we throw you in with the rest of the team, we wanna see how you handle some of the basics, let's start with a few rust buckets, think of it as a warm-up,"
Jaune smirked and looked up toward the glass, raising his sword slightly in acknowledgment. "Sounds good to me, they won't be a problem for me,"
"Heh, we'll see," Logan muttered with a half-grin as he hit a few buttons.
With a mechanical hiss, sections of the Danger Room walls slid open, revealing five humanoid training robots. Their heavy metallic frames clanked as they stepped forward, glowing red eyes fixed on Jaune. Though scaled down from the massive Sentinels the X-Men had once fought, these replicas still towered over him at nearly nine feet tall—powerful, intimidating, and built for combat simulations.
"They may not be full-size Sentinels," Beast commented from the observation deck, "But they mimic the programming—targeting speed, reaction timing, and coordinated group attacks,"
"Lovely," Jaune muttered under his breath, adjusting his stance.
The robots activated in unison, their servos whirring to life as they charged toward him with practiced precision.
Up in the watch room, Rogue chuckled and leaned toward Jean. "Ten bucks says he lasts longer than Scott did on his first try,"
Jean gave a soft laugh. "You're on,"
Back in the arena, Jaune's eyes narrowed. The sword in his hands felt right. His heartbeat steadied. "Alright then," he whispered to himself, feet shifting into position as the first robot lunged. "Let's dance!"
The first faux-Sentinel lunged with a heavy punch aimed straight at Jaune's head. But the blonde warrior was already moving—rolling to the side just in time as the machine's fist slammed into the ground, cracking the surface with a thunderous impact.
Jaune popped back to his feet, raising his shield. With a flick of his wrist, he triggered the Gravity Dust embedded within it. A powerful burst of force erupted from the shield's center, slamming into the Sentinel's midsection. The mechanical giant stumbled sideways with a metallic groan, momentarily off-balance.
But there was no time to breathe. Another one was already closing in.
The second Sentinel reached out with both arms, trying to seize him in a crushing grip. Jaune sidestepped at the last second, causing its fingers to snap shut around empty air. With a burst of motion, Jaune spun around and drove his sword into the robot's side. Sparks exploded from the impact, and the Sentinel jerked violently, its limbs twitching before it dropped to one knee and powered down, its core flickering out.
"One down," Jaune muttered, kicking the deactivated machine off his blade.
A sudden whine of energy cut through the air—blaster fire. He barely had time to react as the third and fourth Sentinels unleashed a barrage of glowing bolts from their arm-mounted cannons. Jaune ducked and rolled, weaving between the shots, his heart pounding as searing heat passed just inches from his armor.
He dashed forward, shield raised, intent on closing the gap. But before he could reach the gunners, the first recovered and charged, and the fifth flanked him from the opposite side.
Jaune made a snap decision.
With a sharp pivot, he sprinted toward the fifth, hurling his shield with all the strength he could muster. The disc spun through the air like a flying sawblade and smashed into the Sentinel's head, knocking it back with a cascade of sparks and a satisfying crunch. Without slowing down, Jaune slid in, caught the falling shield mid-motion, and followed through with a powerful slash across the robot's torso. His blade sliced clean through the weakened armor, cleaving the machine in half. The pieces dropped in a heap behind him.
"Two down," he said under his breath, chest rising with exertion.
He turned to retrieve his footing—but too late.
The first Sentinel struck from behind, its massive fist crashing into Jaune's side like a wrecking ball. The impact sent him flying across the Danger Room, tumbling end over end before he slammed hard into the floor.
"Jaune!" Rogue gasped from the observation deck, gripping the railing.
Logan, however, remained steady, his eyes narrowed. "Let's see what the kid's really made of," he muttered.
Down below, Jaune groaned and pushed himself up slowly, his vision swimming for a moment. "Okay… that hurt," he grumbled, tightening his grip on the sword.
Jaune narrowed his eyes at the remaining three Sentinels, his breaths coming steady but sharp. His aura shimmered faintly around him, a translucent veil of white energy flickering in and out.
'They hit hard,' Jaune thought, tightening his grip on the sword. 'Not hard enough to break through my aura completely, but enough to chip away at it if I get careless... I've gotta end this fast before I run out of cushion,'
With a determined shout, he charged forward, sword in one hand, shield in the other. The Sentinels responded immediately—energy cannons glowing before unleashing a fresh barrage of plasma blasts.
Jaune zigzagged through the danger, his body weaving in and out with practiced footwork. He deflected two blasts with his shield and tanked a third against his aura, wincing as the protective field around him rippled and dimmed.
Jaune finally closed the gap, the Sentinels ceased their blaster fire, opting instead for brute force.
The first Sentinel went for a sweeping kick aimed at Jaune's midsection, its heavy metal leg whistling through the air. Jaune ducked just in time, narrowly avoiding the blow, and retaliated with a swift slash at the joint. Sparks flew as his blade severed the mechanical foot, sending the bot staggering back and crashing awkwardly to the ground, struggling to balance on its now-mangled limb.
He spun just in time to face the third, which launched a powerful right hook. Jaune ducked under it, feeling the wind of the punch rush past his head. But before he could recover, the fourth Sentinel was already mid-swing with a rising uppercut.
Jaune took the hit square in the chest.
He was lifted off the ground and sent flying backward, his aura flaring violently as it absorbed the brunt of the impact. He crashed to the floor and slid several feet before skidding to a halt, coughing and blinking through the stars in his vision.
"That aura thing of his sure is handy," Kitty said in awe. "If it were me, I'd have been knocked out like, ten times already!"
"Tell me about it! He's totally killin' it down there!" Kurt said enthusiastically, his tail swishing behind him as he watched Jaune duck and counter through the Danger Room simulation.
Jean nodded, her arms folded, but a small, impressed smile tugged at her lips. "He's handling himself surprisingly well," she admitted. "Better than I expected, especially considering he's up against three Sentinels,"
Rogue smirked and leaned closer to Jean. "Mmhmm, 'n I believe someone is gonna owe meh ten bucks by the end of this," she teased with a playful elbow to Jean's side.
Jean rolled her eyes, but her expression softened with amusement. "You're really going to make me pay up over a friendly training session?"
"Absolutely," Rogue said with a wink. "A bet's a bet,"
Despite the joking, Jean couldn't deny the truth—Jaune was exceeding her expectations. His movements were instinctive but precise, clearly shaped by experience and not just training simulations. She could feel his focus, the steady stream of thought behind his actions. He wasn't just reacting—he was thinking, adapting.
Meanwhile, Scott stood beside Logan with his arms crossed, observing Jaune carefully through his visor. He hadn't said much, but there was no denying the flicker of admiration in his eyes.
"Gotta admit," Scott finally spoke, "The guy's doing better than I did during my first run against those bots,"
Logan let out a low grunt of agreement, his gaze sharp. "He moves like someone who's had to fight to stay alive, not just win a sparring match."
Scott gave a small nod. "Makes me wonder what his world is like end up with instincts like that,"
"Hard one," Logan replied simply, still watching Jaune fight with a hint of a smirk. "But don't start clappin' yet, he's still got two on their feet... Let's see how he finishes this,"
Back in the Danger Room, Jaune rolled to the side just as the fourth Sentinel's heavy arm came crashing down where he'd stood a second ago. Dust kicked up from the impact, but Jaune didn't hesitate—he pivoted mid-roll, came up on one knee, and slashed across the robot's right arm with a fierce swipe of Logan's arming sword. The limb detached with a shower of sparks, spinning away as the machine reeled.
Before it could retaliate, Jaune surged forward and drove the blade deep into the Sentinel's neck joint. With a grunt, he twisted the hilt and then yanked upward, prying the head off like the cap on a bottle. The mechanical skull clattered to the ground with a metallic thud as the rest of the robot slumped lifelessly behind it.
Jaune barely had a moment to catch his breath before the third Sentinel barreled at him with a punch. He brought his shield up just in time, the impact rattling his arm and sending him skidding backward across the floor, leaving faint drag lines in the ground. His forearm buzzed from the force, but his aura held steady. Gritting his teeth, Jaune dug in his boots and launched forward again.
This time, when the Sentinel raised its left arm to parry, Jaune anticipated it. He feinted low, then came in high and severed the arm cleanly at the elbow. Sparks burst out of the stump. With a quick spin, Jaune followed up with a powerful slash across the machine's torso. The blade bit deep into its reinforced plating, carving halfway through before the Sentinel staggered, convulsed, and collapsed into a sparking pile of scrap metal.
Breathing heavier now, Jaune turned—just in time to hear the distinct whine of a charging blaster.
His eyes widened. "Oh, come-!"
The first Sentinel had powered back up and was already aiming.
FWOOOOM!
A beam of searing energy lanced out toward him. Jaune threw his shield up, bracing himself. The impact hit like a freight train. He dug in, as the blast pounded against him. Gritting his teeth, Jaune growled through the strain and began to push forward, step by determined step.
Every second felt like a minute, but slowly, he closed the distance, eyes locked on the Sentinel's glowing barrel. When he finally got close enough, he sidestepped the beam with a burst of speed and brought his sword down in one clean arc, slicing through the blaster arm and sending it clattering to the ground in a shower of metal.
The robot seemed to pause, looking at its now-useless limb as if confused.
"Let me help you with that," Jaune muttered.
With one last push, he drove the blade into the Sentinel's faceplate. The lights in its eyes flickered, then went out. A second later, the head sparked violently and exploded in a small burst of electricity, the rest of the body collapsing to the floor with a metallic groan.
Silence returned to the Danger Room.
Jaune stood among the sparking ruins of the five downed Sentinels, chest rising and falling with effort, sword still in hand. He slowly lowered his shield and looked up toward the control room.
The test was over. He'd won.
Jaune glanced up at the observation window above and flashed a confident grin. "How was that?" he called out, still catching his breath but clearly proud of the outcome.
In the control room, Logan leaned forward and pressed the intercom button, a crooked smirk tugging at his face. "Not bad, kid, not bad at all,"
Rogue let out a low whistle as she turned to Jean with a knowing grin and held out her hand. "Told ya," She said. "Pay up, Red,"
Jean let out a sigh, already reaching into her pocket. "I hate when you're right," she muttered, handing over a crumpled ten-dollar bill as Rogue smugly pocketed her winnings.
Meanwhile, Beast was nearly vibrating with excitement as he scribbled something frantically into his notes, then adjusted his glasses as he looked up toward the combat floor. "Astounding! Jaune's agility, tactical adaptability, and raw physical coordination place him well above the average combatant—possibly even rivaling your own reflexes, Logan, and that Aura of his… truly remarkable! It functions as a passive kinetic shield, absorbing force with almost minimal recoil," He paused and frowned slightly. "Still, I would have loved to witness more of his Semblance in action,"
Logan chuckled and gave Beast a look. "Easy Hank, you'll have your chance to poke and prod later, for now…" He stood up straight and looked over at the gathered group of young X-Men with a mischievous gleam in his eye. "Alright team, time for round two, let's see how the golden boy handles a little heat from the real deal,"
Scott crossed his arms and grinned as the door to the training floor hissed open. "About time," he muttered with a note of anticipation in his voice. He started walking toward the exit, his tone casual but charged with energy. "Gotta admit, I'm kinda looking forward to this, let's see what the new guy's really made of,"
In a sudden bamf of blue smoke, Kurt appeared right beside him, keeping pace with an eager bounce in his step. "Haha! Ja, me too! I love a good spar—it keeps things interesting!"
Jean followed behind the two with a soft smile and a raised brow. "Boys and their need to test each other," she said with a playful shake of her head.
Rogue nudged Jean gently with her shoulder, a smirk tugging at her lips. "Oh don't go actin' lak ya're above it, you're just as curious as the rest of us," she said.
Jean rolled her eyes, but her grin gave her away. "Maybe a little,"
"Just a little?" Kitty Pryde chimed in, skipping ahead slightly. "Come on! This is totally gonna be awesome! Jaune's got that medieval knight vibe going, and I'm dying to see how he stacks up against us!"
As the team filtered out of the control room and into the corridor leading to the Danger Room floor, Logan leaned back in his chair, arms folded, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
Beside him, Beast set down his tablet and looked to Logan thoughtfully. "So… any predictions?"
Logan's eyes never left the monitors. "The team's solid. They've trained for this. But the kid's been fighting monsters back in his world since he was what—fourteen? He's got grit. Raw instinct."
Beast raised a curious brow. "So…?"
Logan smirked. "I think they'll hold their own just fine—but I've got a hunch blondie's gonna throw them a curveball or two."
Beast chuckled, already flipping to a new page in his notes. "Now that will be fascinating to document."
Down below, Jaune adjusted his grip on the sword Logan had lent him. He could hear the soft hiss of the entrance doors opening behind him, and a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
The next round was about to begin.
Jaune stood at the center of the Danger Room, casually spinning the arming sword in his hand as the X-Men team filed in through the entrance. His shield was already strapped to his arm, and a confident glint sparkled in his eye as he sized up the group.
"You guys know how to handle someone with a weapon, right? I'd hate to hurt anyone," Jaune said.
Scott grinned and adjusted his visor. "We've had our fair share of sword-swinging opponents," he replied. "Just don't go full medieval and start chopping off heads—we'll get along fine,"
Jaune chuckled and gave his blade one last flourish before sliding into a ready stance. "Fair warning—I'm not holding back,"
The room buzzed with tension for a split second—and then chaos erupted.
Scott fired off the first few optic blasts, rapid and precise. Jaune raised his shield just in time, the beams slamming against it with resounding force. Sparks danced across the surface of the metal, but Jaune didn't flinch. Instead, he darted to the side, weaving between shots, trying to flank the team.
As he moved to circle around them, a sudden burst of smoke signaled Kurt's arrival directly in Jaune's path. The blue-skinned mutant lunged forward with his arms outstretched, aiming to teleport Jaune straight into the air—where Jean was already hovering, ready to catch him in a telekinetic grip.
But Jaune caught sight of Kurt just in time. He didn't slow down—instead, he smirked.
Kurt's eyes widened. "Huh?"
Before he could react, the twin crescent emblems on Jaune's shield pulsed with violet energy. A concussive wave of force exploded from the shield, slamming into Kurt mid-leap and sending him hurtling backward like a ragdoll. He crashed into the far wall with a loud thud before crumpling to the ground in a groaning heap.
"Nice try Kurt," Jaune muttered—just before one of Scott's blasts nailed him in the ribs.
Jaune let out a grunt as the impact knocked him sideways, his aura flaring momentarily to absorb the worst of the blow. He staggered, struggling to get back to his feet—just as Kitty phased up from the floor right beside him, her hand reaching out to grab his ankle.
Her intent was clear: phase him into the ground, trap him.
But Jaune's instincts kicked in fast. He rolled to the side just in time, narrowly avoiding her grasp. As he came up on one knee, he twisted his body and lunged forward, slamming his shield into Kitty's midsection with a solid wham.
She yelped and stumbled backward, her concentration breaking as she reflexively phased through the floor again to avoid further hits.
Jaune stood, breathing a little heavier but still focused, scanning the room for the next attack.
The next attack came crashing in—quite literally—as Rogue launched herself toward Jaune like a missile, her fist cocked back and eyes locked onto her target. Jaune barely had time to react, sidestepping just as she came barreling past him. The sheer force of her landing sent a tremor through the floor.
Jaune didn't hesitate. He spun on his heel and swung his shield, aiming to bash her aside like he had with Kitty—but Rogue was quicker than she looked. She rolled fluidly to the side, narrowly evading the attack, and popped back up to her feet in a smooth, practiced motion.
Now facing him head-on, Rogue raised her fists and settled into a boxer's stance. Her knuckles cracked audibly as she gave him a smirk that was half-challenge, half-teasing.
Jaune grinned in response, tightening his grip on his weapon.
But he didn't get the first move.
Rogue blitzed forward again, fists flying. Jaune swung horizontally to intercept her charge, aiming to catch her in the ribs and knock her off balance. His blade cut through the air—and through her.
For a heartbeat, Jaune thought his strike had landed, but there was no resistance. No contact. Rogue had passed through it like smoke.
His eyes widened. 'She phased?' he thought.
It clicked instantly—she must have absorbed Kitty's powers before the match started.
'Clever,' he thought, but that realization came half a second too late.
Rogue's fist slammed into the side of his jaw, his aura flaring as it absorbed the hit. The blow sent Jaune stumbling back a step, and before he could regain his footing, a second punch drove into his gut, knocking the wind from his lungs.
Then, with a surprising burst of strength, Rogue seized his sword arm with both hands. With a twist and a sharp pivot, she flipped Jaune clean over her shoulder. He hit the ground hard, the air knocked from his lungs as his back slammed against the metal floor.
Rogue loomed over him with a smug grin. She raised her foot, ready to stomp down and end the match right there.
But Jaune wasn't done yet.
With a grunt, he raised his shield just in time to catch her stomp, the impact rattling through his arm. He pushed upward, forcing Rogue off balance and sending her tumbling backward.
He scrambled to his feet, sword at the ready—but didn't have a chance to catch his breath before another optic blast from Scott lanced across the room and struck him in the side.
"Guh!" Jaune winced, his aura shimmering as it absorbed the hit.
He stumbled but caught himself, then raised his shield again as two more blasts came in hot. They crashed against the metal surface with sharp clangs, but this time, Jaune was ready.
Without warning, a puff of sulfur-scented smoke exploded behind Jaune, followed by the unmistakable sound of teleportation.
"Peek-a-boo!" Kurt's voice rang out cheerfully.
Before Jaune could react, two arms wrapped around his torso, and in the blink of an eye, the world around him blinked away.
A split second later, the two reappeared nearly ten feet above the ground. Jaune's eyes widened at the sudden altitude, just as gravity yanked them both downward.
"Wait! Kurt!" Jaune shouted.
But the agile mutant had already kicked off Jaune's chest mid-fall, flipping in the air with casual grace. With another BAMF, Kurt vanished in a puff of smoke, safely teleporting back to the ground below—leaving Jaune to plummet solo.
Jaune gritted his teeth and braced for impact—only to suddenly stop midair with a strange, floating sensation. He blinked in confusion, limbs tensed, until he noticed a faint telekinetic glow surrounding him.
Turning his head, he spotted Jean standing calmly with her hand extended, a confident smirk on her face.
"Uh... thanks?" Jaune muttered, still hovering awkwardly.
Jean's smirk grew. "Don't thank me just yet," she replied coolly. "Now Scott!"
Scott, already lining up the shot, nodded and grinned. "With pleasure,"
A beam of crimson energy lanced from his visor and struck Jaune midair, blasting him sideways.
"Gah!" Jaune grunted as he was flung out of Jean's telekinetic grasp. Before he could even hit the ground, Jean caught him again—and this time, she didn't go gentle.
With a flick of her wrist, she hurled him straight at the wall like a cannonball.
"Ah!" Jaune cried out as he slammed into the reinforced metal with a clang, dropping both his sword and shield as he crumpled to the floor.
Groaning, Jaune tried to push himself upright—but Kitty emerged from the ground beside him with a mischievous grin.
"Surprise again!" she chirped, and then delivered a spinning kick right to his jaw.
The hit snapped his head to the side, sending him sprawling across the floor and onto his back. His vision blurred for a second, his aura flaring faintly as it tried to absorb the brunt of the strike.
Before he could gather his bearings, a shadow loomed over him.
Scott stepped into view, visor glowing faintly as he looked down at Jaune with a triumphant smirk.
"Don't even think about it," he said, his finger hovering near the trigger.
Jaune slowly tilted his head up, blinking through the haze of fatigue and the ache thrumming through his limbs. Standing over him, Scott kept his visor aimed down, but Jaune could see the rest of the team closing in behind him—Jean, Rogue, Kitty, Kurt—all forming a loose circle around the downed knight.
Despite the bruises and exhaustion, a crooked grin tugged at the corner of Jaune's mouth.
He let out a breathless chuckle. "Alright, alright... you got me," he said, raising both hands in mock surrender. "I yield, you win,"
Scott let out a short laugh and powered down his visor with a soft click, the glow fading from the ruby-red lens.
"Smart choice," he said, his tone light and teasing. Then, without a hint of arrogance, he extended his hand. "Nice work out there,"
Jaune didn't hesitate, He reached up, grasped Scott's hand firmly, and let the other teen haul him to his feet.
"Thanks," Jaune replied with a grateful nod, brushing some dust from his tunic. "You guys fight like a unit... I can respect that,"
Scott gave him a proud grin. "So do you, you held your own longer than most would've," He said. "That aura of yours? Definitely a game changer,"
Jaune shrugged, still smiling through the soreness. "Yeah, but it only gets me so far when I'm getting juggled between teleporters and telekinetics,"
"Then you're learning fast," Jean added as she stepped up beside Scott, her expression warm. "You kept adapting the whole time,"
"Glad you think so," Jaune said, wincing slightly as he rolled his shoulder. "Because I'm definitely going to feel this tomorrow,"
Laughter echoed throughout the Danger Room as the tension from the friendly spar dissolved. The group shared smiles, their camaraderie strengthened by the exercise. Even Jaune, despite the bruises and fatigue, couldn't help but grin as he leaned on his shield like a crutch.
But then the atmosphere shifted in an instant.
A sharp, blaring alarm sounded through the room, shrill and urgent. Red warning lights flashed from the corners of the chamber, bathing the space in a pulsing glow.
Everyone snapped to attention.
Jaune straightened, his brows knitting together. "What the hell is that?"
"Emergency alarm, but I don't know why it's going off," He looked up toward the observation deck. "Logan! What's going on!?"
Logan's voice cracked through the intercom, edged with urgency. "Not sure yet Summers, but Charles needs everyone topside, now! Move it!"
Scott didn't hesitate. "Let's go!" he barked, turning on his heel and sprinting toward the exit.
The others followed immediately, all business now. They moved with practiced efficiency, racing down the corridor and filing into the elevator in seconds. As it shot upward, the team stood in tense silence, the flashing red lights reflecting off the metal walls around them.
Inside the tight space, adrenaline still fresh in their veins, the air was thick with questions.
Jaune glanced at Rogue beside him. "You think it's Magneto?"
She frowned slightly, arms crossed, the playful spark from earlier gone. "Wouldn't rule it out," she said.
Scott turned his head toward them, his expression sharpening. "Magneto? What makes you think he's involved?"
Rogue shrugged, but her tone was serious. "Toad was snoopin' around yesterday, Jaune 'n I spotted him," She replied. "We told Logan 'n The Professor, but they didn't seem too worried at the time 'n said to let it be till we knew more,"
After what felt like the longest elevator ride of their lives, the doors finally slid open with a hiss. Without missing a beat, the team bolted down the hall, through the foyer, and out the front doors of the mansion. Logan and Beast were already waiting outside, having taken a quicker route.
The sight awaiting them at the wrought-iron gates—now bent and forced open—was enough to ruin any sense of calm.
Walking through the broken threshold were three familiar figures: Wanda Maximoff, Lance Alvers, and Fred Dukes—better known as the Brotherhood's Scarlet Witch, Avalanche, and Blob. The trio approached with tense, guarded expressions, stepping deliberately across the manicured lawn.
Scott was the first to react. He brought a hand to his visor, ready to fire at a moment's notice. Jaune instinctively gripped his shield and sword hilt, moving slightly in front of Kitty and Jean. Logan, beside them, growled low in his throat as his claws slid out with a sharp shnk.
"What are you three doing here?!" Scott called out, voice hard and commanding.
Lance stepped forward, his own stance wary but not aggressive. His eyes locked with Scott's in a silent standoff. "Easy Summers, we're not looking for a fight," he said evenly.
Scott scoffed, narrowing his eyes. "Oh yeah? Then what do you call busting through our gates?"
Lance opened his mouth to retort, but Wanda quickly stepped in front of him, raising her hands in a calming gesture.
"We're sorry about the gate," Wanda said, her voice steady but urgent. "But it's an emergency,"
The tension in the air thickened as she continued.
"We were attacked last night," she said, glancing between the X-Men. "Whoever they were, they took Toad and Pietro… and they tried to kidnap me,"
A flicker of surprise and concern passed over several of the team members' faces.
Jean stepped forward slightly, her tone skeptical. "And you think we had something to do with it?"
Wanda shook her head firmly. "No. Unless you know anyone by the name of Vertigo… or Sinister,"
At the mention of the names, Logan's expression turned to stone. His claws retracted with a soft hiss as he stepped forward, speaking with uncharacteristic seriousness.
"We don't," Logan said.
Before anyone could say another word, a quiet hum echoed across the courtyard as Charles Xavier's wheelchair approached from the mansion's main entrance. The Professor stopped behind the group, his composed gaze sweeping across both the X-Men and the unexpected Brotherhood visitors.
"What is going on here?" he asked calmly, his voice even but carrying a note of concern. His eyes landed on Wanda, and his expression shifted subtly—concern deepening into worry. "Wanda… what's the matter?"
Wanda stepped forward, her usual confidence laced with distress. "Pietro and Toad were kidnapped last night," she said, her voice sharp with urgency. "They took Lance and Blob a few nights ago, but brought them back last night… and then took my brother and Toad, they tried to take me, too,"
The weight of her words hit like a thunderclap. The group went still.
Xavier's eyes widened, his calm mask cracking for a moment. "What!?" he exclaimed, clearly shaken. "Did you see who they were?"
Wanda shook her head, folding her arms tightly across her chest as if trying to shield herself from the memory. "No… it was too dark, but the woman who tried to kidnap me called herself Vertigo, and she said something about someone named Sinister… Said he wanted us taken back alive,"
The moment that name left her lips, Xavier froze, the color draining from his face. "Sinister!? Are you sure that was the name you heard!?" he asked, his tone a mix of disbelief and dread.
Wanda nodded solemnly. "Yeah, I heard it clearly,"
Logan stepped forward, his brows furrowed and his voice low and gruff. "Chuck… do you know who he is?"
The Professor nodded slowly, as if the answer weighed heavily on him. "I'm afraid I do… If it truly is him, then we may be dealing with something far worse than any of us imagined," he said, exhaling a deep sigh. He turned his attention back to Wanda, his voice urgent but still gentle. "Wanda… is there any way to contact your father?"
Wanda shook her head, frustration flickering in her eyes. "No," She replied. "Only Pietro knew how to reach him,"
Hearing Wanda's response, Xavier's expression grew even more grave. The hope of reaching out to Magneto—an uneasy ally at best—had just slipped away with Pietro's disappearance.
"Then I fear we're on our own," the Professor said quietly, the weight of the situation evident in his voice. He turned his chair back toward the mansion, his usual calm now laced with urgency. "Come in, all of you, we have much to discuss,"
Without another word, Xavier rolled toward the entrance of the building, the heavy silence of the courtyard broken only by the shuffle of boots on stone as the group followed behind. The X-Men moved with practiced unity, while the Brotherhood trailed a few steps back, tension still thick between the two groups despite the shared threat.
Jaune walked somewhere in the middle, glancing from the mansion doors to the overcast sky above. His hand instinctively rested on the hilt of his sheathed sword at his side, though they were no longer in combat.
He let out a quiet sigh, his brow furrowed as a chill ran down his spine.
"I've got a bad feeling about this," he muttered under his breath, more to himself than anyone else.
Rogue, walking beside him, caught the words and gave him a sideways glance. "You 'n me both," she replied.
As the doors of the Xavier Institute closed behind them, it felt like the calm before a storm—one that none of them, not even Xavier, fully understood yet.
XXX
XXX
XXX
Looks like our hero's can't even catch a break.
Now, I said that the first major Arc of the story was going to be the Dark Pheonix storyline and it still is, but I'm introducing Mister Sinister and his Murauder's now to set up both the "Mutant Massacar" Arc and the "War with Murauders" Arc of the story, while also setting up the appearance of Madelyne Pryor.
Anyway! I hope you enjoyed this chapter and are waiting to see what happens next because it's gonna be exciting!
Chapter 4: The Knight, Rogue, and Witch
Chapter Text
XXX
XXX
XXX
XXX
XXX
XXX
Inside the underground meeting room of the Xavier Institute, tension hung heavy in the air. The X-Men and the Brotherhood—two groups usually on opposing sides—stood or sat around the long circular table, their eyes all fixed on Professor Charles Xavier. The stark lighting overhead did little to warm the chill of unease spreading through the room.
Charles, seated at the head of the table in his wheelchair, folded his hands before him and let out a tired sigh. "This Mister Sinister... is someone both Erik and I knew long ago, back when we were still young men searching for our place in the world—before our ideologies pulled us down different paths," He looked around at the gathered group, his gaze lingering on each face—students, warriors, even former enemies—before continuing. "While searching for fellow mutants, Erik and I came across a man named Nathaniel Essex, he was a brilliant geneticist... a scientist obsessed with perfecting the human species, but unlike someone like Senator Kelly, Essex believed mutants were the future—an evolutionary step beyond humanity,"
Scott leaned forward, frowning. "Then why is he dangerous?"
Xavier's face darkened. "Because his belief in mutant superiority wasn't tempered with morality, Essex believed only certain mutants—those with what he deemed strong or useful genetic traits—deserved to exist, he considered others... unworthy,"
Jean furrowed her brow, her voice cautious. "What do you mean, Professor?"
He met her gaze, his tone low but clear. "Essex believed that mutants who didn't possess "powerful enough" genes were contaminants—threats to the future of the mutant genome, in his eyes, they could corrupt the gene pool if allowed to reproduce or pass on "inferior" mutations,"
A beat of silence passed before Lance scoffed and leaned back in his chair. "If that's true, then why didn't he just get rid of Blob? Or Toad? He didn't exactly kidnap them for his brains,"
All eyes shifted to the Brotherhood boy, but Charles remained composed as he answered. "It's likely that Essex didn't take you to keep you—but rather to harvest what he needed, he's no doubt extracting and studying the X-Gene that causes your mutations," He told Lance. "Once he isolates it, he'll try to splice it, refine it... manipulate your DNA to create more efficient versions of your abilities, or to combine them into something else entirely,"
Beast looked disturbed by the idea. "Weaponizing specific traits," he muttered. "Like building a mutant from scratch,"
Charles nodded grimly. "Exactly," He paused for a long moment before continuing, the memories clearly weighing on him. "For a time, Erik and I worked with Essex, we believed he was trying to help mutants find their place in a world that feared them, but it didn't take long to realize the truth, He wasn't saving us—he was selecting us, categorizing us, and eliminating those he deemed flawed,"
"What happened?" Rogue asked quietly.
Xavier's voice was heavy. "We confronted him, tried to stop him, but by then... he had already begun experimenting on himself," He said. "Essex had re-engineered his own genome, granting himself multiple mutations—he wasn't the same man we had once met, He became something else... Something Sinister,"
"Whoa! Hold on!" Kurt exclaimed, his eyes wide in disbelief as he leaned forward in his chair. "He could do that!?"
Professor Xavier gave a solemn nod, folding his hands atop the table. "Yes, Nathaniel Essex was a genius—brilliant in ways few of his time, or ours, could comprehend, and while I despise admitting this... it was thanks to his early research that both Erik and I were able to understand our own kind more thoroughly," He said "Much of what we know about the X-Gene came from the groundwork he laid, it's even likely how Magneto eventually developed the Cauldron," He glanced to the group with gravity in his voice.
That earned more than a few looks of concern.
"How'd you stop him?" Jaune asked, speaking up from where he stood near the back of the room. His tone was calm, but there was a cautious edge to it. Even with all the monsters and people he'd faced, something about this made his skin crawl.
Charles's expression turned grim, the weight of old memories surfacing like anchors rising from the deep. He let out a slow, heavy sigh. "I tried to stop him using my telepathy, I attempted to reason with him at first, to reach whatever humanity might've still remained in him... but Essex had prepared for that, he had altered his mind—fortified it, in fact, his psychic resistance was nearly equal to mine,"
There was a pause, long and heavy.
"In the end," Charles continued, his voice quieter now, "With my efforts failing, Erik took matters into his own hands... He attacked without hesitation—and he killed Essex,"
A tense silence filled the room, broken only a second later by Scott, who leaned forward with a frown. "Then if Essex is dead, how is he alive now? Walking around as this Mister Sinister?"
"I wish I had an answer," Xavier replied honestly. "All I know for certain is that I saw Essex die that day, I felt his mind vanish from the world, and to our knowledge, he had no family—no offspring or close allies to carry on his work,"
He looked at each of them, concern etched deeply into his face.
"If someone calling themselves Mister Sinister is truly operating now... then either Essex somehow survived, or we're dealing with a highly informed copycat,"
"If we are dealing with some sort of copy," Kitty spoke up, "Then we just gotta stop them, right?"
The Professor gave her a firm nod, his tone resolute. "Yes, whoever this is, they are kidnapping mutants and attempting to do who-knows-what with their genetics... That alone makes them a threat to all of us," He then turned his gaze to the Brotherhood members seated near the end of the table—Wanda, Lance, and Blob—his expression softening just slightly. "Which is why the X-Men will help you retrieve Toad and Pietro... and stop whoever is behind this,"
"But how do we get them back?" Wanda asked, frustration laced in her voice as she crossed her arms. "We don't even know where they are,"
Professor Xavier nodded slowly, his fingers steepled before him in thought. "I believe... we may not have to go looking for them," he began calmly. "If what you say is true, and Lance and Blob were taken and then returned, it's likely that Pietro and Toad will be as well, and whoever is behind this—Sinister—he failed to capture you, Wanda, that makes you a priority target now,"
Wanda's eyes narrowed slightly, her fists tightening at her sides.
Charles continued, "When they bring your brother and toad back, I suspect it will only be to lure you out again, but this time, you won't be alone," He told her. "I'll send some of my X-Men to stay with you, at your home, ready for whatever may come,"
Blob grunted and raised an eyebrow. "Hang on, can't you just like read our minds or something?"
The Professor shook his head regretfully. "I already attempted that when Wanda explained the situation, I looked through both yours and Lance's thoughts... but there was nothing," He told Blob. "No memory of where you were taken, whoever had you either erased the memories or ensured you were kept unconscious the entire time,"
Wanda looked at him with a steady, determined gaze. "Then we'll take your help, Professor," She said. "If it means getting my brother back... we'll work together,"
Xavier gave her a grateful nod. "Thank you, Wanda, that means more than you know," He then turned toward his students, his voice calm but firm. "Now—who among you is willing to accompany the Brotherhood back to their house? I'll leave the choice to each of you,"
There was a pause as the usual team exchanged looks, uncertain. It wasn't every day that the X-Men were asked to team up with the Brotherhood. Old rivalries and differences loomed large in their minds.
"I'll go,"
The voice cut clean through the quiet room, drawing every eye toward the speaker. At the far end of the table, standing just behind Rogue's chair, was Jaune. He stood tall, his arms relaxed at his sides, but there was a quiet determination in his gaze that made even the Brotherhood pause.
Professor Xavier looked toward him with a concerned expression, his hands folding neatly in his lap. "Jaune, are you sure?" he asked gently. "You're still rather... new to all of this," he added, carefully avoiding any mention of Jaune's unique origins in front of the Brotherhood.
Jaune nodded without hesitation. "Yeah, it's fine, Professor," he said with a confident smile. "Besides, you've already seen what I can do, I'll be fine,"
Before anyone else could speak, Rogue's chair scraped slightly against the floor as she stood up beside him. "I'll go with him," she said, her voice clear and firm, leaving no room for debate.
Logan, who had been leaning silently against the wall with his arms crossed, let out a low, gravelly hum as he glanced at Charles. "Guess I'm goin' too, Chuck," he said, pushing off the wall. "Can't let all the kids have the fun,"
Charles gave a slow, thoughtful nod. "Very well, Jaune, Rogue, and Logan—you'll return with Wanda and the others to the Brotherhood's boarding house, do what you can to keep her safe, and stay alert," he said. "As for the rest of us, we'll continue our preparations here." he added, turning toward the remainder of the group.
Kurt leaned forward, his tail flicking behind him with unease. "Preparations for what, Professor?"
Charles's expression darkened, his voice growing more serious. "For Sinister's arrival," he said plainly. "We can't afford to assume he'll stop with the Brotherhood, if he is planning something larger, it's only a matter of time before he turns his sights on the rest of us, that means we need to be ready for anything,"
A heavy silence followed his words—one filled with quiet resolve.
With the meeting adjourned, the group slowly began to file out of the underground chamber, their footsteps echoing softly through the corridor as they made their way back toward the surface. Tension still lingered in the air, despite the mission ahead being clear.
Wanda walked a few paces behind the others, arms crossed loosely over her chest. Her eyes drifted toward the unfamiliar blonde near the front of the group—Jaune, the one who'd volunteered to protect her alongside Rogue and Logan. She frowned slightly, her curiosity piqued. She had never seen him at the mansion before, and she certainly didn't remember Magneto ever mentioning him.
A few quick steps brought her shoulder to shoulder with Rogue, who walked just ahead. "Hey, Rogue," Wanda said, tilting her head toward her fellow goth.
Rogue glanced sideways at her, one brow lifting. "What's up?"
Wanda subtly nodded toward Jaune. "Who's the blonde?" she asked, lowering her voice a little. "I've never seen him around here before."
A smirk tugged at the corner of Rogue's lips. "Funny," she said, "I figured Toad woulda told y'all about him before he got snatched, he was spyin' on us just the other day,"
Wanda blinked. "Wait, that's the guy that fell outta the sky?" she asked, surprised. "I heard Toad telling Pietro about him, but he didn't say much... His name's John, right?"
"Close," Rogue replied with a slight chuckle. "It's Jaune. J-A-U-N-E."
Wanda raised an eyebrow. "What is he, French or somethin'?"
"Somethin' lak that," Rogue said with a shrug. "He ain't really from around here."
Wanda narrowed her eyes slightly, her curiosity deepening. "Really? Where's he from?"
Rogue's smirk widened, her green eyes glinting with amusement. "Ya ain't gonna believe meh if I told ya," she said, her voice laced with a teasing southern drawl.
Wanda arched a brow, a curious smile tugging at her lips. "Aw, come on, tell me," she urged, bumping her shoulder lightly against Rogue's.
Rogue chuckled, unable to resist her friend's curiosity. "Alright, alright, but ya asked for it," she said with a grin, glancing around to make sure no one else was paying close attention. Then she leaned in closer to the raven-haired witch, dropping her voice just above a whisper. "He ain't just from another country or some secret mutant hideaway, he's from a whole different world, lak, literally another dimension, we're talkin' full-on alternate reality kinda stuff,"
Wanda blinked, her stride slowing slightly as she processed what she'd just heard, her blue eyes widened. "No way," she said, clearly skeptical. "You gotta be joking,"
"Nah, it's true," Rogue replied with a shrug, still smiling. "I mean, after all the weird stuff we've bin' through lately, is some fellah fallin' outta the sky from another world really that much of a stretch?"
Wanda opened her mouth to argue—but stopped. She thought about the war with Apocalypse and her own powers, which seemed to obey the laws of magic more than science. She let out a soft sigh and ran a hand through her dark hair. "I guess you've got a point," she admitted, falling back into step beside Rogue.
"Trust meh," Rogue said, nudging her head toward Jaune. "The guy's full of surprises, one minute he's crashin' into the lawn lak a clumsy meteor, the next he's fightin' half of us lak some medieval superhero,"
Wanda chuckled. "Well, now I definitely want to see what else he's got," she said, looking at Jaune.
Later that day, Rogue found herself lounging inside Wanda's bedroom, casually taking in the uniquely curated chaos that lined the dark crimson walls. The space had an unmistakable aura — half crypt, half concert venue, and all Wanda. Black and purple string lights framed the corners of the ceiling, their faint glow flickering against the tapestry of posters that screamed teenage rebellion and beautifully haunted vibes.
There were band posters layered like a collage of moods: AFI, Evanescence, The Veils, My Chemical Romance, Nine Inch Nails, Paramore, Blink-182, and The All-American Rejects — a timeline of angst and attitude. The kind of music you listened to when the world didn't understand you, or when you just wanted to scream into a pillow.
But that wasn't all. One wall was a shrine to cult classic shows and movies, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Charmed, The Nightmare Before Christmas, and The Addams Family, their characters staring out like old friends from glossy paper and worn tape.
Rogue gave a slow nod of appreciation as she scanned the room, hands on her hips. "I gotta say... not bad," she said with a half-smile.
Wanda, sitting cross-legged on her bed in a tattered band tee and dark jeans, chuckled softly. "Glad someone likes it," she replied. "Nice to have someone who actually appreciates my taste for once,"
"I know what ya mean," Rogue said, crossing the room and settling into a beanbag by the bed. "I reckon the only shows the girls 'n I watch without complainin' are Buffy or Charmed,"
"Buffy's fun to watch," Wanda agreed, smirking. "And Charmed? Come on, how could I not relate?"
"It is about witches," Rogue added, returning the smirk.
Wanda laughed and leaned back on her hands. "You got me there,"
There was a brief pause as the two girls let the comfort of familiarity settle between them — a rare moment of peace amidst the chaos they often lived in.
Then Wanda glanced sideways at Rogue, mischief flickering in her crimson eyes. "So," she said with a sly grin, "What's the new guy like, huh?"
"Jaune?" Rogue repeated with a small shrug, leaning back into the beanbag and crossing her arms. "He's pretty much lak us, got his own weird set of powers 'n just tryin' to make it day by day, ya know what I mean?"
Wanda gave a slow nod, intrigued. "What kinda powers does he have?"
Rogue's eyes lit up slightly as she explained. "Well, he's got this thin' called aura, it's sorta lak a personal force field, stop him from takin' too much damage, but it also heals him a bit, lak a built-in medic," she said, pausing as Wanda's brows rose with interest. "Then there's his semblance 'n that lets him boost his aura or even supercharge someone else's, real handy en a fight,"
"Whoa," Wanda said, genuinely impressed. "Sounds pretty nice to have, kinda makes me wish I had something like that," She grinned, tilting her head thoughtfully. "Also... must be nice havin' another cute guy walkin' around the mansion,"
Rogue narrowed her eyes, caught off guard. "What're ya talkin' about?"
Wanda gave her a knowing smirk, her tone teasing. "Oh come on, Rogue! Don't tell me you haven't been makin' goo-goo eyes at tall, blonde, and handsome downstairs,"
Rogue rolled her eyes but couldn't hide the small smile tugging at her lips. "I mean, Jaune is pretty cute, I'll give ya that," she admitted. "He's got this good dawg vibe to him, y'know? Real gentle kinda guy, plue he's ain't affected by mah powers, so... there's that,"
Wanda's eyes widened slightly. "Wait, really?" she asked, sitting up straighter. "Your powers don't affect him at all?"
Rogue nodded slowly, her voice tinged with something both wistful and grateful. "Yeah, his aura protects him from mah powers, so I can pretty much touch him," she said, settling down beside Wanda on the edge of the bed. "When I first met him, he asked about what I could do, actually wanted to see mah powers, 'n we held hands... And I just kept waitin' for the scream, somethin'... but nothin' happened, Lak not even a reaction!"
She looked down at her gloved hands, her voice softening.
"And... it felt good, y'know? to touch someone, really feel someone, without hurtin' 'em..."
Wanda's gaze flicked toward her fellow goth. She noticed the distant look in Rogue's eyes, the way her shoulders had slumped just slightly, as if the weight of her memories had crept back in without permission.
Rogue let out a heavy sigh. "Ever since I got mah powers, I had to be careful, always watchin' myself, makin' sure I didn't brush up against someone the wrong way, no hugs, no handshakes, no... real closeness," She paused, her voice hollowing with each word. "I couldn't let anyone en, couldn't risk it, I mean how could I? One kiss 'n I could kill somebody, so I just kinda accepted that I'd be alone, that datin'... Romance... Even just lovin' somone wasn't meant for meh,"
Wanda shifted closer, her voice low and filled with empathy. "But then Jaune showed up, right?"
Rogue gave a small, almost shy nod. "Yeah," she whispered. "He showed up... 'n didn't flinch, the moment mah hand met his 'n he didn't git hurt, it was lak somethin' cracked open inside meh, for the first time, I thought maybe... maybe I didn't have to keep everyone at arm's length, maybe I could actually have a chance, a real one,"
She looked over at Wanda, eyes glassy but steady.
"A chance to have what Scott 'n Jean have... or what Kurt 'n Amanda do, somethin' warm, somethin' real... Somethin' normal," Rogue continued. "I just... I thought maybe I could finally have that too,"
Wanda saw the sorrow etched in Rogue's face — the kind that didn't just sit in the eyes but lived in the way her shoulders drooped and her voice faltered. For all of Rogue's usual edge, there was a quiet vulnerability now, exposed and aching. Wanda's heart softened at the sight.
"I'm sorry," she said gently. "I can't imagine what it's like — not being able to touch someone, not without risking everything, just thinking about never being able to feel someone else's skin, a hug, a hand to hold... I don't know what I'd do if I had your powers," She paused for a moment, her voice more hopeful now. "But maybe you're right, maybe Jaune is your shot at something normal, something real,"
Rogue let out a shaky breath and gave a weak laugh, wiping at the corner of her eye before any tears could fall and smudge her eyeliner. "Heh... maybe," she said, trying to keep her voice light, though it trembled faintly. She turned to Wanda with a faint but sincere smile. "Thanks, Wanda,"
Wanda gave her a playful smirk. "Ah, don't mention it," Then, with a grin, she added, "Seriously don't, I have a reputation to maintain in this house,"
That earned a proper laugh from Rogue, and soon Wanda joined in too. The room, once weighed down by heaviness, began to feel lighter.
As the laughter faded, the two girls leaned back into the rhythm of easier conversation. They slipped back into talking about their favorite bands, which characters from Buffy were the most underrated, and why Charmed got weird after season three. It was natural, comforting — like two longtime friends catching up, not two girls from opposing teams on opposite sides of a never-ending chessboard.
Despite everything — despite the Brotherhood and the X-Men, the arguments and the fights — Rogue could tell that Wanda wasn't so different from her. She wasn't just a teammate of her enemies or Magneto's daughter. She was a girl who understood loneliness. Who carried her own burdens. Who just wanted connection.
And Wanda? She was just happy to talk to another girl who got it. Someone who didn't treat her like the unstable one or look at her sideways because of who her father was. Rogue was cool, in her own grungy way. And Wanda... she found herself hoping that maybe, just maybe, once all the madness was over — once Sinister was dealt with and everything calmed down — they could still talk like this.
Maybe even be friends.
XXX
XXX
XXX
Jaune blinked — and suddenly, he was back.
Back on the bridge.
The wind howled through the steel skeleton around him, the echo of distant fighting muted beneath the suffocating weight in his chest. His eyes widened, breath catching as a horrible, familiar sight unfolded before him. A horrified expression spread across his face like a crack splitting stone.
"No..." he whispered, his voice barely audible, as if saying it any louder would make it all real again.
"She can't get the Staff and the power... but there is something you can do..."
A voice — her voice — echoed behind him.
Jaune's heart skipped a beat.
He spun around, hoping, praying it wasn't what he thought. But it was.
There he was—another him—kneeling in front of her. Penny. She lay on the ground, broken and bleeding, her emerald eyes locked onto his doppelgänger as she forced out the words that had haunted him ever since.
As if watching a memory play out in real time, Jaune staggered back, his eyes wide with disbelief. "No...!" he whispered again, more desperate this time.
His voice trembled. His knees weakened.
"I... I can't...!" he choked out, shaking his head slowly. "I can't..."
But the scene played on, uncaring to his plea. His past self rose, trembling hands gripping Crocea Mors tightly. The blade — his blade — gleamed in the pale light as it turned, point down.
Raised high.
"No!" Jaune screamed. "STOP! DON'T DO IT!"
He ran forward, legs pumping, heart pounding — but it was like moving through molasses. His feet barely scraped forward. The air around him felt thick, like tar. No matter how hard he pushed, he couldn't reach them.
"STOP!" he begged. "PLEASE, STOP!"
And then the sword fell.
Steel pierced metal and flesh with a finality that shattered him all over again.
Penny's body jerked as the blade sank deep into her chest, her face contorting in a flash of pain — and then softening... into peace. Her last breath escaped in a single, fragile sigh, and her eyes dimmed.
"NOOOOOO!" Jaune cried out, collapsing to his knees, hands clenching into fists against the unfeeling ground.
But then... it got worse.
So much worse.
Just as Jaune thought the nightmare had ended — that the memory had run its brutal course — it kept going. His past self didn't stop after the first strike.
The blade rose again.
And plunged down into Penny's chest once more.
Jaune's breath caught. His eyes widened in disbelief. "No... no, no, no—!"
Another stab.
"STOP! STOP IT!" Jaune screamed, his voice raw with desperation as he rushed forward, still unable to move an inch, like he was trapped in a glass coffin.
Another stab.
Penny's body convulsed slightly, even in death.
"STOP!"
The word tore from his throat like a wounded animal's cry.
Another.
The blade drove deeper. The sound of steel cutting through what remained of her frame rang out like a death knell.
"STOP!"
His voice cracked, tears now streaming freely down his face.
Another.
Her eyes — lifeless and unblinking — stared straight past him.
"STOP!"
He tried to cover his ears, but it was no use. He couldn't block it out.
Another.
Blood pooled in impossible amounts, staining the bridge beneath her and his mirrored self.
"FOR GOD'S SAKE—STOP IIIIIIIITTTT!" Jaune roared, the sound echoing into the endless void around him, shaking the very air.
But the past didn't listen.
Suddenly, Jaune felt something seize him — like an invisible hook dragging him downward.
He was yanked into the dark, the weightless void collapsing around him until—THUD.
His body jolted violently, and his eyes flew open as he gasped for breath.
Still tangled in the grip of the nightmare, his instincts surged ahead of his awareness. Someone was shaking him, hands on his shoulders — and in his half-conscious panic, he reached for the katana still resting near his side, the one Logan had let him borrow.
In one fluid, frantic motion, he snatched it up and slashed outward.
"WHOA! JESUS!" a voice yelped as the person stumbled back, barely dodging the arc of steel.
Jaune rolled off the couch and dropped into a crouch, sword at the ready, heart pounding like a war drum in his chest. His breath came in short gasps as adrenaline drowned out reason.
But when he locked eyes with the so-called attacker...
It wasn't an enemy.
It was Wanda.
She stood a few feet away, arms slightly raised, her face twisted into an angry scowl — and just a hint of surprise. A streak of her dark hair fell into her eyes, and her chest heaved slightly, more from annoyance than fear.
"Watch where you swing that damn thing, you idiot!" she snapped, voice sharp with fury.
Jaune blinked, the sword still trembling in his grip as reality finally caught up with him.
"...Wanda?" he asked, his voice still raw and groggy. He slowly lowered the blade, shame and confusion replacing the fear. "Wh... what are you doing down here?"
She scoffed and crossed her arms. "I came down to find something to drink that wasn't out of the rusty kitchen sink!" she said flatly.
Jaune looked away, embarrassed. "...Why were you shaking me?" he asked quietly, not quite meeting her gaze.
Wanda's glare sharpened into something like a dagger. Her voice rose, biting and heated.
"Oh, sorry for trying to make sure you were still breathing! You were shaking like you were having a damn seizure! I thought you were dying!" she snapped, her arms flung out in frustration. "Is trying to take someone's head off how you say thank you where you're from!?"
Jaune's shoulders sagged beneath the weight of guilt. His fingers unclenched from the sword's hilt.
"...No," he muttered, eyes cast downward. "I-I'm sorry,"
The tension hung in the room for a moment until Wanda exhaled sharply and watched as Jaune slowly sat back down on the edge of the couch. He rested the katana gently against the armrest, like it had suddenly become something fragile.
"I didn't mean to—"
"—Try and cut my head off?" Wanda interjected dryly, though her tone had cooled a few degrees from earlier. She still sounded irritated, but the fire had dulled into embers.
"Yeah... that," Jaune rubbed at his face with both hands. His voice was quiet, worn.
Wanda crossed her arms, watching him closely now. He wasn't just embarrassed — he looked... haunted. Troubled in a way she recognized but didn't fully understand yet. Her anger wavered as concern crept back in. "...What was it about?" she asked gently.
Jaune blinked, as if snapping out of a fog. "Huh?"
"Your dream," Wanda clarified. "What was it about?"
He turned his head away, slowly shaking it. "Nothing," he said quickly — too quickly.
Wanda rolled her eyes with a scoff. "Please, "nothing" doesn't leave a guy ready to swing a sword at someone who just woke them up,"
Jaune's fingers dug into his knee, his knuckles turning white as he fought to keep his voice steady. The weight in his chest felt like a boulder pressing down on his lungs, threatening to crush the words before they could escape. He hadn't even told Rogue everything—she only knew fragments. The only one who might know the full truth was the Professor, and even that had taken effort. Trust wasn't something Jaune gave easily anymore.
And now... here was Wanda.
The so-called "enemy." Someone from the Brotherhood. Someone who, in another life—or another day—might've been trading blows with him rather than sitting beside him.
Could he really tell her? Could he trust her with this?
As the silence stretched between them, Wanda gently broke it—not with pressure or demand, but with a soft promise.
"I won't judge,"
Jaune flinched slightly, the words catching him off guard. He turned his head and found Wanda sitting beside him now, her posture relaxed but her eyes steady and focused. There was something about the way she looked at him—quiet, unwavering. She didn't wear sympathy openly on her face, but it was there, hidden in the softness of her gaze.
She wasn't pushing.
She was just... present.
He swallowed hard, eyes lowering again to the floor beneath them. The words felt like glass in his throat.
"Did Rogue tell you who I was?" he asked quietly. "Where I come from?"
Wanda nodded. "Yeah, she filled me in a little,"
Jaune gave a soft, dry laugh that didn't sound like amusement. "Yeah, well... Before I ended up here, I'd just come out of one of the worst fights of my life, not just a battle, but something that tore everything apart,"
His voice trembled slightly, and Wanda could see him fighting to keep it together.
"And I'd just... I'd just killed a friend," he said finally, his voice cracking like splintered glass. "Someone who didn't deserve what happened,"
Wanda's breath caught in her throat.
Her eyes widened in shock, not because she judged him, but because of the raw pain laced in those words. It wasn't guilt that lived behind his eyes.
It was heartbreak.
Total, unfiltered heartbreak.
She opened her mouth, as if to speak, but nothing came at first. And so she simply sat there, letting the silence speak for them both. Because sometimes... silence was kinder than words.
And Jaune just kept staring at the floor, as if he looked up, the weight of everything he carried might finally break him in half.
"I... I had to," Jaune finally said, his voice low and shaking. His hands curled into trembling fists on his lap, his knuckles straining beneath his skin. "At least... that's what I keep telling myself,"
The silence that followed was heavy, but it wasn't empty—it was filled with a storm of guilt and uncertainty radiating off of him like heat.
"She told me it was her choice," he continued, his words tumbling out in a fragile confession. "She asked me to do it, said it was the only way, but..."
His voice cracked, and the next words came out as barely a whisper.
"But I didn't have to go through with it. I could've said no. I could've tried harder, done something different—I could've saved her instead of..."
His voice broke again, and he shut his eyes tightly, trying—and failing—to stop the tears that were beginning to pool. His expression twisted, caught somewhere between fear and agony, like the memory itself was physically hurting him all over again.
"...instead of doing what I did."
Wanda sat still, her eyes never leaving his face. She could feel it—not just see it, but feel it. The grief, the regret, the self-loathing—emotions so raw and intense they practically rippled off of him like waves. His pain was palpable, and it filled the room like a suffocating fog.
And still, she didn't flinch.
After a moment, she quietly spoke.
"...Do you mind if I take a look?"
Jaune blinked, startled. He turned his head slowly to her, confusion etched across his tear-stained face. "What?"
Wanda raised her hands slightly, and a soft, flickering scarlet glow shimmered to life around her fingertips.
"I'm not a telepath—not like Jean or the Professor," she explained calmly, her voice steady but gentle. "But I can still peer into a person's thoughts, feel their memories, I'm not as skilled as them, but if the memory is recent... I can see it,"
Jaune stared at her, silent for a long moment. Then he looked away, exhaling shakily through his nose. "Are you sure you want to?" he asked.
Wanda nodded once, without hesitation. "It'll help me understand," she said. "And like I told you before... I won't judge,"
Her words carried a strange sort of warmth, even wrapped in her usual coolness. There was no pity in her eyes—only a kind of determined empathy. She wasn't asking for morbid curiosity. She wanted to understand him.
Jaune hesitated, the fear still clinging to the edges of his expression. But he'd already let the Professor glimpse inside, and this time... it felt different. Wanda wasn't trying to pull something from him.
She was asking.
"...Alright," he finally said, giving a slow nod. "Go for it."
Wanda leaned in slowly, the dim glow of her scarlet energy casting warm highlights across her pale skin and Jaune's troubled face. Her hands, now crackling softly with raw magic, reached out—not forceful, not invasive, but careful. Tender. Like a whisper given form.
She gently cupped both sides of his face, her thumbs resting lightly near his cheekbones. The touch wasn't cold or distant; it was grounding. Reassuring. As if she were steadying him, not just for the spell, but for the emotional storm he was about to relive.
For a brief moment, the closeness made it feel like she was about to kiss him—her breath mingling with his, her eyes locked onto his like twin moons, calm yet intense. But instead of lips, it was memory she sought to touch.
"Take a deep breath," Wanda murmured, her voice soft and velvet-smooth, barely louder than the gentle hum of her power. "This might feel a little strange..."
Jaune did as she said, inhaling shakily through his nose, trying to anchor himself in the here and now before his past swept him under again.
And then it began.
The world around them seemed to melt away. The cold of the boarder house, the hum of appliances, the shadows on the wall—all dissolved into a glowing red mist. Shapes twisted and blurred, until they were no longer sitting in the living room of the Brotherhood
Reality unraveled at the edges, bleeding into memory.
The air grew heavy with sorrow. Wanda closed her eyes, her magic reaching further, deeper, until she could feel the fractured echo of Jaune's mind... and she stepped forward, slipping into the corridors of his memory like a ghost.
Moments later, the memory solidified—grainy at first, like a half-forgotten dream coming back into focus.
And there, in the heart of it, was her. A girl with coppery hair, lying on the ground, her green eyes full of pain and resolve.
Penny.
Wanda stood silently at Jaune's side as the memory began to play—his past self kneeling, trembling, sword in hand, and an unbearable choice weighing down on his shoulders like the sky itself.
She braced herself.
Because now... she would finally see.
Wanda stood amidst the bleeding fragments of Jaune's memory, the crimson haze parting just enough to reveal the truth of what had happened—his most painful moment, played out like a ghostly performance on the shattered stage of his mind.
She watched helplessly as the dark-haired woman, Cinder, unleashed chaos upon Jaune's world. Her movements were swift and cruel, every step echoing with madness and ambition. Wanda saw the glint of sadistic pleasure in her eyes as she cut down those who stood in her way, as if every life lost was another stepping stone toward power.
One by one, Jaune's friends' faces Wanda didn't know but could feel mattered dearly to him—fell screaming into a dark abyss.
The rage and hatred burning in Jaune's heart pulsed through the memory like a second heartbeat. Wanda didn't just see it—she felt it. It boiled beneath her skin like wildfire, and to her surprise, she didn't reject it. In fact, she welcomed it. Cinder was the embodiment of cruelty.
'A psychotic, evil bitch,' Wanda thought. No other words would suffice for her.
Then the memory shifted again, the scene narrowing in like a camera lens. Wanda's heart caught in her throat as she saw Penny.
The girl was lying on the bridge, her synthetic body broken, her eyes dim but steady. There was something heartbreakingly human in her gaze as she looked up at Jaune. She was dying, and she knew it. But what broke Wanda more was what she asked Jaune to do.
To end her life. So that her power, the power Cinder sought to steal, could be passed to another: a woman with white hair. Winter.
Wanda wanted to scream at the memory, to plead for another way. But this wasn't a story that could be changed. It had already happened.
Jaune's hands trembled. His breaths were sharp, panicked. He looked like a man unraveling, each second pulling him closer to the edge. But even through the terror, the heartbreak, he raised his sword. Slowly. Painfully.
And then, he brought it down.
Wanda winced as the blade pierced Penny's chest. The pain didn't just radiate through the memory—it wrapped around her soul like a vice. She could feel how much strength it had taken—not physical, but mental, emotional. It was like lifting a mountain, only to be crushed by it.
Before she could even process it, the scene erupted again. Jaune, still reeling from what he'd done, turned to face Cinder. She was furious now. Rabid. She'd lost the very thing she had killed for, and now all she had left was rage.
Wanda watched as Jaune charged at her, Crocea Mors in hand—a weapon that pulsed with history, with love and legacy. She didn't need to know its full story to understand it meant everything to him.
But it only took one swing.
Snap.
The sword shattered—like glass. Wanda felt the loss resonate in her chest like a death knell.
And then came the fall.
Jaune ran, desperate to regroup, to survive. His feet pounded the bridge, his breath ragged with fear. But it was too late. The platform beneath him gave way. He slipped—no, plunged—into the dark. And with him went every last shred of certainty, of safety, of home.
Wanda gasped as the void swallowed him.
She felt it all—his terror, the disbelief, the resignation... and above all, the devastating thought that this was how it ended.
Alone.
At last, Wanda reached the end of Jaune's memories—his arrival at the X-Mansion. She watched as he awoke in an unfamiliar bed, his face pale with confusion and panic. The sterile light of the medbay overhead had seemed cold and distant, and his eyes darted frantically, like a soldier waking up in enemy territory. He had gripped the sheets, every instinct telling him to run.
But then... he had taken a breath. And another. He had gotten up. He had moved forward.
Wanda felt the dissonance in him—the fear of the unknown clashing with the quiet resilience inside. Even as he encountered strange mutants and a world he didn't recognize, he adapted. He tried. Despite everything he'd endured—his friends lost, his world shattered, his soul scarred—Jaune Arc kept going.
Then, finally, the memories stopped. Time caught up with itself. The moment in her mind faded into red mist, and Wanda slowly exhaled as she withdrew her glowing hands from Jaune's face. Her lashes fluttered open at the same time his did.
And as blue eyes met blue, Jaune's breath caught—because Wanda was crying.
Tears slid silently down her cheeks, unbidden and raw. She quickly brushed them away with trembling thumbs, but she didn't look away. She didn't need to say what her eyes already spoke so clearly: I saw it. I felt it. And I'm still here.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice soft and husky with emotion. "You've been through... more than anyone should,"
Jaune let out a slow breath and shook his head. "You have no idea," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "And... I'm sorry you had to see that, to feel it all,"
Wanda gave a small, shaky laugh as she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "It's alright. I told you I wanted to, remember?" she said. But her tone sobered. "Still... I don't know how you're even functioning after what I saw in there..."
Jaune let out a dry, bitter chuckle. It wasn't full of joy—more like the sound of a man trying to laugh at the weight of the world on his shoulders. "Honestly?" he said. "I don't think I am the same, not really, how could I be?"
He looked down, hands resting in his lap, clenched lightly.
"I killed someone who was my freind, I've lost more then just her too, I've fought monsters—some on the outside, some in my own damn head." He took a deep breath. "There's this voice... always whispering that I should just stop, that I should give up, lie down, and drown in everything I've lost."
His eyes lifted slowly back to hers, and for a moment, Wanda swore the pain in him looked bottomless.
"But I can't," he said, his voice firmer now. "I won't."
Wanda tilted her head slightly, brow arched as she regarded him with quiet curiosity. "Why?" she asked, her voice softer now, laced with genuine concern.
Jaune's shoulders lifted in a shrug, and his gaze dropped to the floor like a weight pulling him down. "I don't know..." he murmured. "It's just... who I am, I guess,"
His words weren't proud or certain. They weren't the kind that begged for praise. They were honest, almost painfully so. Simple, but not hollow.
The silence that followed wasn't uncomfortable—it was thoughtful. Wanda's eyes lingered on him, trying to piece together the man in front of her. Not the warrior. Not the stranger from another world. Just Jaune.
What kept him going?
What was it that lit that tiny flame in his chest and stopped it from going out, even after loss, betrayal, grief—death? What made him rise again and again, when so many others would have let the darkness swallow them whole?
Wanda didn't have an answer.
But she found herself amazed. And, somewhere deep within, quietly envious.
Because she knew she couldn't do what he did. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
She thought of her father—of Magneto. Of the fire in his eyes when he spoke of humans as enemies. She thought of Pietro, her brother, her other half, always at her side, moving too fast for the world but never fast enough to outrun their past.
She loved them. And yet...
A part of her wished she had Jaune's strength. Not the strength of arms or aura or sword—but the strength to walk away. To choose a path because it was right, not because it was expected of her.
But that path felt so far away.
Wanda was still lost in her thoughts when Jaune's voice quietly broke the moment.
"If you don't mind... can we just keep this between us?" he asked, eyes not quite meeting hers.
His words were tentative, vulnerable. A plea, not out of shame, but out of the fear that sharing too much might make it all feel real again.
Wanda blinked, returning to the present, and met his gaze. Her features softened, and she gave him a small, earnest nod.
"I promise," she said.
And this time, she meant it.
Because for all the secrets she kept, and all the loyalties that chained her, this one moment—this fragile, private connection—they shared it freely.
"Thank you, Wanda," Jaune said softly, the weight behind his words clear as he looked at her with tired, grateful eyes.
Wanda offered him a small, genuine smile, one that didn't try to fix anything but simply acknowledged the moment. "Don't mention it... Jaune," she replied, her voice gentler now. Then, after a brief pause, she added, "But... maybe consider telling Rogue. About what happened. About Penny."
Jaune blinked and turned toward her, brow furrowed with worry. "You think I should?"
Wanda nodded slowly. "I do. Look, I know she's got that whole loner-goth, 'I-don't-need-anyone' vibe going," she said with a dry chuckle, "but that girl's heart? It's softer than she lets on. She feels things deeply, maybe more than most people in that mansion."
She tilted her head slightly, meeting Jaune's uncertain gaze with quiet confidence. "If anyone's going to understand the pain of hurting someone you care about—even if it wasn't by choice—it's her."
Jaune leaned back slightly, her words settling into his chest like a gentle push in the right direction. Rogue had been there for him since the start, one of the first to actually treat him like more than just some stranger dropped into their world. She didn't try to force answers out of him, didn't make him feel like a burden—just offered her presence, her time, and, in her own way, her care.
And maybe, Wanda was right. Maybe it was time to trust someone else with the truth.
"I think you're right," he said at last, his voice firmer now. "When all this is over... I'll tell her everything."
Wanda gave him a slow nod of approval, her eyes warm. "Good. She deserves to know... and you deserve to stop carrying that weight alone."
Jaune exhaled, the tension in his chest easing slightly, like a wound he hadn't realized was tightening had finally been unwrapped.
"Thanks again, Wanda," he said, his tone lighter this time. "Really."
"You're welcome," she replied, standing up and brushing her hair back. "Now, you should probably get some sleep. You look like hell."
"I can't remember?" Jaune said with a lopsided smile. "I'm supposed to be protecting you."
Wanda rolled her eyes with a smirk. "I'm pretty sure I can take care of myself, blondie," she said with playful sass. "But it's cute that you think you're my bodyguard."
Jaune chuckled. "You're welcome, by the way," he called after her.
"Don't push it," she called back with a wink.
And for the first time in a while, Jaune felt... lighter. Still haunted. Still hurting. But not alone.
As Jaune disappeared upstairs, his footsteps fading into the quiet creak of the hallway, Wanda remained seated on the couch. The room around her was still and dim, lit only by the soft, flickering glow of the television she had nearly forgotten was on.
But her mind wasn't in the room—it was still with him.
She sat motionless for a moment, her thoughts swirling with everything she had felt inside Jaune's mind. The experience hadn't just rattled her—it had choked her. The anguish, the grief, the helpless rage... it had felt like drowning in someone else's sorrow, like being dragged into a storm she couldn't escape. It had wrapped around her like chains, heavy and suffocating.
And then, the tears came—silent at first, rolling down her cheeks like rain that didn't belong to the weather. But soon her shoulders began to tremble, and quiet sobs escaped her lips, breaking the silence like glass shattering on marble. She buried her face in her hands, struggling to make sense of the emotion choking her from the inside out.
She had never known pain like that. Not even in the worst moments of her own past had she felt such self-loathing, such raw, consuming guilt. But even more haunting than the sorrow... was the anger.
That hatred Jaune carried—so sharp, so venomous—it reminded her of something deeply personal. It was like looking into a distorted mirror and seeing herself reflected back.
'That hatred he felt for that woman, Cinder, it's like how I feel about...' Her breath caught in her throat. 'Dad...'
The thought surfaced unbidden, and Wanda flinched as if struck. Her head slowly lifted, confusion painted across her tear-streaked face.
Then, like a door unlocking in the dark, the memory came flooding in. She saw herself—young, terrified—being dragged down a stark white hallway, kicking and screaming, begging her father not to let them take her.
Her voice cracked as she pleaded, "Please, I can control it! I promise!"
But he didn't move. He just stood there... watching.
And Pietro... her twin, her closest companion, stood beside him, unable to meet her eyes. He didn't stop them either.
Wanda's breath grew shallow as she stared ahead, not seeing the room anymore, only that memory. A memory she shouldn't have. A memory she didn't have.
'That never happened...?' she thought, her pulse quickening. 'Right? That didn't happen! He never—he wouldn't—!'
A sudden jolt of pain rippled through her skull like a bolt of static behind her eyes, and she hissed, wincing as she clutched her temples. The ache wasn't unbearable, but it was sharp, like something had just cracked open.
"What's going on with me...?" she whispered aloud, her voice shaky and confused.
And yet, as quickly as it came, the pain faded. She sat still, her breathing uneven, her heart thudding in her chest.
She stared blankly at the television in front of her, the images moving too quickly to make sense of. She didn't even care what was playing. She just needed a distraction. She needed something—anything—to take her mind off what she had seen in Jaune... and what she had just seen in herself.
Wanda slowly curled her legs up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them as she rested her chin on her knees. The tears had stopped, but her mind was anything but calm.
Because now, a new question lingered in the back of her mind—quiet, insistent, dangerous:
What other memories was she missing?
XXX
XXX
XXX
Uh-Oh... looks like Wanda's memories are returning~! That doesn't spell out trouble for Magneto at all~!
Anyway, now Wanda knows what Jaune has done and went through, and how will this change things between them? Ohoh! Just you wait!
Also, trust me, we're getting to the apex of this small arc before we finally get to the Dark Phoenix Saga and I hope you guys are ready for the arrival of both Sinister and the Hellfire club because boy oh boy, do I have some great plans and idea's for them!
Especially Emma Frost!
Anyway! Thanks for reading and I hope you're eager for what happens next!
Chapter 5: The Marauders
Summary:
Sinister makes his moves as He attacks both the Brotherhood and the X-Men! Can Jaune help stop this threat to his new friends and team? Or will Sinister get what he's after?
Chapter Text
XXX
XXX
XXX
XXX
XXX
XXX
In the backyard of the Brotherhood's boarding house, the clash of fists and grunts echoed through the air. Jaune ducked low, narrowly slipping under Logan's heavy swing, the force of the missed punch rushing over his head. Quick on his feet, Jaune rose sharply and snapped a left hook into Logan's jaw. The strike landed clean, hard enough to make the older man stumble a step to the side.
But Logan recovered just as quickly, his expression hardening. He came back with a brutal right hook, his fist slamming into Jaune's ribs. The blow sent a sharp ache tearing through the young blonde's torso, forcing him to stumble backward, clutching his side before steadying himself.
It was training, nothing more—but the intensity in both their movements could have fooled an outsider. From the porch, Lance leaned against the railing, arms crossed, watching with the dull disinterest of someone who had seen it all before. Blob sat nearby with the same unimpressed look, chewing on something without saying a word.
But the fight had another audience. From her window, Wanda gazed down at the sparring match. Her crimson eyes weren't watching Logan at all—they were fixed on Jaune. She couldn't stop herself. Her thoughts drifted back to the night before, to everything she had felt inside his mind. The crushing grief. The suffocating anger. The endless, gnawing pain he carried like a second skin.
And yet here he was, standing tall, fighting as though none of it weighed him down. As though the burden wasn't slowly breaking him apart from the inside.
'How can someone so kind be forced to endure so much pain?' she thought, her chest tightening.
It seemed so deeply, unforgivably unfair.
For just a moment, Wanda wondered—hoped—if there was something she could do. Something to ease that pain, even a little.
"Hm," came a smooth voice at her side, breaking her reverie, "I do love a good show."
Wanda blinked, startled, before turning slightly. Rogue had stepped up next to her, leaning casually against the window frame, her eyes fixed on the sparring below.
Wanda hesitated, then gave a small nod, hiding her thoughts behind a practiced calm. "Same here," she murmured with a faint, half-hearted smile. Her gaze flicked back to Jaune. "Those two are pretty handsome."
Rogue's eyes widened just a little, a faint hint of color brushing her cheeks. "Oh, I was just talkin' about Jaune, ya know what I mean?" she admitted with a touch of bashfulness, her voice dropping slightly as if she hadn't meant to say it out loud.
Catching that, Wanda arched a brow and allowed a sly smirk to curl at her lips. "Oh? So you don't find Wolverine attractive?" she teased lightly, her tone playfully sharp.
Rogue's response was immediate, almost horrified. "Hell no!" she blurted out, shaking her head. "He's more lak a grumpy uncle. Besides, ya do know he's, like... ancient, right? Kurt 'n I found out he actually fought alongside Captain America."
Wanda's eyes widened in surprise at that revelation. "Whoa... that is ancient," she admitted, still smirking. "Still..." she let the word hang, letting the implication tease Rogue further.
"Wanda!" Rogue gasped in shock, her tone almost scandalized.
That only made Wanda laugh, a soft giggle bubbling out as she waved her hand dismissively. "Oh, come on, Rogue, I'm just kidding."
Rogue rolled her eyes dramatically and huffed. "Ugh, don't... Last thin' I need en mah head is the image of ya an' Logan goin' at it." She shuddered visibly, her body giving a disgusted shake at the mental picture.
Wanda tilted her head, her smirk deepening as her crimson eyes glittered mischievously. "Why? Need to make room for the image of you and Jaune going at it instead?" she asked, her voice smooth, brow arched in wicked amusement.
At that, Rogue's face flushed red, the blush creeping all the way to her ears. She turned sharply toward Wanda, giving her a half-hearted glare that held no real heat. "Don't be puttin' thoughts en mah head!" she protested, her Southern drawl thickening in embarrassment. "I don't need any more of 'em!"
Wanda's expression shifted into exaggerated shock, her crimson eyes widening as she lifted a hand to her mouth. "Rogue, you naughty girl! Already daydreaming about jumping the new guy's bones? I didn't know you had it in you!" she teased, her voice dripping with playful mockery.
"That's not what I meant!" Rogue cried, her cheeks turning crimson as she waved her hands in protest.
Wanda couldn't help but giggle at Rogue's flustered reaction, her laughter light but mischievous. She was about to press further, ready to twist the knife of embarrassment just a little deeper—or give Rogue the chance to throw a jab back—when the moment was shattered.
A sudden ripple tore through the air outside, and a glowing pink portal crackled open in the Brotherhood's backyard. Both Jaune and Logan froze mid-motion, their spar forgotten, as they turned sharply toward the disturbance.
The portal pulsed and expanded before spitting out two limp figures—Toad and Pietro—who were hurled unceremoniously onto the ground, both of them unconscious.
Logan's eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. His lips curled back as a low, guttural snarl rumbled from his chest. With a snikt, his claws shot out, gleaming in the sunlight. "Get ready," he growled, his entire body tensing like a coiled spring.
Jaune didn't hesitate. He sprinted back toward the porch, his boots pounding against the wood as he grabbed Logan's katana. In one swift motion, he unsheathed the blade, the steel glinting coldly, while his shield materialized on his arm with a faint shimmer of light.
From the portal's swirling energy, a towering figure emerged, stepping over the unconscious teens as though they were trash. His massive frame filled the backyard with an intimidating presence, his yellow eyes gleaming with predatory malice.
"Sabretooth..." Logan spat, his voice a mixture of fury and venom.
"Sabretooth!?" Rogue gasped from the window, her shock evident.
"What the hell is he doing here!?" Wanda cried, her voice rising as her hands instinctively glowed with crimson energy.
Jaune's brows furrowed, his shield raised defensively as he steadied his stance. "Doesn't he work for Magneto?" he asked, his confusion cutting through the tension for just a brief moment.
Exiting the portal behind Sabretooth came three more figures, their silhouettes casting long, jagged shadows across the ground. Two men and one woman, each carrying themselves with a dangerous confidence that set everyone on edge.
The first to step forward was a wiry-looking man, his frame wrapped in a metallic exoskeleton that seemed fused to his body. The strange grey plating covered him from the neck down, leaving his gaunt face fully visible. His long, greasy hair hung in uneven strands, framing a thin handlebar mustache that only added to his unsettling appearance. Despite the sheer bulk of the weapon in his hands—a massive minigun that should have taken a vehicle to carry—he held it as if it weighed no more than a toy. His name was whispered in underground circles, feared by those who knew what he could do: Scalphunter.
Next came a giant, even taller than Sabretooth himself. His towering form cast a shadow over the others as he stepped through, his dark orange hair pulled tightly into a small ponytail. A black shirt stretched across his broad chest beneath a weathered brown trench coat, his frame completed by khaki combat pants and heavy black boots that thudded against the ground with every step. Strapped across his back was a lethal arsenal—enormous harpoons, the kind once used by whalers to bring down giants of the sea. In his hands, they would be no less deadly against people. His name was Harpoon, and his presence alone radiated menace.
Finally came the woman, one Wanda instantly recognized. Vertigo. Her short, spiked hair was dyed neon green, glowing almost unnaturally in the light. She wore an oversized striped shirt of alternating dark and light green, baggy pants to match, and a pair of casual sneakers that almost clashed with the sharp danger in her eyes. Wanda had seen her abilities before—abilities that could bring even the strongest fighter to their knees with a single wave of disorienting power.
Logan's claws gleamed in the air as his lips curled into a furious snarl. "Sabretooth," he growled, voice thick with venom. "What the hell are you doin' throwin' Magneto's kid around? He ain't gonna like this one bit."
Sabretooth let out a low chuckle, his grin twisted and cruel. "Magneto?" he scoffed, his voice dripping with contempt. "Screw Magneto. I ain't workin' for that self-righteous tyrant anymore." His yellow eyes flashed with manic delight as he spread his arms wide, the muscles in his frame flexing like a predator showing off its fangs. "I've got a new boss now—one who's lettin' me really cut loose!" His words rose into a feral cry, more beast than man, as the portal behind him snapped shut with a sharp crack of energy.
"Let me guess... Sinister?" Jaune asked, his tone flat but his eyes narrowing.
Sabretooth's grin stretched wider, showing sharp, animal-like teeth. "Bingo. Right on the money, kid," he drawled, his voice dripping with satisfaction. He lifted his claws slowly, savoring the moment. "Now, why don't you do us all a favor—hand over the girl, and we'll be on our way nice and easy."
Jaune stepped forward without hesitation, planting himself between the Brotherhood and the intruders. His shield shimmered faintly in his hand as he glared at the towering predator. "Not a chance," he said, voice hard and steady.
That response only made Sabretooth's smirk turn feral. His muscles tensed, claws gleaming in the sunlight. "I was hopin' you'd say that!" he roared before lunging forward with animalistic speed.
Logan met him halfway, claws snapping out with a metallic snikt! The two archenemies collided with bone-crunching force, snarls and grunts filling the air as they crashed to the ground, locked in a vicious struggle. Their blows landed with the kind of weight only decades of hatred could carry, neither giving an inch as claws scraped against claws and the earth tore beneath them.
But as the two beasts tore into each other, a new threat emerged. Scalphunter stepped forward, his minigun humming with lethal anticipation. The barrels began to spin, the rising whirring sound cutting through the chaos like an omen.
"Get down!" Jaune shouted, his voice sharp and commanding.
Lance and Blob dove aside immediately, barely clearing the line of fire. Jaune braced himself, aura flaring around his body as he raised his shield. A second later, the minigun roared to life, unleashing a torrent of bullets that ripped through the air like a hurricane of lead.
Jaune's shield caught the storm, sparks flying as the relentless hail slammed into him. His arms shook under the impact, his boots grinding against the dirt as he held his ground. Even with his semblance bolstering him, the sheer force of the barrage felt like being hit by a battering ram again and again—but he refused to let himself falter.
Seeing Jaune being relentlessly pelted by the storm of bullets, Lance's instincts kicked in. Gritting his teeth, he thrust his hands toward the ground. Energy rippled outward, and with a sharp motion he forced the earth itself to react—sending a violent rumble tearing across the yard straight at Scalphunter.
The thin man with the exoskeleton frowned, confused at the sudden tremor beneath his feet. His confusion turned to alarm as the ground cracked and heaved upward, knocking him off balance. With a startled grunt, Scalphunter toppled backward, his minigun skidding to a halt as the barrage abruptly ceased.
Lance allowed himself a breath of relief, but it was short-lived. Out of nowhere, his vision blurred, a wave of dizziness hitting him like a hammer. His knees buckled slightly as the world tilted, spinning in all directions.
"Oh no..." Lance muttered, clutching his head.
"You're not the only one who can throw people off balance, cutie," a sly, mocking voice purred.
Vertigo stood with one arm raised, neon-green hair glowing faintly in the light. Dark green waves of energy pulsed from her hand, washing over Lance in nauseating ripples that twisted his senses until he could barely stand upright.
And behind her—another danger was already moving. Harpoon, towering and grim, reached behind his trenchcoat and pulled free one of his massive weapons. The sharpened tip gleamed menacingly as he cocked his arm back. As he drew in a breath, the weapon lit up, glowing with crackling blue energy.
"Sinister doesn't need you anymore," Harpoon said coldly, voice carrying finality. "So no shame in killing you."
With that, he hurled the weapon. It tore through the air with frightening speed, a streak of blue death aimed squarely for Lance.
But before the harpoon could strike, a figure blurred into its path.
Jaune.
Shield raised, he planted himself between Lance and the incoming strike. The harpoon slammed into his aura with explosive force, the impact ripping through him and blasting him clean off his feet. He was hurled backward like a ragdoll, crashing through the boarding house with a thunderous crack of wood and shattering glass.
Harpoon clicked his tongue in irritation, scowling as he reached for another weapon. "Damn it," he muttered. "Wasn't even aiming for him."
But before he could ready his next throw, the ground shook under a much heavier weight. Something slammed into him with the force of a wrecking ball.
WHAM!
Harpoon flew backward, torn from his stance, and was sent crashing through branches before slamming into a nearby tree with a heavy crunch.
"Try pickin' on someone your own size!" Blob roared, his massive frame barreling forward like a freight train, his voice echoing with fury.
Vertigo shifted her gaze toward Blob, narrowing her eyes. Her lips curled into a sly grin as she raised her hand, dark green energy beginning to pulse around her fingers. If she could just disorient him—make his massive frame stumble—then the rest would be easy.
But before she could unleash her power, a light tap landed on her shoulder.
Confused, Vertigo turned her head—only to be met with a sudden fist slamming into her face.
CRACK!
Rogue's knuckles connected hard, sending Vertigo staggering backward, clutching her cheek as she stumbled several steps before collapsing against the dirt. Rogue stood over her, emerald eyes fierce.
"Didn't ya momma ever tell you it's rude to pick on folks bigger'n you?" Rogue spat, readying herself for another strike.
Meanwhile, inside the battered boardinghouse, Jaune groaned as he pushed against the wreckage around him, struggling to get upright. Wanda was already there, slipping an arm under his to steady him.
"You alright there, blondie?" she asked with a teasing smirk, though her eyes betrayed her concern.
Jaune winced, brushing dust off his armor as he caught his breath. "Y-Yeah... I'm good," he muttered, voice strained. "Just... just need a minute." He forced himself to straighten, meeting her gaze. "Don't worry about me. Help the others."
Wanda hesitated, clearly reluctant to leave his side. Her hand lingered on his arm for a moment longer, as if silently weighing her choice. But finally, she gave a short nod, determination flashing across her face.
"Don't you dare keel over while I'm gone," she warned, before darting out of the broken doorway, scarlet energy already flaring at her fingertips as she rushed to rejoin the fray.
As the clash at the boardinghouse raged on, the sound of battle echoed elsewhere. Another fight was beginning to unfold...
Across the city, inside the sprawling yard of the Xavier Institute, the air shimmered unnaturally before tearing open into a swirling rift of energy. The portal crackled with ominous power, and from its depths stepped none other than Nathaniel Essex—better known as Mister Sinister.
His appearance was nothing short of unsettling. His skin was as pale as freshly fallen snow, contrasting sharply with the solid, blood-red glow of his eyes. On his forehead gleamed the unmistakable mark of his identity: a crimson diamond, glowing faintly with sinister light. His dark hair was slicked back immaculately, save for a single thick strand that jutted forward, hanging like a deliberate imperfection. A neatly groomed beard framed his mouth, lending him an unsettling air of refinement, like a predator that enjoyed the pretense of civility.
Sinister's attire was just as calculated as his presence. Draped over his shoulders was a long black leather coat, its hem brushing against the grass as though it belonged to a gothic monarch. Beneath it, he wore black dress pants paired with polished leather shoes—shoes that looked suited more for a ballroom floor than a battlefield. Covering his right arm was a black cloak, the fabric heavy and ornate, adorned with another red diamond that mirrored the one set into his forehead. The garment gave him an almost regal air, though it was corrupted by the dark aura he exuded.
As Sinister stepped fully into the open, others followed in his wake—his loyal enforcers, the Marauders.
The first was Arclight, a woman with tanned skin and striking dark-purple hair that flowed freely down her back. She wore a skintight purple bodysuit that clung to her muscular frame, leaving no doubt about the destructive strength she wielded. Her eyes burned with eagerness, the hint of a grin tugging at her lips.
Next lumbered Blockbuster, a mountain of a man. His bald head gleamed under the faint light, and his colossal build was made all the more menacing by the simplicity of his attire: a black tank top stretched across his chest, dark blue jeans that strained against his massive legs, and scuffed brown boots that hit the ground with the weight of a sledgehammer. His sheer size alone radiated intimidation.
Finally, from the rippling portal emerged Riptide. In stark contrast to the brutish Blockbuster, he was sleek and sharp. His raven-black hair, long enough to brush his shoulders, swayed as he stepped forward with an unsettling calm. He wore a tailored grey tuxedo, immaculate and unruffled, as if he were attending a high-society gala rather than preparing for carnage. His very presence was unnerving, a calm storm waiting to be unleashed.
Sinister strode forward with deliberate grace, his boots crunching softly against the manicured lawn as his crimson gaze fixed upon the mansion towering before him. He paused, inhaling deeply as though savoring the very air of the Institute, and then slowly exhaled, a thin smile curling across his lips.
"Ahh..." he breathed, his tone both mocking and admiring. "Such an exquisite sanctuary you've built for them, Charles. A place of learning, a place of hope—an illusion of safety for your young, bright-eyed disciples. Truly, a fine cradle in which to mold their minds..." His words dripped with venomous reverence, each syllable laced with twisted delight.
Sinister tilted his head slightly, still smiling as his gaze swept over the building's proud facade. He then turned his attention to one of his chosen instruments of destruction.
"Riptide," he said smoothly, gesturing with a casual flick of his hand. "Be a gentleman, won't you? Let our gracious host know we've arrived."
Riptide's lips curled into a smirk as he stepped forward, his movements sharp and confident. Raising both hands skyward, he summoned the swirling force of the air itself. The wind began to spiral violently around his arms, growing louder, sharper, until it howled like an oncoming storm. With a sudden thrust forward, he unleashed it.
The torrent struck the front of the mansion with devastating force. Windows shattered in unison, the sharp crack echoing like gunfire as glass exploded outward and inward, cascading across every floor. Shards rained through the rooms, slicing into furniture, embedding in walls, and scattering across the polished floors like glittering, deadly confetti.
Sinister's smile widened, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes. "Perfect," he purred. Then, his voice hardened into command. "Now, bring me as many of Charles' precious students as you can. Do not waste your energy on the weak. Your priority—Scott Summers and Jean Grey. They are the ones I want most."
Riptide strode forward with confidence, his smirk still fresh on his face—only for it to vanish in an instant as a crimson beam of energy slammed into him, knocking him back hard across the lawn.
Arclight and Blockbuster froze at the sudden strike, their eyes narrowing as they turned toward the source. Both braced themselves for battle, their stances widening, muscles tensing in preparation. And there, standing tall, was Scott Summers. His visor glowed faintly with restrained power, his uniform gleaming under the fractured light of the shattered mansion windows. Beside him stood the rest of the X-Men, each one clad in their combat gear, ready for the confrontation that was now inevitable.
Scott's brow furrowed, his jaw tight as his gaze locked on the intruders. "You want us, Sinister?" he called out, his voice steady and commanding. "Then come and get us!"
That was all it took. The three Marauders lunged forward, unleashing their fury. Sinister, however, remained behind, his stride unhurried, his demeanor calm, as though he were merely taking a leisurely walk through the Institute's grounds, untouched by the chaos around him.
Arclight's hands crackled with energy before she unleashed a concentrated beam of light straight toward Scott. He reacted instantly, diving to the side, rolling fluidly across the torn grass before springing back onto his feet. Without hesitation, he fired a counterblast from his visor, the beam slicing through the air toward her. Arclight twisted her body and narrowly avoided the strike, then retaliated with a rapid barrage of her own, each blast forcing Scott to keep moving, his focus razor sharp.
Blockbuster, all raw strength and fury, thundered toward Beast. His massive fist swung forward, but Hank McCoy dipped low, his agility defying the brute's size. Ducking beneath the strike, Beast pivoted on his heel and lashed out with a powerful kick to the man's broad back. The force sent Blockbuster stumbling forward—right into Nightcrawler, who appeared in a sudden puff of smoke before him. With a flash of fangs and a sharp cry, Kurt Wagner drove his foot upward in a swift, precise strike, his boot connecting with Blockbuster's jaw and snapping his head back.
Meanwhile, Riptide was back on his feet, wind swirling violently around him as he hurled gust after gust toward Jean Grey, each blast meant to knock her from the sky. But Jean glided effortlessly through the air, her movements graceful and deliberate, her mind guiding her body beyond the reach of his attacks. Her eyes glowed faintly as she focused, lifting several small objects from the torn lawn around them—stones, fragments of glass, and bits of debris. With a mere flick of thought, she sent them whirling through the air toward Riptide. Yet, despite his tailored suit and polished shoes, Riptide proved surprisingly agile, weaving and ducking through the makeshift barrage with a grin, each dodge more taunting than the last.
Meanwhile, within the mansion's shattered halls, Storm, Professor X, and the New Mutants moved quickly, their footsteps echoing as they descended toward the lower levels. The air was heavy with dust and the distant sounds of battle, each tremor of the building reminding them of the chaos raging outside.
"Charles! Hurry!" Storm urged, her voice sharp with urgency as she glanced back at him.
"I'm going as fast as this chair allows me, Storm," Charles replied calmly, his lips curving into a faint smirk despite the gravity of the situation.
Bobby groaned, throwing his hands up in frustration. "This is so unfair! Why can't we go out there and help them!?" he complained, his impatience boiling over.
"Because that wacko Sinister is up there too, genius!" Tabitha shot back, her tone clipped, though her eyes betrayed her own nervous energy.
They pressed on, reaching the elevator doors, their escape seemingly within reach. But just as Storm reached out to press the controls, a cold, cutting voice filled the hallway.
"Going somewhere, Charles?"
Every head turned. At the far end of the corridor, framed by the fractured sunlight streaming through a broken window, stood Sinister himself. The light caught against his pale skin and the gleaming facets of his crimson diamond, making his presence all the more imposing.
"Essex!" Charles gasped, his voice thick with shock.
Storm instinctively stepped forward, placing herself between her friends and their enemy. Her eyes narrowed, white lightning beginning to crackle faintly around her hands as the air pressure shifted. But before she could unleash her fury, the red diamond on Sinister's forehead flared with a sinister glow.
Storm cried out, her scream of pain reverberating through the hallway as she clutched at her head. Her body buckled, her knees giving out—only for Jubilee to catch her just in time, easing the weather goddess to the ground.
"Storm!" Jubilee shouted, holding her mentor tightly, glaring up at Sinister as his chilling smile spread wider.
Roberto's fists ignited with a fiery glow as he fixed a venomous glare on Sinister. At his side, Ray stepped forward, arcs of electricity sparking and snapping across his hands, the hum of raw energy filling the corridor.
"What did you do to her, you freak!?" Roberto shouted, his voice carrying both rage and fear.
Sinister's lips curled into a slow, amused smile, a deep chuckle rumbling from his chest. "How delightful," he mused. "Children, thinking they can play at war with the adults."
Without warning, both of Sinister's hands rose smoothly from his sides, his movements calm and precise, almost theatrical. His eyes glimmered as he extended his palms toward the two young mutants. In an instant, Roberto and Ray felt themselves yanked upward, their feet tearing off the floor as invisible force pinned them helplessly in midair.
"What the—!?" Ray cried out, his electricity crackling wildly as his arms flailed.
With a fluid, almost elegant motion, Sinister spread his hands apart. As though they were marionettes on unseen strings, Roberto and Ray were wrenched away from each other, suspended on opposite ends of the hallway. Then, with a conductor's flourish, Sinister swept his hands back together. The boys hurtled toward one another, colliding violently in midair before crashing to the ground with pained groans.
"That's enough, Sinister!" Charles shouted from his chair, his voice firm, cutting through the moment. "It's me you want!"
Sinister turned his head toward him slowly, his grin widening at the defiance. At Charles' words, he laughed, low at first, then fuller, echoing mockingly down the hall. "You?" he said with mocking incredulity. "Oh, Charles... I stole your DNA a long time ago. You're of no use to me anymore. No... I'm here for them. Some of these children carry extraordinary gifts—DNA unlike anything else on this earth. And with it, I can further my research beyond even your wildest imagination."
"You won't lay a hand on my students," Charles said, his voice steady but edged with steel, a faint glare burning in his eyes. His hands tightened on the armrests of his chair as he added, "Tell me, Essex... how did you survive in the first place?"
Sinister's lips curved into a sly smirk, the light catching on his unnaturally sharp canines. "Ah, that's the beauty of it, old friend," he purred. "I didn't."
Charles' composure faltered, his eyes widening as shock rippled across his features. "What!?" he cried, his voice rising with disbelief.
A low, velvety chuckle escaped Sinister's throat as he spread his arms, almost as if presenting himself on stage. "What you see before you, Charles, is not the original Nathaniel Essex. No... this body is merely a clone—perfected through years of refinement and experimentation. It possesses every mutation, every enhancement I ever gathered before you and Erik so unceremoniously destroyed my original form."
His tone grew colder, more fervent.
"But as I lay dying, I ensured my survival. I transferred my consciousness into this vessel, and now..." His grin widened, eyes glowing faintly as he gestured to himself. "Now I stand before you stronger than ever. My dream, however, remains incomplete. And until it is fulfilled, I will never stop. Because only I, Charles, can bring about the next stage of humanity's evolution."
With that, Sinister took a slow, deliberate step forward, his presence oppressive as he advanced on Professor X and the New Mutants. The air seemed to thicken with every movement, his intent clear.
But before he could close the distance, a sudden crash shattered the tension—Logan burst through the broken window in a flurry of glass and fury, claws unsheathed as he lunged at Sinister with a feral roar.
Sinister's expression barely flickered. With a flick of his hand, telekinetic force seized Wolverine midair, halting him in place. With effortless contempt, Sinister hurled him down the hallway, the impact shaking the floor.
Before Sinister could relish the moment, another figure came hurtling through the window after Logan—Jaune. Landing squarely between Sinister and the others, he raised his shield with practiced speed. The emblem in its center flared to life as the gravity dust ignited, unleashing a concussive blast. The force slammed into Sinister and sent him crashing into the wall behind him, the stone cracking under the sheer impact.
Jaune spun on his heel, shouting over his shoulder to the younger mutants. "Get the Professor and Storm out of here, now!"
Without hesitation, Sam rushed forward, gently taking Storm from Jubilee's arms, while Roberto crouched down and scooped Charles out of his chair with surprising care. The group didn't waste a second, bolting down the corridor, their footsteps echoing as they disappeared into the shadows of the mansion's lower halls.
Jaune turned back just in time to see Sinister rising to his feet. A faint groan slipped past the villain's lips, but his smug expression quickly returned as though being slammed into stone had been little more than an inconvenience.
"End of the line, bub," came a gravelly voice from behind him.
Sinister's head turned toward the sound. Logan had reappeared on his flank, claws gleaming, a low snarl rumbling in his throat.
Sinister only smiled wider, eyes glinting with cruel delight. "Logan Howlett, the Wolverine," he said smoothly, almost savoring the name. "A true pleasure. I haven't had the opportunity to collect your DNA yet... but I imagine it will prove most useful."
Logan responded with nothing more than a guttural growl, his stance lowering, ready to strike.
Then Sinister's gaze shifted, fixing on Jaune. His eyes swept over the blond youth from head to toe, curious and calculating. "And you... you're new. What do they call you?"
Jaune straightened his shield, meeting Sinister's piercing stare without flinching. "No cool codename just yet," he shot back, "but you can call me your worst nightmare."
There was a pause—Logan's head turned, and he groaned, dragging out his exasperation. "Seriously?" he muttered, claws flexing. "That's the best you could come up with?"
Jaune bristled, throwing up his free hand in frustration. "It's the best I could come up with on the spot!" he snapped.
Sinister let out a low, dark chuckle, his sharp teeth glinting in the fractured light. "Well then," he purred, tilting his head with a predator's grin, "if you two truly believe you can stand against me... by all means, do try."
He straightened his posture, rolling his shoulders as though loosening up before a performance.
"It has been far too long since I've had the chance to properly test the reflexes of this body." With that, he tilted his head to one side, a sickening crack echoing through the hallway as his neck popped, his smile only widening.
Without a moment's hesitation, Wolverine lunged at Sinister, claws flashing in the fractured light. But the villain moved with unnatural grace, spinning on his heel and snapping a vicious kick straight into Logan's face. The blow sent the mutant crashing hard into the wall space between the shattered windows, leaving a deep crack in the plaster.
Jaune seized the opening, charging in from behind with his katana raised high. He brought the blade down with all his strength—but Sinister barely even acknowledged the attack. With a casual sidestep, he let the sword carve through empty air, then pivoted smoothly to face the boy. Before Jaune could recover, Sinister drove a crushing fist across his face, the impact lifting Jaune off his feet and hurling him backwards.
Logan roared and scrambled back to his feet, fury in his eyes. He charged again, claws slicing wildly in a storm of steel, but Sinister weaved between each strike as if the attacks were slow, deliberate swings rather than the feral onslaught of Wolverine. Then, in a single fluid motion, Sinister ducked low, swept Logan's legs from under him, and sent the mutant crashing hard to the floorboards.
Logan tried to rise, but Sinister's hand clamped onto his collar, lifting him effortlessly as though he weighed nothing. With a sinister grin, the villain slammed Logan down with such force that the wooden floor cracked apart beneath him, sending the Wolverine crashing through into the lower level.
Jaune staggered back to his feet, pain shooting through his jaw, but he refused to back down. His shield raised, katana steady, he planted his stance against the imposing figure. Sinister's smirk only deepened. With a flicker of telekinetic power, Jaune's weapons tore themselves free from his grasp, wrenched violently from his hands. They hovered beside Sinister like trophies before clattering uselessly to the ground.
The villain raised both hands and crooked his fingers, gesturing mockingly for Jaune to step forward.
Jaune narrowed his eyes, his glare hard as steel. He flexed his hands, drawing on his aura until it shimmered faintly around his fists, casting them in a ghostly glow. His breath steadied, his body lowered into a fighting stance. 'Please... let those lessons with Ren pay off.' he thought, determination cutting through the fear.
Jaune surged forward with a burst of speed, throwing a sharp right hook aimed straight for Sinister's jaw. But the villain coolly raised his left arm, blocking the strike with effortless precision. Jaune immediately followed up with a quick jab to the gut using his left fist, but Sinister brushed it aside with a casual flick of his forearm. Undeterred, Jaune snapped his left hand back, coiling his arm before thrusting upward with a fierce uppercut toward Sinister's face—yet once again, the blow was deflected with contemptuous ease.
Punch after punch, Jaune unleashed his fury, each strike carrying more desperation, more intent. But no matter how fast or how hard he swung, none of them found their mark. Sinister blocked, parried, and redirected them with mechanical precision, as though he had already anticipated every move.
Then, in an almost mocking display of arrogance, Sinister shifted his stance. He turned his body slightly away from Jaune, placing his right hand calmly behind his back, leaving only his left hand raised. Even so, he batted aside every one of Jaune's strikes, the pale-skinned man smiling faintly as if he were sparring with a child rather than fighting for real.
Finally, with a blur of movement, Sinister caught Jaune's right wrist in his iron grip, twisting the boy's arm out to the side. Before Jaune could react, Sinister drove a powerful kick into his ribs, the impact sending Jaune hurtling down the hall. He crashed violently into a table, splintering it apart in a shower of wood and debris.
Jaune groaned, but his aura shimmered to life, protecting him from serious injury. He forced himself back to his feet, brushing the dust from his clothes. Though his body remained unharmed, irritation burned hotter than the pain—he hadn't landed a single hit. Planting his feet firmly, he mirrored the stance he had seen Ren use countless times, fists raised, aura flickering faintly around him.
Sinister's eyes narrowed with genuine interest now, his smirk curling wider. "Fascinating... You shrug off every blow as though it were nothing. Tell me, is that resilience part of your mutation?" he asked, his tone laced with curiosity rather than mockery.
Jaune chuckled under his breath, rolling his shoulders as if shaking off the question. "Sorry to disappoint you, Sinister," he replied evenly, "but I'm as human as they come."
"Really? So that makes you superhuman then, does it?" Sinister asked, his smile stretching wider, sharp and predatory. His crimson eyes gleamed with amusement as he tilted his head ever so slightly. "But if that's the case, why waste your time training here, at Xavier's school?"
Jaune narrowed his eyes, standing his ground despite the mocking tone. "Sorry," he said flatly, his voice hard with defiance. "I ain't telling you nothing."
Sinister's grin never faltered. In fact, it seemed to grow, curling at the edges in satisfaction. "Oh, that's quite alright," he replied smoothly, his voice low and dripping with menace. "If you won't give me your secrets willingly... Then I'll just pry the answers out of you myself." He lifted a hand, the diamond set in his forehead beginning to glow with a sinister light.
The moment the words left his mouth, Jaune's body seized up. Agonizing pain tore through his skull like fire eating through dry wood. He dropped to his knees with a strangled grunt, his hands clawing desperately at his head as if trying to tear the pain out. His aura flickered, struggling against the invasive force, but it wasn't enough to stop the sharp tendrils burrowing into his mind.
Sinister stepped forward, slow and deliberate, every footfall echoing through the hall. The diamond continued to glow, pulsing brighter with each step. "Impressive," he mused with cruel delight. "Such resistance, such stubborn willpower... but the mind, boy, the mind can only endure so much before it breaks. Make this easier for yourself. Yield, and simply give me what I seek." His voice was smooth as silk, but cold as steel.
Jaune gritted his teeth, his face contorted in pain. He could feel Sinister's presence slithering inside his head, a sickening intrusion—like a worm forcing its way through soil, leaving trails of agony with every push. The sensation was unbearable, worse than any wound, worse than any blade. He could feel the villain digging, clawing through his memories, prying at secrets Jaune had fought hard to protect.
Sinister chuckled darkly as his probing grew more aggressive. "Fascinating..." he whispered, eyes alight with greed as glimpses of Jaune's mind unfolded before him. "A boy... from another universe, and such extraordinary potential is locked inside you. Your DNA, your very being... yes, you may be exactly what I need to elevate my research beyond perfection." He laughed softly, the sound low and chilling.
And then—
"Git away from him!"
The sudden voice cut through the haze of pain in Jaune's mind, sharp and commanding. Sinister's smile faltered, his concentration breaking as he pulled away from Jaune's thoughts. His head snapped up—just in time for a crimson beam of raw energy to slam into his chest, sending him skidding backward across the hall with a snarl.
Out of the settling dust, Wanda and Rogue strode forward, their presence radiating defiance. Wanda's hands still glowed with scarlet power, swirling with chaotic energy, while Rogue's eyes scanned the room, locking on Jaune.
Relief washed through Jaune the moment their familiar figures appeared. The crushing weight inside his skull lifted, leaving only the dull ache of resistance. He tried to stand, pushing himself up on shaky legs, but his body betrayed him—his knees buckled, threatening to give out beneath him.
"Whoa there, sugar," Rogue said quickly, rushing to his side. She caught him with ease, steadying him as if he weighed nothing at all. Her voice softened, her smile small but reassuring. "Eaaasy now, big guy... ya've done 'nough already."
Jaune let out a shaky breath, leaning on her support. "Thanks..." he muttered before glancing up at her, worry flashing across his face. "How's everyone else? Did they—?"
"They're fine," Rogue interrupted gently, giving his arm a squeeze. "Everyone's alright. Sinister 'n his goons are done for."
Wanda drifted closer, her scarlet magic still crackling at her fingertips. Her eyes, however, softened when they landed on Jaune. "We tied up the others back at the boarding house," she added firmly. "Lance and Blob are keeping an eye on 'em."
Before Jaune could respond, a voice—smooth and mocking—slithered through the hall.
"So... you managed to best my Marauders, hm?"
Every muscle in Jaune's body tensed. He and Rogue both snapped their eyes forward, and there, stepping through the hole in the ruined wall, came Sinister. Bits of plaster crumbled from his shoulder as he casually brushed himself off. His pale face was untouched, not a scratch marring his skin, and the faint smile curling his lips was as unsettling as ever.
He placed his hands neatly behind his back, strolling forward as if nothing had happened. "Impressive, I'll grant you that. But did you really think it would be so easy to be rid of me?"
Jaune groaned, his shoulders slumping. "Oh, come on..." he muttered under his breath, glaring at the pale man. "Why won't the bad guys ever just stay down?"
Sinister's lips curled into that unnerving smile again, his voice low and mocking as he chuckled. "Well, isn't this a sight? The X-Men and the Brotherhood, working side by side... I must admit, I didn't expect such cooperation. But then..." he tilted his head, studying them like specimens under glass, "A common enemy has a way of uniting even the most unwilling allies."
Jaune, still bracing himself against the ache in his head, lifted his chin defiantly. His voice, hoarse but steady, carried across the broken hall. "It's over, Sinister. Give up before this gets worse."
Before Sinister could respond, Wanda strode forward, her crimson energy flaring like a storm around her hands. Her eyes burned with fury as she glared at him. "Or else I'll turn you into string cheese," she hissed, the air crackling with her power.
Sinister's laughter followed, smooth and cold, echoing off the walls like a predator circling its prey. "Children, children..." he said, spreading his arms as though to embrace the absurdity. "You honestly think you have me cornered? How delightfully naïve."
And then—just as if summoned by his words—a portal tore itself open behind him. Its swirling energy mirrored the ones they had seen before, the same kind that tore reality open at the boardinghouse and before the mansion.
"No—!" Jaune staggered forward, nearly collapsing as he reached out a hand, desperation written all over his face. "Wait!" he cried, though the word was already too late.
Sinister only smirked wider, his eyes never leaving theirs. Step by step, he retreated into the portal, savoring their helplessness as if it were the sweetest victory. And then, with one final glance, he vanished, swallowed by the rift.
Jaune's momentum nearly sent him crashing to the ground, but Rogue was there in an instant, steadying him on one side while Wanda caught his other arm. He clenched his teeth, a growl of pure frustration ripping from his throat. "Damn it! He got away!"
Rogue gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze, her voice steady but carrying that fire of determination he needed to hear. "Easy, sugar, we'll get 'im next time." Her lips quirked into a confident smirk. "An' next time... we'll be ready"
Jaune turned his head toward her, exhaustion still clinging to his features, yet a small, genuine smile began to tug at his lips. "Yeah... I guess so," he said softly, nodding in quiet agreement.
Rogue returned the smile, steadying him with her hand still resting against his arm. The moment lingered between them, warm and unspoken.
From a few steps away, Wanda's gaze sharpened. She watched the exchange in silence, her blue eyes narrowing ever so slightly. A faint frown crept onto her face, betraying the spark of irritation she felt. It wasn't anger—not really—but something heavier, something far more complicated. She hated how her chest tightened at the sight, hated that a part of her recoiled at seeing Jaune's attention fixed entirely on Rogue.
Wanda shook her head slowly, trying to mask the flicker of jealousy stirring inside her. 'Why should it bother me?' she thought bitterly, yet the feeling refused to quiet...
XXX
XXX
XXX
The following morning, both the X-Men and the Brotherhood assembled outside the Mansion. The air was heavy with unease, the two groups standing on opposite sides of the lawn, their wary glances making it clear that old grudges hadn't disappeared overnight. All eyes, however, were on Charles Xavier, who sat calmly in his chair, hands folded in front of him.
"So... why'd you drag us all out here?" Pietro finally broke the silence, arms crossed and one silver brow raised with impatience.
Charles met his gaze, his voice measured but firm. "Pietro, I need you to call your father. He must be present for this discussion. What we are about to face... concerns all of us. Magneto needs to be here when we speak of Sinister."
Pietro groaned audibly, rolling his eyes as if the request alone was an insult. "Of course it does..." he muttered, but nevertheless reached into his jacket pocket, fishing out his phone. He dialed swiftly, then held it to his ear, pacing in a small circle while the line connected.
The group waited in silence, every faint ring of the call seeming to stretch on longer than it should. Finally, Pietro's expression shifted as he heard his father's voice. "Yeah, it's me," Pietro said curtly. "Something went down and Xavier wants a word... No, not later—now."
He paused, listening to the reply. His shoulders sagged, though not in relief.
"...Fine." With a sharp snap, Pietro closed the phone and turned back toward Charles. "He says he's on the way."
The Professor gave a small, approving nod. "Good. Then we'll wait until he arrives." His lips curved faintly, almost amused, as he looked between the two uneasy factions. "In the meantime, I would ask that we all remain on our best behavior."
A few mutters rippled through both sides, but no one spoke out loud against him. For now, at least, Xavier's presence carried enough weight to keep the peace.
While the tension settled back into silence, Jaune's gaze drifted to Rogue. She stood a little apart from the others, arms folded, her light grey eyes scanning the crowd. Jaune hesitated for a moment, then inhaled, steeling himself before walking over. His voice broke the quiet as he called out to her.
"Hey, Rogue." He greeted.
Hearing her name, Rogue turned, her expression softening as she caught sight of him. A small smile tugged at her lips. "Hey there, Jaune," she greeted warmly, her Southern drawl carrying a touch of ease. "What's goin' on?"
Jaune opened his mouth, then closed it again, the words sticking in his throat. For a brief moment, he looked almost lost, but then he drew in a deep breath and slowly exhaled, forcing his nerves into check. His hands tightened into fists at his sides before he finally spoke.
"Rogue... can I talk to you privately?" His voice was steadier than he felt. "It's important."
Rogue tilted her head, curiosity flashing in her eyes. The confusion was clear, but so was the trust. After a moment, she gave a small nod. "Sure," she said simply.
Together, the two slipped back inside the mansion, leaving behind the heavy tension brewing between the X-Men and the Brotherhood. The halls felt quieter, more intimate, and by the time they found a couch in the lounge, the weight in Jaune's chest was pressing harder. They sat down side by side, the silence stretching just long enough for Rogue to arch a brow at him.
"So," she finally said, her voice softer now, though tinged with worry. "What's this about?"
Jaune stared down at his hands for a moment, then looked up, his expression deadly serious. "Rogue, I... I want to tell you what happened to me before I ever got here. About what I went through. About what I did." His words carried a heaviness that made Rogue's stomach knot. "Before I came to Earth, I was trapped in a situation I couldn't escape. And I... I didn't come out of it clean."
Rogue frowned, the easy warmth from earlier fading into concern. "I kinda figured somethin' was off." she admitted, leaning forward a little. "From the moment ya woke up, you we're all jittery... like ya was waitin' on somethin' bad to happen."
Jaune gave a faint, humorless laugh and nodded. "You're right. I was. Because the last thing I remember before waking up here was being in the middle of a fight... against a woman named Cinder Fall." His jaw tightened as he said her name. "She's done things—awful things—that I don't even know how to put into words. But it's not just her. It's what I did during that fight that I can't forgive myself for."
Rogue's eyes widened slightly, confusion and worry battling for dominance on her face. She leaned back slowly, her brow furrowing. "...What are ya talkin' 'bout, Jaune?" she asked carefully, her voice carrying both fear of the answer and a need to hear it.
Jaune let out a long, heavy sigh, as if releasing the weight that had been pressing against his chest. His shoulders slumped slightly before he finally found the strength to speak. "Alright... here goes," he murmured, more to himself than to Rogue. Then, piece by piece, he began to unravel his story.
He told her how everything started—how he had been branded a criminal, hunted by the Atlas Military. From there, he told her how his path had reunited him with team RWBY and how he learned about Penny inheriting the Winter Maiden's powers.
As Jaune spoke, his tone shifted, carrying sorrow. He explained what Ironwood had threatened them with, the plan they had forged together to take the relic and save the people of Atlas. But then his voice hardened as he reached the turning point—Cinder and Neo's sudden intervention. His words grew tight, each one laced with the bitterness of helplessness. He described the chaos, the fight, and then... what happened to Penny.
For a moment, his voice wavered, the memory clawing at him, but he pushed forward. His gaze dropped to the floor as he came to the part that hurt the most. Quietly, almost like a confession, he told Rogue what he had done—what he had to do—to make sure that Cinder didn't take the Maiden's powers for herself. His words carried no pride, only guilt, and with each sentence, the shame in his eyes deepened.
By the time he finished, silence had fallen heavy between them.
Rogue sat frozen for a moment, stunned into silence.
Shocked was the only word for it. Everything Jaune had laid bare—the chaos of his world, the weight he carried, the terrible choice he had been forced to make—was almost too much to take in. It sounded unreal, like something out of a nightmare... yet she knew it was the truth.
And in a way, she could understand. Not so long ago, she and the rest of the X-Men had been hunted too. The fear of every sound, every sudden shadow, the feeling of being cornered—those memories were still fresh in her mind. But Jaune's burden went even further. He hadn't just been hunted. He'd been forced into something far worse.
He had to take a life... the life of a friend.
"I..." Rogue started, but the words caught in her throat. She didn't know what to say, what could be said to something like that.
Jaune's eyes dropped to the floor, guilt clouding his expression. "I'm sorry if I told you too much..." His voice was low, pained. Slowly, he pushed himself up from the couch. "I understand if you don't—"
"No, Jaune, wait!" Rogue cut him off, reaching out without thinking. Her hand caught his, holding it tightly.
Jaune froze mid-step and turned back to her, surprised by both her sudden grip and the urgency in her voice. His eyes widened slightly, caught off guard.
"Jaune..." Rogue's voice softened, though it trembled with emotion. "I... I don't rightly know what ya're feelin' or what ya're goin' through, but... I wanna help. An' I don't think of ya any different." She held his gaze firmly, her green eyes locking onto his.
She swallowed hard before continuing, her words laced with both compassion and a touch of sorrow.
"Ya were in a place I pray I never have to be in. Ya did what ya had to do. Maybe—maybe there was another way, maybe somethin' coulda gone different... but I cain't say for sure. What I do know is ya shouldn't be tearin' yourself apart ovah this, sugar." Her grip on his hand tightened slightly, as if to ground him. "I don't think Penny would've wanted what ya did eatin' at ya. It was her choice, Jaune—her decision. The first real choice she ever made for herself."
Jaune looked at her, his lips curling into a small, soft smile even as tears threatened to spill from his eyes. “Thank you, Rogue,” he whispered, his voice trembling with sincerity.
Rogue gave a little laugh, shaking her head. “Ya don’t gotta thank meh for nothin’,” she said lightly, though her tone carried warmth.
Jaune nodded, his smile faint but stubborn. “Still… thank you, Rogue,” he repeated, more firmly this time. “I… It means a lot. More than you know.”
Rogue sighed gently, though she kept her smile. “I told ya, ya don’t have to thank meh, I just wanna help ya stop blamin’ yourself an’ find a way to move forward. Sure, it’s gonna take some time, but…” Her grip on his hand lingered just a little longer before she added, “I aim to be right there with ya, every step of the way.”
For a moment, neither of them spoke. The weight of the moment held them still as they simply looked at one another, the silence more comforting than words could ever be. Then, as if realizing how long they’d been caught in each other’s gaze, both let out a soft, awkward chuckle. Rogue finally eased her hand from his, brushing a strand of hair back behind her ear.
“We oughta… uh, head back out to the others,” Rogue said, her accent slipping thicker in her fluster.
“Y-Yeah. Good idea,” Jaune agreed, quickly clearing his throat and straightening.
Together, they rose from the couch and made their way back outside. The warm chatter of voices and the casual atmosphere hit them instantly, a sharp contrast to the heavy conversation they’d just shared. The others were still laughing, mingling, and waiting for Magneto’s arrival.
Rogue drifted over to where Kitty and Kurt were animatedly debating something, slipping easily back into the group’s rhythm. Jaune, meanwhile, paused at the edge of the courtyard. His eyes scanned the crowd until they landed on Wanda, who was seated quietly by the fountain, her expression distant. A small smile tugged at his lips, and he began to walk toward her, but before he could get close, Toad suddenly hopped right into his path, landing squarely in front of him with a grin that was anything but welcoming.
Toad narrowed his eyes, stepping right into Jaune’s path. “What do you think you’re doin’, yo?” he asked, his voice carrying a low growl as he glared up at the blonde.
Jaune stopped and glanced down at the foul-smelling teen, keeping his tone polite despite the irritation tugging at him. “I’m going to talk to Wanda. That a problem?”
“Yeah, it’s a problem,” Toad shot back, puffing up his chest. “She’s my girl, man. You think I’m gonna just let you swoop in an’ try to hit on her?” His glare hardened, though the wobble in his voice betrayed him.
Jaune arched a brow, unimpressed. “Oh, really? She’s your girl, huh?” he asked, a hint of amusement coloring his words. He tilted his head toward Wanda, who was still sitting quietly by the fountain, and smirked. “So if I walk over there and ask her myself, what do you think she’s gonna say?”
Toad froze, his bravado slipping in an instant. His eyes widened, and a nervous twitch worked its way across his face. “Pft! W-Whatever, yo. Just… just don’t go stealin’ her away from me,” he muttered, voice cracking slightly as he turned away. He hopped off awkwardly, muttering under his breath, though loud enough for Jaune to catch the words.
Jaune couldn’t help the small chuckle that escaped him before he shook his head and turned his attention back to Wanda. Jaune made his way over to the fountain, coming to a stop just in front of Wanda. His shadow fell across her as she looked up, her blue eyes narrowing for a beat before she smirked.
“Well, well… what’s up, blondie?” she asked, her tone teasing but edged with curiosity.
Jaune returned the smirk, jerking a thumb over his shoulder toward where Toad had disappeared. “For starters, your boyfriend just gave me quite the talking to.”
Wanda followed the gesture, caught sight of Toad, and immediately rolled her eyes so hard it almost hurt. A groan slipped from her throat. “Ugh. What did he say this time? Whatever it was—it ain’t true.”
Jaune lifted a brow, his smirk tugging wider. “Really? Because, you know… You two would make a pretty good couple.” He let the words hang, deliberately teasing.
Wanda gagged dramatically, clutching her chest like she’d just been struck. “Oh, gods—don’t. That’s so gross!” She shuddered, visibly repulsed. “Don’t even joke about that.”
Jaune chuckled under his breath, holding up a hand in surrender. “Alright, alright, I’ll stop.” He sobered slightly, his expression softening. “Actually, I came over to tell you… you were right.”
Her smirk faltered, replaced by a curious frown. “Right about what?” she asked, arching a brow.
“About Rogue,” Jaune said quietly. “You told me I should talk to her… and you were right. I did. And she… she understood.” His voice carried a mixture of relief and lingering weight, as if the words still sat heavy on him but less crushing than before.
Wanda blinked, caught off guard. She forced a small smile, but her tone came out uneven, the happiness a little too thin to be genuine. “Oh… that’s… that’s good, Jaune. Really good.”
“Yeah… but I hope I can still talk to you about it,” Jaune said after a moment, his voice softer now. “That is, if it’s not bothering you. And if you ever need to get anything off your chest, I’m willing to listen. We’re friends, right?”
Wanda smirked, tilting her head slightly as her crimson eyes gleamed with amusement. “And what makes you so sure we are? No offense, blondie, but this isn’t the first time the X-Men and the Brotherhood have teamed up. How do you know things won’t just go right back to the way they were? Next time we meet, what’s to stop us from being at each other’s throats again?”
Jaune shook his head firmly. “I don’t think so. Don’t get me wrong—you and the Brotherhood definitely come off a little rough around the edges, but I can tell you’ve probably been given the short end of the stick more than once.” His tone was calm but sincere as he continued. “And besides, now we have a common enemy. Back in my world, we have a saying: the enemy of my enemy is my friend.”
That earned a soft laugh from Wanda. “Funny, we’ve got that exact same saying here on Earth,” she said, smirking.
“Heh, well, doesn’t make it any less true,” Jaune replied with a faint grin. “If you or the Brotherhood ever need help, I’ll come running… Arc’s word.”
Wanda raised a brow, her smirk tugging a little wider. “Arc’s word, huh? That supposed to mean something special? Like some kind of promise?”
Jaune nodded without hesitation. “Yeah. And an Arc never goes back on their word.”
Wanda let out a quiet chuckle, almost under her breath, before her expression softened just slightly. “I’ll hold you to that,” she told him.
“I’m usually the bad guy, ya know?” Wanda said, her smirk faint but her tone carrying a hint of challenge. “You really wanna come running to my rescue if I ever need it?”
Jaune smiled softly, his expression steady and without hesitation. “I’ve met plenty of bad guys, Wanda… and you’re not one of them,” he said simply.
Wanda tilted her head, her smirk faltering just a fraction. “You sure about that?” she asked, her voice quieter this time, almost testing him.
Jaune nodded, his gaze never wavering.
Before Wanda could say anything more, a voice called out across the way. “Jaune, come over here real quick,” Scott shouted.
Jaune glanced back toward Scott, then returned his attention to Wanda. “I’ll be there in a sec,” he called back. Turning to her once more, he kept that same soft smile. “Guess I’m needed. But… see you around?”
Wanda smirked again, the teasing edge slipping back into place. She gave him a quick nod. “You bet,” she said.
Jaune returned the nod, then finally turned and began walking away. As he moved farther off, Pietro suddenly zipped in at Wanda’s side, casually leaning against her shoulder with a smug grin.
“So, who’s the blonde, sis?” he asked, eyes following Jaune with interest.
Wanda rolled her eyes, shoving her brother’s arm off of her with a groan. “That’s Jaune—the guy Toad’s was running his mouth to you about,” she said flatly.
Pietro arched a silver brow, his tone casual but edged with curiosity. “What did he want?” he asked, eyes narrowing slightly as he studied his sister.
“Nothing,” Wanda replied quickly, a little too quickly, her voice sharp as if cutting off any further questions.
Before Pietro could press, Toad suddenly hopped in beside her, wearing his usual smug grin. “He didn’t say anything to you, did he, babe? Just say the word and I’ll make sure he doesn’t bother you again, yo,” he said, puffing out his chest like he was offering protection.
Wanda’s expression twisted into disgust. With a low growl, she flicked her wrist, her crimson energy sparking to life and lashing out. In an instant, Toad was hurled backward with a yelp, sent tumbling across the ground.
At last, Erik Lehnsherr—better known to the world as Magneto—descended from the sky, his cloak trailing behind him as he glided effortlessly on magnetic currents. The Acolytes followed close, landing at his sides in a display of loyalty and power.
When his boots finally touched the ground, Erik’s sharp gaze immediately swept the area, falling upon the assembled Brotherhood and X-Men standing together in a tense, uneasy truce. But his eyes lingered on one figure above all—the man in the chair who had once been his closest friend.
“Charles,” Erik said firmly, striding forward, his presence commanding the space. “What is this about?”
Charles wheeled himself ahead, tilting his head back to meet Erik’s gaze, his expression grim. “Erik… I’m afraid the sins of the past have come back to haunt us, my old friend.”
Erik’s jaw tightened. His tone snapped with impatience. “What are you talking about?”
“Essex,” Charles answered solemnly. “He’s alive.”
Erik froze, eyes widening in disbelief. “What!? Impossible!” His voice carried both anger and denial, ringing sharply across the field.
“I’m afraid not,” Charles said quietly, but firmly. “He survived by transferring his consciousness into a clone body—one of his own creation, genetically engineered with the countless mutations he stole over the years.”
Erik’s hands curled into fists at his side, his expression darkening. “And what does he want?” he asked, his voice dropping low, laced with both curiosity and concern.
“The same thing he always craved—DNA, he’s already managed to harvest samples from most of the Brotherhood. Thankfully, Wanda escaped his grasp and came to us for help. Once she revealed he was calling himself Sinister, I knew I could not stand aside. The four boys he had taken were given back, but…” Charles trailed off, his expression heavy. “…I fear this is only the beginning. We’ve not seen the last of Essex.”
Erik’s face hardened as he nodded slowly, his voice low and deliberate. “Yes. I fear the same. He was always relentless in his pursuit of evolution, no matter the cost.” His tone carried both anger and resolve. “I… thank you, Charles. You’ve done more than enough. But I will handle it from here. Sinister has gone too far.”
Charles wheeled forward a little, urgency in his voice. “Erik, please. Do not shoulder this alone. Sinister struck at my home, my students, my family. We should fight together, as we once did, to stop him and his Marauders before his schemes spiral beyond control.”
Magneto’s eyes narrowed. “And for what reason? Sinister cannot possibly rival Apocalypse in strength. Why should we risk rekindling an alliance only to see it collapse again?”
Charles held his gaze, firm yet calm. “Perhaps he is not as strong as Apocalypse. But strength alone is not the measure of danger. Essex is cunning—far more than either of us ever gave him credit for. It took us years to even comprehend the scope of his experiments. Now he’s had decades to refine, to prepare, to twist what he has stolen. Who knows what horrors he has fashioned for himself?”
Erik was silent for a long moment, the weight of Charles’s words settling over him. At last, he exhaled and gave a slow, reluctant nod. “…I suppose you’re right, old friend. As before, you’ll have my full cooperation—until Sinister is dealt with.”
Charles’s expression softened, relief flickering in his eyes. “Then we stand together once more.”
Logan stepped forward, his tone rough and direct. “By the way, you heard from Sabretooth lately?”
Erik’s brow furrowed as he shook his head. “No. I haven’t been able to reach him for quite some time,” he admitted, his voice carrying a hint of suspicion. “Why do you ask?”
Logan’s eyes narrowed. “Because he’s been runnin’ with Sinister—helpin’ him snatch your brats.”
Erik’s expression darkened instantly, his eyes flashing with fury. A low growl rumbled from his throat as he clenched his fists. “So the traitor finally shows his hand… I’ll be watching for him. And when I find him—he’ll regret it.”
Turning away from Logan, Erik’s gaze swept across the gathered crowd. His eyes landed on the cluster of X-Men nearby, where a blond boy stood speaking easily with the familiar team. His eyes narrowed in curiosity. “Charles… who is that boy?” he asked, pointing toward Jaune.
Charles followed his line of sight, his lips curving into a small, knowing smile. “Ah, you must mean Jaune. He’s a new student here at the Institute,” Charles explained smoothly, carefully withholding any mention of the boy’s true origin.
Erik studied Jaune for a moment, then gave a slow nod. “I see. Your little school never ceases to expand, Charles,” he remarked with a faint, almost amused smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Very well… excuse me. I need a word with my son and his friends.”
Charles inclined his head in understanding as Erik strode toward the Brotherhood. His presence was commanding, and the younger mutants straightened the moment his shadow fell over them. Erik placed a firm hand on Pietro’s back, causing his silver-haired son to glance back at him.
“So, what’s the plan?” Pietro asked with his usual smirk, as though the tension around them meant little.
“We’ll be working with Charles and the X-Men again,” Erik said firmly, his tone brooking no argument. “We’ll need their aid, which means—for now—the Brotherhood and the X-Men will operate side by side. More than that, you’ll be training with them.”
Pietro’s head snapped up, his silver brows shooting high. “Huh!? What for!?”
“Because you and those fools were taken off guard!” Erik snapped, his voice like a whip. “How many times have I told you this isn’t a game? You must be prepared, Pietro. These are dangerous times—we face enemies pressing on us from every side.”
Pietro rolled his eyes, crossing his arms with an exaggerated sigh. “Ugh… fine. Whatever. But after this whole Sinister mess is over, can we finally take out the X-Men for good? Or better yet—why don’t we just let them deal with Sinister and his freaks, then swoop in and beat both sides? Heck, I’ll even kill the Professor myse—”
He didn’t finish. Erik’s hand shot out, gripping his son by the collar with startling speed, yanking him close until their faces were only inches apart. The magnetic master’s eyes burned with fury, his voice low and dangerous.
“You will do no such thing,” Erik hissed, each word laced with venom. “Do you understand me, boy?”
Pietro froze, caught off guard by the sheer force in his father’s glare.
“Charles and I may never have agreed on how the world should be shaped,” Erik continued, his voice steady but seething. “But never—never—has he been my enemy. He is, and will always remain, my friend. And should anyone ever dare raise a hand against him, they will face the wrath of Magneto.”
He released Pietro with a shove, the weight of his words still lingering heavy in the air.
“Do I make myself clear?” Erik asked, his glare sharp and unwavering as it bore into his son.
Pietro swallowed hard, then gave a slow, reluctant nod in response.
Erik studied him for a moment longer before giving a curt nod of approval. “Good. That’s better. Now then… I’m going to speak with Charles about arranging proper training for all of you alongside the X-Men. Consider it both a necessity and a test.” His tone softened just slightly, though his authority remained firm. He turned his gaze back to the Brotherhood as a whole, his eyes narrowing with thought. “And who knows… perhaps this will serve as an opportunity. With the right guidance, some of Charles’ precious students might yet see the truth of our cause.”
XXX
XXX
XXX
A/N: We've finally reached the end of the First Arc, but in the next chapter, we'll be entering... THE DARK PHOENIX!!! I'm really gonna like writing this Arc because I boy oh boy are we finally gonna be getting... Emma Frost!
Yep, during the Dark Phoenix Arc, I'll be introducing the Hellfire Club, because boy, do I have plans for Emma~!
I hope you enjoyed this chapter, because I've got a whole lot more coming with the next Arc!
(Also fun fact, the hand-to-hand fight between Jaune and Sinister was a reference to Matrix~ Ya know, that scene where Neo's absolutely kicking Agent Smith's ass.)
MadLibrary on Chapter 1 Sun 23 Feb 2025 03:54PM UTC
Comment Actions
baixiaochun2910 on Chapter 1 Sun 23 Feb 2025 11:33PM UTC
Last Edited Sun 23 Feb 2025 11:35PM UTC
Comment Actions
scar (Guest) on Chapter 1 Wed 26 Feb 2025 08:14PM UTC
Comment Actions
Lion_Comet on Chapter 1 Mon 03 Mar 2025 02:18PM UTC
Comment Actions
Kaiser_Powers on Chapter 1 Fri 25 Apr 2025 04:43PM UTC
Comment Actions
Lion_Comet on Chapter 2 Mon 03 Mar 2025 02:29PM UTC
Comment Actions
Professor_MAD on Chapter 2 Tue 04 Mar 2025 02:36AM UTC
Comment Actions
Morijingod on Chapter 2 Sun 04 May 2025 04:54PM UTC
Comment Actions
Splash43 on Chapter 3 Wed 23 Apr 2025 05:42PM UTC
Comment Actions
Splash43 on Chapter 3 Mon 28 Apr 2025 02:22PM UTC
Comment Actions
Splash43 on Chapter 4 Sun 15 Jun 2025 09:28PM UTC
Comment Actions
JauneArcTheGod on Chapter 4 Sun 15 Jun 2025 10:27PM UTC
Comment Actions
Morijingod on Chapter 4 Mon 16 Jun 2025 01:35AM UTC
Comment Actions
Cmendal33 on Chapter 4 Sun 24 Aug 2025 11:08PM UTC
Comment Actions
Splash43 on Chapter 5 Sun 31 Aug 2025 05:58AM UTC
Comment Actions