POV: Scott
One day after leaving that circus they call the X-Mansion, the first thing I did was buy two tacos and rent a small apartment for a few days.
After that?
I finally sat down and started thinking.
How the hell did I end up here?
I know a lot of people would kill to be in my position. If I play my cards right, I could get power, money, women—everything most guys dream about.
The problem?
I was perfectly satisfied with my old life. And I definitely don't want to be anywhere near this planet when Thanos shows up with his twisted idea of "balance." Assuming that's even the version of events I'm stuck in.
It took a few hours for reality to fully sink in.
And then I started connecting dots.
Like a certain turtle once said—there are no accidents.
And I'd bet my left nut that what happened to me definitely wasn't one.
Even the way I acted back there… it wasn't normal.
I can joke about it, sure—but I wasn't an actor in my old life.
Everything felt too natural. My responses. My tone. The way I carried myself.
Like I really was Scott.
I may have his body. I may talk like him. Hell, I might even take a dump like him.
But I'm not him.
At least… that's what I want to believe.
The second thing worrying me?
My complete lack of protection.
Don't get me wrong—I still desperately want to drink a cold beer on a beach somewhere, enjoying the ocean and beautiful women in bikinis.
But that doesn't change the fact that I'm a mutant now.
Worse.
I'm Xavier's golden boy.
He may have let me walk out thinking I can handle myself—but the truth?
One guy with a pocketknife could send me to the afterlife.
So for the sake of my vacation—and my life—I need to learn how to use my biggest weapon.
I stare at my reflection in the dark TV screen.
In the comics, Cyclops' optic blasts aren't just lasers. They're said to be portals—openings to another dimension, one entirely composed of kinetic energy. His eyes simply connect to it.
I don't know how accurate that is.
But if there's anyone who can teach me how this works…
It's the Sorcerer Supreme.
Either Doctor Strange or the Ancient One.
They deal with alternate realities and dimensions daily. And if it's anything like the MCU, they even train hand-to-hand combat.
Something I desperately need.
Not to mention—they probably already know I exist.
And more importantly, they probably know I'm altering the timeline.
And that's where the fear kicks in.
I'm not Scott.
And I've probably already derailed two or three major plotlines just by breathing wrong.
At this point, they could easily decide I'm a threat and erase me.
But let's be honest.
If that were the case, it would've happened already.
What really makes me curious is the silence.
They need to talk to me just as much as I need to talk to them.
That's a fact.
So why the delay?
Why wait?
"Because it's far easier to understand what someone wants by observing them… than by speaking to them."
A female voice echoes from behind me.
And I'm not even surprised.
In fact… I feel relieved.
"I assume you already know about my situation?"
The woman standing before me wears mustard-yellow robes, her head completely shaved.
The Ancient One.
MCU version.
Good.
Much easier to deal with her than with Strange.
"To a degree… yes. And no."
Great. We're starting with cryptic nonsense already.
"Are we doing this here, or…?"
"It would be better to discuss your… condition elsewhere."
"Can I bring my car?"
She gives me a faint smile.
"What do you think?"
Damn it.
"Fine. But I expect to see her in one piece afterward."
"I don't understand why you're so attached to your car. Regardless of the timeline."
"Hey! Lucy is one in a million! A man should at least respect his car!"
She gives me a perfectly neutral expression… and opens a portal.
Message received.
I follow her through, leaving the apartment—and my unfinished taco—behind.
___________________________________________
POV: ???
"…Wait. You're telling me Jean—one of the only people in this place with actual common sense—cheated on Scott? With Logan?"
Kitty might have a reputation for being mischievous, but there are limits.
And I sincerely hope she's joking.
Kitty's expression turns serious.
"I'm serious. Logan admitted it. Right in front of Scott."
In front of him?
Then how is the mansion still standing?
With the friction those two have, this place should've been leveled by now.
"Seriously? And I'm not seeing them tear each other apart? They've done worse over less."
"That's the problem! If it were a normal day, not even the Professor would've been able to stop him!"
Yeah… everyone knows how deeply he loves Jean.
Almost obsessively.
"Wait—so he wasn't having a normal day?"
"Worse! He said he was going to propose before he found out!"
…You're kidding.
"No way."
"It's true! He even showed the ring! Apparently it took him six months to save up for it!"
Damn.
Scott and I have our differences, but even I feel bad for the guy.
"And then? Don't tell me that was it."
"He said, 'You helped me realize I was about to make the biggest mistake of my life. So… thank you.' And then he left."
Yeah.
That screams the beginning of depression.
"There's more! He left the ring with Logan. Told him to use it when the time felt right."
Okay. Confirmed.
Scott is not okay.
And I don't blame him.
He spent years chasing her. Finally got her. Spent three years on cloud nine over it.
And right when he's about to propose… this happens?
If it were me, beyond the anger and humiliation, the first thought in my head would be—
Was this the only time?
And that's when a man's confidence goes straight to hell.
Because you don't just feel betrayed.
You feel manipulated.
At that point, you react in one of two ways:
Uncontrolled rage.
Or crushing sadness.
And Scott?
He clearly is the second.
"Do you know where he went?"
"No… he said something about taking a vacation."
Classic Kitty. Always hears the gossip—never the details.
"…Try not to tell the entire mansion."
"…I already did."
"…Fantastic. Now we're screwed."
May God help us.