Logan had officially designated them the "children's group".
Jubilee stood in the doorway of the S.H.I.E.L.D. training room, popping a bubblegum bubble. Peter and Cindy shared a long, silent look. The message from Logan was crystal clear: in the upcoming assault on the Weapon X base, Peter was the unstable patient , Cindy was his S.H.I.E.L.D. handler , and Jubilee was a twelve-year-old civilian who needed to be kept out of the line of fire. None of them were invited to the main event.
Cindy immediately pulled her red mask up over the lower half of her face, crossing her arms. Her S.H.I.E.L.D. protocol was observation. She was entirely tapping out of this conversation.
Peter sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Logan's team is going into a highly volatile combat zone," he told Jubilee, trying to keep his voice gentle. "He benched us. We're on standby."
"But you're Spider-Man," Jubilee argued, crossing her arms to mirror Cindy. "You're an Avenger."
Peter winced. "Technically, yes. But my superpowers are actively glitching right now. I punch things, and the ceiling falls down. If I go into a firefight, I'm a liability. The X-Men are here to help me fix my genetics."
He crouched down slightly to meet her eye level. "If you really want to help people, the first step is making sure you aren't putting them in more danger. I had to learn how to control my output so I didn't accidentally hurt the people I was trying to save. You just have to sit tight."
Before Jubilee could argue further, the heavy, vibrating roar of a Quinjet's vertical thrusters rattled the bunker walls.
The cavalry had arrived.
Up on the S.H.I.E.L.D. helipad, Cyclops, Wolverine, and Beast stood against the backdraft of the descending Quinjet. The heavy ramp lowered with a hydraulic hiss.
Bobby Drake shot out of the bay first. He cheered loud over the engines, his hands projecting a slick ramp of solid ice that he rode directly onto the tarmac.
Heavy, metallic thuds followed. Peter Rasputin stepped off the ramp, towering over the group. He was fully transformed into his organic steel form—a permanent necessity to manage his family's hereditary organ condition. The massive Russian nodded politely to the flight crew as he disembarked.
"I knew you'd come, Bobby," Scott said, his stoic face breaking into a genuine, relieved smile as he hugged the ice-mutant. He turned and gripped Colossus's massive steel hand. "Thank you for coming, Peter."
"You give me a home," Colossus rumbled, his voice deep and grounded.
Hank McCoy smiled warmly, handing both men the heavy yellow-and-blue Kevlar tactical suits he had fabricated for the operation.
Then, a final passenger stepped off the Quinjet.
She wasn't an X-Man. Emma Frost descended the ramp, dressed in pristine, tailored white. Scott's genuine smile instantly vanished, replaced by a polite, calculating corporate mask.
Logan elbowed Hank, sniffing the air. "Who's the blonde?"
"Emma Frost," Hank murmured, his blue fur ruffling in the wind. "Head of the Massachusetts Academy. Hellfire Club heavyweight. Telepath."
Logan snorted softly. "A telepath. Course she is. Xavier, Jean, now her. Bob sure has a type."
Emma stepped up to Scott, offering a manicured hand. "You brought me all the way to Madripoor just to show off your little roster, Scott?"
"I didn't bring you here to show off, Ms. Frost," Scott said, gripping her hand firmly. "I brought you here to inform you that tomorrow morning, the Worthington Group will launch a hostile takeover bid against the Massachusetts Academy. When it succeeds, your faculty, your students, and your entire endowment will be forcibly absorbed into Xavier's."
Emma's eyes narrowed infinitesimally.
"I can give you Xavier's," Scott continued, his voice diamond-hard. "But not to the Hellfire Club. And absolutely not to Sebastian Shaw. If you want to be a real leader, Emma, prove it."
Emma stared at the man standing in front of her. He didn't look like the grieving, broken student Charles Xavier had left behind. He looked like a general.
Emma threw her head back and laughed. "You're misinformed, Mr. Summers. I have never been Sebastian's subordinate. The Hellfire Club operates on the hierarchy of a chessboard. Sebastian is the Black King. I am the White Queen. We are co-equals."
She stepped closer, her voice dropping to a sharp purr. "But... if a White King were to stand beside the White Queen... the Hellfire Club would belong to us entirely."
"I accept your acquisition offer, Scott," Emma smiled. "The question is, do you accept mine?"
Scott didn't hesitate. He flashed a brilliant, shark-like smile and shook her hand. "Welcome to the X-Men, Emma."
Deep underground in Weapon X's temporary operating base, a heavy cargo crane groaned, lowering a massive steel shipping container onto the concrete floor.
Nathaniel Essex, still wearing the muscular, bald meat-suit of his "Ajax" disguise, watched with cold anticipation. He gestured sharply to Yuriko Oyama.
Lady Deathstrike stepped forward. With five metallic snikts, she dragged her adamantium fingernails straight through the heavy industrial chains locking the container doors.
The metal doors swung open. A terrifying blast of sub-zero vapor spilled out across the floor. As the white fog thinned, the remaining Weapon X operatives stared into the dark.
A man was sealed inside a solid block of thick, translucent ice.
"What is that?" Daken asked, popping his wrist claws. "Another mutant?"
"No," Essex murmured, shaking his head in sheer disbelief. "This is a legend. A relic the world believed died in a bunker in Berlin. I cannot believe HYDRA actually managed to preserve this."
He snapped his fingers at Yuriko. She stepped up and pierced the ice block with a single adamantium claw.
The moment ambient oxygen flooded the puncture hole, the man's skin ignited.
A blinding roar of hyper-thermal flames erupted from his body, flash-melting the massive ice block into a pool of boiling water in a fraction of a second. The man stood up slowly from the steam. He was entirely wreathed in fire. His eyes were blank, mechanical, utterly devoid of human life, simply waiting for a superior officer's command.
Essex smiled. HYDRA had actually successfully repurposed their oldest enemy into an asset.
"Operatives, allow me to introduce you," Essex said, spreading his arms. "Jim Hammond. The original Human Torch."
PS: Jim Hammond isn't Johnny Storm! He is the original Human Torch, created in 1939 during the Golden Age of Comics (Marvel Comics #1). He isn't actually human or a mutant at all—he's a highly advanced synthetic android who fought alongside Captain America in World War II as part of the Invaders!