The three available members of the X-Men—which currently consisted of zero actual new recruits—hastily assembled in the S.H.I.E.L.D. base's secure briefing room.
Scott Summers set his secured phone down on the metal table. He had just spent the last hour burning through international lines, trying to see how many of his old team he could drag back into the fold. The final tally was a mixed bag.
"Bobby is in," Scott announced, leaning against the table. "Warren said it would be more efficient to use Worthington Group assets to fund us, rather than putting on a suit. Ororo is currently the Queen of Wakanda, which complicates her availability. Anna Marie is somewhere in Europe, completely off the grid. And Peter Rasputin heard we were getting back together and agreed to return, provided we can secure a safe location for his family."
There was also Kurt Wagner. He was currently inside the borders of Genosha and entirely unreachable due to the island nation's strict communication blackouts. He wasn't opposed to helping, but he physically couldn't get to Madripoor in time for this operation.
"So, the legendary X-Men ride again," Logan grunted. "All five of us."
He popped a single adamantium claw from his knuckle and smoothly decapitated a glass beer bottle. He didn't bother with a glass, just took a long pull from the jagged neck.
All three men were currently wearing the new tactical armor Hank McCoy had designed. It wasn't a thin, flexible bodysuit like Spider-Man's. It was heavy-duty Kevlar plating, layered for kinetic absorption. It was highly functional, undeniably protective, and dyed in a blindingly aggressive yellow and blue color scheme that Logan still absolutely despised.
The team composition was a tactical nightmare. Cyclops, Wolverine, Beast, Iceman, and Colossus. It was a sledgehammer of a roster with zero finesse. They had no battlefield coordination, no aerial superiority, and most critically, no telepath. In the old days, Jean Grey or Professor Xavier would anchor their minds, linking the squad for instantaneous silent communication. Now, they were flying blind.
But a sledgehammer was better than nothing. Scott had always built his strategies around the assets he actually possessed, not the ones he wished he had. Plus, Logan's return to the fold meant they already had their first new student.
Funding the reconstruction of the Xavier estate wouldn't be an issue, thanks to Warren's money. But Scott had a more aggressive timeline in mind. He knew exactly where to find a fully operational campus with ready-made teachers and students: the Massachusetts Academy. If he could leverage the Worthington Group's capital to force a hostile takeover, he could back Emma Frost into a corner. He could force her to abandon the Hellfire Club, merge the schools, and bring her onboard as their telepath.
It sounded like corporate piracy, but Scott felt entirely confident he could pull it off.
For now, the immediate problem was Madripoor. S.H.I.E.L.D. was prepping a transport to bring Bobby and Peter Rasputin in. The reunited X-Men's first official deployment in six years was going to be a direct assault on Weapon X.
"What about the kids?" Hank asked, adjusting his glasses. He looked over at Logan. "Spider-Man and Silk are S.H.I.E.L.D. assets, but what about the girl you brought in? She seems entirely too eager to get shot at."
Logan scowled, his grip tightening on the beer bottle. "Keep her out of it. Jubilee has decent abilities, but if she figures out she can actually be useful in a firefight, she's never going to stop chasing the adrenaline. It's too dangerous."
"Agreed. We don't have the bandwidth to babysit a rookie in a live combat zone," Scott said sharply. "Logan, put her with Peter and Cindy. Call it the children's group."
Deep inside the S.H.I.E.L.D. Hightown facility, Peter Parker threw a right cross.
The reinforced S.H.I.E.L.D. heavy bag shrieked as the impact cratered its surface. The heavy steel chains holding it to the ceiling groaned, snapping taut as the bag swung violently upward.
Peter dropped his stance, breathing hard. He glanced at the digital readout on the nearby terminal.
Peak Impact: 22 Tons.
He wiped sweat from his forehead. He had genuinely hoped that surviving Omega Red's death pheromones, combined with relentless physical training, would force his body to recalibrate his strength.
Hank had been right. Until his body fully integrated the genetic changes from the Universe 42 spider bite, his physical output was going to remain highly unstable. No amount of punching a heavy bag was going to fix his genome.
"How am I doing?" Peter asked, turning around. "I mean, relatively speaking. Since the whole multiverse thing?"
Cindy Moon sat in the corner of the training room, her legs crossed over a metal bench. She had her red face mask pulled down around her neck, exposing her face. S.H.I.E.L.D. protocols be damned, they were the only two people in the room.
She held a thick paperback book in one hand. She didn't look up from the page immediately.
"From my perspective, there's been zero change," Cindy said, turning a page. "Except you seem slightly healthier."
Healthier. Peter frowned. He still didn't entirely understand how Cindy's spider-sense worked. She could passively track his physical state at all times, like a biological GPS, but he never knew exactly what metrics she was actually reading.
At least he wasn't mutating into a giant spider. He grabbed a towel and walked over, squinting at the cover of her book.
"Charles Dickens?" Peter asked. "Oliver Twist? That's a classic, but if you want the really good stuff, I'd recommend David Copperfield. Or if you want to go hardcore realist, you have to hit Balzac's The Human Comedy. Or Dream of the Red Chamber."
Cindy slowly lowered the book. She stared at him for three flat seconds.
"I've read them all," she deadpanned.
Peter rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly feeling intensely awkward. "Right. Sorry. I'm... sorry I'm bothering you again. Especially since you're officially transferring to Midtown High today. You probably have a lot of cover-story prep to do."
Cindy didn't seem to care about the prep work. Reading in a S.H.I.E.L.D. bunker or reading in a high school cafeteria was functionally identical to her. She snapped the book shut and leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. Her dark eyes locked onto his.
"Why do you always do that?" she asked.
"Do what?"
"Apologize. You spend literally every second of your free time nearly killing yourself to help other people. But the second you take up thirty seconds of someone else's time, you act like you've committed a crime."
"That's because—"
"I don't sense your physical condition because you're a burden, Peter," Cindy interrupted, her voice entirely devoid of judgment. "I sense it because of the spider. Your genetic instability isn't something you did on purpose. It's not your fault."
It was a completely logical assessment. It still made Peter want to crawl under the floorboards.
"I have a question," Cindy said, tilting her head. "Aren't you exhausted?"
She wasn't making small talk. Yesterday afternoon, before the flight to Madripoor, she had shadowed him on patrol. She had watched him stop a mugging, pull civilians from a car wreck, give directions to a tourist, and fight three armed robbers, all in the span of four hours. She had seen the sheer, crushing volume of a normal Tuesday in New York.
"What keeps you going?" Cindy asked, her voice quiet and direct.
Peter froze. He gripped the towel, staring at the floor. The image of Uncle Ben in the garage flashed through his mind. The memory of Andrew Derby on the rooftop. He opened his mouth, trying to find the words to explain the guilt that drove him out the window every morning.
A loud, sharp knock interrupted him.
The heavy steel door swung open. A twelve-year-old girl in a bright yellow coat poked her head into the training room. She blew a bubblegum bubble, let it pop, and offered a two-finger salute.
"Logan said he's dumping me with you guys," Jubilee said, leaning against the doorframe. "Hey."
PS: The "Massachusetts Academy" Scott Summers wants to acquire isn't just a random prep school! In Marvel Comics, it was originally run by Emma Frost as the headquarters for the Hellions (the Hellfire Club's dark mirror to the New Mutants). Later, when Emma reformed and joined the X-Men, the school was renamed the Xavier Institute for Higher Learning and became the home base for Generation X!
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