The abandoned warehouse was a stark contrast to the clean, safe space that had been prepared for the children. The rest of the building was dusty and decrepit, but the area where the kids lay was immaculate. The floor was covered with clean carpets and plastic sheeting, creating a makeshift sanctuary amidst the chaos. Thirty children were laid out neatly, their small bodies resting peacefully on the padded floor. Despite the grim surroundings, the care taken to ensure their comfort was evident.
"With my Shadow Servants, preparing a space like this is easy," I said, my voice low as I watched the scene unfold. "But ten of them are in critical condition. I administered first aid and emergency care when I saved them, but they'll need professional treatment and proper equipment to fully recover."
Dr. Hank McCoy—Beast—was already at work, his skilled hands moving swiftly as he tended to the most severely injured children. After what felt like an eternity, he straightened up and wiped his brow. "All of them are safely sedated and sleeping," he announced, his tone a mix of relief and exhaustion.
"Yeah, I did that," I admitted. "My powers allow me to emit pheromones. Fine-tuned them good enouch, they can be used for just about anything—including as an anesthetic."
Logan raised an eyebrow, his expression skeptical. "That's your power?" he asked, his voice dripping with doubt.
"Yeah," I replied simply, not bothering to elaborate further. Logan smirked and let out a short laugh, clearly not buying it. I didn't correct him. Partial honesty was all they were going to get from me. No need to reveal more than necessary.
Storm, meanwhile, was examining the children more closely. Her sharp eyes caught the markings on their skin—scars, bruises, and other signs of abuse. "All of them have markings and injuries," she said, her voice tight with anger. "Where did you find them, Wraith?"
"Around New York," I answered, my tone grim. "Some organizations have been conducting experiments on them."
The room fell silent, the weight of my words sinking in. Logan, Storm, and Beast exchanged uneasy glances, their expressions a mix of horror and disbelief.
"You're still hunting them down?" Logan asked, his voice low and gravelly.
"Yes," I said without hesitation. "These people are monsters in human skin. Civility isn't the way to deal with them…Death is the only cure for their kind. And they've been doing this for a long, long time."
The group fell silent again, each of them lost in their own thoughts. I could see the conflict in their eyes—the struggle between their moral code and the harsh reality of the situation. But I didn't have time to dwell on their internal debates. There was still work to be done.
I walked to the back of the truck and pulled out a large duffle bag, setting it down on the hood of Logan's Mustang. "Michelle," I called, unzipping the bag to reveal stacks of cash. "As always, here's the funds for the kids."
Michelle didn't even glance at the contents. She simply zipped the bag back up and placed it in the car. "Seems to be a lot more than before," she remarked.
"There are a lot of them this time," I explained. "That should be enough for each of them to live comfortably for a few years and cover their needs. How are Remy and Remi, by the way?"
Michelle's expression softened at the mention of the twins. "They're doing fine. Healthy, happy, and starting to make friends. But they still remember you. They ask about you a lot."
Her words hit me harder than I expected. A bittersweet feeling settled in my chest. "It's nice to hear they're doing better," I said honestly.
Michelle gave me a knowing look. "You know, you can visit them anytime you want, right?"
I shook my head, my expression somber. "Probably later. After all of this is over." Giving them false hope now would be cruel. They deserved stability, not the chaos that followed me wherever I went.
I knew the twins, Remy and Remi, had grown attached to me. And, if I were being honest, I had grown attached to them too. But I wanted them to have a stable, good life—something I couldn't provide right now. Without stability, I couldn't afford to relax. Not yet. Not while the fight was still ongoing.
As I stood by the truck, lost in thought, Logan approached me, his expression unreadable but his tone serious. "Wraith," he said, his voice low, "you really need to tell me what you're up against."
Storm and Beast followed close behind, their faces a mix of curiosity and concern. "This entire situation seems to involve our kind," Storm added, her voice calm but firm. "Perhaps we should contribute to this fight as well."
I turned to face them, my expression stern. "I refuse your assistance, Storm," I said bluntly, catching them off guard. "This situation isn't small. The organization I'm dealing with is as powerful as the entire Western world."
The weight of my words hung in the air, and I could see the shock on their faces. "They're the same people who labeled Magneto a terrorist," I continued, my voice steady. "They're powerful enough to convince the world that mutants are nothing but a disease. These are the kind of people who can start a war without the public even knowing why."
Logan, Storm, and Beast exchanged uneasy glances, the gravity of the situation sinking in. "This is the kind of enemy that should never be compromised or shown mercy," I said, my tone unwavering. "The only way to weaken them is to kill them. I'm not just fighting these people—I'm fighting against the current governments that support them. That's how complicated this is."
Storm's eyes narrowed; her voice tinged with frustration. "But if this involves mutants, shouldn't we be involved? We can't just stand by and do nothing."
I shook my head. "Right now, these people don't know I'm a meta-human. They don't care. All they care about is killing me. But if you get involved, they'll know instantly who you are. And trust me, they already know who you are."
Beast frowned, his brow furrowing. "What makes you so confident they'd find out who we are?"
"Because they already know," I said plainly. "They know about the Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters. They know what it really is. If they see you with me, they'll assume meta-humans are turning rogue. And they'll use that to their advantage."
Storm and Beast exchanged a worried glance, their expressions darkening. "These are the same people who've spent decades convincing the world that mutants don't exist, that we're not human, that we're monsters who need to be 'cured,'" I continued. "With a single move, they could erase all meta-humans by citing some absurd claim. And the world would believe them."
The room fell silent as my words sank in. Logan, Storm, and Beast were deep in thought, the reality of the situation hitting them hard.
"That bad, huh?" Logan muttered; his voice grim.
"Yes," I said, my tone matter-of-fact. "They're slimy like that. But honestly, I'm not worried—just annoyed. If they decide to take that kind of long-winded action, it'll only make things more complicated."
Storm's eyes widened. "Why would you say that?"
"Because if they do," I said, my voice calm but laced with a dangerous edge, "I'll have to kill more people openly. And at the same time, I'll have to protect a lot of you. That's more annoying and a hassle than anything else."
The room fell silent again, the weight of my words settling over them. Logan, Storm, and Beast stared at me, their expressions a mix of shock and disbelief.
"So, let me handle this on my own," I said, my tone firm but not unkind. "It's simpler that way. At least until I cut off their connections and grip in America... After that, you can do whatever you want. Alright?"
I could see the conflict in their eyes—the desire to help warring with the realization that this fight was far bigger and more dangerous than they had imagined. But I knew they understood. The X-Men were too civilized, too PG, for the kind of maneuvering this war required.