Scott Summers' POV
"He just frustrates me, you know?" I grumbled.
"Well, you're easy to frustrate. I know you hate the guy for stealing your girlfriend, but Jean went willingly, you know…"
I sighed. "Still doesn't mean I'm wrong about him being an asshole," I grumbled to Kitty, who was looking elsewhere now. I've had this conversation with the guys how many times?
Everybody except Logan had been kind enough to let me vent. He and I were in the same position, in love with a girl who was with another guy we thought was not good enough for her.
Is that true, Scott? Or is that your insecurity talking? I almost let out another sigh.
Kitty's eyes shimmered with delight as they poured over the new mall. The kids we'd brought with us—Tobi and Lara—were just as excited.
It was their first day out of the dimension since the evacuation at the old mansion, and we'd promised to let them visit wherever they wanted.
I sighed. Maybe I shouldn't have let Kitty weigh in on that decision. As soon as they heard Alien Space Mall, their minds were made up.
It was one of the many joint projects that SHIELD, the United Nations, and the local government had pushed through since the New York incident. People were desperate for safety, and they had happily welcomed the Novans, even though public opinion was split closer down the middle than I would have liked.
Sixty–forty.
Almost as bad as public support for mutants.
Still, it was hard to argue with the results, at least on the surface. We had floating holograms, robots, alien fashion and snacks, and establishments that served both human and alien food that the people of New York happily indulged in. Tobi and Lara's eyes stayed glued to everything as we walked past.
They tugged at Kitty's sleeve, who, in turn looked at me, her eyes pleading. I huffed and folded my arms. "You've got a black card. You know how to use it."
Fury had paid us a sizable amount for coming to the defense of New York City. Even the bad guys and the Widows got a bag for their troubles.
"Come on, kids," she grinned. "I want to know what sky tentacle soup tastes like." She hooked her hand around mine and grabbed Lara with the other as she marched toward the restaurant. The movement was so sudden it nearly jerked me off my feet. I came down hard on the concrete as I caught myself, cracking it beneath my boot.
Kitty's face reddened in embarrassment, and I noticed the stares and heard the distant mutters—another overrated perk of being magically enhanced.
"Oh my God, are they mutants?"
"Of course they are," someone else said dismissively. "You came to an alien mall. What were you expecting?"
"I don't know. Some level of safety. He has to be stupid strong to split concrete like that. What if he bumps into somebody?"
"And what if you do the same and cause some poor kid to split his head?"
"It's not the same thing!"
"Tomato, tomahto."
I stopped listening and slowly lifted my foot, watching with no surprise as the concrete… healed.
Huh.
"Scott. Oh my God, I'm so sorry," Kitty said so quickly that I only kept track of her words thanks to my improved physiology. The display drew even more attention. Damn Dante. The enhanced body was as much a blessing as it was a problem.
"Don't worry about it," I said with a managed smile, nudging her toward the restaurant while keeping a wary eye out. "I'm kind of curious about the food, too. How many people can claim to have tasted something truly otherworldly?"
She nodded vigorously, and we took a table that opened up suspiciously quickly. The menu appeared via hologram. Kitty, completely enamored with it all, decided to order one of everything and figured we would just bag what we did not like and offer it to the rest of the group.
"Bet that'll cheer them up."
"There's no amount of food that'll make losing a teacher feel any better a second time." I sighed. Some part of me wanted to blame Dante—actually, a large part of me wanted to blame him—but it was hard to. Discovering Kaecilius's attack at all had been a masterstroke of luck, and rescuing Mordo had been another. For a while, all of us—even Jean—had forgotten about her.
Storm had been sedated and safe, and the sorcerers worked night and day to reverse the damage done to her mind after ten years of enslavement and pain, but magic could only do so much.
"I'm still going to bring them leftovers," Kitty insisted. "And it's not like we don't have the space for it."
She was looking at her ring, covered in runes almost too tiny for unenhanced eyes to see. It was the latest of Dante's gifts, along with armor and weapons stored inside.
He called them Living Armaments. Weapons and armor with ridiculously powerful enchantments, AI support, defensive protocols, and borrowed abilities that made us feel more like gods than mutants.
I could disintegrate entire mountain ranges with enchantment-fueled attacks, heal almost as fast as Wolverine, and phase through matter. Bobby was even more ridiculous now.
He made ten dragons out of ice the other day and had them fight the Widows simultaneously. The dragons lasted far longer than I expected, but once the Widows found their rhythm, they crushed them all at once with precise telekinesis.
I shivered at the memory, and again when I realized I was probably capable of the same thing with Dante's help. It had been a hectic few days, but I was looking forward to the invasion—a chance to finally get the demons out of our lives, and then Lauren.
Dante claimed he had a plan to kill her.
And for once, I found myself rooting for him.
Soon our table was filled with food of every color and texture. I tried not to be rude to the waiter and sampled all of it. I particularly liked the Orenfolk meat. It tasted like Kobe steak spliced with well-made chicken. The flavor was odd, to say the least, but it worked. It served as a distraction from the growing attention. I did not know what drew more of it—the food, my earlier display, or the kids publicly spilling our secrets for all to hear.
By the time we were leaving, there seemed to be no point in hiding who we were. I vanished all the bagged meals into my ring, startling the human waiter, and then tipped her. Kitty blinked at me and gasped.
"Oh come on," I said, a little exasperated. "As if everybody doesn't already know."
People were starting to take pictures now, inside the restaurant and outside it, but no one approached us outright until we neared the mall's exit.
It was a mousy young man with sunken eyes. He gripped a thermos so tightly his knuckles had gone white. His heart thundered like a jackrabbit, and sweat dripped down his brow.
I had seen that look hundreds of times before. The boy standing in front of me was not just nervous.
He was afraid.
"Are you guys part of the X-Men or something?" he whispered.
Kitty glanced at me, and I nodded.
"Yes," she said softly, stepping forward. "You know, you can tell us if you're in—"
The thermos lid twisted off, and he hurled something at Kitty. It phased through her body, likely on instinct, and nearly touched the kids behind her. I moved instantly, shielding them with my body. The acid ate through my clothes and splashed harmlessly across my back.
Right. Vibranium skin.
The kids shrieked at the sudden burst of movement, and I had to reassure them we were perfectly safe more than once, my anger building with every word.
I straightened, ready to tell the kid off, but Kitty already had him suspended in the air by his jacket.
"Are you crazy? They're kids!"
His eyes were wide and flooded with panic, but he met her stare with defiance. "Do it! Kill me, you freak! Kill me, because if you don't, we will never stop. This planet is only big enough for one group of people: humans. No mutties. No aliens."
He could not have been older than fifteen.
The anger drained from Kitty's face. The kids seemed more afraid of his words than his attack.
Security officers rushed over, and I stepped forward, holding out a hand to Kitty. She lowered him slowly. He seemed to shrink under my gaze.
"What group has you coming after kids?" I asked quietly.
"Friends of Humanity!" he said proudly. "And I volunteered."
"Good to know," I said.
The guards swarmed him and subdued him, forcing him to the ground. They had questions for us, and we answered them readily. Around us, people recorded the entire exchange. By nightfall, I had no doubt the media would have constructed its own version of events.
That was their business.
Mine was running one last mission with the X-Men before we went to hell—literally.
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