Marvel: Visionary’s Dawn

The long night didn't end. 

It heralded dazzling claps of thunder and flashes of lightning, leaping between dark clouds, turning the sky into their playground. While the wind rustled, spinning the fallen leaves as they took off upwards beyond the mansion's grounds.

Summer hail fell, pattering on the tiled eaves, a gentle, continuous tapping soft against the roaring storm. 

The rear kitchen porch was wide, wood-clad, and dressed up with rare, beautiful, flowering pots and plants.

It felt like a separate world, gently lit by rustic wall-mounted sconces casting warm orange light that fell on the professor and Adam's back as they stood, listening to the rain. 

The night had been truly long, and so had the silence possessing Charles. Words, at this moment, felt futile, unnecessary. He wanted to grieve. So he chose silence.

He looked at his impaired legs, their inactivity had been long accepted, almost forgotten, but today he couldn't bear the sight of them; they stung his pride, burned against his chest.

He took a deep breath, savoring the garden's rich, earthy smell, yet it wasn't enough to ease his mind.

''Are you alright, Professor?'' Adam cast a concerned look at Charles, who seemed to be shaken by the news of what transpired in New York and the Adirondack woods.

Explaining what happened hadn't been easy.

When he declared that he ended those FOH men, the X-Men hadn't reacted strongly compared to Rogue's somber retelling of the plundered memories. Her tears refused to fall, replaced by cold stillness, and her words were enough to crush the team's spirit.

Charles glanced at Adam, allowing a gentle, tired smile to grace his face. 

He was concerned for the young man, who had gone against his principles. He feared that he'd become just like the people who hated their kind, dreading that this would justify the world's prejudice that mutants are dangerous, because they killed in cold blood.

A world where humans and mutants coexist had always been his dream. Years passed, and while he held strong to that belief, he started to think that perhaps he wouldn't live long enough to see it.

''I'm okay,'' he replied. He'd have a talk with Adam later, the same he had with Scott, Hank, and Logan when they sometimes left corpses in their wake.

Charles also couldn't deny that he was proud. Adam, who had accepted his identity a few days ago, bravely stood up for his kind. Despite the killing, it brought a flicker of light to his heart, to the loneliness he withheld from the world that hated mutants.

"Perhaps, I shouldn't have asked for Rogue to let me see her memories," His voice broke with a sigh.

"And yet you did, even after I spoke against it." Adam looked at him. Charles was grieving. He had known the man for years through movies, and for a few days, face-to-face. And only now did he manage to understand a bit about him.

A man against the world, a man who showed restraint when he could simply brainwash the entire earth into loving mutants, yet he didn't do so. He was a good man, questionable at times, but still good when knowing what he could easily do and chose not to.

"But I needed to see it..." Charles reached inside the folds of his vest and brought out a silver pistol, gleaming under the warm lamp light.

"This is one of my secrets, Adam." He said, checking the safety before letting it rest on his knee. "No soul knows about it, only me, and now you. Do you know why I always carry this?"

Adam shook his head, ruling out the possibility of it being for protection; the old man had no need of that.

The old man gave a slight smile, understanding the silence. 

He slowly lifted the weapon and pointed it at his temple.

Adam narrowed his eyes but made no sudden move; the professor showed no abnormal emotions through his body language. 

A few tense seconds passed before he lowered the gun, then sighed.

"This is for me… for the day when someone tries to take over my mind. I can resist for a few moments, long enough to end it… before others unleash chaos in my stead."

Charles turned his gaze to Adam. "Do you know why I told you about this?"

Adam thought for a moment. "You expect me to be careful, with my powers."

Charles nodded. "Rogue told me about what you did, about your gifts. You may not need my training anymore… and that's why I must insist that you exercise caution from now on."

Their stares met. Charles looked for understanding and acknowledgment. Adam gave nothing but a truthful reflection.

"Professor," he started, "I don't enjoy killing… Every fiber of my being and humanity fights against it… Yet I've come to realize, the hard way, that simply ending a few men would save too many others, if it's justified."

"I don't like it, yet I recognize the necessity of it when met with monsters like the ones…today."

His eyes didn't move from Charles as he spoke his thoughts without hesitation, with honesty and a budding newfound belief.

"I understand," Charles turned back to the rain. 

"Over the years, with Logan and some of my students, I've learned to look the other way… and make no mistake, I don't like it, but sometimes… You understand…"

"I'll be careful," Adam simply stated. He recognized the trust Charles extended to him when he revealed his secret.

He also recognized the wisdom in his words; he lost control once, perhaps it could happen a second time. Not due to a lack of mastery, but because he had strayed from what Martha always saw in him. 

Only by anchoring his humanity could he remain truly himself, Adam. And not just a being, molded by the powers of the Visionary.

Charles smiled softly and said nothing more. He reached into his pocket, took out a blue credit card, and handed it to Adam, who looked puzzled as he examined it.

"What's this for?"

"For you, for your expenses, use it however you want, I'll add more every month."

"But, I still have some savings." Adam hesitated. He still had the money left by his mother, Martha; moreover, money lost its value to him when he could envision mountains of gold.

"It doesn't matter," Charles said with a light shake of his head. "After all, I'm still a rich old man."

"Good night, Adam, may the world be a better place tomorrow." He smiled, patted Adam's hand, and turned back to the rain.

Adam stood in silence for a few seconds, emotions swirling in his chest, before turning, leaving a few words carried on the wind.

"Good night, professor… I hope your vision will one day come true… even if I have to envision a place for us in this world."

_______________________________

The next day, Adam woke to Rogue's incessant knocking. After opening the door, He was met with a better-rested Rogue. Last night's inscrutable countenance, clouding her face, was gone. Left behind. Buried. 

Instead, a gentle smile bloomed on her lips as she urged him to freshen up and prepare for some training.

Rushed and puzzled about what kind of training she had in mind, he swiftly sped through the bathroom and put on a comfortable training outfit, some baggy pants, and a wide t-shirt, all black, just like his favored color.

He descended the stairs, had his breakfast, then waited until she came wearing her full yellow-green X-Men outfit.

''Logan wants to whip you into shape with some martial arts training.'' She said as they walked towards the mansion's west section, which was off limits except for a few students and the rest of the team.

''And Ah need to let off some steam,'' She looked at him smiling, ''Hope you don't mind if Ah get too rough,''

''I doubt you'd be able to accomplish that.'' His eyes gleamed with amusement. Even though he wasn't a combat expert, his body's capabilities vastly outstripped everyone in the mansion combined.

After all, everything relied on his belief and imagination; he was the narrative force behind his own story.

''Ah see… getting a bit cocky, aren't we…can't blame you though… your small head can do all that mind bending stuff,'' She chuckled, and pressed an elevator button at the end of the west wing.

''But, today ain't your day, martial arts requires control, which means no silver scales, no flashy speed, and most importantly, no psychic attacks.'' The elevator arrived, she flashed a wicked smile, then got in.

"I don't think I'll perform that badly," he muttered and followed her. Visionary wasn't specialized in direct combat, but that didn't mean he couldn't strike hard. This condition applied when confronted with other Sequence 0 beings who far outstripped his physical capabilities with their authority.

Another advantage a Visionary has in spades is the cognitive ability and thorough reading of body language, which would prove immensely useful in combat against other powerful beings.

It wasn't the preferred method to him, but it wouldn't hurt to arm oneself with additional training and knowledge.

The elevator quickly descended. Once the door opened, he was met with a vast circular domed space, fifty meters in diameter, clad with dark silver alloys with visible seams separating the rectangular panels.

Although the room looked plain, Adam knew that it was far from the truth. The danger room employed hard light technology, which offers a realistic simulation of surfaces, locations, and enemies. It could even simulate gravity force fields. 

Most of the alloys were self-repairing, alien to Earth, from a galactic civilisation ruled by Charles' ex.

"Looks too fancy, doesn't it?" remarked Logan, standing in the middle of the room. It seemed that he had been here for quite a while, his huge arms glistened with sweat.

"He'll get used to it," Rogue strode in, went to the side, a few meters away from Logan.

"It's certainly impressive," Adam commented as he came closer.

"You can start training with Logan. Ah need to let off some steam first." Rogue let off a long breath and started stretching.

Logan, on the other hand, cracked his knuckles and looked expectantly at Adam, who pointed at Rogue's warm-up and asked.

"Should we–?"

"Nah, I doubt you need it." Logan shook his head, then yelled.

"Slim, press down on your toys."

The room vibrated softly like an engine coming to life. 

Then Scott's voice reverberated loudly.

"No claws, Logan,"

"Don't need you to remind me," Logan glared at the hidden control room up the domed space.

"Rogue, the usual?" Scott ignored him and asked once again.

"Yeah, the usual punching bags," 

Soon, holographic light fell from up the dome, and little by little the environment changed into an eastern open courtyard, shaped like a "U".

It had simple surrounding walls and a two-story house at the far end, surrounded by rows of weapons and martial arts equipment.

Adam glanced at Rogue; she was a bit far, outside the open enclosure, as if space had stretched between them, surrounded by three humanoid wooden puppets engaging her with precise textbook attacks.

"Forget about her, she won't run away," Logan grinned. He lowered his posture, legs spread wide, and arms raised to defend or strike.

"Now, why don't we start by seeing how strong you are?" he said.

"Are you sure?" Adam knitted his brows; he didn't exactly know how strong he could strike. Logan would certainly suffer if he didn't hold back.

Logan narrowed his eyes, annoyed.

"Come at me, kid, I can take a punch or two."

"O-okay," Adam changed his stance, mimicking Logan. An obvious sign that he wasn't trained.

Seeing this, Logan nodded, when all of a sudden, his instincts flared with danger.

Adam appeared before him as if carried by the wind, and a loud clap followed his acceleration.

His fist aimed for Logan, who couldn't react at all as he watched Adam ease his punch into an open palm.

It landed quietly, yet Logan didn't register anything else as he flew back like a rocket smashing through the front wall.

"Did I overdo it?" Adam landed softly on the ground and wondered if Logan's healing factor could manage.

A few heartbeats later, Wolverine came out from under the shattered woodpile.

He looked fine for the most part, except that his shirt was torn in the middle, and he had a bloody imprint that healed and vanished completely as soon as he got back to his position.

"Not bad, Kid, definitely knew you were different…" he said, patting down wood splinters prickling at his skin. ''After all, you made me skewer you, the first time we met.''

"Logan––" Adam wanted to say something, but Logan lifted his hand, stopping him.

"I knew about your circumstances… If you did it willingly, I would have carved your flesh off your skeleton. Now, why don't we get back on track and this time fight on my level? I might be durable, but I get dizzy flying around."

Adam pushed down the apology he wanted to say. Logan was saving both of them from any awkward moments. He appreciated his indirect forgiveness and shifted his stance once again.

Logan came at him quickly. Adam still managed to track his movements, which were too slow for his perception.

He ungracefully side-stepped the punch thrown at him. Logan's body language told him everything the old wolf was about to do without the need to read his mind.

Several exchanges followed swiftly, and although he managed to control his strength and evade any coming strike. It was quite apparent that he wasn't skilled; his movement wasn't refined, he shifted his feet the wrong way, and didn't fully unleash his body strength properly.

Logan wasn't someone who went through stances and footwork when teaching someone; he struck, exploited his students' openings, and rubbed it on their face until they learned.

However, with Adam, he was a bit frustrated because he managed to slip like an eel whenever he tried to land a hit.

They continued for several minutes, their stamina seemingly endless, when Logan noticed that Adam was adapting slowly to his style, which satisfied him along with the hits he managed to land, when he counter-struck the power-limited Adam.

After several rounds, Logan stepped back, making way for Rogue, who faced the same problem. 

This didn't deter her from trying, albeit with gnashed teeth and trickling sweat.

All the while, Adam smiled as if he had rediscovered joy for the first time in a long while..

________________________________________

Time passed quickly, and soon three weeks had gone by, which Adam had found to be quite fruitful.

Split between long passages in the Astral World, followed by intense training sessions with the X-Men that would wear off the time traces from his lengthy isolation.

Storm departed in the second week, and Martha Johansson, the seventeen-year-old girl they rescued, was getting used to life in the mansion.

Due to concerns about her safety, Charles insisted she'd stay. The girl immediately accepted, but refused to talk about her family. Hank, on the other hand, did some investigation behind her back. The results made the X-Men never talk about her parents again.

She tried to stick close to Adam, the one who rescued her, but he didn't have enough time to play the rescuer and the victim with her. Most of his time was split between training and Rogue dragging him around.

He had kept a close eye on Sublime movement, which had completely ceased any mutant-related activity, seemingly waiting for the heat to die down.

Yet, he didn't have to wait for long.

It had investigated Adam, learning more about him, his deceased parents, and whatever else Sublime managed to dig up.

It didn't realize that its actions would lead to its undoing.

With each passing day, it didn't know someone was looking through its host's eyes, learning about him, about his secrets and identity.

And now that he had started moving again behind the shadows, Adam was prepared to fight this bacterial hive mind with his own madness.

________________________________________

A/N: Hello, hope everyone is doing alright, absolutely thanks for the power stones and the supportive comments, and sorry for not updating much earlier, I'm remodeling the bathroom and working alone, so it's a bit tough at the end of the day.

Question: What do you think of Charles? Because every fanfiction I've read bashes him.

Again, appreciate you all.

Thanks for reading.