The Son of Mischief and Moonlight

Coach Hedge stomped toward the door with all the subtlety of a charging minotaur, his hooves clanking against the wooden floor. Of course, nobody in the café noticed because his magical disguise made him look like a short, angry gym coach with a permanent case of road rage. Warren followed close behind, his trench coat billowing dramatically as if he'd just stepped off a movie set. It was unclear whether he was doing it on purpose, but it definitely added flair.

"Alright, Feather Boy," Hedge muttered as he swung the door open. "Let's go have a chat with the nosy suits. Try not to scare them too much. That's my job."

Warren rolled his eyes but didn't respond, stepping out into the crisp New York air. The black SUVs parked across the street looked about as inconspicuous as a T-Rex at a petting zoo, their tinted windows practically screaming, We're spying on you!

As the two approached, one of the SUVs' rear doors opened, and a man in a sharp suit stepped out, trying way too hard to look casual. He adjusted his tie and leaned against the car like he was posing for a magazine cover. "Gentlemen," he greeted, his voice calm but laced with authority. "Can we help you?"

Hedge snorted. "Yeah, you can stop pretending you're not stalking us. Nice try with the whole 'blending in' thing, by the way. Real subtle."

The agent's jaw tightened, but he didn't respond to the jab. Instead, his gaze shifted to Warren, who stood silently, his sharp blue eyes scanning the scene. The agent didn't seem to like what he saw—probably because Warren looked like he was one bad day away from tearing off the trench coat and going full Angel of Death.

"Message for your bosses," Hedge barked, crossing his arms. "Director Peggy Carter and Agent Nick Fury. Xavier wants a meeting. ASAP."

The agent blinked, clearly taken aback. "Director Carter? Agent Fury?" He paused, glancing back at the SUV like he was double-checking his life choices. "That's... a tall order."

"Yeah, well, Xavier's a tall guy," Hedge shot back, smirking. "And he's not asking. He's telling. So, either you pass on the message, or I can personally deliver it in a way that involves a lot more noise."

Warren finally spoke, his voice cold and steady. "You've been watching us for weeks. It's time to stop hiding and talk. We're not the enemy—yet."

The agent hesitated, his composure faltering under Warren's piercing stare. Finally, he nodded. "Fine. I'll relay the message." He pulled out a sleek comm device and began speaking into it, his tone clipped and professional. "Alpha Team to Command. Priority request for Director Carter and Agent Fury. Xavier is requesting a direct meeting. Immediate response required."

There was a pause as he listened to the reply, his expression unreadable. Then he nodded and put the comm away. "They'll be in touch soon. Until then, we're staying put."

Hedge grinned, baring just a hint of his not-so-human teeth. "Good. And just so we're clear—if you think about pulling any funny business, you'll be answering to me."

The agent didn't reply, but the tension in his shoulders spoke volumes. Hedge turned on his heel and marched back toward the café, Warren following with his usual stoic grace.

As they re-entered, Xavier glanced up from his coffee, his expression calm but expectant. "Well?"

"Message delivered," Warren said simply, taking his seat.

Hedge smirked. "They're sweating bullets out there. Shouldn't take long for Fury and Carter to respond."

Xavier nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Good. Now, we wait. Let's see if SHIELD is ready to play ball."

—

Years slipped by within the timeless expanse of Harry's Dreamscape, even though the first rays of dawn were only just brushing the horizon in the waking world. With Sun Wukong's relentless yet playful guidance, Harry was gradually mastering the foundational techniques of the Seventy-two Transformations. Each form he took felt more natural, more connected, as if he were piecing together the threads of his own chaotic essence.

He'd spent what felt like weeks as a mountain, enduring storms and feeling the roots of the earth cradle his unyielding form. Months passed as a hawk, learning the art of precision and sharp vision. He became the wind itself, invisible and free, slipping between the fingers of his ever-grinning mentor. Yet, despite the grueling discipline, Sun Wukong ensured every moment retained an element of fun.

"Alright, kid," Sun Wukong called, lounging on a cloud that floated lazily in the Dreamscape's swirling skies. "You've done solid work today. But I can tell you're itching for something a little flashier, huh? What do you say we try summoning your own Flying Nimbus?"

Harry's head snapped up, his emerald-green eyes gleaming with interest. He'd been sprawled in the grass in his human form, recovering from his latest transformation—a willow tree, because Sun Wukong thought it would be hilarious to test his flexibility. "A Flying Nimbus?" he repeated, wiping phantom sweat from his brow. "You're telling me I can conjure one of those bad boys?"

The Monkey King grinned, his golden fur catching the sunlight in the Dreamscape. "Of course, you can! You're my apprentice, aren't you? If you're going to embody my legacy, you need your own cloud. But summoning one's not as easy as you'd think. It's gotta recognize you. Only the pure of heart can ride it. Lucky for you, you've got just enough purity left after all the mischief Loki and Artemis baked into your soul."

Harry snorted, shaking out his limbs as he stood. "Sure, pure. Let's go with that. Alright, what's the process? Do I wave my hands around and chant, or is it more of a dramatic shout kind of thing?"

Sun Wukong hopped off his cloud, landing lightly in front of Harry. He planted his staff in the ground with a theatrical flourish. "It's a little of everything. You'll need focus, intention, and just the right amount of flair. The Nimbus doesn't come to just anyone, you know."

He demonstrated, his movements precise yet fluid, as though he were performing a dance. First, he brought his hands together in a specific pattern—a sharp snap of fingers, followed by a rolling motion like a wave, ending in a decisive clap. Then, he muttered an incantation under his breath, words that sounded like wind rustling through leaves. Finally, he clenched his fist tight, punched it into the air, and gave his whole body a little shake, like a dog drying off after a swim. With a burst of golden light, a small cloud zipped into existence, swirling and sparking as if eager to obey its master.

"See? Easy-peasy," Sun Wukong said, hopping onto the Nimbus, which steadied itself under his weight. He reclined on it, arms behind his head. "Your turn, kid."

Harry stared, skeptical. "You expect me to pull that off in one go?"

"I expect you to try," the Monkey King retorted, grinning. "Come on, Loki's kid! Show me what you've got."

Rolling his eyes but unable to suppress a smirk, Harry stepped forward. He mimicked Sun Wukong's hand motions, though his fingers fumbled slightly on the wave part. Then came the incantation. His voice was clear, though the strange, ancient words felt like they danced on the edge of his understanding. When he reached the fist-clench-and-punch phase, he threw in an extra flourish, snapping his fingers for good measure before giving his body an exaggerated shake.

For a moment, nothing happened. Sun Wukong raised an eyebrow, clearly trying to stifle a laugh. "Well, it was—"

With a sudden whoosh, a swirling, silvery cloud burst into existence, its edges glowing faintly like moonlight. It hovered uncertainly for a second before zooming around Harry in excited loops, like a puppy meeting its owner for the first time.

"Ha!" Harry whooped, jumping back in surprise before grinning wide. "Look at that! I did it!"

The Nimbus zipped close, bumping against his shoulder affectionately. It was smaller than Sun Wukong's, but it radiated a distinct energy—a blend of Harry's magic and the Dreamscape's chaotic charm.

"Not bad for a first try," Sun Wukong admitted, his grin betraying his pride. "Now, hop on and see if it likes you enough to let you stay."

Harry reached out tentatively, placing a hand on the cloud's soft, cool surface. It felt like holding a solid piece of mist. With a deep breath, he swung himself onto it. For a moment, the Nimbus wobbled, testing him. Then, with a satisfied hum, it steadied, holding him securely in midair.

"Oh, this is awesome," Harry breathed, the grin on his face threatening to split it in two. He willed the Nimbus to move, and it obeyed, darting forward with exhilarating speed.

From his perch below, Sun Wukong cupped his hands around his mouth. "Don't forget to steer, kid! And try not to crash into anything. You can't sue the Dreamscape if you wipe out!"

Laughing, Harry tilted the Nimbus into a sharp loop, the wind rushing past his face. The freedom, the control—it was unlike anything he'd ever felt. "This," he shouted back, his voice ringing with joy, "might just be my favorite training exercise yet!"

Sun Wukong watched, arms crossed, his grin softer now. "You're a natural, Harry," he muttered to himself. "Just wait. You're going to be unstoppable."

—

Harry stirred awake, the faint glow of dawn spilling into the room he shared with Luke, Travis, Connor, and Charles. The air smelled of incense and pine—classic K'un Lun—and the sounds of the temple grounds starting to buzz with activity seeped through the walls. Harry blinked groggily, trying to shake off the lingering haze of the Dreamscape.

But something was…off.

A soft, swirling sound—like wind through leaves—tickled his ears. A moment later, he felt something nudging his arm, insistent and oddly warm for something so intangible. Groaning, he rolled onto his side and nearly fell off the bed when he came face-to-face with it.

Hovering inches from his nose was the Nimbus he'd summoned during his Dreamscape training. It swirled and sparkled faintly in the dim light, radiating an energy that felt both magical and playful. As Harry stared, dumbfounded, it nudged him again, letting out a faint, high-pitched hum that somehow conveyed an almost puppy-like enthusiasm.

Harry blinked. Once. Twice. Then rubbed his eyes.

"You've got to be kidding me."

The Nimbus zipped around his head in an excited loop, clearly not kidding.

Before Harry could react further, Luke's groggy voice called out from across the room. "Oi, Harry, could you stop mumbling? Some of us are trying to—WHAT IN THE NAME OF K'UN LUN IS THAT?"

Luke sat up abruptly, his messy blond hair sticking out in every direction, and pointed at the Nimbus like it had personally offended him. The sudden outburst startled the others awake.

Connor groaned and pulled his pillow over his head. "What now? Did Harry bring another weird thing back with him?"

"Define 'weird,'" Travis quipped, rubbing his eyes and squinting at the glowing cloud. "Because I'm seeing some serious 'summoned-magic-puppy-cloud' vibes right now."

Charles—always the practical one—reached for his hammer on instinct before pausing. "Is that…a cloud? Why does it look so happy?"

The Nimbus, seemingly delighted by all the attention, swirled up to each boy in turn, humming and nudging them like it was introducing itself. Luke flinched back with a yelp, while Connor laughed and poked it experimentally.

Harry finally sat up, ruffling his already-messy hair. "Okay, okay, everyone chill. It's just…uh…" He hesitated, suddenly realizing that explaining this was going to sound insane. "…my Nimbus."

"Your what?" Charles asked, raising an eyebrow.

"My Flying Nimbus," Harry clarified, waving at the swirling cloud like it was no big deal. "You know, like in the legends of Sun Wukong? The Monkey King? It's a thing I learned to summon in my Dreamscape training."

Four pairs of eyes stared at him like he'd grown a second head.

"Wait," Travis said slowly, holding up a hand. "You're telling me that thing came from your Dreamscape? As in, it followed you here?"

Harry shrugged helplessly. "Apparently."

"Okay, but why is it acting like a golden retriever on a sugar high?" Luke demanded, keeping a wary eye on the Nimbus as it zipped around the room, bumping into furniture and emitting playful hums.

"I have no idea," Harry admitted, though he couldn't help but grin. "I guess it's…excited to be here?"

Connor snorted. "Excited? Dude, it's practically wagging its tail. Look at it!"

The Nimbus swirled around Harry again before settling onto his shoulder like a feather-light parrot, humming contentedly. Harry reached up and patted it absentmindedly, marveling at how solid it felt despite its misty appearance.

Charles shook his head, still clutching his hammer like it might be needed. "This is officially the weirdest thing you've ever done, Harry. And that's saying something."

Harry smirked. "Oh, come on. You've gotta admit, it's kind of cool."

Luke sighed, flopping back onto his bed. "Cool? Sure. But now I'm just waiting to see what else from your Dreamscape decides to crash here. A flying pig? A talking tree? A sentient hat?"

"Don't give the Dreamscape ideas," Harry shot back, laughing.

Connor leaned forward, eyes sparkling with mischief. "So…does this mean we get to ride it? You said it's a Flying Nimbus, right?"

Harry opened his mouth to reply, but the Nimbus, as if understanding, darted over to Connor and hovered expectantly.

"Looks like it's game," Harry said, chuckling. "Go for it."

Connor whooped and jumped on. The Nimbus wobbled at first, then steadied, taking him for a slow, looping ride around the room. Travis clapped and cheered, while Luke groaned into his pillow about "too much chaos before breakfast."

Harry watched, a wide grin on his face. The Nimbus might've been a surprise, but as it swirled and zipped around the room, spreading joy like an overexcited puppy, he couldn't help but think: Yeah, this is going to be fun.

—

The common room in K'un Lun was warm and lively, the early sunlight streaming through the tall windows as Harry, Luke, Travis, Connor, and Charles sat lounging on the cushions and low chairs, waiting for the girls to join them.

The Nimbus hovered between them, buzzing happily and occasionally darting toward someone for a nuzzle. It had quickly become the star of the morning, much to Harry's amusement—and mild exasperation.

Footsteps echoed from the hallway as the girls entered, dressed and ready for the day. Hermione led the group, her sharp eyes already assessing the scene. Behind her were Annabeth, with her ever-thoughtful expression, Thalia, looking skeptical as always, Clarisse, cracking her knuckles like she was ready to spar, Silena, smiling brightly, and Brunhilde, her warrior's gait making her seem effortlessly regal.

"Alright, what's all the commotion?" Hermione asked, crossing her arms as she approached. "We could hear you laughing from down the hall."

"Yeah," Thalia added, raising an eyebrow at the Nimbus, which had decided to swirl playfully around Harry's head. "And what is that thing? A cloud with ADHD?"

"It's not just a cloud," Travis chimed in, petting the Nimbus like it was a particularly affectionate cat. "It's Harry's magic puppy cloud."

"Magic puppy cloud?" Annabeth repeated, giving Harry a withering look. "You've got five seconds to explain before I assume this is some half-baked prank."

"Don't look at me!" Harry said, holding his hands up defensively. "This isn't a prank. It's my Nimbus. I summoned it during training in my Dreamscape."

The girls stared at him blankly.

"You summoned it?" Brunhilde asked, tilting her head.

"Yep."

"And it followed you here?" Silena added, her tone equal parts curious and delighted.

Harry nodded. "Apparently, yeah. I woke up, and there it was, acting like the world's fluffiest puppy. No idea how or why it crossed over."

"It's adorable," Silena declared, stepping forward and reaching out a hand. The Nimbus immediately floated over, buzzing with joy as it nuzzled her palm.

"It's ridiculous," Thalia muttered, though her lips twitched as if suppressing a grin.

Hermione's brow furrowed in thought. "Wait a second. You said it's from your Dreamscape? But things from there shouldn't—"

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Harry interrupted. "Dreamscape rules and all that. But this one apparently didn't get the memo."

Annabeth crouched down to examine the Nimbus more closely, her sharp gray eyes narrowing. "It's definitely magical," she murmured. "But there's something…odd about it. It feels alive, like it's connected to you."

"That's because it is," Harry said, scratching the back of his neck. "It's tied to me through the summoning ritual. Think of it like…a magical extension of my will. Or, you know, my new best friend."

Connor snorted. "We're all getting replaced by a cloud. What a way to go."

"Okay, but we can't just keep calling it 'the Nimbus,'" Silena said, stroking the swirling mist. "It needs a proper name."

The group fell silent for a moment, each of them clearly pondering potential names.

"How about 'Fluffy'?" Connor suggested.

"Too obvious," Annabeth said, shaking her head.

"Stormy?" Thalia offered.

"Too edgy," Luke replied.

"Cirrus?" Hermione suggested.

"Too scientific," Charles countered.

"Cloudy McCloudface," Travis deadpanned, earning a chorus of groans.

Finally, Brunhilde spoke up, her voice calm and commanding. "What about 'Aether'? It's elegant, and it suits something so free and otherworldly."

The Nimbus hummed happily and did a loop around Brunhilde's head, as if voicing its approval.

"Looks like it likes it," Harry said, grinning. "Aether it is."

The group nodded in agreement, the name settling over them like it had always belonged.

"So, what now?" Hermione asked, sitting down next to Harry. "What are you going to do with Aether?"

Harry shrugged, reaching out to pat the now-officially-named Nimbus. "Honestly? No idea. But for now, I guess we just roll with it. Worst case scenario, it's a really cool way to get around."

"Best case scenario?" Annabeth asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Best case?" Harry grinned. "We've got a magical puppy cloud on our side. What's not to love?"

Aether, as if agreeing, hummed again and swirled joyfully around the room, eliciting laughter from the group. It wasn't exactly how they'd expected their morning to go, but, as Harry often said, life was more fun when it kept you guessing.

—

The transport bay at Alkali Lake was as cold and clinical as a morgue—which, considering what was in storage, wasn't far from the truth. Zero stepped into the cavernous room, flanked by a squadron of Stryker's finest—stoic-faced soldiers who looked like they'd been trained to kill emotions along with their enemies.

The hum of machinery filled the space, punctuated by the rhythmic hiss of cryogenic chambers. At the center of it all was Weapon X, his massive form encased in a reinforced cryo pod. Frost clung to the glass, obscuring the details of the figure inside, but Zero didn't need to see the face to know what they were dealing with.

"Everyone in position," Zero ordered, his voice calm but firm. He wasn't in the mood for mistakes, and Stryker had made it clear that this operation was non-negotiable.

The soldiers snapped to attention, forming a perimeter around the pod. A team of scientists hovered nearby, adjusting settings on their monitors and muttering to one another in voices just low enough to be annoying.

"Status report," Zero said, approaching the lead scientist, a wiry man with glasses too big for his face.

"Subject is stable," the scientist replied, not looking up from his tablet. "Cryogenic stasis is holding, neural inhibitors are active, and vitals are within acceptable parameters. He's as sedated as he's going to get."

Zero raised an eyebrow. "That doesn't sound reassuring."

The scientist hesitated, then adjusted his glasses nervously. "Weapon X's metabolism and healing factor make complete sedation...challenging. But as long as we maintain the current dosage, there shouldn't be any complications."

"'Shouldn't' isn't the word I wanted to hear," Zero muttered, glancing at the pod.

Weapon X's silhouette was barely visible through the frosted glass, but even in this dormant state, there was something menacing about him. A hulking mass of muscle and fury, wrapped in wires and tubes like some kind of Frankenstein's monster.

Zero turned back to the squad. "Alright, here's the plan. We're transporting this thing to the new facility. No deviations, no screw-ups. If anything goes wrong—"

"Yeah, yeah, we get it," one of the soldiers muttered under his breath.

Zero's eyes snapped to the offender, his tone icy. "If anything goes wrong, I won't have to deal with Stryker's wrath. You will. Got it?"

The soldier stiffened, nodding quickly.

"Good," Zero said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Glad we're on the same page. Let's move."

The cryo pod hissed as it was detached from its base, the scientists carefully maneuvering it onto a reinforced transport cart. The thing looked more like a tank than a stretcher, with thick metal plating and hydraulic lifts designed to handle Weapon X's considerable weight.

As the group began their trek toward the hangar, the air grew tense. The soldiers' boots echoed off the walls, and even the scientists had gone quiet, their usual chatter replaced by uneasy glances at the pod.

Zero walked alongside the transport, his hand never straying far from the pistol at his hip. He didn't trust Weapon X to stay down—not entirely. The stories he'd heard about this guy could make a seasoned mercenary second-guess every life choice they'd ever made.

"Eyes sharp," Zero said, his voice low. "I don't want any surprises."

The lead scientist shot him a nervous look. "Surprises? Like what?"

Zero smirked, though it didn't reach his eyes. "You don't work with Stryker long if you don't plan for the worst. Trust me, the worst is always coming."

As if on cue, the lights in the corridor flickered.

Everyone froze.

"What was that?" one of the soldiers asked, his voice tight.

Zero frowned, his hand inching toward his weapon. "Probably nothing. Keep moving."

But the tension in the air was palpable now, and even the scientists were glancing over their shoulders. The flickering lights cast strange shadows on the walls, making the pod seem even more ominous.

They were halfway to the hangar when it happened.

A low, guttural growl echoed through the corridor.

It wasn't coming from the walls or the machinery.

It was coming from the pod.

Zero's blood ran cold as he turned to face the transport. Inside the cryo chamber, Weapon X shifted, his massive form pressing against the glass. The frost began to melt, revealing a pair of wild, feral eyes staring back at them.

"Uh...I thought you said he was sedated," Zero said, his voice calm but laced with urgency.

"He was," the lead scientist stammered, frantically checking his tablet. "He shouldn't be able to—"

Weapon X slammed a fist against the glass, cracking it.

"Shouldn't," Zero muttered. "Love that word."

Before anyone could react, the pod shattered.

Weapon X emerged, a snarling beast of rage and muscle, claws gleaming as they extended from his hands.

"Open fire!" Zero barked, drawing his weapon.

The corridor erupted into chaos as the soldiers unloaded their rifles, the sound of gunfire deafening in the confined space. But Weapon X was faster—and angrier—than anything they'd prepared for.

Zero ducked as a soldier went flying past him, tossed aside like a rag doll.

"Well," he muttered to himself, firing off a shot, "guess we're not making it to Three Mile Island on time."

—

The aftermath of Weapon X's rampage was a symphony of chaos. Soldiers lay strewn across the corridor like discarded action figures, and the once-pristine walls were now streaked with claw marks and bullet holes. Zero stood amidst the wreckage, untouched but visibly shaken, his weapon still clutched tightly in his hand.

He took a slow breath, surveying the carnage. Somehow, he'd managed to avoid Weapon X's wrath—whether through skill or sheer dumb luck, he wasn't sure. Either way, he wasn't sticking around to find out if the beast decided to double back.

Zero pressed a finger to the comms device in his ear, his voice calm but clipped. "Stryker, we have a situation. Weapon X is loose. Repeat: Weapon X is loose."

The line crackled for a moment before Stryker's voice came through, icy and controlled. "Explain."

"He woke up," Zero replied, glancing at the shattered cryo pod as he began to make his way toward the hangar. "Tore through the squad like they were nothing. He's gone rogue, ran into the wilderness. We're not recovering him without reinforcements."

There was a pause on the other end, long enough to make Zero's stomach churn. When Stryker finally spoke, his tone was razor-sharp. "You're telling me we lost our most valuable asset because your team couldn't handle containment?"

Zero's jaw tightened. "With all due respect, sir, Weapon X isn't exactly the kind of asset you put on a leash. You know what he's capable of."

"Find him," Stryker ordered. "And don't come back empty-handed."

Zero grimaced but didn't argue. "Understood."

He ended the call, exhaling sharply as he reached the transport bay. The dim light of the hangar illuminated the snow-covered wilderness beyond, where Weapon X had vanished like a ghost.

For a moment, Zero considered his options. Hunting down Weapon X would be a suicide mission, and he wasn't exactly eager to play fetch for Stryker. But then he remembered the other card he had to play—the pager tucked into his pocket, a gift from Xavier himself.

Zero pulled it out, staring at the sleek device. He hesitated for only a moment before pressing the button. If anyone could make sense of Weapon X—and maybe even turn him into an ally—it was Xavier.

The pager beeped softly, sending its message into the ether.

Zero's lips twitched into a faint smirk. "Well, Professor, let's see if your optimism holds up when you meet him."

With that, Zero turned back to the wilderness, adjusting his jacket against the biting wind. He had no intention of finding Weapon X alone, but he would do just enough to keep Stryker off his back until Xavier's people could step in.

Weapon X might have been a nightmare, but if anyone could tame the beast, it was someone who saw the potential in every monster.

—

The café was quiet, save for the soft hum of conversation and the occasional clink of a coffee cup against a saucer. Xavier sat at a corner table, his wheelchair tucked discreetly under the table, his presence radiating calm authority. Across from him, Warren leaned back in his chair, his expression unreadable, while Coach Hedge stirred his cappuccino with all the delicacy of a Viking sharpening a battle axe.

The door swung open an hour later, and all three of them looked up as two figures entered the café. Director Peggy Carter, every bit as poised and formidable as her reputation suggested, strode in first. Her sharp navy suit was impeccable, and her gaze scanned the room with the precision of a hawk. Behind her was Nick Fury, clad in his signature leather trench coat, his single eye narrowing as it landed on Xavier.

"Professor Xavier," Carter said, her tone crisp but cordial. "I trust you understand the gravity of calling us here."

"I wouldn't have summoned you if it weren't absolutely necessary," Xavier replied, gesturing for them to join him. "Please, take a seat. We have much to discuss."

Carter and Fury exchanged a glance before sitting down, Carter's movements fluid and composed, Fury's more guarded.

"Alright," Fury said, leaning forward. "You've got our attention. What's this about?"

Xavier's calm smile didn't waver. "Before we begin, allow me to introduce an ally of mine." He gestured toward the side of the café, where a middle-aged man in a tweed jacket and glasses wheeled himself over. "This is Mr. Brunner, a historian and educator who has been invaluable to my institute."

Chiron—or Mr. Brunner as he was currently known—nodded politely. "A pleasure to meet you both," he said, his tone warm but with an undercurrent of gravitas.

Carter's eyes flicked to him, clearly sizing him up, but she simply nodded. "Let's cut to the chase, Professor."

Xavier inclined his head. "Very well. The reason I've called you here is Stryker. His recent activities have gone far beyond anything we've encountered before. He's conducting experiments on young mutants—dangerous experiments, both to them and to the wider world."

Fury's jaw tightened, but he said nothing, letting Carter take the lead. "We've had our eye on Stryker for some time," she admitted. "But details about his operations have been... difficult to come by."

"That's because he's gone underground," Chiron said, his voice steady. "We've uncovered evidence that he's using remote facilities to conduct illegal research—testing mutant abilities, manipulating genetics, and creating weapons of unimaginable destruction."

Carter folded her hands on the table. "And you're asking SHIELD to step in."

"Not just step in," Xavier said. "We need your resources, your reach, and your expertise. Together, we can stop Stryker before he does irreparable harm."

Fury snorted softly. "Sounds like you've already got a plan."

"We do," Xavier said, his tone grave. "But we need allies we can trust."

Carter leaned back, her sharp gaze locking onto Xavier. "And you're certain this isn't just a mutant issue? Something SHIELD has no business interfering with?"

"It's a human issue," Chiron interjected. "The fallout from Stryker's work won't discriminate. If left unchecked, his actions will destabilize not just mutant communities but the world at large."

Fury frowned. "You've got proof of all this?"

"Enough to warrant immediate action," Xavier said firmly. "I can provide it to you as soon as you agree to work with us."

Carter glanced at Fury, her expression unreadable. After a moment, she nodded. "We'll consider it. But I'll need to see that proof—"

She was interrupted by a faint beep from Xavier's pocket. He frowned, pulling out the pager and glancing at the message. His expression shifted, a flicker of urgency breaking through his composed exterior.

"What is it?" Warren asked, leaning forward.

Xavier's voice was measured but tense. "It's from one of Stryker's agents. Weapon X has escaped."

Fury stiffened. "Weapon X? You're saying he's loose?"

"Yes," Xavier replied, his tone grave. "And if what I've learned about him is true, he could either be Stryker's greatest weapon—or the ally we need to bring him down."

Carter's brow furrowed. "And you trust this agent who contacted you?"

Xavier hesitated, then nodded. "I trust his intentions. He understands the danger Stryker poses."

Fury sighed, rubbing his temple. "Great. So now we're chasing a rogue weapon and taking on a secret underground lab. Just another day at SHIELD."

Carter shot him a look. "We'll help," she said, turning back to Xavier. "But this partnership comes with conditions."

"Of course," Xavier said, his tone resolute. "We'll do whatever it takes. Together, we can stop Stryker—and save countless lives in the process."

The room fell silent for a moment, the weight of the alliance settling over them. Then Hedge broke the tension with a loud slurp of his cappuccino. "Well, looks like the cavalry's here. Let's just hope they can keep up."

---

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