## Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters - Westchester County, New York
The sub-basement of Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters hummed with the kind of technological precision that made Tony Stark's workshop look like a high school chemistry lab. Cerebro—the most sophisticated mutant-detection system ever created—occupied a spherical chamber that seemed to exist at the intersection of cutting-edge science and something approaching cosmic awareness.
Professor Charles Xavier wheeled his chair along the walkway that led to Cerebro's interface, his daily routine as familiar as breathing after decades of monitoring the world's mutant population. The neural interface headset felt comfortable in his hands, its weight both reassuring and sobering—a reminder of the responsibility that came with being able to touch every mutant mind on the planet.
At sixty-three, Charles had learned to approach these sessions with the methodical patience of someone who understood that the world's problems couldn't be solved in a day, but who refused to stop trying anyway. His telepathic abilities had grown stronger over the years, refined by constant practice and the amplification provided by Cerebro's sophisticated machinery.
He settled the interface into position and felt the familiar electric tingle as Cerebro synchronized with his consciousness, expanding his awareness beyond the confines of his physical body. The sensation was like diving into an ocean of thoughts, emotions, and psychic signatures that stretched across continents.
*Routine scan,* he thought, beginning his systematic survey of North America's mutant population. *Check on the established communities, monitor for new manifestations, watch for signs of anti-mutant persecution or government intervention...*
The familiar mental landscapes unfolded in his consciousness like a map made of light and emotion. New York City's dense mutant population pulsed with the complex rhythms of urban life. The underground communities in Chicago and Detroit showed their usual patterns of careful secrecy and mutual protection. Los Angeles remained a complicated mixture of mutants trying to blend into the entertainment industry and others hiding in plain sight among the city's vast diversity.
Everything was normal, stable, predictable—
*Wait.*
Charles felt his consciousness snag on something unexpected, like a fisherman's line catching on submerged debris. Two psychic signatures, young and powerful, moving north through Tennessee in what appeared to be some kind of commercial vehicle. The signatures were too strong to be newly manifested, too organized to be untrained, and too distinctive to be anything other than siblings.
Twins, he realized, focusing Cerebro's sensors more precisely. A girl whose mind radiated the kind of careful control that suggested recently traumatic power manifestation, and a boy whose psychic signature was unlike anything Charles had encountered in forty years of telepathic contact.
The girl's mind was accessible—scared, determined, guilty about something involving uncontrolled physical contact with another person. Classic absorption-type manifestation, probably life force or memory transfer based on the emotional resonance. Charles had seen similar patterns before, had helped other young mutants learn to control abilities that made normal human contact dangerous.
But the boy...
Charles pressed deeper, trying to establish contact with the male twin's consciousness. Instead of the usual flow of surface thoughts and emotional impressions, he encountered something that felt like a wall made of static and mathematical precision.
*Curious,* Charles thought, increasing Cerebro's power output. Natural telepathic resistance wasn't unheard of, but this felt different—more like technological interference than biological immunity.
He pushed harder, bringing Cerebro's full scanning capability to bear on the anomalous signature. For a moment, he felt the edge of contact, a brief glimpse of a consciousness that seemed older than its apparent age, more complex than it should be, and somehow familiar despite being completely unknown.
Then the connection cut off with an abruptness that made Charles flinch in his chair.
*Interesting,* he murmured aloud, his voice echoing in Cerebro's chamber. In four decades of using the device, he could count on one hand the number of minds that had been completely inaccessible to him. Emma Frost with her diamond form. A few individuals with technological implants. One or two mutants with such profound mental trauma that their minds had essentially locked themselves away from external contact.
But this felt different. This felt *organized*.
Charles expanded his scan, trying to get a broader picture of the twins' situation. Their location suggested they were fleeing from something—the trajectory was too direct, the speed too urgent for casual travel. And there were other signatures in their vicinity that made his blood run cold.
Government agents. Multiple individuals with the kind of tactical training and mission focus that suggested military or intelligence backgrounds. They were positioned around transportation hubs throughout the Southeast, clearly searching for someone matching the twins' psychic profiles.
*Weapon X,* Charles realized, his mental voice carrying the weight of bitter experience. *Or something similar. They're hunting these children.*
The implications hit him like a physical blow. Two young mutants, one with absorption abilities and one with some kind of telepathic resistance, being pursued by government agents who undoubtedly wanted to either weaponize them or eliminate them as threats.
Charles pulled his consciousness back from Cerebro's global network and removed the interface headset, his mind already racing through the tactical and ethical implications of what he'd discovered. The school had protocols for this kind of situation—rescue missions to extract endangered mutants from hostile environments—but they'd never dealt with someone whose mind was completely inaccessible to telepathic contact.
He activated his chair's silent mode and headed for the elevator, his thoughts focused on the two faculty members who were best equipped to handle this kind of emergency extraction.
Logan would provide the tactical expertise and the kind of protective instincts that made him invaluable when dealing with government hunting parties. Ororo would bring the strategic thinking and the weather manipulation abilities that could create cover for a rescue operation.
Between the three of them, they'd managed to save dozens of endangered mutants over the years. But something about this situation felt different, more complex than their usual extractions.
*The boy's resistance to telepathic contact could be a significant tactical advantage,* Charles mused as the elevator carried him toward the upper levels of the school. *If he's immune to mental manipulation, that makes him incredibly valuable to both sides of the mutant-human conflict. And incredibly dangerous to leave in government hands.*
The main floor of the school bustled with the controlled chaos of a Tuesday afternoon—students moving between classes, teachers managing the complex logistics of educating young people whose homework assignments might accidentally level small buildings, the constant background hum of a community that had learned to function despite supernatural complications.
Charles found Logan in the garage, as expected, performing maintenance on one of the school's motorcycles with the methodical precision of someone who understood that reliable transportation could mean the difference between successful rescue and tragic failure.
"Logan," Charles called out as he approached, his voice carrying the kind of urgency that immediately got the Canadian's attention.
Logan looked up from the Kawasaki's engine, his enhanced senses already cataloging Charles's elevated stress levels and accelerated heart rate. "What's wrong, Professor? You got that look that means somebody's in trouble."
"Two someone's, actually. Teenage twins, fleeing north through Tennessee, being pursued by what appears to be a government task force." Charles paused, considering how much to reveal about the boy's unusual resistance. "One of them has absorption abilities that recently manifested under traumatic circumstances. The other has some form of telepathic immunity that I've never encountered before."
Logan's expression shifted into the focused alertness that made him so effective in combat situations. "How recent is 'recent'?"
"Within the last twenty-four hours, based on the emotional residue I detected. They're scared, they're running, and they're about to run out of safe options."
"Government task force," Logan mused, wiping his hands on a shop rag. "That mean Weapon X, or something new?"
"Unknown, but the tactical signatures suggest military training and significant resources. They've positioned agents at transportation hubs throughout the Southeast, clearly coordinating a systematic search."
Logan nodded grimly. The school had tangled with government mutant hunting operations before, and the encounters had never ended well for anyone involved. "What's the plan?"
"Intercept the twins before the task force does, bring them back to the school, and figure out the extent of their abilities in a safe environment." Charles paused. "But Logan, there's something unusual about this situation. The boy's mind is completely closed to me. Not resistant—*closed*. I've never encountered anything like it."
That got Logan's full attention. In the years they'd worked together, Charles had never admitted to being unable to read someone's thoughts. The implications were significant, and not entirely reassuring.
"Natural ability, or something artificial?"
"I don't know. That's part of why we need to reach them quickly."
Logan was already moving, gathering the gear he kept ready for emergency extractions. "Where's Ororo?"
"Teaching meteorology to the juniors, but I can pull her out of class." Charles activated his chair's communication system. "Ororo, please report to the garage immediately. Emergency extraction mission."
Her response came back within seconds, carrying the kind of calm efficiency that made her invaluable in crisis situations. "On my way, Professor. Should I prepare for hostile contact?"
"Affirmative. Government agents with military training."
"Understood."
Logan finished loading his emergency kit—medical supplies, communications equipment, backup identification documents, and enough weapons to handle most conceivable threats—and looked up at Charles with the expression of someone who'd learned to expect complications.
"Any idea where these kids are headed?"
"Based on their trajectory and the fact that they're clearly seeking sanctuary, probably here. The school's reputation for helping young mutants isn't exactly secret among the community."
"That's good for us, bad for them," Logan observed. "Government types know our reputation too. They'll be watching the approaches to Westchester."
Charles had considered that possibility. Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters was officially listed as a private educational institution, but various government agencies undoubtedly had files documenting its role as a sanctuary for endangered mutants. Any systematic search for fleeing mutant children would eventually focus on the routes leading to the school.
"Which is why we're going to intercept them before they get that far," he said as Ororo entered the garage, still wearing the professional attire she used for teaching but already carrying the leather jacket and equipment harness that suggested she'd anticipated the nature of the emergency.
Ororo Monroe at thirty-eight was everything Charles could have hoped for in a faculty member and team leader—brilliant, compassionate, tactically sound, and possessed of weather manipulation abilities that could provide cover for almost any extraction scenario. Her white hair was pulled back in a practical style that wouldn't interfere with combat operations, and her blue eyes carried the focused intensity of someone who'd learned to balance teaching responsibilities with the harsh realities of mutant rescue work.
"What's our situation, Professor?" she asked, automatically beginning her pre-mission equipment check.
Charles quickly briefed her on the twins' location, the government pursuit, and the unusual resistance he'd encountered when trying to establish telepathic contact with the male twin. Ororo listened with the professional attention of someone who'd participated in dozens of similar operations, asking tactical questions that helped refine their approach.
"If they're traveling by truck, they'll probably stay on major interstates to maintain speed and avoid local law enforcement," she observed. "I-40 East through Tennessee, then probably I-81 North through Virginia, or I-77 North through the Carolinas."
"Multiple possible routes," Logan added. "We'll need to narrow down their exact location before we can plan an intercept."
Charles activated Cerebro's remote interface through his chair's communication system, extending his consciousness back into the global network. The twins' signatures were still moving north, but more slowly than before—probably dealing with traffic or making a planned stop.
"I can track the girl consistently," he reported. "Her mind is accessible, and her emotional state is distinctive enough to follow even at long range. But the boy remains completely closed to me."
"That might actually work in our favor," Ororo said thoughtfully. "If the government task force includes telepaths, they'll have the same problem reading him that you're having. Makes him harder for them to track."
It was a valid point, but Charles remained concerned about the implications of someone whose mind was genuinely inaccessible to telepathic contact. In his experience, that level of resistance usually indicated either severe trauma, technological enhancement, or abilities that hadn't fully manifested yet.
All three possibilities suggested complications that would make the twins more valuable—and more dangerous—than typical rescue cases.
"We'll use the Blackbird," Charles decided. "Fastest way to reach their approximate location and maintain mobility once we're in the field. Logan, can you have us airborne in thirty minutes?"
"Twenty if traffic cooperates," Logan replied, already heading for the aircraft hangar. The X-Men's modified SR-71 was kept in constant readiness for exactly these kinds of emergency extractions.
"Ororo, brief Scott and Jean on the situation. If this goes badly, we may need backup."
"Already planning on it," Ororo said. "Jean's telepathic abilities might be useful if you continue having trouble reaching the boy, and Scott's tactical training makes him ideal for coordinating with multiple government agencies if we have to negotiate rather than extract."
As they prepared to leave, Charles found himself thinking about the implications of what they were about to attempt. Extracting endangered mutants from hostile environments was dangerous under the best circumstances, but this situation carried additional risks that he couldn't fully assess without more information.
The boy's telepathic resistance could be a powerful asset or a significant liability, depending on its source and scope. The girl's absorption abilities made her potentially dangerous to anyone who tried to help her, but also incredibly valuable to anyone who wanted to weaponize her powers.
And somewhere behind them, government agents with military training and significant resources were closing in, determined to capture or eliminate two teenagers whose only crime was being born different.
*Another day at Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters,* Charles thought as he headed for the hangar, his mind already focused on the challenges ahead.
The Blackbird was sleek, powerful, and designed for exactly this kind of mission—fast insertion into hostile territory, minimal detection signature, and enough defensive capabilities to handle most conceivable threats. Logan ran through the pre-flight checklist with practiced efficiency while Ororo established communication protocols with the school's command center.
"Professor," Ororo said as they prepared for takeoff, "what's our extraction protocol if the twins don't want to come with us? They're fleeing from authority figures, and we're going to look like more authority figures to them."
It was another valid concern. Traumatized mutant teenagers had good reasons to be suspicious of adults who claimed to want to help them, especially adults who showed up with military-grade aircraft and tactical equipment.
"We'll have to earn their trust quickly," Charles said. "The girl's mind is accessible, so I can communicate our intentions directly. The boy..." He paused, considering the challenge of reaching someone whose thoughts were completely closed to him. "The boy we'll have to convince through words and actions."
"What if his resistance isn't natural?" Logan asked from the pilot's seat as the Blackbird's engines began their startup sequence. "What if someone's done something to him? Enhanced him, programmed him, whatever?"
Charles had been wondering the same thing. Technological enhancement of telepathic resistance wasn't common, but it wasn't unheard of either. Several government agencies had experimented with ways to protect their agents from mental manipulation, and some of those experiments had involved mutant test subjects.
"If that's the case, then rescuing him becomes even more critical," Charles said finally. "No one should have to live with unwanted modifications to their mind or abilities."
The Blackbird lifted off with the smooth power of advanced technology married to practical engineering, carrying three of the X-Men toward an uncertain confrontation with government forces and two teenagers who might represent the future of human-mutant relations.
As they climbed toward cruising altitude, Charles extended his consciousness one more time, searching for the twins' psychic signatures. The girl was still there—scared, determined, trusting her brother to guide them to safety. But the boy remained invisible to his telepathic senses, a blank space in the psychic landscape that raised more questions than it answered.
*We'll find them,* Charles promised silently, his mental voice carrying the weight of decades of similar promises made to endangered mutants around the world. *Whatever it takes, we'll bring them home safely.*
Behind them, Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters fell away into the distance, its gardens and classrooms filled with students who had once been exactly where the D'Ancanto twins were now—scared, running, and desperate for someone to help them understand what they were becoming.
The circle of rescue and sanctuary continued, as it had for years, as it would for years to come.
*As long as there were people willing to help those who couldn't help themselves.*
---
## Meanwhile, 300 Miles South
Marcus jerked upright in the passenger seat of Maria's truck, his borrowed reflexes responding to a sensation he couldn't immediately identify. For a moment, he felt like someone was trying to reach into his mind—not hostile, but incredibly powerful and persistent, probing at the edges of his consciousness with the kind of focused intensity that suggested professional expertise.
Then the system kicked in.
**[SYSTEM ALERT: TELEPATHIC INTRUSION DETECTED]**
**[SOURCE: EXTREMELY POWERFUL MUTANT TELEPATH]**
**[ESTIMATED RANGE: 400+ MILES - INDICATES TECHNOLOGICAL AMPLIFICATION]**
**[INTRUSION BLOCKED - SELECTIVE ABSORPTION SYSTEM PROVIDES COMPLETE TELEPATHIC IMMUNITY]**
**[ANALYSIS: NON-HOSTILE INTENT, LIKELY RECONNAISSANCE OR SEARCH PATTERN]**
**[RECOMMENDATION: MAINTAIN MENTAL DEFENSES, AVOID REVEALING IMMUNITY TO TELEPATHIC CONTACT]**
"Marcus?" Marie's voice carried concern and the kind of exhaustion that came from too many hours of adrenaline and uncertainty. "You okay? You look like you just saw a ghost."
"Just a headache," Marcus said, which was technically true if you counted having cosmic video game systems block telepathic intrusions as a form of headache. "Must be all the stress catching up with me."
Through their empathic connection, he could feel Marie's worry spiking, mixed with guilt that her power manifestation had put them both in danger. She'd been blaming herself for their situation since they'd left Caldecott County, despite his repeated assurances that none of this was her fault.
"Y'all doing alright back there?" Maria called from the driver's seat, her voice carrying the kind of maternal concern that had made her willing to help two stranded teenagers in the first place. "Got some aspirin in my road kit if you need it."
"Thanks, but I'm fine," Marcus replied, his mind still processing the implications of what the system had just revealed. Someone with extremely powerful telepathic abilities had just tried to scan his mind from hundreds of miles away, which suggested resources and capabilities that went far beyond normal human or even normal mutant ranges.
**[SYSTEM ANALYSIS: POTENTIAL SOURCES OF LONG-RANGE TELEPATHIC CONTACT]**
**[PRIMARY CANDIDATE: PROFESSOR CHARLES XAVIER - CEREBRO AMPLIFICATION]**
**[SECONDARY CANDIDATES: EMMA FROST, JEAN GREY, OTHER OMEGA-LEVEL TELEPATHS]**
**[PROBABILITY: XAVIER 89.7% - MATCHES KNOWN CAPABILITIES AND OPERATIONAL PATTERNS]**
**[IMPLICATION: X-MEN ARE AWARE OF TWINS' SITUATION AND LIKELY RESPONDING]**
Marcus felt a surge of hope so powerful it nearly overwhelmed their empathic connection. If Professor X had detected them, if the X-Men were mobilizing to help, then their desperate flight toward Westchester County might actually have a chance of success.
But the system's warning about maintaining his telepathic immunity gave him pause. If Xavier couldn't read his mind, that was probably a significant tactical advantage—but it was also something that would raise questions he couldn't easily answer without revealing cosmic information that would sound completely insane.
*Better to be thought mysterious than crazy,* he decided, filing away the problem for later consideration.
"Marie," he said softly, not wanting Maria to overhear, "I think we're gonna be okay. I think somebody knows we're in trouble and they're coming to help."
"How could you possibly know that?"
"Same way I knew about the truck stop, and the surveillance at the bus terminal, and everything else that's kept us alive so far." Marcus squeezed her gloved hand through their connection. "Trust me?"
Marie looked at him with the expression of someone who'd learned that her previously normal brother somehow possessed knowledge and instincts that bordered on precognitive, but who'd also learned that trusting those impossible insights had kept them alive when everything else had gone wrong.
"Always," she said finally. "But Marcus, when this is all over—when we're safe and we have time to breathe—you're gonna tell me what's really going on with you. All of it."
"Deal," Marcus said, meaning it despite knowing that the truth about cosmic entities, system interfaces, and reincarnation was going to be a very difficult conversation.
**[SYSTEM UPDATE]**
**[LONG-RANGE TELEPATHIC SCAN: TERMINATED]**
**[XAVIER'S SEARCH PATTERN: LIKELY CONTINUING WITH FOCUS ON MARIE'S ACCESSIBLE MIND]**
**[ESTIMATED TIME TO X-MEN INTERCEPT: 2-4 HOURS]**
**[CURRENT THREAT STATUS: MODERATE - GOVERNMENT FORCES STILL ACTIVE BUT UNAWARE OF EXACT LOCATION]**
**[RECOMMENDATION: MAINTAIN CURRENT TRAJECTORY, PREPARE FOR CONTACT WITH XAVIER'S TEAM]**
As they continued north on I-40, Marcus found himself thinking about the moment when they would finally meet the X-Men. In the comics, Professor Xavier was portrayed as a wise, compassionate leader who genuinely cared about helping young mutants find their place in the world. But comics weren't reality, and Marcus had learned that real-world situations were always more complex than their fictional representations.
Still, the fact that Xavier had been searching for them suggested he was aware of their situation and wanted to help. That was more hope than they'd had since leaving Mississippi, and Marcus was willing to take whatever encouragement he could get.
"Maria," he called out to their driver, "how much further to Philadelphia?"
"About eight hours if traffic cooperates," Maria replied. "Y'all planning to sleep some? I got a schedule to keep, but I don't mind if you rest while I drive."
Marcus considered the timeline. If the X-Men were mobilizing from Westchester County, they'd probably intercept the truck somewhere in Virginia or Pennsylvania, well before they reached Philadelphia. The question was whether the government task force would find them first, and what would happen when two groups of enhanced individuals met on a highway with innocent civilians in the vicinity.
"Maybe for a few hours," he said. "Thanks again for doing this, ma'am. You're probably saving our lives."
"Don't mention it," Maria said. "Got kids of my own about your age. Figure if they were in trouble somewhere, I'd hope somebody would help them too."
As the Tennessee landscape rolled past at seventy miles per hour, Marcus closed his eyes and tried to prepare for whatever was coming next. The system had protected him from telepathic intrusion, but it couldn't protect him from the complex emotional and tactical challenges that would come with joining the X-Men.
Still, for the first time since Marie's powers had manifested, Marcus felt like they might actually have a future that didn't involve running, hiding, or constantly looking over their shoulders for government agents.
**[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION]**
**[CHAPTER OBJECTIVE: REACH XAVIER'S SCHOOL - 67% COMPLETE]**
**[SURVIVAL PROBABILITY: MODERATE TO GOOD]**
**[NEW CHALLENGES LOADING...]**
*Of course there are new challenges,* Marcus thought with rueful amusement. *This is the X-Men universe. When has anything ever been simple?*
But as Marie's hand tightened in his through their empathic connection, Marcus realized he was ready for whatever complications lay ahead.
They'd made it this far together.
They'd make it the rest of the way too.
*No matter what it took.*
—
## 200 Miles South of the Tennessee/Virginia Border
The abandoned warehouse outside Knoxville had seen better decades. Its windows were boarded up with plywood that had warped and cracked under years of Tennessee weather, and the parking lot was more potholes than actual asphalt. But for Colonel William Stryker's purposes, it was perfect—isolated, unremarkable, and most importantly, completely off any official government records.
Stryker stood in the center of what had once been the warehouse's main floor, his crisp military uniform a sharp contrast to the industrial decay surrounding him. At fifty-eight, he carried himself with the rigid bearing of a career soldier who'd spent decades believing that the world's problems could be solved through superior firepower and tactical precision. His graying hair was cut to regulation length, his face was clean-shaven, and his eyes held the kind of cold certainty that came from absolute conviction in his own righteousness.
Around him, a dozen operatives in tactical gear worked with military efficiency to set up a command center that could coordinate a multi-state manhunt. Computer terminals flickered to life, communication arrays established contact with surveillance networks, and wall-mounted displays began showing real-time intelligence feeds from transportation hubs throughout the Southeast.
"Sir," called Agent Zero, approaching with a tablet that displayed the latest search parameters. "We've expanded surveillance to include truck stops and rest areas. The targets avoided the bus terminals in Memphis and Jackson, which suggests they're using alternative transportation methods."
Stryker nodded approvingly. Agent Zero was one of his most effective operatives—enhanced reflexes, perfect accuracy, and most importantly, complete loyalty to the mission of protecting humanity from the mutant threat. The fact that Zero was himself a mutant was an irony that Stryker appreciated but rarely dwelt on. Tools were tools, regardless of their origin.
"Any progress on identifying their destination?"
"Preliminary analysis suggests they're heading northeast, probably toward major population centers where they can disappear more easily. New York City is the most likely target, but we're also monitoring routes to Philadelphia, Boston, and Washington D.C."
Stryker studied the tactical display, his mind processing the logistics of tracking two teenagers across multiple states while avoiding the kind of attention that would compromise the operation. Weapon X was officially a defunct program, terminated after the Wolverine incident had demonstrated the limitations of trying to control mutant subjects through surgical enhancement. But the threat posed by uncontrolled mutants hadn't diminished, which meant that unofficial operations like this one remained necessary.
"What's our intelligence on their abilities?" he asked.
Zero consulted his tablet. "The female subject, Marie D'Ancanto, demonstrates classic absorption-type powers. Life force drain, memory transfer, possible power mimicry. Manifestation appears to be recent and uncontrolled, which makes her extremely dangerous to civilian populations."
"And the male?"
"Unknown. Witness reports suggest he can interact safely with his sister despite her absorption abilities, but beyond that, we have no reliable data." Zero paused. "Sir, there's something unusual about the tactical profile. These subjects are showing operational awareness that's inconsistent with typical teenage mutants."
Stryker raised an eyebrow. "Explain."
"They avoided obvious transportation routes, used water to break scent trails when evading local law enforcement, and secured alternative transportation through methods that suggest either significant intelligence or outside assistance." Zero highlighted several points on the tactical map. "This kind of evasion pattern is what I'd expect from trained operatives, not scared kids."
It was an interesting observation. Stryker had dealt with enough mutant incidents to know that most newly manifested subjects responded to stress with panic and poor decision-making. The D'Ancanto twins' apparent competence suggested either exceptional natural intelligence or guidance from someone with relevant experience.
"Outside assistance," Stryker mused. "Any indication of who might be helping them?"
"We're analyzing known mutant sympathizer networks, but nothing concrete yet. However, there is one possibility that concerns me."
Zero activated another display, showing a surveillance photo of a woman with auburn hair and professional attire. "Dorothy D'Ancanto, the twins' adoptive mother. Officially listed as a real estate agent, but our background check reveals some interesting gaps in her employment history."
Stryker studied the photograph, his enhanced pattern recognition immediately noting details that suggested the subject was more than she appeared. Her posture was too alert, her gaze too assessing, and her apparent age didn't quite match the timeline of her documented history.
"What kind of gaps?"
"Periods where she's listed as working for companies that either don't exist or have no record of her employment. Travel patterns that don't match her claimed profession. And financial resources that exceed what someone in her supposed occupation should possess." Zero highlighted several discrepancies in the data. "Sir, I think Dorothy D'Ancanto might be a deep-cover operative."
"Working for whom?"
"Unknown, but the sophistication suggests government or quasi-government affiliation. Possibly one of the mutant underground networks."
Stryker processed this information with growing concern. If the D'Ancanto twins had been raised by someone with intelligence training, that would explain their operational competence and significantly complicate any capture operation. Worse, it suggested that their flight wasn't random—they were probably heading toward a specific destination where they expected to find sanctuary.
"Any word from our contacts at the major mutant gathering points?" he asked.
"Negative contact at most locations, but there's been unusual activity around Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters in Westchester County. Their Blackbird aircraft went airborne about an hour ago on what appears to be an emergency mission."
*Xavier.* Stryker felt his jaw tighten with the familiar mixture of respect and hostility that the telepath's name always evoked. Charles Xavier was arguably the most powerful mutant on Earth, and his school had served as a sanctuary for endangered mutants for over two decades. If the twins were heading for Westchester, the extraction window was closing rapidly.
"Do we have assets in position to intercept before they reach the school?"
"Standard surveillance teams, but nothing equipped to handle Xavier's people if they become involved." Zero paused. "Sir, if the X-Men are responding to this situation, we may need to consider alternative approaches."
Stryker was quiet for a moment, weighing tactical options. The X-Men weren't officially government operatives, but they had significant political protection and capabilities that made them extremely dangerous to engage directly. Previous confrontations had ended badly for everyone involved, and the current political climate made it inadvisable to provoke them without compelling justification.
However, this situation was different. The D'Ancanto twins represented a potential threat to civilian populations that couldn't be ignored, and the absorption abilities displayed by the female subject made her a priority target for containment or elimination.
"Agent Zero," Stryker said finally, "activate Sabretooth."
Zero looked up from his tablet with surprise. "Sir, Victor Creed is still considered... unstable... after the last enhancement series."
"Which makes him perfect for this mission." Stryker moved to a secure terminal and began entering authorization codes for one of Weapon X's most dangerous remaining assets. "Victor has personal experience with Xavier's people, he's immune to telepathic manipulation, and most importantly, he's expendable if the mission goes wrong."
The terminal chimed softly as Stryker's codes were accepted, opening a direct line to a secure facility two hundred miles away where Victor Creed waited in cryogenic suspension between missions. The big mutant had volunteered for the enhanced control program after his previous confrontation with Wolverine had left him physically and psychologically damaged, but the treatments had side effects that made him unsuitable for most operations.
For this mission, those side effects might be advantages.
"Victor Creed, this is Colonel Stryker," he spoke into the communication array as cryogenic systems began the revival process. "You're being activated for an immediate extraction mission. Two mutant targets, teenage siblings, heading north through Tennessee. Priority is capture alive, but elimination is authorized if capture proves impossible."
The response came back in Victor's familiar growl, roughened by the revival process but carrying the predatory satisfaction that made him so effective as a hunter. "Understood, Colonel. What's the opposition?"
"Potentially the X-Men, depending on how quickly you can locate and secure the targets." Stryker uploaded the tactical files to Victor's mission briefing system. "The female subject has absorption abilities that could be dangerous to anyone who makes physical contact. The male's abilities are unknown."
"Any special restrictions?"
Stryker considered that. Victor's enhanced aggression made him extremely effective in combat situations, but it also made him difficult to control when civilian populations were present. The D'Ancanto twins were traveling through populated areas where excessive collateral damage would create political complications.
"Minimize civilian casualties," he said finally. "But do whatever's necessary to prevent the targets from reaching Xavier's school."
"Understood. I'll need transportation to their last known location."
"Already arranged. Helicopter will have you in the field within two hours."
As the communication ended, Stryker felt the familiar mixture of anticipation and concern that came with deploying Victor Creed in the field. The big mutant was undeniably effective—his enhanced senses made him nearly impossible to evade, his regenerative abilities made him extremely difficult to stop, and his combat instincts were refined by decades of violent experience.
But Victor was also unstable, prone to excessive violence, and motivated by personal grudges that sometimes interfered with mission objectives. Using him against two teenagers felt like overkill, but if Xavier's people were involved, overkill might be the only way to ensure mission success.
"Sir," Agent Zero said quietly, "are we prepared for the political fallout if this escalates to direct confrontation with the X-Men?"
"The X-Men aren't officially affiliated with any government agency," Stryker replied. "If they choose to interfere with a legitimate national security operation, they're operating outside legal authority." He paused, his expression hardening. "And if they're harboring dangerous mutants who pose a threat to civilian populations, they're part of the problem."
It was a rationalization, and both men knew it. But it was also the kind of thinking that allowed operations like Weapon X to exist in the shadows of official oversight, protecting humanity from threats that conventional law enforcement couldn't handle.
On the wall display, satellite imagery tracked the northbound progress of what was probably the D'Ancanto twins' transportation. They were making good time, but they were still hours away from the relative safety of Westchester County. If Victor could intercept them before they reached Xavier's protection, the extraction could be completed without the complications that would come from confronting the X-Men directly.
"Estimated time until Sabretooth makes contact?" Stryker asked.
Zero consulted his tactical computer. "Based on the targets' current rate of progress and Victor's deployment timeline, contact should occur somewhere in central Virginia. Remote area, minimal civilian presence, good tactical environment for extraction."
"Perfect." Stryker smiled with grim satisfaction. "Two hours from now, this situation will be resolved one way or another."
As if summoned by his words, the warehouse's communication array crackled to life with Victor Creed's voice, transmitted from the helicopter carrying him toward his hunting ground.
"Colonel, this is Sabretooth. I'm airborne and tracking south toward the target zone. Question—what happens if I run into Logan?"
Stryker paused. The possibility of Wolverine being involved hadn't occurred to him, but it was logical. Logan was one of Xavier's most effective operatives, and his experience with government mutant hunting operations made him ideal for extraction missions.
"Logan is a secondary concern," he replied. "Focus on the primary targets. But Victor—if you do encounter him, you have my authorization to settle old scores."
Victor's laugh came back through the communication system like the sound of breaking glass. "Understood, Colonel. This is going to be fun."
As the transmission ended, Stryker found himself hoping that the mission would be completed quickly and quietly, without the kind of collateral damage that Victor tended to cause when his enhanced aggression took over.
But he also knew that sometimes the most dangerous problems required the most dangerous solutions.
And right now, Victor Creed was exactly the kind of dangerous solution that the mutant threat demanded.
---
## 150 Miles North - In Maria's Truck
Marcus felt another wave of that strange telepathic pressure, stronger this time, as if someone was trying very hard to get his attention. Through the empathic connection with Marie, he could sense her growing unease as they rolled through the Virginia countryside.
**[SYSTEM ALERT: MULTIPLE THREAT SIGNATURES DETECTED]**
**[AIRBORNE CONTACT: HIGH-SPEED AIRCRAFT, MILITARY SPECIFICATIONS]**
**[ESTIMATED ETA: 45 MINUTES]**
**[GROUND CONTACT: ENHANCED INDIVIDUAL, EXTREMELY HOSTILE INTENT]**
**[ESTIMATED ETA: 90 MINUTES]**
**[RECOMMENDATION: IMMEDIATE COURSE CHANGE TO AVOID INTERCEPTION]**
Marcus felt his borrowed heart skip a beat. Whatever was coming their way, it was big, fast, and very, very bad news.
"Maria," he called out, his voice carefully controlled to avoid panic, "any chance we could take a slight detour? Maybe some back roads through the mountains?"
In the driver's seat, Maria glanced at him in the rearview mirror. "Something wrong with the interstate, honey?"
"Just feeling a little carsick," Marcus lied smoothly. "Sometimes the smaller roads help with that."
What he didn't say was that the system was now tracking a helicopter moving south at high speed, and that the hostile ground contact was closing on their position with the relentless efficiency of a natural predator.
*Sabretooth,* Marcus realized with growing dread as CJ's comic book knowledge supplied the context. *They sent Sabretooth after us.*
Through their empathic connection, he felt Marie's fear spike as she picked up on his emotional state.
They were about to discover exactly how dangerous the Marvel Universe could be for two teenagers with no combat experience and a truck driver who'd just wanted to help some stranded college students.
The hunt was about to begin.
---
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