Logan and Colossus took position at the bunker access shaft.
It was a narrow, reinforced passage leading straight up, with a heavy blast door sealed at the top. A metal ladder ran through the center, the only way in or out.
Logan stood closest to the shaft, eyes fixed upward. Colossus positioned himself behind him, broad frame blocking most of the passage.
If anyone came through that entrance, they'd have to get past them first.
"Yawn… these alarms are ruining my sleep," a lazy voice said.
Logan and Colossus both turned.
Luke stood there in the corridor, hair a mess, eyes half-lidded like he'd been dragged out of bed rather than summoned by an evacuation siren.
Colossus blinked. "Uh… who are you?"
"The new guy," Logan answered flatly, already recognizing the face. Then he frowned. "And you shouldn't be here. Civilians are evacuating. There's a military unit inbound—real one. They're not here to talk."
Luke scratched the back of his head. "Yeah. I felt them."
That made Logan pause.
"I came to send them somewhere else," Luke added, voice still sleepy. "So I can go back to bed."
Colossus stared. "Send them… where?"
Luke didn't answer.
He looked up toward the shaft.
Then he was gone.
A split second later—
BOOM.
The reinforced blast door at the top of the access shaft buckled outward like it had been hit by a missile. Metal screamed, bolts sheared, and the door was blown clear off its hinges.
Above them, Luke emerged into what looked like a camouflaged storage facility—concrete walls, stacked crates, fake shelving hiding the bunker entrance. A textbook nuclear hideout.
Luke cracked his neck, finally looking awake.
"Alright," he muttered. "Let's get this over with."
"So… what level of mutant is the new guy?" Colossus asked, still trying to process what he'd just seen. "Because that didn't feel like any mutant I know."
Logan let out a rough breath. "How the hell am I supposed to know?"
On Clarice's (Blink) side—
The portal snapped open with a familiar violet flare.
Instead of the reinforced underground shelter she expected, the view on the other side showed twisted metal, collapsed concrete, and scorched earth. The retreat base was gone—flattened, blackened, unusable.
Clarice's breath caught. Her hand trembled as she held the portal open a second longer, hoping she'd misjudged the coordinates.
Nothing changed.
She shut it quickly.
"…It's destroyed," she said, voice tight.
The group that had already gathered around her—families, younger mutants, people clutching bags with whatever they'd managed to grab—fell into uneasy silence. Someone swore under their breath. A child asked if they were safe now. No one answered.
Clarice forced herself to think. Fast.
"That base is compromised." she said.
Jean stepped closer, her expression pale but controlled. "Did Professor say anything? Any fallback locations?"
Clarice shook her head. "That was the fallback."
That made things worse.
A low murmur spread through the group—fear creeping in, voices overlapping.
"So where do we go now?"
"They're everywhere…"
Clarice swallowed. Forest regions. Remote terrain. No infrastructure, no protection—but no soldiers either. At least, not immediately.
"There are wooded areas north of here," she said finally. "No bases. No shelters. But we can hide. Lay low. It'll be rough."
Then Professor Xavier's calm voice slipped into Jean and Clarice's minds.
"Jean. Clarice. No need to panic. Someone has gone to deal with the situation. Stay calm. Nothing will happen."
Jean frowned. Clarice's eyes widened slightly.
"Who?" they asked at the same time.
Magneto wasn't here. Most of their strongest fighters were gone. There was no obvious answer.
"Our new guest," Xavier replied.
Clarice blinked. "That guy?"
Jean hesitated, then echoed it, disbelief clear. "Him?"
Xavier didn't explain further. He didn't need to. There was a quiet certainty in his tone—enough that both of them felt it.
"You trust him?" Jean asked quietly.
It wasn't distrust—just caution. Taking a newcomer at his word and risking everyone else's safety felt dangerously careless.
"Yes," Xavier answered simply. "He said ten minutes."
The line went silent.
Clarice exhaled slowly. "Well," she muttered, glancing at the frightened mutants behind them, "I really hope he knows what he's doing."
At the same time, high above the ground,
One of the helicopters chirped as its sensors spiked.
"Command, this is Hawk-One. We've detected a flying target—appears to be a mutant. Airborne, high velocity. How do you want to proceed?"
There was barely a pause.
"Eliminate. Do we even need to ask?" the voice replied coldly. "All units, engage the target. Do not let it escape."
"Roger."
With a sharp mechanical whine, missile pods rotated.
FWOOSH—FWOOSH—
A salvo streaked into the sky.
Luke saw them immediately—heat signatures flaring, guidance systems locked on him.
He glanced back over his shoulder, unimpressed.
"Hm. Already?" he muttered.
He snapped his fingers.
The missiles jerked mid-air—then violently curved, guidance overridden. One by one, they spun around in perfect arcs, engines screaming as they reversed course.
Luke didn't even slow down.
"Let's return these," he said calmly.
A second later, the missiles were racing straight back toward the helicopters.
*****
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