"Professor, I think we need to talk about our new guest," Hank said, eyes locked on the footage pulled from the cameras near the base.
The video replayed in silence—missiles curving midair as if grabbed by an unseen hand, a burst of lightning that destroyed everything, then the moment that made Hank pause it again: Luke losing a limb and regenerating it almost instantly.
After seeing those abilities, Hank couldn't understand what Luke even was. He clearly didn't fit into any known mutant category.
Most mutants manifested one power—sometimes two—but they were always connected. Jean was the clearest example: telekinesis and telepathy, different expressions of the same neurological source. One origin, one system.
Luke didn't fit that pattern at all.
What Hank saw were three abilities with no shared origin or mechanism: telekinesis, lightning manipulation, and rapid regeneration. They weren't variations of a single mutation. They weren't even adjacent.
That was why Hank hesitated to label him a mutant at all.
"So what happened to the enemies?" Charles asked, his calm voice echoing directly in Hank's mind.
Hank exhaled slowly as he kept his eyes on the frozen frame of surveillance footage. "They're gone. All of them. The new guy handled it in under a minute." He hesitated, then added, "His power level… it's beyond anything I can comfortably classify. Alpha doesn't cover it. Even Omega feels like a guess."
There was a brief pause on the mental line.
"Good," Charles replied simply.
A moment later, his attention shifted elsewhere.
"Jean. Clarice," Charles said, his voice steady and reassuring as it reached them. "The threat has been neutralized. Calm everyone down. Tell them they're safe now. They can return to their rooms and rest."
Jean and Clarice looked at each other, surprise flashing between them.
"That fast?" Clarice muttered, almost under her breath.
Jean was also surprised—but neither of them asked for details. There wasn't time. People were scared, shaken, waiting for answers.
It took time.
Panic doesn't disappear just because someone says it's over. People were shaking, clutching their kids, whispering about Sentinels and soldiers and whether it would happen again.
Jean moved first, steady and calm, speaking softly but firmly. Clarice backed her up, repeating the same reassurance again and again.
"The danger is gone. You're safe for now. Staying calm is the best thing you can do."
Some didn't believe it at first. Others argued, demanded proof, demanded to leave. A few were on the verge of breaking down completely.
But slowly—very slowly—the tension eased.
Fear turned into exhaustion.
One by one, people started returning to their rooms. Doors closed. Voices were lowered.
***
Luke climbed down and landed lightly in front of Logan and Colossus.
Both of them stared.
Long.
Very long.
Logan's eyes flicked from Luke's face… to the missing pant leg… then to the severed leg floating calmly behind him like it was waiting for instructions.
"…You move fast," Logan finally said.
Colossus blinked once. Then again. "Why… is your pants missing on one leg?"
"And," Logan added, squinting, "why is there a leg following you?"
Luke glanced back at it. The leg gave a small, awkward twitch.
"…Long story," Luke said. "Involves a giant feral Sabretooth, bad decisions, and something that really shouldn't be alive without a body."
"So whose leg is that?" Logan asked, staring at the floating severed limb.
He genuinely had no idea what kind of messed-up habit involved casually bringing dismembered body parts back to base.
"Mine," Luke said.
Logan and Colossus spoke at the same time.
"Yours?"
Their eyes dropped to Luke's body.
Two legs.
Standing normally.
Perfectly intact.
Then their gaze went back to the third leg hovering beside him.
Silence.
Logan frowned. "You've got two."
Colossus squinted. "Yes. Very clearly two."
Luke nodded. "Correct."
Logan pointed at the floating one. "Then what the hell is that?"
Luke glanced at it calmly. "The old one."
Both of them just stared at him.
Luke ignored the looks and walked past them. After a few steps, he paused and glanced back over his shoulder.
"I dealt with the military," he said simply.
Then he kept walking.
He arrived at Hank's lab, where Beast was standing in front of a wall of CCTV feeds and data readouts.
"Umm… hi," Hank said, raising a hand awkwardly.
Luke looked at him—blue fur, white lab coat, glasses sitting low on his nose. Beast, in full scientist mode.
Hank honestly didn't know what to say. This was his first time meeting Luke face-to-face, and given what he'd just seen on the screens, he wasn't sure where to even start.
"Well," Luke said, breaking the silence, "I need a favor."
Hank adjusted his glasses, "Alright. What is it?" After what Luke had done for them, he could at least hear him out.
"This," Luke said, placing a rectangular construct of blue mana on the table.
Inside it lay a severed leg.
Hank stared.
"…This?" he asked, looking from the leg to Luke. "You need my help with this?"
"You see," Luke said calmly, "during the fight, something attached itself to my leg. If I hadn't reacted fast, I don't know what would've happened."
The leg twitched faintly inside the construct.
"And whatever that thing is," Luke continued, "it's still able to control the limb."
Hank stepped closer despite himself, eyes narrowing in focus. "So… this is your leg?"
"Yes."
"And it's moving," Hank said slowly.
"Yes," Luke repeated. "And whatever is inside it can influence control even after separation. I need to know if this is a mutant ability—or something else entirely."
He'd already tried everything he trusted—mana scans, arcane senses, layered defenses.
Nothing gave him an answer. That was the problem. Whatever it was had slipped through his arcane barrier, chewed past reinforced skin, and latched on anyway. Things weren't supposed to do that.
If magic couldn't name it, then science might.
***
Far away, in a place that wasn't bound by walls or distance, something noticed.
A vast, malignant awareness shifted, spreading through the psychic dark like oil through water. Amused. Irritated.
So… the host resisted.
A fragment had been severed—cut away before it could root properly. Crude. Inelegant. But effective.
The Shadow King smiled within the mindscape where he ruled.
Interesting, This one is not prey. Not yet.
*****
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