At the same time, a S.H.I.E.L.D. Quinjet emerged from its optical camouflage high over Westchester County, New York, peeling back a layer of invisibility as it settled smoothly onto the wide lawn behind the Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters.
The hatch slid open, and Agent Phil J. Coulson adjusted his perpetually neat dark suit and tie. A heavy alloy briefcase in hand, he stepped out, his face wearing that signature, highly personable yet thoroughly guarded smile.
The afternoon sun filtered through the branches of ancient trees, casting dappled shadows across the emerald grass. The air was thick with the clean scent of fresh-cut grass and earth.
Coulson entered the main, castle-like school building. The corridor was spacious and bright, laid with polished dark wood flooring. Several younger students ran past, laughing as they chased a rainbow-colored bubble that had appeared out of thin air. A red-haired girl sat quietly reading on a floating chair by a window; the chair hovered half a foot off the ground, gently bobbing. Coulson subtly glanced at the cover of the book in her hands: Introduction to Quantum Consciousness Field Theory (Young Adult Edition).
He rounded a corner, and a soft whoosh sounded overhead. A small, personal rain cloud, covering only a tiny area, appeared out of nowhere, precisely watering several pothos plants arranged on a high windowsill. The master of this miniature cloud—Ororo Munroe, whom the students now more commonly called "Storm"—was standing nearby, talking to a blue-skinned boy with a pointed tail. Seeing Coulson, her eyes, blue as a clear sky, flashed with surprise before she smiled and nodded in greeting.
Coulson smiled back.
His destination was Professor Charles Xavier's office. The heavy oak door slid open silently, as if anticipating his arrival.
"Good afternoon, Agent Coulson," Charles Xavier's voice was gentle yet powerful, speaking directly inside his mind.
The Professor sat in his iconic wheelchair behind a large desk, with a view of the meticulously maintained garden outside the window. He looked far younger than his actual age, and his insightful gaze seemed capable of piercing the surface of Coulson's thoughts.
"Nick always sends the least 'objectionable' visitors," he added with a touch of good-natured teasing.
"Good afternoon, Professor. I hope I haven't disturbed your tranquility." Coulson offered a slight bow and placed the alloy briefcase on the desk. "Director Fury sends his regards and a request for your expert opinion on some recent data."
Coulson briefly explained his purpose, highlighting the heavily damaged recording device salvaged from a battlefield and the devastating Heat Ray imagery it captured, along with Fury's instruction for a comparative energy signature analysis.
He opened the briefcase and took out the short, intensely shocking, blurred video projection. The video recreated the scene in the center of the office: a chaotic battlefield backdrop, the vague outline of a turtle-like creature, the high-speed movement of a human figure, and finally, those crimson-gold rays erupting from the eyes like two furious dragons of light that incinerated matter. The sudden explosion seemed to threaten to shatter the projection.
The office door was softly knocked on, then opened.
Scott Summers entered first, tall and straight, wearing his signature ruby-quartz glasses, his expression serious. Following him was a girl with a thick, cascading waterfall of auburn hair—Jean Grey, who was carrying two freshly brewed cups of tea, wisps of steam rising from them.
Behind her, the air silently cracked like a broken mirror. A circular portal, shimmering with violet light, instantly formed, and Blink stepped through, carrying a takeout bag that smelled sweetly of bubble tea.
"Hey, Professor, I got your Honey-Snow..." Blink's voice cut off abruptly as she saw the devastating Heat Ray footage on the projection. The bag nearly slipped from her grasp. "Woah!"
Jean gently placed one cup of tea in front of the Professor. The other one floated steadily toward Coulson on an invisible wave of telekinetic force. Coulson quickly took it with both hands. "Thank you, Miss Grey. Your telekinetic control is truly precise."
Scott's gaze was fixed entirely on the figure emitting the Heat Ray in the video's final moments, his brow furrowed behind his visor. Even though the image was blurred, the sense of devastating power was palpable.
"Professor?" Scott looked at Xavier.
"Scott, Jean, Clarice," Professor Xavier gestured for them to come closer. "Agent Coulson has brought a very unusual piece of battlefield footage. Director Fury requires us to conduct a detailed comparative analysis of the energy signature of that Heat Ray against your specific ability." He turned to Coulson. "Agent Hand has already transmitted the core energy waveform frequency. Hank has the equipment ready in the lab downstairs. Shall we begin?"
Scott nodded silently, his face showing little emotion, but his body was visibly tense.
The subterranean laboratory of the Xavier School was brimming with futuristic technology. Hank McCoy, better known as Beast, was wearing a white coat, deftly manipulating hundreds of complex instruments with his huge, blue, fur-covered fingers.
On the massive screen, the left side showed a captured, briefly enhanced image of the Heat Ray burst from the blurred video. The right side displayed dense, constantly shifting energy waveform graphs and various parameter analysis windows.
Scott stood before a device that looked like a high-tech dentist's chair, with a slender probe arm aimed at the edge of his ruby-quartz glasses. Coulson, Professor Xavier, Jean, and Blink stood in the observation area.
"Relax, Scott," Hank's voice was deep and gentle. "First iteration: 10% output power, focused mode. Target position A3."
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