Her one good eye narrowed, weighing the words. Then she gave a stiff nod. "As long as you don't screw us."
I grinned. "If anyone gets screwed, it'll be you. I'm not into the rest of them. Though Feral and Thornn... they're up for consideration."
Calisto's single eye widened in disbelief not because I mentioned f**king her. But because I even suggested it.
It hit her harder than she'd let on. I could see it in the way her jaw tightened, the way she turned just slightly away to hide it.
You see when Callisto was young and beautiful, her life seemed perfect. But catastrophe struck her, as she learned that living as a mutant would not be easy. She was blinded in the right eye and was left horribly disfigured.
Callisto realized that society had little use for a mutant, especially one who was beautiful no more. Scared and alone, she rebelled against society and decided to go underground where it was safe and where she could escape prying, peering eyes. She quickly made a huge abandoned military tunnel called "the Alley" built underneath Manhattan .
With help from the mutant-detecting Caliban, the devoted Sunder, and the treacherous Masque, she organized a community of mutant outcasts called the Morlocks who lived in the Alley.
In the comics Callisto, apparently driven to irrationality by her responsibilities, abducted the winged Angel as a consort.
She didn't crawl underground because she liked the dark.
She came here because it was the only place left where people didn't stare like she was a monster. Or worse—pretend not to.
So when someone like me—clean, tall, sharp-jawed, built like a statue from Olympus of a Greek God—spoke to her like she was still worth something, it rattled her.
Callisto's mouth twitched—an expression caught somewhere between disbelief, caution, and something deeper she hadn't felt in a long time. She masked it quickly, turning away with a grunt, but I didn't miss it.
I let it go. For now.
Around us, the Morlocks shifted. Watching. Whispering. Still uncertain, but no longer afraid.
I let my gaze sweep across the room. Eyes met mine—hesitant, curious, uncertain. But none dared challenge me.
"Get some rest," I told them all. "Things are going to change."
Callisto turned back, her voice low. "They've heard that before."
I didn't respond with words.
I let the confidence in my stride and the power I displayed just moments ago speak for itself.
This was a promise to them and not mere empty words.
As the crowd dispersed, I found myself walking deeper into the Alley. It was a city of its own—twisting corridors, crumbling walls painted. They lived like ghosts in the underworld, and for the first time… they had someone who could pull them out of it.
And I would. In time.
But first, I needed to solidify my control—not with fear, but with results. Food. Medicine. Protection. Purpose.
And above all a place they could call 'Home'.
***
The next morning, I had Emma start the search.
I needed somewhere far bigger. Something capable of housing not just hundreds, but millions, eventually.
Underground? Mountains? Old military bases?
She worked fast. One thing I loved about her—sharp mind, faster execution.
Meanwhile, I went shopping.
The Morlocks needed supplies—real ones. Not the scraps they were used to. I made a few calls, greased a few palms.
Two days later, unmarked trucks packed with the items I had ordered came near one of the entrance of the tunnel. The drivers left the truck there and went back as they were ordered.
I then had the Morlocks fetch the items loaded in the truck.
Food. Medical supplies. Clothing. Blankets.
The reaction was... mixed.
Some were suspicious. Some hopeful.
But they ate. And that meal was the best meal they could remember in their whole life as Morlocks.
After that they got dressed. And the sick whom Healer could not heal got treated.
***
Three days later
Emma gave me a list.
Underground bases. Abandoned military sites. Caves, mines, old War bunkers. And one entry caught my eye.
One entry caught my eye.
Muir Island.
A small, privately owned island off the northern coast of Scotland. Less than a mile across. Isolated, and well hidden because no many know about this. And I am sure Emma used her Mind Reading powers to get to know about this.
And I was interested in this because this was a place I knew about from comics in my previous life.
Muir Island was located just to the north of Cape Wrath, 500 miles south of the Arctic Circle. It was a remote place, a few hours' journey from Stornoway on the Isle of Lewis, or one hour by hovercraft, in a trip that crosses The Minch, then went north past Cape Wrath towards the Skerries.
The island also happens to be the point where all Earth's ley lines converge.
In the comics, Dr. Moira MacTaggert created the facility to help her son, Kevin (aka Proteus), an extremely powerful and destructive mutant. But this is reality and this event is in the future. And that is not certain because I will not let it happen.
I cannot have such a powerful mutant be born and one with unstable powers too.
But that is for future me.
I focused on the details at hand and read the details twice to make sure it was the same place.
The family that once owned it had been killed during the war. Officially, the island was abandoned. No current maintenance crews. No military activity. But old records suggested the family had built underground vaults and laboratories before the war, supposedly for biological and geological research.
"You like that one." Emma asked me.
"It's perfect for what I need," I said. "And distant enough. No one's going to stumble across it."
"It won't be easy to take control. There are legal records, but no current owner on the ground. You'd have to either buy it through a front or simply take it."
I leaned back.
"If it's abandoned, we take it."
She nodded once. "I'll prepare a cover. The purchase will go through a shell company. Meanwhile, I can arrange transport to scout it."
I folded the file closed.
"Good. Quiet transport. Just us."
That afternoon, I walked the Alley again.
Some of the Morlocks had caught wind of the scouting. They didn't ask many questions, but soon Callisto came to me.
"If you are here that means you found a place that you talked about last time."
"Yes."
"Then when are you going to move us?"
"When I'm sure it's safe."
She gave a short nod. "Then we'll be ready."
If Muir Island checked out, this would be step one. A secure place where I could build something better. Away from New York, away from the tunnels. Away from the prying eyes that would start noticing once mutant activity increased.
And I had plans for Muir Island—more than a refuge. A research site. A training ground. And eventually, maybe one of my bases.
But first, I needed to see it myself.
****************************************
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