The elevator's descent felt longer than it should have. My fingers drummed against my thigh as Shadow Henry stood motionless beside me, his inky form blending with the shadows of the metal walls.
"You're certain about their conditions?" I asked for the third time.
The shadow soldier didn't show irritation. "As reported, My Lord. Seventy confirmed survivors. Twenty required emergency medical intervention—severe malnutrition, three cases of organ failure, and multiple surgical sites requiring closure." His voice remained clinical. "All stabilized now."
The numbers settled like stones in my gut. "And the others?"
"Thirty with minor injuries treated. Burns. Lacerations. One case of—"
"Enough." I cut him off as the elevator chimed. The doors slid open to reveal a hallway that should have been sterile and cold, but now carried the distant sound of... laughter?
I froze mid-step. Actual, genuine children's laughter echoed down the corridor. The kind that came from deep in the belly, unrestrained and bright. After weeks in this hellhole, the sound was so alien it took me a full three seconds to process.
Shadow Henry remained silent as we approached the converted cafeteria. Through the observation window, I saw them—dozens of kids ranging from maybe eight to late teens. A purple-haired girl—Clarice, I realized—was using her portals to cheat at some kind of tag game while a boy with a red headband (Forge, had to be) tinkered with what looked like a dismantled microwave. In the corner, a dark-haired Japanese girl (Kwannon, unmistakably Psylocke) sat perfectly still, watching everything with hawk-like intensity.
Then the door hissed open. The transformation was instantaneous.
Laughter cut off mid-breath. The portal-user stumbled as her powers winked out. Forge dropped his tools with a clatter. Within five seconds, seventy kids stood in perfect military formation, eyes fixed straight ahead, shoulders back, faces carefully blank.
My stomach turned to lead. A girl no older than ten in the front row began trembling violently. The boy beside her—maybe her brother—reached out almost imperceptibly to squeeze her hand, his own fingers shaking.
"At ease," I said automatically, then immediately regretted it when no one moved. Of course they didn't. That phrase meant nothing to them. Clearing my throat, I tried again. "You can... relax. You're safe here."
Still nothing. Just seventy pairs of eyes staring through me.
Except for three.
Clarice Fong—Blink—stood at the formation's front, her purple bangs sticking to her forehead with nervous sweat. "W-who are you, Sir?" Her voice cracked on the honorific, fingers twisting in her oversized medical scrubs.
Before I could answer, Kwannon's head snapped up. She inhaled sharply through her nose, pupils dilating. "Sniff... I know you." Her hand twitched toward a nonexistent weapon at her hip. "Your scent. You were here before. In the dark places."
The cafeteria temperature seemed to drop ten degrees. Every child's breath hitched simultaneously. The little girl in front whimpered.
I removed my mask.
Seventy gasps echoed off the walls. Wide eyes tracked the movement like I'd drawn a gun.
"Look at me," I said, kneeling to be at eye level with the youngest. "Really look. Do I seem like one of them?"
The girl shook her head violently, tears spilling over.
"Then why are you all standing like soldiers?" I kept my voice soft, but it carried. "This isn't a drill. There's no punishment coming. You can..." I gestured vaguely, "...sit. Talk. Breathe."
A long beat of silence. Then, like the world's saddest domino effect, the children collapsed onto benches and the floor, some hugging their knees, others staring at me with wary hope.
Forge was the first to speak. "They told us you killed Doctor Voss." His voice held neither approval nor condemnation—just factual curiosity.
I met his gaze evenly. "I did."
"Tore his arms off, heard," he continued conversationally, as if discussing the weather. "Made him eat his own—"
"Okay!" Clarice interrupted, shooting him a glare before turning back to me. "What happens to us now, Mister...?"
"Wraith," I supplied. "And that depends." I moved to lean against a table, deliberately making myself smaller, less threatening. "Some of you have families to return to. Others... I know won't."
A collective flinch at the unspoken truth—many of these kids had been "donated" to HYDRA by the very people who should have protected them. To me right now, maybe redemption looked less like blood on my hands, and more like helping these kids never have to stain theirs in the first place. The cafeteria had gone completely silent. Seventy pairs of eyes—some wide with curiosity, others still glazed with lingering fear—stared up at me, waiting.
Alright. Time to rip off the bandage.
"Once again, I am Wraith," I began, keeping my voice steady. "Some of you might have heard that name before. Others might not have. But over the last few days, your lives have been... disrupted."
A few nervous glances were exchanged. The purple-haired girl—Clarice—fidgeted with the hem of her shirt. The boy with the red headband—Forge—crossed his arms, skeptical. Kwannon didn't move at all.
"The people who kept you here are gone," I continued. "Permanently. They won't be coming back. They won't be hurting any of you ever again."
A murmur rippled through the group. A small boy in the front—no older than eight—whispered, "Really?"
I nodded. "Really."
Then came the hard part.
"You're here because you're different," I said. "Because you have something inside you that most people don't. Something called the X-Gene."
Blank stares.
"It means you're Meta-Humans. Mutants…a people with powers…"
Silence. Then—
"Like the X-Men?" a girl piped up.
I snorted. "Yeah. Like the X-Men… But Unfortunately, the world doesn't see you like that."
I let that sink in for a moment before continuing.
"Out there, people will fear you. Hate you. Some will want to lock you up. Others will want to cut you open to see how you work."
A few flinched. One of the younger kids—a girl with dark curls—started sniffling.
"I'm not telling you this to scare you," I said, softer now. "I'm telling you because you deserve to know the truth. Because the world won't protect you. Because ignorance gets you killed."
Kwannon's eyes narrowed. "Then what's the point?"
"The point," I said, "is that you learn. You prepare. You survive."
I took a slow breath, exhaling just enough of my pheromones to keep the air calm. The tension in the room eased slightly. The crying girl wiped her eyes. I don't know why, but for some unknown reason, even in Xavier School, they didn't reveal or taught the kids this harsh reality. That their lives, because of their power would never ever become a normal one again, these kids were not stupid, they forced to matured beyond their age. Talk to them and they can understand it.
"Right now, there are two places' people like us are supposed to go," I explained. "Charles Xavier's school—where they teach you to hide, to be ashamed of what you are. And Magneto's Brotherhood—where they teach you to burn the world down."
Forge smirked. "Sounds fun."
"It's stupid," I said flatly. "Xavier does too little. Magneto does too much. Neither of them actually fixes anything."
Clarice frowned. "Then... what's the alternative?"
I looked at her. Then at Kwannon. Then at the rest of them.
"You make your own choice…and path."
Silence.
"But for now," I continued, "you have a choice. Xavier's school is safe. You'll have food, shelter, education, and training. If you want to go there, I'll take you."
Most of the kids nodded eagerly. A safe place? After what they'd been through? Of course they wanted that. But not all of them. Kwannon hadn't moved. Neither had Forge. Or Clarice. Or the quiet girl in the back—Melancon, if I remembered right.
"You four," I said, nodding at them. "You're not going?"
Kwannon's lips curled. "No."
Forge shrugged. "Not really my scene."
Clarice bit her lip. "I... I want to go with you."
Melancon just nodded.
I studied them for a long moment. Then, finally, I smirked.
"Alright then."
The world wasn't kind to people like us. But maybe—just maybe—we didn't have to play by its rules. And these four? They were the first step.