What Peter didn't expect was that after he shared his thoughts with Cyclops over the phone, Principal Scott Summers on the other end couldn't help but let out a long, weary sigh.
"I'm sorry, Spider-Man, but in my view, your problem has nothing to do with school." Cyclops stood by the window of the principal's office, looking out at the children playing happily in the academy, and spoke with deep sentiment. "Even here at the academy, the mutant students never have to worry about combat. We do have two student teams, but they are never the primary fighting force, and we would never put children in harm's way."
"Therefore, the academy can't teach you how to balance saving the world and having a life, because we aren't saving the world every day either."
Cyclops rejected Peter's idea of "studying abroad" at the academy with a few concise sentences. If Peter Parker simply felt he needed to relax, coming to the school to hang out with the mutant students would be fine. However, he was currently suffering from something akin to post-traumatic stress disorder, thinking about saving the world every waking second.
How did a good kid end up like this? It was truly an unsolvable mystery.
After another helpless sigh, Cyclops offered some advice: "Your current situation has nothing to do with your living environment; it's entirely psychological. If you don't mind, you could come to the school and let Emma give you some counseling."
"No, I think I'll pass. I don't think I need that, thanks."
Peter hurriedly declined Cyclops' kindness and hung up. He remained silent for a long while, sighing helplessly as he pondered whether he truly had a psychological issue.
Half an hour later, at the top of the Baxter Building, in the laboratory area.
Since neither the Avengers nor the X-Men could help with his dilemma, Peter eventually turned to the Fantastic Four for help. In his eyes, the Fantastic Four were perhaps the heroes who maintained this balance best. They saved the world while also protecting their private lives; they were a group of free-spirited explorers who balanced adventure and everyday life perfectly.
Perhaps by spending time with them, he could figure out exactly how to avoid this mental interference.
"So, you feel miserable because you aren't saving the world." Human Torch, Johnny Storm, watched his brother-in-law twist himself into a pretzel while scurrying around the lab. He then looked at the sighing Peter nearby and asked while eating potato chips, "It's like you've lost your sense of purpose, you aren't interested in anything, and... it seems like no one can help."
"Yes."
"Doesn't sound like a particularly troublesome problem." Johnny's response was quite contrary to Peter's expectations. Then, he heard Johnny's explosive take: "Do you have a girlfriend? I was going to say you might be a bit young, but it doesn't matter. If you had a girlfriend, you probably wouldn't have time to worry about this."
"I'm not... quite sure."
"What do you mean you aren't sure? Do you have a girlfriend or not? Yes or No?"
"Or?"
Johnny froze for a few seconds before the realization hit him. "Oh, so... there's more than one girl who likes you, and you haven't accepted anyone's confession yet? If you wanted to, you could have a girlfriend at any time."
"I guess?"
"Then why don't you just accept all of them?"
A question mark practically popped up over Peter's head. "What?"
"The reason you're hesitant is because you're worried that if you pick one girl, the other will be heartbroken, right?" Johnny looked at Peter and continued, "So if you accept both, the problem is solved!"
"Huh? Is that... is that right?"
"Absolutely. I'm living proof. If you can coax multiple girls at the same time, you can have many girlfriends without making any of them feel sad." Johnny looked brimming with confidence. "And even if you fail, their first reaction won't be sadness; they'll just fly into a rage and try to beat you up. It's not like you're afraid of being killed."
Peter opened his mouth but hesitated. He felt like something was fundamentally wrong, yet he couldn't quite put his finger on it.
"So, if you want to learn, I can teach you—Mmph! Mmph!"
Johnny was suddenly unable to speak, as if his mouth had been physically sealed. Invisible Woman walked out carrying her young daughter and said helplessly, "Sorry, Peter. You'd better not listen to Johnny's nonsense. He hasn't had a single girlfriend he's stayed with for long. Anyway, did you come here for something specific?"
After listening to Peter's troubles, Susan Storm nodded. "I'm sorry, but I don't think I, Johnny, or Reed can help you. Never mind Johnny; I'm currently busy to death taking care of two children and have no time to worry about such things. As for Reed, his state is worse than yours. His passion for science is even more severe than your urge to save the world. What's worse is that he doesn't think there's anything wrong with him at all."
What else could Peter say? He could say nothing.
"So... maybe you could talk to Ben?" After crossing everyone else off the list, Sue gave one final suggestion. "Of course, if you really don't know what to do with yourself, you can help me watch Franklin. Taking care of that kid is basically the equivalent of saving the world every day."
Having excluded everyone else, Sue provided the only remaining answer. Peter scratched his head, said "Okay," and went to find Benjamin Grimm. It was actually quite funny; the Thing was essentially Franklin's "Uncle Ben."
Peter found this Uncle Ben currently watching a baseball game. The Thing was a bit surprised to see him. He motioned for Peter to sit beside him and, after hearing the whole story, relaxed his non-existent brow. He nodded, picked up a tub of popcorn from the table, and handed it to Peter.
"You remind me a lot of how I was when I first turned into this, kid."
"Uh, what do you mean?"
"I'm the Thing. I'm a member of the Fantastic Four. Every day is 'Clobberin' Time.' But where is Benjamin Grimm?" Ben looked at Peter and shared his perspective. "See that? He's gone."
"You haven't physically changed like me, but it's like you've permanently glued that Spider-Man mask to your face." The Thing grabbed a handful of popcorn and stuffed it into his mouth. "You should look in the mirror and ask the person in there—where did that guy go?"
"You aren't Batman; you didn't leave Bruce Wayne in Crime Alley forever. Go on, go find yourself again."
Chapter 486: Seeking Rogue
At the same time Peter was resolving his psychological issues, the battle for Earth-616 between Nimrod and the world continued. A massive swarm of small Sentinel units had raided a Hydra storage facility, leading to a fierce clash with the Hydra guards and the newly arrived Thunderbolts. Once the battle concluded, Hawkeye led his team to clear the battlefield, only to receive some very unsettling news.
"Gone?"
Nick Fury was incensed when he heard the report over the comms. "How did you lose it? You fought off a swarm of robots and still couldn't hold onto the inventory?"
"Only one unit was lost, sir."
Fury, who had been ready to tear Hawkeye a new one, paused as he registered the phrasing. He frowned and asked, "What do you mean by 'one unit,' Barton?"
"Hydra wasn't storing Promethium metal here; they had completed Super-Adaptoids. A.I.M. only ever had three units, but there are five here—not counting the one the Sentinels made off with."
Hawkeye remained on the line, posing a critical question to Fury: "What are our orders for the remaining units, sir?"
Fury remained silent for a long time.
"Hand them all over to Tony Stark."
At the Hydra warehouse, Hawkeye reacted with disbelief. "Sir?"
"I'll deal with the bureaucrats upstairs. You just follow orders and turn every Super-Adaptoid over to Tony Stark. Nimrod needs a Super-Adaptoid as its prime host. If we're going to study these things, there's no one better suited for the job than Stark. He might not be the greatest genius in every field, but he's certainly the best engineer we can find."
Fury added a meaningful postscript.
"And the Avengers are more reliable."
"Understood, sir." Hawkeye sighed, catching Fury's drift. He looked at the inactive Super-Adaptoids. They were currently down by one point in this race against Nimrod. What would happen next? How would they fare in the second round?
Paris, France.
Ever since the X-Men disbanded, Rogue—Anna Marie—had come to Europe. Initially, she thought Cyclops or Logan would choose to carry on the Professor's legacy and keep the team together. To her surprise, both men seemed to lose their souls after Jean's death. The team fractured, leaving Rogue deeply disappointed.
However, she was no longer the helpless little girl who needed others to save her. She decided to find her own path. Rogue moved to Europe, dedicating herself to protecting mutants in a region where the X-Men had never established a formal presence.
Perhaps due to the social landscape of Europe, the situation for mutants here was slightly better than in America, yet systematic discrimination remained. Unlike the racial undertones in the U.S., discrimination in Europe felt more like a modern-day witch hunt; countless mutants were hunted because of their appearances or their abilities.
At its core, it was driven by fear.
Walking through the streets of Paris, Rogue was buying food for the mutant children she cared for. She had only taken a few steps before she sensed someone watching her. After purchasing her bread, she immediately left the stall, pulled up her hood, and ducked into a narrow alley.
Her pursuer followed instantly, only to be grabbed by the throat in the shadows. The person immediately cried out in intense pain. Realizing her assailant was a girl no older than eleven or twelve, Rogue quickly deactivated her power, stepped back, and pulled her gloves on.
"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't realize it was you following me." Rogue offered a smile, trying to appear as friendly as possible. "Did that hurt? It must have been awful. Do you want me to take you to see a—"
Her smile froze. She felt her body undergoing a rapid transformation. A pair of bone claws burst from the knuckles of her hands—a sensation she had felt once before when absorbing the life force of someone else.
Who exactly was this girl?
"We've been looking for you for a long time, Miss Anna."
Stepping out from behind the girl was a man with red eyes, a toothpick hanging from his mouth and a metal staff resting on his shoulder. He leaned against a wall with a casual, messy air and looked at Rogue. "Uh, don't get the wrong idea. We're here to protect you. There's a group of guys looking for you, and we need to make sure they don't find you first."
"The girl alone is enough to prove you can't be trusted," Rogue said, scanning her surroundings. She took a deep breath, suddenly sticking to the wall like a gecko and scrambling upward with incredible speed. Gambit couldn't help but look up as she scaled the wall, sounding impressed.
"Boss never mentioned this girl could store abilities... or maybe she's mastered her power enough to hold onto what she absorbs for longer?"
If that were the case, Nimrod truly did need this girl.
X-23 immediately moved to follow. Steel claws snapped out from her hands and feet, sinking into the masonry as she ascended at an impossible speed. Simultaneously, another mutant appearing from a different direction hurled boomerangs made of bone at the climbing Rogue; this new attacker had extra bones growing from her body that she could pull out to use as weapons.
As for Gambit, he was slacking off. He thought the girl was pretty and had spirit, and since they were there to protect her, he didn't see the need for things to get ugly.
But others were prepared to make things much uglier.
Just as X-23 drew close to Rogue, a beam of red light slammed down from the sky, blasting the girl back to the ground. Realizing what was happening, Gambit snapped his fingers. A crystal flew out from nowhere, opening a portal that whisked X-23 away.
"Get us out of here, Blink. No need to tangle with the X-Men. Actually, they're here to protect the lovely lady too."
Gambit smiled, seemingly unbothered by the fact that his boss might yell at him later. "We'll come back after Nimrod beats them so hard they don't recognize their own parents. Then they'll realize we aren't the bad guys."
Still clinging to the wall, Rogue looked up. She saw the Blackbird jet and her long-lost companions waiting as the hatch opened.
"Sorry to disturb you, Rogue," Cyclops said, looking down at her. "But you need protection."