Location: Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters – Meeting Room
Time: Afternoon
The light through the stained-glass window painted long shadows over the wood-paneled floor. Professor Xavier sat still in his chair, hands tented in thought, his gaze distant yet razor-focused. Jean stood near the monitors, arms crossed, while Hank adjusted the feed's brightness on the screen.
Footage rolled again—grainy satellite captures of the aftermath: one Hydra lab scorched to the foundation in Northern Canada, another reduced to smoldering steel frames in Southern Romania, and a third buried under charred snow in Germany. All within 72 hours.
"No survivors," Beast said grimly. "Not one."
"Not even the tech," Jean added. "Every drive. Every console. Every scientist. Gone."
There was a heavy silence. Then Xavier broke it with his calm, low voice.
"Three facilities, incinerated. Each one previously thought abandoned."
Jean glanced at Logan, who leaned against the far wall, arms crossed, saying nothing. His expression was carved from stone.
Xavier turned toward him. "Logan."
Logan didn't flinch, didn't blink. He simply pushed off the wall and walked toward the door.
"You knew," Xavier said softly—not as a question, but a certainty.
Logan didn't say a word. He stepped through the doorway, his boots echoing down the hall.
Jean remained silent for a beat, then turned to Charles. "We can't stop him."
"We never could," Xavier said. "All we can do now is decide what we'll be when he turns back around."