Two vehicles emerged from the underground garage of the Trident Building and rolled into the bright sprawl of morning traffic, weaving effortlessly through the arteries of a city slowly shaking off its slumber. The first was a deep crimson convertible, a restored classic that seemed more suited for museum glass than pavement. Its gleaming chassis caught every shard of sunlight, slicing through the urban gray like a blood-red streak. It was just a car. whixh may or may not be able to fly.
Nicknamed 'Lola' and treated like royalty, it was Agent Coulson's darling. At the wheel sat Captain Marvel. Her gloved hands rested lazily on the steering wheel, but her eyes never stopped scanning. Next to her sat Nick Fury, dark glasses in place, his jaw clenched as he watched the world beyond the glass. In the back, Hawkeye and Black Widow sat in silence, their usual banter replaced with something heavier, more uncertain.
Trailing behind them was a cobalt-blue hovercar that looked like it belonged in a warzone or a science fiction film. It made no noise and left no trail, gliding above the asphalt in complete silence. Capable of invisibility, vertical takeoff, and near-impenetrable defense, it had been modified for mutant operatives. Inside, seated in a loose triangle, were Mystique, Magneto, and Charles Xavier. Between them sat a Mark, quiet, composed, and unassuming at first glance.
In the front car, Fury watched the rearview mirror with practiced precision. His voice broke the silence.
"What happened back there?" he asked, eyes still forward.
Hawkeye shifted. Natasha looked over, then gave a quiet sigh. It was rare to see them unsettled.
"That kid, Mark," Barton began. "He... said things. Things no one should know. About our missions. About Budapest. About... people we've lost."
Fury didn't turn, but something sharpened in his posture.
"You think he's a precog?" he asked.
"No," Natasha answered softly.
"Worse. He wasn't predicting anything. He knew. It felt like... like he saw straight through us. Like he was staring at the paths we could've taken. Like he knew what we'd become before we even made the choices."
Fury reached up and touched a small metallic ring at the base of his neck, partially hidden beneath his collar. It pulsed faintly with a muted blue light.
"I don't think that's it. After Magneto scrambled our jammers, Professor X almost certainly invaded our minds. That's likely how the kid got his information.He may be a telepath too, he piggybacked on Xavier's intrusion and used it against you, either that or Xavier told him"
There was a long silence. Then Barton exhaled slowly, the tension in his shoulders refusing to ease.
"It wasn't just that he knew," he muttered.
"It was how he said it. No judgment. No emotion. Just facts. Like he'd read our dossiers and had already made peace with them."
Natasha added, almost in a whisper, "He's not dangerous because of his power. He's dangerous because he understands things too fast."
Fury gave a slow nod.
"Smarter than he looks. Maybe even smarter than Xavier or Erik. That kind of mind, wrapped in that kind of power... If we're lucky, he stays on our side. If we're not...?"
He didn't finish the thought.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
In the second car, Mark leaned against the window, watching the city blur past. Skyscrapers gleamed under the rising sun, their mirrored panels catching hints of cloud and sky. People walked the sidewalks below, unaware of how close they were to forces that could upend the world.
His thoughts weren't idle. He had already pieced together the outcome of the private negotiations held behind closed doors.
SHIELD would pull back. The mutant registration initiative would be shelved indefinitely. Xavier's school would be left alone, with SHIELD offering support instead of surveillance. In return, the X-Men would provide assistance when called upon, on their terms, not SHIELD's. It was an uneasy compromise, a fragile cooperation, but it was real.
Magneto, predictably, had refused to pledge the Brotherhood to any government agency. He had, however, agreed to a ceasefire. No more sabotage, no more terror strikes. In return, the international warrants against him and his mutants would be quietly erased.
A truce held in place by shared interest, not trust.
Xavier held moral authority and the loyalty of young mutants. Fury held infrastructure and Captain Marvel, a living weapon. Magneto held ideology and sheer destructive potential.
Three pillars, balancing a table already sagging at the joints.
Mark said nothing. He didn't need to. Let them maneuver, let them play politics and pretend their agreements would hold. What he needed was time. Time to grow.
The world believed he was already strong, strong enough to stand toe-to-toe with the likes of Maria Rambeau (Captain Marvel). The truth was far more fragile. His strength surged only during a full moon, and only when "Goku's template" was loaded into his body, an hour-long miracle borrowed from another world. He had terrifying power but a strict time limit. Without it, he was just a boy.
~~~~~~~~~~~
The two vehicles glided to a gentle halt outside a restaurant nestled between marble facades and gold-lined signs. A high-end French establishment, known for discretion, taste, and prices so high they didn't appear on the menu. The scent of cream, wine, and melted butter drifted into the air the moment the doors opened.
Mark's eyes lit up.
The food at Xavier's mansion had been adequate, nutrient-dense, yes, but uninspired. After the first week, the chef had stopped trying to impress and had started cooking for quantity. Mark hadn't minded, but he hadn't exactly been thrilled either.
Now, seated in a private dining room with velvet chairs and polished mahogany, he practically beamed as he opened the menu. An attendant approached, notepad ready.
Without hesitation, Mark said, "I'll take twenty of the black blood sausages with apples. Two servings of fried sole. Extra butter sauce. And baguettes. Lots of baguettes."
There was a pause.
Nick Fury looked over, bemused. "You planning to feed the entire school?"
Mark looked up, deadpan. "No. That's just for me."
The table went quiet.
Magneto let out a faint chuckle. Xavier gave a soft nod, as if this was exactly what he expected. Mystique smiled faintly behind her glass of water. Captain Marvel, however, looked slightly alarmed.
Mark added, tapping his stomach, "Fast metabolism. I'll burn it off before dessert."
Fury leaned sideways toward Xavier and muttered beneath his breath, "You're feeding that thing in your school?"
Xavier responded with the serene confidence of someone who had already considered the worst-case scenario. "Better fed than provoked."
As waiters rushed to accommodate the avalanche of food, something strange happened at the table. The tension thinned. For a brief moment, enemies, rivals, and skeptics simply sat together. No battles. No threats. Just the clinking of cutlery and the low murmur of instrumental jazz.
But Everyone at that table knew.
Peace Isn't always permanent.
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