"That's really Wolverine! Oh my god, he looks exactly like he does in the X-Men comics—no, he looks even more… more imposing in person!" a freckled teenager gasped, his fingers unconsciously tightening on the crumpled comic book cover.
The children huddled together, all wanting to see more clearly, but stopped short due to fear of the armed mercenaries from the institute not far ahead.
On the edge of the crowd, Laura, with eyes as sharp as blades, silently pulled out a well-worn X-Men comic from her cartoon-patterned backpack.
Her gaze shifted repeatedly between the wild, hairy warrior on the pages and the figure in reality. When she saw the cold glint reflecting from the Adamantium claws, faintly visible between Logan's fingers in the sunlight, an almost imperceptible ripple finally appeared in her calm pupils.
Peter Parker took in the children's actions with his enhanced senses.
He had seen X-Men comics sold in bookstores, and although a large part of the plot was fictional, there were also true stories, and the portrayal of each Mutant hero in the book was spot-on.
Especially Wolverine Logan, this warrior who walked the line between rage and compassion, whose popularity even once surpassed that of Professor Charles, the founder of the X-Men.
In the comics, this Wolverine-like warrior could always expose hypocrisy in the most direct way, tearing through darkness with his claws, yet always guarding the last trace of tenderness in his heart.
However, a hundred readers have a hundred Hamlets; everyone has their favorite hero. He noticed that Gabriela seemed to admire Professor X more.
Gabriela's gaze towards Professor X was filled with an almost overflowing reverence, a light that was almost religious devotion. Anyone present who wasn't blind could easily see it.
"Kids, come on over, we're here to take you home," Logan shouted, cigar in his mouth, his unsheathed Adamantium claws like the God of Death's scythe, hovering over every mercenary's head.
At this moment, Peter didn't need to help, and not a single institute guard dared to step forward to stop them.
Captain Lister lowered his head, the gloom on his face almost solidifying. He had calculated everything, but he never expected that the damned Spider-Man, while dealing with the guards, would also manage to contact the X-Men in advance.
"A Blackbird jet at Mach 3.5…" Lister muttered through gritted teeth, his gaze fixed on the jet that had landed not far away. "A 200-kilometer distance from Westchester to here—unless they received a message in advance, it would be impossible for them to arrive in time."
Tony Stark, wearing his Iron Man Suit, had a slight upward curve at the corner of his mouth. He was happy for Peter; the little guy had truly grown, even knowing to notify the X-Men.
Through the enhanced vision interface built into his mask, he could clearly capture every subtle change in Captain Lister's facial expression.
"Look, the wonderful food chain of nature is demonstrated once again. No matter how fierce an animal is, when it encounters an even fiercer one, it can only tuck its tail between its legs."
The law of the jungle, where the strong prey on the weak, also applied to human society. Tony was absolutely right, and with the X-Men and the Mutant Act holding sway, Lister and Donald both chose to be silent lambs. The mercenaries automatically parted, making way for the children.
As the children passed, Peter took the opportunity to shoot out Silk, gracefully swinging over the soldiers' heads.
Those armed mercenaries had already subconsciously lowered their guns. Without a Commander's order, no one dared to act rashly—even while watching Spider-Man swing overhead like an acrobat.
"Nice job, Pajama Boy," Peter landed lightly on the top of a utility pole, and Tony praised without hesitation, "Notifying the X-Men was a very reliable move, at least much more reliable than you falling into a stinky ditch or getting scratched by a kitten."
"Thanks for the compliment, Mr. Stark, but I'd be even happier if you didn't add my embarrassing moments at the end."
Not far away, Professor X was conducting "friendly consultations" with the institute's highest Officer.
The previously arrogant Captain Lister was now nodding frequently, his smile so ingratiating it almost overflowed his face.
Peter was not surprised by this—in this timeline, the X-Men had not yet experienced those catastrophic events, and Charles Xavier was not yet an internationally wanted criminal.
The U.S. government still maintained an outwardly polite but inwardly treacherous attitude towards these Mutant heroes. Lister wouldn't dare to openly fall out with the X-Men, even if he had ten times the courage, and Dr. Rice was no different.
"Alright, the X-Men can help these children with food and accommodation. No one is stopping you now."
Tony turned his gaze to Peter: "Can we go now? I'd rather go back and listen to Pepper nag about board matters than stay here for another second."
However, whether he would go back to listen to Ms. Potts nag about board matters was uncertain. Tony's haggard face seemed to tell a story of a sleepless night, perhaps indicating another long night spent in some multi-person laboratory.
Peter, seeing through it but not saying anything, replied, "Of course, no problem. The Sun is almost directly overhead, and I don't want to miss the important activities tonight."
But before they could leave, Professor Charles and Cyclops Scott walked towards them.
Iron Man, who had landed on the ground, yawned, "Looking for you. Our good neighbor has done another good deed."
Charles, who had come before them, sat upright in his high-tech wheelchair, his smile as warm as the winter Sun: "Mr. Stark, thank you for extending a helping hand to the children."
"Professor, I was just here for the ride. You seem to be thanking the wrong person," Tony said with a casual, "I'm so tired" look, his upper and lower eyelids seeming to fight each other.
Charles smiled faintly, noncommittally. No matter what Tony said, he did help the children.
But when he turned his gaze to Spider-Man, it suddenly froze, his brows furrowing visibly.
Charles Xavier was widely recognized as the most powerful brain on Earth, and in the perception of the World's strongest telepath, the young man's mind was like an impenetrable fog, completely different from when they first met.
Could it be?
Professor Charles's gaze deepened, and a touch of solemnity appeared on his aged face. He thoroughly examined the young man's body, and the potential it contained truly surprised him.
This was a power even Magneto had never possessed.
"An Omega-level Mutant…" The Professor murmured silently, a hint of astonishment flashing in his eyes, which then turned into a look of joy.
To be continued…