The Baxter Building's living space looked like a hurricane had hit a newsroom. Empty takeout containers covered the coffee table, and three TV screens flickered with nonstop coverage.

  Susan Storm stood at the windows, arms crossed, staring out at Manhattan without really seeing it. The city lights blurred around the edges where her visibility kept flickering on and off.

  "Sue, you're doing that shimmer thing again," Johnny called from the couch, channel-surfing like his life depended on it. "Very dramatic, but also very obvious."

  She looked down at her hands, watching the distortion ripple across her fingertips before forcing it to stop. "Sorry. I'm just—"

  "Freaking out?" Johnny settled on CNN where talking heads debated whether the Fantastic Four were evolution or extinction. "Join the club. I'm thinking my action figure should have seventeen points of articulation and a flame-on sound effect."

  "This isn't a joke, Johnny." Susan's voice had an edge that made him actually look up. "Government agencies are going to want to study us. Corporations will try to weaponize what we can do. People will see us as freaks or—"

  "Hey." Johnny muted the TV, his tone gentler. "Remember when you got stage fright before the debate championship and froze for thirteen minutes? This is just like that, except instead of Mrs. Henderson's class, it's the entire world."

  "That's completely different."

  "Fine, terrible analogy. But you handled that, and you'll handle this." He grinned. "Besides, think of the merchandising. Breakfast cereals, Saturday morning cartoons. My theme song's gonna be epic—?? 'Johnny Storm, he's our guy, if he can't do it, we'll all fry!' ??"

  Susan threw a pillow at his head. Johnny dodged, laughing, but the sound felt forced.

  From the corner came a low rumble. Ben Grimm sat in what used to be a normal armchair but now looked like doll furniture under his massive frame. His rocky fingers curved around something small—a black velvet ring box.

  "Real nice, flame brain," Ben said without looking up. "Ya got a future in comedy. Right after ya learn to land without burnin' down Brooklyn."

  "This was our first time! And it was only a car." Johnny's levity dimmed. "What's in the box?"

  Ben's grip tightened. "Nothin' that matters now."

  The room went quiet except for muted TV coverage of their earlier rescues. Susan moved to the coffee table's edge so she could see Ben properly.

  "Ben, you don't have to—"

  "Don't." "Ain't got time for feelin's. Not when I gotta figure out how to stop bein' a walkin' boulder. I need my life back, Susie. I need me back."

  The elevator chimed. Reed Richards emerged looking like he'd been through a blender—hair sticking up, shirt wrinkled, coffee stains on his jacket.

  "Sorry, I'm late. I was on a call with someone, then seventeen reporter messages, and the mayor's office wants to meet, and—" He stopped, taking in the scene. "You're all here."

  "Where else would we be?" Susan asked.

  Reed's face crumpled. "Anywhere but dealing with my mistakes." He walked to the room's center, hands clasped behind his back. "I keep thinking about everything that's happened, and it's all my fault. The cosmic rays, the transformation, going public—all because of my calculations."

  Johnny groaned. "Here we go."

  "Susan, you trusted me with your career, your future, and I've destroyed it. Johnny, you should be worried about college and dating, not learning to control powers that could torch city blocks. And Ben—" Reed's voice broke, looking at the ring box. "I've taken everything from you. Your life, your career, your future."

  BONK.

  Reed's head snapped forward from Ben's backhand, then kept going. His neck stretched like taffy, face elongating into a cartoon caricature before snapping back with a rubber-band sound.

  Everyone stared.

  "Did my head just—?" Reed touched his neck.

  "Stretch like Silly Putty? Yeah." Ben cracked his knuckles. "Had to get yer attention. Ya done with the guilt parade?"

  Reed blinked rapidly. "That was actually fascinating from a physiological standpoint—"

  "Reed," Susan said sharply.

  "Right. Sorry." He focused on Ben. "You hit me."

  "Damn right. And I'll do it again if ya keep talkin' like we're victims." Ben stood up, and the armchair groaned with relief. "Ya wanna know what I think? I think ya been watchin' too much news instead of listenin' to people who actually know ya."

  "Ben—"

  "Nah, shut up. My turn." Ben crossed his arms. "I heard yer talk with that Jay guy. Nice fella, even if he sounds like a textbook. He was right—this guilt trip's gettin' old."

  Johnny leaned forward. "Oh, this is good. Ben's going full Brooklyn philosopher."

  "Stuff it, hotshot." Ben kept his eyes on Reed. "What happened up there—that was decision. All of us. Ya told us the risks, showed us the math, gave us every reason to walk away. And we didn't. Ya know why?"

  Reed opened his mouth, but Ben held up a warning finger.

  "'Cause we believed in ya. Still do, even if yer too busy feelin' sorry for yerself to notice. Ya think this is about cosmic rays? It ain't. It's about four people who trusted each other enough to reach for somethin' bigger. Yeah, it went sideways. But we're still here, still breathin' and now we are savin' people."

  "But your fiancée—" Reed started.

  "—deserves better than a guy too scared to see himself in the mirror," Ben finished. "Maybe if Mr. Fantastic lives up to his name, he'll figure out how to give her that choice. But wallowin' ain't gonna solve nothin'."

  The room fell silent. Reed stared at Ben, then at Susan and Johnny, something shifting in his expression.

  "Mr. Fantastic," he said finally. "You know, I still think that name's ridiculous."

  "Yeah, well, ya might wanna workshop it," Ben shrugged. "But the point stands. Ya got a brain the size of Manhattan and the heart to match. Time to start usin' both."

  Susan smiled—the first genuine one all day. "He's right, Reed. We're not your victims. We're your family."

  "Speak for yourself," Johnny said, grinning. "I'm just here for the fame and groupies. Do superheroes get groupies? That would really help my dating situation."

  "You know dating situation usually requires actually talking to people instead of making everything about yourself," Susan said with exaggerated patience.

  "Hey! I talked to that reporter earlier. Very charming."

  "You mean when you literally flew away mid-question?"

  "Strategic retreat. Completely different."

  Ben snorted. "Kid's got a point though. We gotta figure out how to handle all this attention." He looked at Reed meaningfully. "Startin' with stoppin' the guilt trips."

  Reed was quiet, looking at each of them. When he finally spoke, his voice was steadier. "You're right. All of you. I've been so focused on what we lost that I forgot what we might accomplish."

  "Now yer talkin'," Ben said.

  "Though I still think 'Mr. Fantastic' sounds like a children's entertainer."

  "Better than 'Stretchy McStretchface,'" Johnny offered.

  "What about 'The Elastic Avenger'?" Susan suggested, then looked horrified. "Oh God, I can't believe I said that."

  "See? Even Suzie's gettin' into it." Ben settled back into his protesting chair. "Though I vote we stick with classics. Fantastic Four's got a ring to it."

  Reed laughed—actually laughed—for the first time since their transformation. It sounded rusty but genuine. "You know what? You're right. It sounds like us. Changed, but us."

  "'Course I'm right. I'm from Brooklyn."

  "That's not how geography works."

  "Says the guy who miscalculated cosmic ray exposure."

  "Hey!"

  Johnny grinned, reaching for the remote. "You know what? I think we're gonna be okay. Weird, stretchy, rocky, invisible, and flammable... but okay."

  He turned up the volume just in time to catch: "—unprecedented heroism has left the city asking: who are the Fantastic Four, and what does their emergence mean?"

  "The Fantastic Four," Susan repeated. "I guess it's official."

  "Better than 'Those Freaks Who Saved Everyone,'" Johnny pointed out.

  Reed looked around at his family and felt something he hadn't in days; hope.

  Reed smiled, and this time it reached his eyes.

  Ben saw this and said. "Now yer gettin' it. Though next time ya start spiraling, I'm aimin' higher. Maybe see if that stretchy head can touch the ceiling."

  "Please don't."

  "No promises, Stretch!"

  ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  Jay stared up at the ornate iron gates of Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, trying to remember his first day in this world near this mansion itself. Guess R.O.B. itself has its own Machinations. Two weeks of phone calls, appointment scheduling, and polite persistence had finally gotten him here. The mansion beyond the gates looked exactly like something out of a postcard—elegant, sprawling, the kind of old-money architecture that screamed "definitely not hiding a secret mutant academy, why would you even think that?"

  Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  Of course, Jay's comic knowledge told him there were probably laser turrets disguised as decorative stonework and enough high-tech security to make SHIELD jealous. It was like Hogwarts, if Hogwarts had the budget of a small country and students who Die and come back as if it's Tuesday.

  The gates opened smoothly—no doubt after some kind of scan he couldn't detect—and Jay walked up the long driveway, taking in the carefully maintained grounds. A few students were visible in the distance, and Jay had to consciously keep his expression neutral as he spotted a girl casually floating three feet off the ground while reading a book.

  "First time visiting? Try not to be afraid of my looks."

  Jay turned to find a young man with blue skin and pointed ears approaching with a friendly smile. Nightcrawler—though probably not going by that name here at school.

  "Yeah, I have a meeting with Professor Xavier," Jay said, extending his hand. "I'm Jay."

  "Kurt Wagner," the young man replied with a slight German accent, shaking Jay's hand firmly. "I'll walk you toward the main building, ja? Though you might want to watch the grounds. Sometimes the students get... enthusiastic with practice."

  As if on cue, a burst of golden sparks erupted from near the tennis courts, followed by teenage laughter and what sounded like someone shouting "Jubilee!" in exasperation.

  Kurt chuckled. "See? Enthusiastic."

  As they walked, Jay caught glimpses of the student body that made his heart do weird things. A girl with green skin sat under a tree, flowers blooming in her footsteps. Two boys were having an animated conversation—one with scales covering his arms, the other with small horns protruding from his forehead. None of them were hiding. None of them were afraid.

  In the outside world, visible mutations were still dangerous. People stared, whispered, sometimes worse. But here, it was just normal. Jay found himself unexpectedly emotional about it. These kids had a place where being different wasn't just tolerated—it was celebrated.

  "The Professor is in meetings for another few minutes," Kurt said as they approached the main building. "Would you like to wait in the garden? It's quite peaceful."

  "That sounds perfect, thanks."

  Kurt left him near a beautifully maintained hedge garden, and Jay was examining what looked suspiciously like roses that glowed faintly in the shade when a voice spoke behind him.

  "You must be Mr. Jay."

  He turned and immediately understood why Jean Grey had been described in the comics as one of the most beautiful women in the Marvel universe. Red hair that caught the light like fire, intelligent green eyes, and a presence that was somehow both warm and commanding. She moved with the kind of natural grace that made you think of royalty.

  If he didn't have his Mind Shield perk, Jay might have wondered if she was unconsciously boosting her attractiveness with psychic influence. As it was, he just tried not to stare.

  "That's me," he managed, extending his hand. "You must be Jean Grey."

  She shook his hand, but Jay caught the slight furrow in her brow, the way her eyes studied his face a moment too long. There was something off in her expression—confusion, maybe? Like she was trying to solve a puzzle that didn't quite fit together.

  "The Professor is looking forward to meeting you," she said, her voice professionally friendly. "Shall we head to his office?"

  As they walked through the gardens toward the main building, Jay heard the sounds of a basketball game in progress. Unable to resist, he glanced over at the outdoor court and nearly tripped over his own feet.

  There, playing what looked like a casual pickup game, were some of the most legendary X-Men in existence. Rouge was guarding Cyclops with the kind of intensity most people reserved for life-or-death situations, while Nightcrawler—who found a ball game more interesting than me, apparently—was teleporting around the court in a way that had to be breaking at least seventeen different basketball rules.

  But it was Wolverine who made Jay's brain temporarily short-circuit. That healing factor—top-tier even by Marvel standards. Like bottled immortality wrapped up in a Canadian package. For just a moment, Jay felt the urge to activate his power theft, to see if he could—

  No. Absolutely not. That way led to way too many complications, and probably a very angry Wolverine.

  "Some you know?" Jean asked, noticing his attention.

  "Just... impressed by Kurt's powers," Jay said, which was true enough. "Shall we continue?"

  Xavier's office was exactly what Jay had expected—floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, comfortable chairs arranged for conversation, and an overall atmosphere of quiet intellectual authority. Professor Charles Xavier sat behind his desk in his wheelchair, and when he looked up from his papers, Jay was struck by how genuinely kind his eyes were.

  "Mr. Jay," Xavier said, rising slightly in his chair and extending his hand. "Thank you for your patience in arranging this meeting. Please, sit."

  Jean settled into a chair to the side, still watching Jay with that puzzled expression.

  "I appreciate you taking the time to see me, Professor," Jay said. "I know you must be busy."

  "Never too busy for someone seeking to understand their gifts," Xavier replied smoothly. "From your phone conversations, I understand you have some questions about your abilities?"

  Jay nodded. "I've been able to heal injuries—mine and others—for about a month now. But I'm starting to think there might be more to it than I initially realized."

  "Would you be comfortable demonstrating?" Xavier asked gently.

  Jay had prepared for this. He pulled out a small pocket knife and made a shallow cut across his palm, ignoring Jean's sharp intake of breath. Then he concentrated, letting his healing power flow with its green glow, and watched as the wound closed seamlessly within seconds.

  Both Xavier and Jean leaned forward, fascinated.

  "Remarkable," Xavier murmured. "The efficiency is extraordinary. Almost... too efficient."

  Jean asked excitedly. "I was wondering if you might know whether you could help with... older injuries." She glanced meaningfully at Xavier's chair.

  Xavier's expression grew thoughtful. "You're very kind to consider it."

  Jay had practiced this explanation. "The stamina cost scales with the severity and age of the injury. Something like spinal damage that's been established for years..." He shook his head. "I'd need stamina reserves far beyond what my body could handle without causing permanent damage to myself. I'm sorry."

  He watched disappointment flicker across both their faces, followed immediately by understanding and acceptance.

  "Of course," Xavier said gently. "The thought is appreciated nonetheless."

  "If you're curious about the extent of your abilities," Jean said, "we could arrange some tests. Our colleague Dr. McCoy has excellent facilities for power analysis and can confirm if you have the X-gene."

  "That would be incredibly helpful," Jay replied.

  Minutes later, Jay found himself in what could only be described as the most advanced laboratory he'd ever seen, even putting Reed's lab to shame. Dr. Henry McCoy—Beast, a fascinating contradiction. Brilliant, articulate, and enthusiastic, with the kind of barely controlled energy that suggested his mind was always racing ahead to the next fascinating problem.

  "A healing mutation with unusual efficiency parameters," Beast mused as he prepared various instruments. "Fascinating! The cellular regeneration rates you demonstrated suggest something quite remarkable indeed. May I collect a blood sample for analysis?"

  "Of course," Jay said, rolling up his sleeve. Also, to test his DNA-Lock Perk.

  Beast drew the blood with practiced efficiency, immediately transferring it to various testing apparatus. Jay tried to look casually interested while internally hoping his perk would interfere with any readings that might be too revealing.

  "The initial scans are quite intriguing," Beast said, studying readouts on multiple screens. "Definitely mutant physiology, but there are some unusual—"

  The lab door opened, and Jay looked up to see a young woman enter. His breath caught slightly. Anna Marie D'Ancanto—Rogue—was even more striking in person than any comic had ever captured. The distinctive white streak in her brown hair, those arresting green eyes, and a natural beauty that was somehow both approachable and ethereal. But as he looked at her, an uncomfortable memory surfaced from the comics—her relationship history. The way she'd eventually cheated and then left Gambit for Magneto, breaking the heart of one of Jay's favorite characters.

  She was also holding her left elbow, which showed a nasty scrape and what looked like the beginnings of a spectacular bruise.

  "Hey, Hank," she said in that distinctive Southern accent that immediately transported Jay to memories of Saturday morning cartoons. "Y'all got any of those fancy bandages? Had a disagreement with the basketball court."

  "Of course, my dear," Beast replied, already moving toward a medical cabinet. "Basketball can be a treacherous opponent indeed."

  Jay saw his opportunity. This was his chance to test his Power Protection perk, to see if Rogue's absorption abilities would work on him.

  "I might be able to help with that," Jay said casually. "I have a healing ability—might save you some bandage time."

  Everyone in the room froze.

  "Wait, don't—" Beast started.

  "Sugar, that ain't a good idea," Rogue said quickly, backing up a step. "My skin, it ain't safe to—"

  But Jay was already reaching toward her injured elbow, deliberately making contact with her bare skin.

  Silence.

  Rogue stared at where Jay's hand touched her arm, her eyes wide with confusion. "That's... that ain't right."

  "What's wrong?" Jay asked, feigning ignorance while concentrating his healing power on her injuries.

  "I ain't feelin' nothin'," she said quietly, wonder creeping into her voice. "Normally when someone touches me, I feel everythin'. Their pain, their fear, their whole life just pourin' into me. But you..." She looked up at his face. "You feel like... nuthin'. Like touchin' air."

  Jean had stood up, moving closer with obvious fascination and concern. Xavier's wheelchair hummed as he approached, his expression intent.

  "Rogue's abilities are quite dangerous," Beast explained to Jay, his voice careful. "She absorbs life energy, memories, and in the case of mutants, their powers through skin contact. For her to feel nothing..."

  "Oh," Jay said, trying to look appropriately surprised while finishing healing Rogue's elbow. "Should I not have done that? You all seem pretty alarmed."

  "No, sugar, you're fine," Rogue said, flexing her now-healed arm. "It's just... I ain't been able to touch another person safely since I was fourteen. This is..."

  The lab door burst open again, and suddenly Jay was surrounded by X-Men. Wolverine stalked in first, followed closely by Cyclops, with Storm and Jubilee bringing up the rear. Apparently, the commotion was too loud.

  "Heard there was some kind of situation," Wolverine growled, his eyes immediately focusing on where Jay was still touching Rogue's arm.

  "No situation, Logan," Xavier said calmly. "Though we may have encountered something quite extraordinary."

  Jay reluctantly released Rogue's arm and faced the assembled heroes, trying to project casual confusion rather than the excitement he was feeling. His Power Protection perk had worked exactly as hoped—Rogue's absorption abilities had been completely nullified.

  "I should probably explain," Jay said. "What I showed you earlier—the healing—that's not the whole story."

  Xavier's eyes sharpened with interest. "Oh?"

  "There's another aspect to my abilities. Something... reactive. When I touch someone, I can suppress their powers." Jay paused, letting that sink in. "I didn't realize how significant that might be until now."

  The room erupted in quiet murmurs. Cyclops and Storm exchanged glances, while Jubilee whispered something to Wolverine that made him grunt thoughtfully.

  "That's quite a significant secondary mutation," Jean said carefully.

  "I'd like to verify this claim," Xavier said, rolling forward slightly. "Would you mind if I attempted a light telepathic scan? Nothing invasive, just—"

  "Professor," Jay interrupted, then paused as he felt Xavier's mental probe touch the edges of his consciousness and slide off like water off glass thanks to his Mind Shield perk. Xavier's eyes widened slightly in surprise.

  Jay smiled internally and allowed himself to look confused and then increasingly agitated. "Did you just... try to read my mind?"

  "I apologize," Xavier began. "I simply wanted to—"

  "That's private!" Jay snapped, putting real heat into his voice. "I came here looking for answers about my abilities, trying to find a place among my people, and your first instinct is to go poking around in my head?"

  The temperature in the room seemed to drop. Everyone was staring, some shocked, others defensive.

  "Now hold on there, bub," Wolverine said, stepping forward with his hands curling into fists. "The Professor was just—"

  "The Professor was just what?" Jay demanded, letting his voice rise. "Violating my mental privacy? Reading my thoughts without permission? You call yourselves educators, protectors of mutant rights, and this is how you treat someone seeking help?"

  He turned back to Xavier, genuinely angry now—though not entirely for the reasons they thought. "How can anyone trust you if you go straight to everyone you meet? exactly the kind of thing that makes people afraid of mutants in the first place!"

  The silence that followed was deafening. Xavier looked genuinely stricken, while several of the X-Men shifted uncomfortably.

  "I... you're absolutely right," Xavier said quietly. "I apologize. That was inappropriate and a violation of your privacy."

  But Jay was already moving toward the door, making a show of being too upset to listen to apologies. "I need some air," he said shortly. "This was a mistake."

  As he stalked out of the lab, he made sure to 'accidentally' drop a couple of his business cards near the door—by Rogue's feet.

  Behind him, he heard Rogue's voice: "Well, that went well."

  Jay allowed himself a small smile as he made his way through the mansion toward the exit. Phase one complete.

  By the time he reached his car, Jay could already imagine the conversations happening back in that lab. Jean would be explaining why she couldn't get any stray thoughts from him—how he'd seemed completely silent to her telepathic senses. Beast would be staring at test results that showed definite mutant markers but blood samples that degraded too quickly for thorough analysis. Xavier would be questioning his own methods while grappling with the implications of meeting someone completely immune to his telepathy.

  And Rogue... Rogue would be holding his business card, thinking about what it meant to touch another person without causing them harm.

  Jay started his car and pulled away from Xavier's School, feeling surprisingly satisfied with the afternoon's work. He'd established himself as a mutant (which he finally confirmed) with useful abilities, confirmed that he was immune to both telepathic intrusion and power absorption, and left them with just enough questions to ensure they'd want to contact him again.

  More importantly, he'd planted the seed of a possible solution to Rogue's isolation. When they eventually reached out—and they would—he'd have the upper hand in any negotiations.

  The drive back to the city gave Jay time to think about what he'd learned. His abilities worked exactly as he'd hoped against both telepathy, DNA analysis, and power absorption. The X-Men were every bit as noble and well-intentioned as their comic book counterparts, but also just as prone to the occasional lapse in judgment.

  Jay smiled as he merged onto the highway. Sometimes the best way to help people was to make them think it was their idea to ask for help in the first place.