… Charles Xavier
Charles's office was wrapped in silence, broken only by the soft rustle of trees outside the window and the quiet hum of the mansion's security system. His chair stayed perfectly still, even as his eyes drifted toward nothing. He was deep in thought — thoughts layered like overlapping brainwaves.
The tests from the Baxter Building circled in his mind like pieces of a three-dimensional puzzle. Biologically normal, genetically valid and yet… completely abnormal.
Charles leaned back slightly, fingers laced beneath his chin.
No X-gene. No spontaneous manifestation. No trauma-triggered awakening. And still… a technique that defied the laws of physics, powered by an energy that didn't belong to Earth. Or even reality as they knew it.
The Limitless.
A structure that didn't act like a gift, but like a deliberate construct — a mathematical language written in flesh.
And the cursed energy…
That wasn't just power. It was existential rejection. Hostile by nature. Contained only because Aidan chose to contain it… which made him dangerous.
Not because of the energy, but because of his autonomy.
"He doesn't need us…" Charles murmured — more to himself than to the recorder resting on his desk.
Aidan didn't depend on the mutant community. Didn't need their protection or acceptance. He existed outside the system — and that, no matter how Charles tried to ignore it, made him unpredictable.
A being with powers on the scale of an alpha-level — maybe even omega — who didn't register on any genetic, mystical, or technological scale. The kind of presence that, if misunderstood… could destroy every effort to build a shared identity between humans and mutants.
Or… maybe it was the opposite.
Maybe he was the bridge. Proof that the world was evolving beyond just genes.
A subtle mental tap echoed in Charles's mind. Cold, refined — a familiar presence.
Emma Frost.
He let her in.
Her mental projection appeared sharp and vivid — like expensive perfume in a sealed room.
"Charles… I see you've finally discovered your newest piece on the board."
"He's not on a board", Charles replied calmly.
"Everything is, Charles. Always has been. You're just the one still pretending you can play outside the game."
Emma Frost never needed an invitation to speak uncomfortable truths.
And this one… wasn't wrong.
"I'd like to schedule a visit to the Institute. I think it's time I saw for myself what's got your students, your teacher… and now even your psychic sensors so intrigued."
"When are you thinking?"
"Saturday. Alone, of course. I promise to behave… just enough not to traumatize your young ones."
"You'll be welcome, Miss Frost."
The link cut, and Emma's psychic presence dissolved.
Charles sat still for a moment longer.
Emma Frost was a woman with a surgical gaze, a steel-trap mind, and absolutely not the type to fall for pretty smiles.
Maybe she'd help figure out what Aidan really was.
Or… worse. Maybe she'd be interested in him too.
Charles turned toward the window, watching as students began to gather in the gardens again, returning to their activities. And for the first time in days, he had a clear thought: The next few weeks would be anything but quiet.
… Aidan Quinn
The training room was wrapped in that heavy, metallic kind of silence. The kind that's not really the absence of sound — but the presence of expectation. The scent of steel, old sweat, and static electricity filled the air like a reminder that this was the kind of place where bodies and limits got tested.
Silence… except for Jubilee occasionally popping her gum and Jean levitating scraps of brass in the air like she was telekinetically embroidering something.
Kitty was quiet, leaning against the wall, her eyes more on Rogue than on anything I was saying. And Rogue? She stood right in front of me — shoulders straight, chin up.
Raven was still meditating. But her silence always said more than everyone else's combined.
"Alright, sweetheart", I said, reaching out a hand to Rogue. "Let's make this more… educational."
She raised an eyebrow, classic Rogue sarcasm.
"Is this another touching exercise?"
"With me, it's always about touching. But this time… I'm using the other power."
The words hung in the air for a second.
Jean froze mid-spin with the metal pieces. The gum in Jubilee's mouth stopped moving. Kitty looked up — curious, but cautious.
"Other?" Jean asked, arms crossed, her stare practically drilling into me. "You have more than one?"
"I do", I said, letting the grin spread slow. "This one's special."
"How special?" Kitty squinted at me.
"Like… special-special or national-threat-special?" Jubilee added, frowning.
They didn't know yet. Watching the dots connect on their faces? Half the fun.
"Relax", I said. "It's just an advanced resource. A power called…"
I paused for dramatic effect. I mean, if I'm pulling out the most broken card in the deck, might as well do it with flair.
"All for One."
Silence, but not the usual kind. The kind where even the walls seem to lean in.
"Wait, what?" Jean frowned.
"Is that a boy band name?" Jubilee muttered, suspicious. "Sounds like something with fireworks and a final encore."
Before I could answer, Rogue beat me to it.
"No", she said with a faint smirk. "It's the power he told me about."
All three turned to her in unison — then right back to me, like they were trying to figure out when reality's script got flipped.
"All for One allows me to steal other powers. Or borrow, in a more political term. Use and return. In Rogue's case, I'll use it to turn her gift on and off."
Kitty stepped forward, alarmed.
"Wait— you can take any mutant's powers?"
"Yeah. With touch and intent."
"That's…" Jubilee said, eyes wide. "That's like final-season villain vibes."
You're not wrong, Jubilee. Just tragically underused villain vibes.
"But with more charm", I added.
Jean stayed quiet, but her eyes were sharp — analyzing threats, not people. Like I was a new chess piece she wasn't sure was on her side yet. A little insulting, considering what we'd been through.
"You have full control?" she asked.
"Sure", I confirmed. "And I only use it when it's needed— or when I'm asked. In this case, Rogue agreed."
"Why?" Kitty asked.
This time, Rogue answered — eyes still locked on mine.
"Because I want to control what I am. And he figured out a way to help me understand my power… from the inside."
The silence returned, but it felt different now — less judgmental, more… uncertain. Jean looked away, but didn't speak. Jubilee kept chewing, slower this time. Kitty looked like she had more questions, but Rogue crossed her arms and stood her ground.
Mutants — funny bunch. A lot act like their powers are a curse. And yeah, for some of them, that's true. But others… they enjoy the perks, while pretending the downsides are unbearable.
And the idea of losing their powers? That scares them.
"Let's just do it, Sugah", Rogue said. "I'm ready to find my off switch."
I raised an eyebrow.
"That sounded way sexier than it should've."
She gave a nervous laugh and reached out.
"Come on. Steal it from me."
I touched her and activated.
All for One pulsed through me like a second heartbeat. My first time using it — but it worked smoothly. Her mutant energy was drawn in like a breath — invisible from the outside, but intense inside her body.
Rogue exhaled. Her shoulders dropped instantly.
"Off."
I touched her again. Returned it. She let out a soft gasp, like something had clicked back into place.
"On."
She took a deep breath.
"I… felt it. Like something in the back of my head shut off. Then came back on."
"Perfect", I said. "Now we'll repeat that. Until you feel it before I do anything."
Jubilee was watching now, more curious than skeptical.
"So… she'll be able to do it on her own?"
"That's the goal", I said, glancing at Rogue. "With practice… her power'll be hers by choice. Not a prison."
She's learned that in the comics, of course. But that's way down the road. Today's mission?
Lay the path.
And with this constant toggling between power on and off…
Stacked with the [Psychic] talent she got from my [Talent Sharing]…
It might just work.
Rogue squeezed my hand. Not just a gesture — a promise. For the first time since I arrived… her eyes held real hope.
And I did what any good Contractor does for his waifus.
I gave her a shot.
The rest… was hers to claim.
…
The training was over.
Jubilee had already left the room, Kitty ran after Rogue with a "you were amazing, girl" and a look that practically glowed with pride. Rogue, for her part, was heading to the locker rooms — steady steps, lighter breathing. She didn't say anything, but… she let her hand brush against mine as she passed.
That silent kind of trust.
And Raven? Still in her corner, eyes closed. Like nothing had happened.
When I was finally alone in the center of the room… Jean walked over with quiet steps. She stopped a few feet away, arms crossed, her gaze narrowed just a bit.
"You can actually do that", she said, cutting straight to the point.
"The power-stealing thing? Or making girls look at me like that?"
She huffed, but didn't look away.
"This is serious, Aidan. You used a power none of us knew you had. And you used it on a mutant who can barely touch anyone. No team plan. No supervision. You just… decided."
"Deciding is kind of my thing. Especially when everyone else is too busy hesitating."
Jean tilted her head slightly. Her red hair fell over her shoulders, catching the white light of the room. Even frustrated, she was beautiful in that brain-stalling kind of way.
"Do you even understand what someone with that kind of power means, Aidan?"
"I do. That's why I don't go around collecting them just for kicks."
She narrowed her eyes.
"No? Because sometimes it feels like you do everything for kicks."
"Fun and strategy aren't opposites, Red. Just two sides of the same addiction."
She stepped closer.
"What if you lose control?"
"Then you stop me", I said calmly. "Or try."
Jean looked away for a moment, then locked back in.
"You're not like the others."
"I know."
That's what being a Contractor means.
"And that scares me", she admitted, her voice lower.
The silence that followed wasn't tense. It was… intimate. I took one step closer.
"Know what scares me about you?"
She didn't answer.
"That even after that night… you still keep this safe distance. Like it didn't mean anything. Like you didn't need it."
And the Phoenix Force. That scares me a little too.
She stayed firm, but her eyes… told a different story.
"I felt alive", she whispered. "For the first time in a long time… I wasn't hearing the world. I was just feeling. Just… you."
"And now?" I asked gently. "What do you feel?"
She looked up.
"That I'm getting too close."
"Then run. But you already know, don't you? The more you run… the more I want to follow."
She let out a small laugh and shook her head.
"You're insufferable."
"And yet, here you are. Alone with me."
"Raven's here too."
"We both know whose side she'd pick if it came down to it."
She stared at me for a long second. Then… stepped back.
"Just… be careful, Aidan. What you carry might be a gift, but it's also a curse."
"Depends how you use it. And who you share it with."
She paused for a moment. But before leaving, she glanced back over her shoulder.
"Just don't make me choose a side. Not you too."
"I don't have to, Red. You already did."
Jean didn't respond. She just… smiled softly and walked out. Leaving behind the heavy air and the quiet certainty that in that silent war between desire and control…
She had already lost the first battle.
...
Queens, my apartment.
It had been a while since I came back here. The city outside was loud, but in here… it was just silence and the steady presence of Raven, perched on the backrest of the couch like part of the furniture.
"You're really going?" she asked, not looking at me, eyes fixed on the window.
"Yeah. MJ invited me. Said it's gonna be a nice party."
She didn't respond. Just kept staring ahead, like she culd see the future through the glass. Or maybe she just didn't want to look at the shirt I was holding.
"Help me out here", I said, holding up two options. "Black or blue?"
"Black", she answered instantly. "Matches your soul."
"So sweet. Alright, I'll go with the classic 'sexy funeral' vibe."
"Fitting. Just in case the date dies before the second drink."
I slid the black shirt on, buttoning it slowly. She was watching me through the reflection, without really watching. That's how Raven was. Never direct… but never missed a thing.
"You wanna know who the girl is?"
"No."
"Really? MJ's pretty much your opposite. Talkative, fiery, full of a different kind of sarcasm."
"Then she's perfect for you", she said flatly.
There wasn't bitterness in her voice. No pain. But there was something. Like a wall. A line I wasn't allowed to cross.
Yet.
I turned slightly.
"You sound upset."
"I'm not", she said, arms crossed. "I'm just… watching you do what you always do."
"And what's that?"
"Push forward. With everyone."
"With you, I don't push. I wait."
This time she looked at me. Dark eyes, calm. But there was a crack right down the center.
"Why?"
"Because you're not like the others. And because I know that if I take one step past what you allow… you'll shut me out."
"Maybe I'll shut you out anyway."
"Maybe. But so far, you haven't."
She looked away. The tension between us wasn't physical. It was emotional. Built from silences and pauses, from short conversations and everything we weren't saying.
And still…
She was here.
"Go with the black one", she said again, changing the subject. "Classic. But switch the pants. That one's way too tight. It's borderline offensive."
"You looked?"
"No", she lied.
I grinned. Turned around and took the pants off, grabbing a new pair. The air shifted for a second. Raven didn't say a word, but it was obvious she was watching.
"If you wanna look…" I said, without turning. "Just say the word. I'll stay— for you."
"Not yet", she said.
And that was it. A line drawn with a soft voice. No rush or pressure.
Just truth.
I got dressed, adjusted the shirt cuffs, and turned to face her.
"How do I look?"
She looked me over. Outside and in.
"A problem. But at least a well-dressed one."
I nodded, grabbed my wallet, keys, and stepped closer, stopping just one step away from her.
"If I come back late…?"
"I'll know."
"And if I don't come back?"
She looked me in the eyes.
"Then you'll be missing the only place you can still be quiet without pretending."
I stood still for a moment. Then… gently touched her hand. Just for a second. She didn't pull away, but she didn't hold on either.
And that… was all I needed today.
… Mary Jane "MJ" Watson
She hated feeling like this.
Standing in the middle of her room, heart beating faster than it should for a guy who hadn't even texted all week.
Mary Jane Watson wasn't the kind of girl who waited around for a guy who popped in and out like a background character in some artsy European film.
But there she was. Dressed up, makeup done, and clinging to that tiny thread of hope stuck in the back of her throat.
She'd already done everything she could to distract herself — played music, changed outfits three times, thought about posting a not-so-subtle story, and even organized her earrings by color and size. But the clock kept ticking.
And Aidan Quinn was still MIA.
She stepped in front of the mirror for the tenth time. The fitted black dress still looked perfect. Hair? Flawless. Everything looked like she hadn't just spent the last twenty minutes wondering if he totally forgot.
"He probably forgot", she muttered, staring at her reflection. "Or maybe something better came up. He looks like the kind of guy who always has an ace up his sleeve. And a girl waiting on the side."
She made a face at the mirror and sighed. Grabbed her phone. No messages.
"Great", she said, tossing it back onto the bed. "Congrats, MJ. You officially got caught in the mysterious guy's mind games."
She walked over to the window. The city was already glowing with evening lights. Cars passed below, honking, voices rising. People going places. And she was here — waiting for someone who might not even show.
Maybe she should go solo. Maybe she should wipe off the makeup, order some pizza, and pretend she forgot his name by tomorrow.
"Aidan Quinn, you've got until the end of this song", she muttered, grabbing her earbuds from the nightstand and putting one in.
A soft beat started playing. Lo-fi with a raspy voice and a slow piano. The perfect soundtrack for a low-key emotional letdown. She closed her eyes for a moment.
And then… the doorbell rang.
Her eyes snapped open.
"… no way."
Her heart skipped like she was stepping on stage. She walked to the door, a mix of suspicion, relief, and premeditated indignation tightening in her chest. She paused for a breath.
And opened it.
There he was.
Black shirt, hair messy in that effortlessly hot, didn't-even-try kind of way.
And that smile…
That damned smile.
"Am I late?" he asked, hands in his pockets, way too casual for someone who almost got replaced by a tub of ice cream.
MJ blinked then crossed her arms.
"You were supposed to be here twenty minutes ago."
"I know. But if I'd shown up on time… I wouldn't get to see you with that 'I was about to hate you and now I don't know what to do' face."
She raised an eyebrow. But the corner of her mouth… almost gave her away.
"I can still hate you."
"You can. But you'll do it in style. May I?"
He held out his arm. She hesitated for half a second, then took it.
She wanted to fake being mad a little longer, but who was she kidding? Even she didn't buy her own act.
"If you ever make me wait again, Quinn… I'm killing you."
"If I do, Watson… you'll be way too in love with me to go through with it."
She let out a quiet laugh and let him lead her out the door, into the night. But deep down… she already knew the smile on her face wasn't going anywhere anytime soon.