The classroom smelled like chalk dust and old books—normal things that felt alien after fifteen years of sterile facility instruction rooms. I sat at a desk that wasn't bolted to the floor, holding a pen I could theoretically use as a weapon, surrounded by teenagers who'd probably never killed anyone.
Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters. First period: World History with Professor Logan.
Laura occupied the desk to my left, posture perfect, hands visible—old habits. Spice sat behind us, five pairs of eyes watching from behind one face. The other students clustered on the opposite side of the room, maintaining careful distance.
Wolverine—Professor Logan here—leaned against his desk, arms crossed. "Most history teachers weren't there. I was." He pulled out a photograph. "Normandy, 1944. Anyone know what happened?"
A green-skinned kid raised his hand. "D-Day invasion?"
"Yeah. Also watched three hundred men die in the first hour." Logan's eyes swept the room, landing on Laura and me for a heartbeat longer than the others. "History ain't dates and dead guys. It's understanding why people do what they do. Why they fight. Why they surrender. Why they survive."
He moved to the board, writing three names: Churchill. Roosevelt. Stalin.
"Summer of 1945. Three men who hated each other's guts had to decide the shape of the post-war world. Different ideologies. Different goals. Conflicting interests." Logan tapped the board. "But they had to negotiate anyway. Had to find common ground or watch Europe tear itself apart again."
He turned back to face us. "Today you're gonna learn the same skill. Negotiation under pressure."
The room shifted—uncertain murmurs, confused glances.
"Break into groups of three. I'm gonna give each group a scenario. You'll have thirty minutes to reach a unanimous decision. Not majority vote—unanimous. Everyone has to agree, or you fail." Logan's grin had teeth. "And just to make it interesting, each person gets a secret objective that conflicts with the others."
Laura's eyes cut to me. I caught Spice leaning forward in my peripheral vision.
"Looks like you three already got a group," Logan said, pulling three sealed envelopes from his desk. "Here's your scenario."
I opened ours. Laura read over my shoulder.
SCENARIO: Your team has discovered a Sentinel manufacturing facility in a residential area. It's currently inactive but will come online in 24 hours. You have three options:
A) Destroy it immediately with explosives—guaranteed success but high civilian casualties
B) Attempt covert sabotage—lower civilian risk but only 60% success rate
C) Alert authorities and evacuate—no civilian casualties but Sentinels become operational
Your team must choose ONE option unanimously.
Logan handed each of us a smaller envelope. "Don't share these. Your individual objectives stay private unless you choose to reveal them."
I opened mine away from Laura's line of sight.
SECRET OBJECTIVE: You have intel that a resistance cell is hidden among the civilians. Option A will kill them all. You cannot allow this.
Tactical problem. I folded the paper and slipped it into my pocket.
"Thirty minutes starts now," Logan said.
We moved to the corner of the classroom. Spice pulled her chair close, forming a tight triangle. Laura's fingers drummed once against the desk.
"Three options," I said. "We need unanimous agreement."
"Option A is most tactically sound." Laura's said. "Guaranteed elimination of the threat."
"Too many civilian casualties." Spice's tone shifted—Phoebe's more aggressive edge. "We're supposed to be heroes, not butchers."
Laura's jaw tightened. "Sentinels kill mutants. Guaranteed. We eliminate the facility, we save lives long-term."
"By killing innocents short-term?" Sophie's commanding voice emerged. "The math doesn't work. You can't build trust by proving we're as dangerous as they fear."
Laura's objective likely conflicted with civilian protection. Spice's probably involved public perception or political consequences.
"Option C," I said. "Alert authorities, evacuate the area."
"Sentinels come online," Laura countered immediately. "How many mutants die when we could have prevented it?"
"How many mutants die when the public sees us blow up a residential block?" All five personalities watching through one pair. "We'd prove we're weapons, not people."
Laura's hand flexed. "We are weapons."
"No." Celeste's softer voice, Spice's expression shifting to something gentler. "We were made to be weapons. There's a difference."
The tension stretched. I ran scenarios. Laura wouldn't budge on tactical efficiency. Spice couldn't compromise on public image. My hidden objective eliminated the option Laura favored.
Classic negotiation deadlock.
"What are your objectives?" I asked directly.
Laura's eyes snapped to mine. "Secret means secret."
"Can't negotiate without information." I pulled out my envelope, unfolded it, laid it flat on the desk between us. "Resistance cell hidden in the civilian population. Option A kills them all."
Laura stared at the paper. Then at me. "You just revealed your hand."
"Because we won't reach consensus otherwise." I looked at Spice. "Your turn."
She hesitated—five personalities debating internally. Then Sophie's voice emerged, controlled. "Public perception is critical. If we're seen as murderers, every Sentinel proposal gains support. Option A creates the political climate for genocide."
Laura's fingers stilled. She looked between us, then slowly pulled out her own envelope.
SECRET OBJECTIVE: Intel suggests a second Sentinel facility exists. Only Option A provides enough data recovery to locate it. Sabotage destroys the evidence.
"You needed the manufacturing records," I said quietly.
"Two facilities means exponential threat growth." Laura's voice stayed level, but something shifted in her eyes. "I was calculating acceptable losses."
"We all were." Spice's hand reached across the table, stopping just short of Laura's. "That's what they trained us to do. Calculate. Optimize. Sacrifice pieces for strategic advantage."
Laura pulled back. "It's logical."
"True," I said. "People don't calculate acceptable casualties when those casualties are children hiding in basements."
"Then what's the answer?" Laura's question came out more aggressive than intended. "Option B fails four times out of ten. Option C guarantees Sentinel activation. Option A kills innocents and resistance fighters." She looked at me directly. "There is no good choice."
"There never is." Spice's voice shifted through three personalities in rapid succession—Irma's reflection, then Esme's cunning edge, finally settling on Sophie's authority. "But that's the point. We have to choose anyway."
I studied the scenario again, looking for threads we'd missed. The silence stretched—fifteen minutes gone, fifteen remaining.
"Option B," Laura said suddenly. "Covert sabotage."
Spice straightened. "Sixty percent success rate means—"
"Means we might fail." Laura's hands unclenched. "But it also means we try without killing civilians or letting Sentinels activate unopposed. It's the only option where we don't guarantee someone's death."
"We lose the intelligence on the second facility," I pointed out.
"Then we find it another way." Laura slouched back in her chair. "I'm tired of calculating acceptable losses. Dr. Kinney didn't think I was an acceptable loss. Maybe these civilians aren't either."
Spice tilted her head—multiple perspectives processing simultaneously. "Phoebe disagrees. She thinks we're being soft." A pause. "But Sophie sees the logic. Esme thinks it's tactically stupid but morally sound. Irma agrees because it feels right. Celeste is just relieved we're not arguing anymore."
"So?" I asked.
"So we agree. Option B." All five speaking in unison, somehow.
I looked at Laura. She looked back, waiting.
"Option B," I said. "Unanimous."
Laura stood, walked to Logan's desk, placed our scenario sheet down. "Option B. Covert sabotage."
Logan glanced at it. "Everyone agree?"
"Unanimous," Spice confirmed from our corner.
"Time?"
"Eighteen minutes."
Logan's eyebrow raised fractionally. "Fast. Most groups take the full thirty arguing." He looked at each of us in turn. "What made you choose B?"
Laura's posture stayed military-straight. "It was the only option where we didn't guarantee killing someone."
"Even though it might fail?"
"Even though." Laura's voice carried certainty. "Acceptable losses stop being acceptable when you stop seeing them as numbers."
Logan nodded. "Good answer. Sit down."
We returned to our corner. Around the room, other groups still debated—voices rising, fingers pointing at papers, body language screaming frustration.
"That was a test," Spice said quietly, Irma's more perceptive voice emerging. "Not about the scenario. About whether we'd see each other as resources or people."
"Did we pass?" Laura asked.
I watched Logan observing the other groups, his expression unreadable. "We'll find out."