POV: Scott
Kitty Pryde.
A.K.A. I have no idea what her codename is.
What I do know is that she's basically a nerfed version of my boy Obito.
And that alone should tell you how broken she is—or could be. Because let's be honest, I've never actually seen her pull off anything world-saving.
Then again, I'm not exactly an X-Men encyclopedia, so maybe I'm missing something.
What I do know is that she's upside down on the freaking ceiling.
For the love of God, is there not a single normal person in this mansion?
"H-Hey, Scott! H-How's it going?"
Actor mode: activated.
"Pretty well… until a certain someone decided stalking me through the walls sounded fun."
Scott might not be the most respected guy around here—and I definitely don't have even a fraction of his full power right now—but I refuse to believe his reputation is that low.
"I-I swear, I didn't mean anything by it!"
"Ugh… forget it. Just come with me to the garage. I need your help with something."
"Y-Yes, sir!"
"Just… move."
Yeah. That was absolute Bullshit.
But either everyone in this mansion has a negative IQ…
Or I deserve an Oscar.
Whatever. Don't question the process.
I tilt my head toward the hallway, signaling for Kitty to go first—and she obediently does.
Sometimes, I really am a Fucking genius.
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POV: Kitty
Yeah… there's nothing wrong with him.
He's still intimidating when he wants to be. Same authoritative tone and everything.
I must've misunderstood something earlier. And now I'm probably going to end up playing personal assistant for the rest of the day.
Greeeaaat.
I just hope this isn't about that car…
Sometimes I honestly wonder what he loves more—Jean or that stupid car.
As we head toward the garage, I get the feeling he's in a hurry. I might be overthinking it, but ever since the last team mission, the atmosphere's been kind of heavy.
Maybe that's all this is.
Maybe the tension's just getting to my head.
Yeah. That's probably it.
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POV: Scott
I can't believe that actually worked.
She led me straight to the garage and then just stood there staring at me like she was waiting for a death sentence.
Alright then…
"If you're going to keep looking at me like that, you can just go. I'll handle it myself. Like always."
Her eyes go wide like she's just witnessed a miracle.
A few seconds later, she doesn't say a word—just bolts like her life depends on it.
Yeah… the original Scott wasn't exactly surrounded by loyal supporters, huh? If they'd rather sprint for the hills than help him with something simple, imagine a life-or-death situation.
The longer I stay here, the more obvious it becomes—
I need to get the Fuck out. Fast.
If not for the obvious reasons, then just because I'm practically isolated from everyone here.
Without overthinking it, I walk over to the garage door and press the big round red button on the wall.
"I wonder if I'm opening the garage… or launching a nuclear missile."
A few seconds later, to my immense relief, the door rolls up.
And what do I see?
Oh, my friends.
It's beautiful.
A customized 1970 Dodge Charger.
Deep blood-red paint. Imported Yokohama tires. Lowered suspension...
Ladies and gentlemen…
I'm in love.
Honestly? Damn you, Scott. Who needs a woman when you've got something like this?
"Hello again, old friend…"
I swear, I just had a full-blown flashback of an entire lifetime with this car.
And it was beautiful.
"You and that rust bucket. Don't know how that piece of junk still runs."
I flinch slightly—I hadn't even noticed anyone approaching.
Slowly, I turn my head toward the voice behind me.
And only one word comes to mind.
Damn it.
It's Logan.