Rachel swept the area with Super Vision. Cyclops was alone. In the distance was an aircraft that looked very much like the X-Men's Blackbird. It seemed Cyclops had rushed over in a hurry.
Rachel feared neither ambushes nor battle. Her life experiences and combat skills had all been learned amid humanity's countless ambushes. She had stepped into hundreds, if not thousands, of traps and fought her way out of encirclements more times than she could count. At this point in time, there were truly few people who could threaten her.
She was only worried about the babies. These little ones were certainly not weak, but they were too young and lacked the ability to judge their surroundings and people's intentions. This was not the time to take them into battle.
As Cyclops gradually approached, Rachel stepped in front of the babies and spoke first. "Mr. Cyclops, is there something you need?"
Cyclops was the classic handsome Western man—tall, broad-shouldered, with sharp features. Though his eyes could not be seen, the gentle yet unquestionable air of a leader added greatly to his appeal.
But Rachel did not want to deal with him. Not in the slightest.
Kill him? That would not be appropriate. At the very least, her birth mother would certainly be heartbroken.
Not kill him? Then she would feel she had failed Pop. Her Pop had a whole heap of flaws, but Rachel knew he was the person who treated her best. If the day ever came when she had no choice but to choose, she would rather make her birth mother sad, resentful, or even hateful than hesitate to twist Cyclops's head off.
But it had not come to that yet. She still had a choice.
Cyclops tilted his head slightly, studying Rachel for a while before looking