Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters

Here is the Fox Paranormal Detective Channel, and today we've come to the "Vorgan Building", which has risen to prominence in paranormal hobbyist circles over the last few months.

On the television screen, a slick-haired, exaggeratedly expressive host was running his mouth off to the camera.

He and his entire film crew explored the building step by step, painstakingly building a horror atmosphere with jumpy background music and deliberately shaky camera angles.

The last slice of pizza in the take-out box was shoved into Laura's mouth, and she let out a deep yawn in front of the screen. Meanwhile, Jonah was watching with rapt attention, not even noticing that Laura had stolen two extra slices of his pizza.

The host was named Buster, and he claimed to be the top psychic in the industry. As he drew closer to the haunted site, his originally exaggerated act gradually grew serious, and even his speech took on a trembling quiver.

"As far as I know, just over three months ago, this used to be the location of a Department of Defense subordinate office, but now, in just a few short months, it's completely abandoned... It's hard to say something didn't happen here..."

Jonah felt no inner ripples while listening; after all, shouting oneself hoarse about the government being evil was a daily routine for Americans, and this host's subtext-heavy rhetoric was really lacking in aggressiveness.

Suddenly, a door at the end of the corridor slammed shut with a "bang" out of nowhere.

"Oh! My God!" Buster jumped up exaggeratedly, his whole person practically leaping out of frame. "Did you guys see that? Something's there! There is definitely something here!"

To demonstrate his professionalism, Buster pulled a spirit box covered in cheap fluorescent stickers from his bag. He cleared his throat and solemnly asked the plastic box, "Respected sir, are you here? We mean no harm."

The spirit box emitted a burst of static crackle, like an old radio with bad reception.

Buster leaned his ear in, listening with concentrated attention.

A few seconds later, amidst a jumble of static noise, a faint, elusive whisper slowly emerged.

"So... cold..."

Jonah outside the television snorted in derision—another one of these tricks.

Buster inside the screen, however, acted as if he had heard some earth-shattering secret, his face flushed with excitement. "It's responding! It feels the cold!" He faced the camera, lowering his voice with a feigned air of mystery. "This is the classic manifestation of dropping energy!"

Afterward, Buster switched the power back on and continued trying to converse with the "spirit".

This time, another blurred word slipped out from the static.

"Charles..."

"Click."

The eerie corridor on TV vanished, replaced by a neatly manicured lawn and a patch of blooming roses. A chubby Hispanic female gardener appeared on screen, emotionally delivering her work testimonial.

Rebecca expressionlessly put down the remote and complained to Jonah beside her, "Jonah, we're all about to be adults. Why are we still watching this mentally disabled show of people playing ghosts to scare others?"

"You don't get it. This half-real, half-fake ambiance is the essence of paranormal exploration livestreams." Jonah sighed helplessly. "Besides, even if you don't like watching paranormal shows, don't put on this boring gardening show. I'm about to throw up from watching it!"

"But the problem is that guy's act just now was way too exaggerated!" Rebecca complained. "He's screamed five times since entering the door, three of which were at an empty wall. And that self-closing door just now, did you see the little flash in the corner? I bet that was fishing line!"

"If you always obsess over so many details and rationality, life will lose a lot of fun. Have you ever heard the saying? 'Rational roleplaying as a fool' lets you gain more happiness." Jonah spoke with a righteous air, then pointed at Laura beside them. "Look, Laura likes it a lot!"

Laura, who was busy sneaking the last slice of pizza, heard this and silently chewed while making an indistinct noise. "No, I don't like it."

"What about the gardening show?" Rebecca asked.

"Not that either."

"Then what do you want to watch?"

"Anything is fine." Laura swallowed her pizza and answered dully. "I just don't want to see Richter and Delia making out on the couch over there. It's too disgusting."

On the couch not far away, Richter and Delia, who had been snuggling together, collectively cast "benevolent" gazes in this direction.

Taking the opportunity, Laura made a vomiting face at them in response.

Rebecca ignored the eyebrow-wiggling over there, suddenly remembered something, and asked Laura, "Speaking of which, it feels like we haven't seen Miles around much lately. Where is he?"

"Miles?" Laura thought for a moment and said, "He's been down in the basement the whole time lately, busy with his little toys."

"Oh, you mean those drones he brought back a year ago?" Jonah asked.

"Not just those." Laura thought a bit more and added, "There's also some... other stuff."

In the subterranean base's brightly lit laboratory.

Miles sat in a chair with a focused gaze. Before him, an azure holographic projection shifted according to his will—it was a three-dimensional structural diagram of a drone, with every single part disassembled, labeled, and then reassembled at a speed difficult for the naked eye to capture.

Just as Miles was immersed in his engineering design, a steady sound of footsteps approached from outside, drawing near.

"It seems you really like it here." Professor Charles Xavier walked in. His footsteps were steady and powerful, a far cry from his past reliance on a wheelchair, evidently very pleased with his recovered legs.

Charles looked around, observing the precision instruments running automatically and the various strange diagrams and parameters displayed on the screens, before finally letting his gaze fall upon Miles and speaking out, "Miles, I've always known you're a genius, but I didn't expect you to cash in your talent so quickly."

"Hello, Professor." Miles didn't turn his head, simply flicking the drone model away with a casual wave, shrinking it into a light particle that was stored inside the console. Then he looked up at Charles's healthy legs and smiled. "It looks like your post-op recovery is going quite well. Bobby has been complaining to me lately, saying he always sees you in every corner of the institute, and even stealing pudding from the kitchen requires him to walk carefully now."

"Then you should tell him not to hide the empty pudding boxes behind the potted plants next time."

Charles smiled as well, walking over to Miles and letting his gaze sweep across the complex equipment. "For me, walking again on my own legs is a pleasure in itself. Of course, I actually hope even more to see you around the school more often."

"I haven't been missing class hours lately, have I?" Miles raised an eyebrow.

"I mean extracurricular time." Charles shook his head, not continuing the topic, and instead asked, "Do you mind if I take a look at your 'gadgets'?"

"Of course." At the mention of his creations, Miles nodded happily.

Before his words even faded, a pitch-black, novel-style drone on the platform slowly took flight, then hovered in front of the two of them.

"This is the 'Flying Dragon' drone I designed and built myself," Miles introduced. "Full silent mode, equipped with thermal-signal suppression coating, and its cruise speed can easily break 40 meters per second. Modular design, capable of mounting a variety of weapons underneath, including the vast majority of common firearms."

"Most importantly, I wrote a dedicated protocol. Other than that, there are no external operation interfaces; it can only be manipulated by my mutant ability or by Aurora. Even if others get their hands on it, it will be hard to crack in a short time."

Then, under Miles's mental manipulation, the Flying Dragon drone flew back to its original position. Next, another slightly larger Flying Dragon took flight.

"This is the enhanced version of the Flying Dragon, the 'Flying Dragon S'," Miles introduced. "On the foundation of the Flying Dragon prototype, it adds the same optical camouflage function as the Blackbird. At the same time, the center of the airframe is equipped with a micro rocket thruster, which can boost instantaneous speed close to the speed of sound for a short duration... Of course, due to a lack of materials and parts, I've only made three of them so far."

"I feel like the 'Flying Dragon S' is better suited for stealth assassination, so I'm preparing to equip it with a Gauss sniper rifle. I've already asked Aurora to 'borrow' the relevant blueprints from the Italian Beretta Group's cutting-edge laboratory, and I can build it in a few days."

"And this one." Miles picked up another palm-sized, intricately shaped spider-like micro-robot from the side. "I call it the 'Spider'. It's a micro-agent robot I designed myself. I can control it to infiltrate many complex locations and act as my scout. Plus, it's loaded internally with a small-yield plastic explosive, so when enemies discover it, I can give them a surprise!"

"Besides that... I'm also preparing to figure out a way to modify a military base command vehicle, and equip Aurora with the most advanced supercomputer... and I have some new ideas for further upgrading the Blackbird... It's a pity that requires more money and supplies."

"Aren't you planning to 'borrow money' from the bank?" Charles smiled.

"I've thought about it, but not right now." Miles sighed. "Ever since those local banks in Westchester were warned by officials a year ago, they've been conducting manual audits every other day now. If I forcibly withdraw money, I might have them knocking on my door the very next day. As for places farther away... that exceeds my range of capabilities."

"I can only manipulate devices that I can perceive within my own 'telepathy' range, which is about three kilometers or so. Beyond that range, I can't influence them and have to rely on Aurora for remote operation. But I also don't want Aurora to make any big moves; she's one of our trump cards, and it's best not to expose her right now."

"...So you're short on money?" Charles asked.

"Not to that extent," Miles replied. "Aurora can hack directly into Wall Street's online financial markets and still scrape up money if needed. But the problem is that Westchester's situation is too sensitive right now, and mobilizing high-value bulk supplies is hard to hide from the eyes of those FBI folks."

"It seems you really have considered a lot." Charles nodded, then thought for a moment and asked, "Miles, do you genuinely like these weapons very much?"

"Not really." Miles replied. "What I actually enjoy most is the process of designing new things; it makes me feel very happy, like making a new friend."

"And besides that, the most important thing is... my own mutant ability, leaving aside mind control, isn't very directly offensive. I can't possibly hope that every time I run into trouble in the future, there just happens to be a military base nearby for me to bomb, right? So I feel it's ultimately better to prepare some weapons of my own for self-defense."

"Miles, have you ever considered that we're a family, and you can leave the things you're not good at to other companions to handle?" Charles asked.

"I have." Miles nodded, then added, "Still, it never hurts to be prepared."

"Alright." Charles sighed. "I just hope you don't pin all your emotions on these cold machines. Laura, Rebecca, and the others need your care just as much."

"Why not mention Delia? Is it because she's dating Richter?"

"Ah, yes." Charles sighed. "Pity. I originally felt that as fellow telepaths, you would have a lot of common language."

"Not at all." Miles spread his hands. "Charles, can you imagine the feeling? Knowing full well that the other person is constantly thinking about how to peek into your inner thoughts, yet you're forced to pretend not to care..."

"Didn't you ever think about peeking into her thoughts?" Charles countered.

"No use." Miles said unhappily. "Her telepathic ability is Beta-level, much stronger than mine. I can't see them."

Judging solely by the level of telepathic ability, the former Alkali Laboratory's assessment of Miles was not incorrect; he truly was Delta-level. Miles's particularity lay primarily in the special value derived from Charles's "mind control" and "electronic signal manipulation".

"Alright." Charles smiled. "Then perhaps you could also try interacting with Rebecca..."

"And join her in watching mind-numbingly boring gardening shows?" Miles said speechlessly. "Charles, why has our conversation veered off to this point? I'm only thirteen."

"Because I heard from Laura that you hid in here for days without coming out purely because you saw Delia and Richter secretly making out and got furious." Charles explained.

"Would you believe something like that?" Miles was speechless.

"I believe it." Charles smiled.

"Holy shit!"

"Alright, let's talk about something else." Charles changed the subject, "Almost forgot, the reason I came to see you this time is to tell you that the institute has two new friends."

"Huh? New friends?" Miles was momentarily stunned, then probed, "New mutants?"

"Mm." Charles nodded. "Newly awakened mutants..."

When Miles arrived at the institute's public classroom, the others had also gathered one after another, sitting together and whispering amongst themselves.

"Miles!" Bobby the chubby boy waved excitedly at Miles, signaling him to sit here.

"I swear, the professor is practically everywhere now."

After Miles sat down, Bobby lowered his voice and said, "Yesterday I just 'borrowed' a piece of pizza from the kitchen, and the moment I walked out, I ran right into him! At the time, his smile gave me the creeps."

"That's right." Richter nodded in deep agreement. "Lately, whenever Delia and I are on a date at school, we bump into him constantly."

"..."

Miles and Laura responded to this with indifferent gazes.

"That's just because the old guy is showing off his good legs to you guys. Once he gets tired of walking, it'll be fine." Jonah answered casually with a look of having seen through everything. "By the way, do either of you know the backgrounds of the two newcomers?"

"I heard about this!" Charlotte in the back said. "Word is one of them comes from the Cheyenne tribe..."

"Indians?" Miles immediately thought of many dark jokes about Native Americans, but after thinking it over, he decided to hold back.

The old man is coming soon, better put on an act first.

Soon, the classroom door was pushed open, and Logan walked in with two young people, a boy and a girl.

They looked to be only fifteen or sixteen years old. The girl indeed possessed Native American features, with a head of raven-black hair and eyes full of vigilance and unease. The boy had blonde hair, a tall and thin build, and didn't know where to put his hands, appearing somewhat awkward.

Both of them were equally silent and nervous, like two lost stray cats and dogs, not knowing where they belonged.

"Welcome to our two new friends," Charles smiled. "I think everyone can introduce yourselves to each other first."

"I know that coming to a completely new environment and facing a bunch of unfamiliar faces will always make one feel somewhat at a loss. Perhaps you'll even feel a bit scared, worrying whether you've come to the right place. But please trust us, we all understand that feeling."

"Rest assured, though, this isn't the outside world. This is the Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, and this is our home. A place where we can feel at ease being ourselves, a place where we can learn how to control our own talents without being harmed by them. More importantly, this is a place where we... are no longer alone."

As he spoke, Charles's gaze turned toward the direction where Miles and the others sat: "So, who wants to go first and introduce themselves to our new family members?"

"Hello, I'm Delia." Delia spoke first. As she spoke, the ballpoint pen and notebook on the desk floated up, slowly writing out her name.

"My name is Bobby." Bobby snapped his fingers, sparking a string of electric arcs.

"Jonah." Jonah sighed helplessly. "My ability isn't great for demonstrating here..."

"I am Gideon." Gideon smiled with a somewhat strange face, baring a mouthful of sharp teeth.

"Laura." Laura stated her name, then slowly extended a claw from her hand.

"Miles."

"Richter."

"Mona." Mona, a little Black girl, smiled and exhaled a puff of chilly air.

"Charlotte."

Amidst everyone's individual introductions and demonstrations, the two newcomers who had just arrived at the institute seemed to finally settle down a bit, and they likewise began their own self-introductions.

"Dani Moonstar, I'm from the Cheyenne tribe..."

"Sam Guthrie, I'm from Kentucky..."

Charles watched with satisfaction as the young people began interacting with each other. Just as he prepared to speak up and guide the atmosphere once more, the private phone in his pocket suddenly rang.

"Beep—beep—"

"Excuse me," he smiled apologetically to the crowd. "I'll step out for a moment."

He walked out of the classroom, pulling the door shut behind him. Logan, who had been resting his eyes outside the whole time, seemed to sense something and opened his eyes toward Charles.

Charles nodded at Logan, then walked a few steps away and answered the call.

"What's wrong, Caliban?" Charles inquired.

This was a call from Caliban.

After that battle at Whiteman Air Force Base, Caliban had followed Charles and the others to settle down in Westchester. Due to professional habit, Caliban didn't settle inside the Xavier Institute; instead, he partnered with Logan to open a bar in the town of Westchester, continuing to maintain his work as an intelligence broker alongside running the bar.

Of course, he still maintained a close relationship with the Xavier Institute and remained one of the institute's primary external intelligence providers and collaborators.

"Charles, emergency situation." Caliban spoke in a somewhat urgent tone. "About forty hours ago, a containment incident occurred at an underground research facility in California. A mutant test subject codenamed 'Red Phoenix' went out of control and went berserk. She's currently in a state of escape and being hunted by the military."

"Red Phoenix?" Charles's expression tightened.

This title instinctively made him think of some terrifying possibilities.

"Do you have more concrete intelligence?" Charles continued to ask.

"From the news I received, 'Red Phoenix' should currently be located in West Virginia. Her real name seems to be... Madeleine Pryor, a clone created by the geneticist 'Dr. Stasis'."