Nick Fury's Troubles

Xavier Institute, study.

Charles Xavier sat in his wheelchair, an ancient Greek philosophy book lying open halfway through on the mahogany desk before him. His fingers rested on the edge of a page, but he wasn't reading.

His gaze passed through the window and settled on the children running and playing on the lawn. The sunshine was lovely, their laughter bright, yet his heart was heavy.

Storm, Ororo, transferred a call to him. He answered, and a hoarse, weary voice came through the receiver.

"Professor X, this is Matt Murdock. I... need your help."

Charles's fingers tightened slightly. He heard what lay in that voice—not despair, but something deeper: the bewilderment of someone who had lost the ability he depended on, and no longer knew what he could do.

"Daredevil." Charles's voice was calm. "Ororo told me what happened to you."

There were a few seconds of silence on the other end. "Can you help me?"

"I can't promise anything. That boy Russell was responsible for the loss of your abilities, and even I can't see through his powers." Charles's gaze grew deep.

"But you can come to the Xavier Institute. Hank and I will try together."

"Thank you."

The call ended. Charles set the receiver back on its cradle, leaned against the back of his wheelchair, and closed his eyes.

In that instant, his consciousness spread outward, passing across the lawn, through the school building, and through the minds of the young mutants, before settling in the Training Room.

Scott was practicing control over his optic blasts there. The beams burst against the targets, precise and powerful, but with more destructive force than before.

Charles opened his eyes and guided his wheelchair out of the study.

In the Training Room, Scott removed his Ruby-Quartz Visor and wiped the sweat