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  .................

  Chapter 126: I'M NOT CRYING, YOU'RE CRYING

  .................

  Alice's voice came through the Null-Suit's speakers. "The X-Men have been notified of the situation. Estimated arrival: twelve minutes."

  "Good girl," Domino muttered.

  Twelve minutes ter, Adam arrived.

  The Null-Suit's thrusters hollered as he descended through the ruined ceiling, nding in a three-point crouch in the center of the research wing.

  He stood, the suit's armor pting retracting, and stepped out in his white suit; immacute despite everything, spotless because he naturally always has a change of clothes.

  The first thing he did was open his arms.

  Rogue hit him like a missile, wrapping herself around him, burying her face in his chest.

  He held her tight, one arm around her waist, the other cradling her head.

  Domino joined a moment ter, less dramatic but no less genuine, pressing against his side.

  "You two," Adam said, his voice thick with pride and satisfaction, "Are magnificent! My imaginary friends loved the show."

  "The shoece trip? Chef's kiss. The soda machine avanche? Art. The way you made them fly into Rogue's hands? Poetry."

  He squeezed Rogue tighter. "I'm so proud of you. Both of you. You're everything I hoped you'd be and more."

  Rogue mumbled something unintelligible into his chest.

  Adam patted her head. "What's that? You want me to make a joke about how we're going to need a lot of bleach for these memories? Done."

  "You want me to tell the children that the monsters are gone and the only thing left to fear is my cooking? Said and done. You want me to..."

  "Adam," Domino interrupted, but she was smiling.

  He released them and turned to face the cells.

  The children watched him with those hollow, haunted eyes. Adam's expression softened; not into pity, which they didn't need, but into something akin to amusement.

  He crouched down to their level.

  "Hey, little ones," He said gently. "My name's Adam. I know you've been through some really, really bad things. Things no one should ever have to go through."

  "But here's the good news: the bad people are gone. They're never coming back. And the people who are coming to help you; they're the best people."

  "They've got a big pne and a school and a dy who can control the weather, a boy who can control ice. A ser shooter. A grumpy old man, yeah, that's a superpower."

  He grinned. "Also, I make really good burritos. When you're feeling better, you should try one."

  "They're so good they'll make you forget your own name. Which, come to think of it, might be a problem if you need to remember your name. But we'll cross that bridge when we come to it."

  A few of the smaller children giggled. It was a weak sound, fragile, but it was something.

  [I'M NOT CRYING, YOU'RE CRYING.]

  ["The only thing left to fear is my cooking." He actually shittalked his own cooking, multiple times! Narcissism defeated.]

  [The shift from sughter to comfort is MASTERFUL.]

  [Why does he love Burritos so much? Is it because they shape like cocks?]

  [????] [Burritos are just the fucking best man.]

  [Eh, overrated.]

  [Burrito bsphemy will not be tolerated!!] [+1] [+1] [+1]

  The Bckbird arrived with theatrical speed, its stealth systems disengaging as it hovered above the facility.

  Within minutes, X-Men were flooding through the breached ceilings; Storm leading the way, her white hair streaming behind her, followed by Nightcrawler and Iceman and a medical team led by Jean Grey.

  Adam immediately unched himself at them for hugs.

  "Ororo! Beautiful as always! Bobby! Still frozen! Kurt! Missed your tail!" He wrapped his arms around each of them in turn, his enthusiasm undimmed by the grim surroundings.

  Storm extracted herself from his embrace with patient amusement. "Adam. How did you find this pce? What's your secret? If we knew your methods, we could help more; we're always happy to save mutants."

  Adam shrugged. "Trade secrets. But you don't have to worry; I'll keep needing your help, and I'll keep asking for it. You're not getting rid of me that easily."

  Storm's expression shifted to something more serious. "Charles used Cerebro after your message. He confirmed everything. He's already contacted Nick Fury; S.H.I.E.L.D. is en route."

  She studied his face. "You don't look surprised."

  "Nick and I have an understanding," Adam said. "I was pnning to loop him in anyway. But you all get priority. Always."

  He gestured at the cells. "Mutant children first. S.H.I.E.L.D. can handle the rest of the cleanup and the non-mutant kids."

  He didn't mention the Hydra infiltration of S.H.I.E.L.D. He didn't need to; Fury knew.

  And after the Cypher Conference, after the global exposure, Hydra was too wary of Adam's unpredictability to risk obvious moves.

  They'd be cautious. They'd wait. And while they waited, the children would be saved.

  It was enough.

  The X-Men set to work, freeing children, providing medical aid, offering comfort.

  Adam watched for a moment, stroking his chin as if contempting something, before something pinged in his awareness.

  His brow rose. His expression shifted; surprise, then delight, then something almost like appetite.

  "I have to go," He said abruptly.

  Domino looked up. "What? Now?"

  "Now." He was already moving toward the Null-Suit. "Something came up. Something very urgent."

  He climbed into the armor, the ptes sealing around him. "Domino, you're in charge here. Make sure the kids get to safety. Tell the rest I said goodbye and that I'll call them ter. Tell Fury..." He paused. "Tell him I'll be in touch."

  The thrusters ignited.

  He was gone before anyone could respond, a streak of bck and white against the sky, heading east. Toward the Balkan region. Toward Transia.

  Today, it seemed, was a very lovely day.

  [Transia! That's where; OH. OH. WANDA? ]

  [Wait, wait! He's visiting Wanda!? Yahooo!]

  [Nooooo! Stay away from my imaginary wife!!!]

  [Tf!? Self-aware nerd!??] [...] [...] [...] [...]

  [The way his expression changed... Is this bastard just watching people everywhere?]

  [True, he is a true perv, like imagine the power level of a creep that has technopathy!? Insane!!] [...]

  There, nestled in the Transian hills like a wound in the earth, was a vilge; small, isoted, and clinging to traditions that had outlived their usefulness by centuries.

  Its inhabitants were farmers and shepherds, their lives measured in seasons and superstitions, their world bounded by the nearest mountain peaks.

  In the center of this vilge, chaos reigned.

  Fmes still licked at the charred remains of a barn, sending columns of smoke into the grey sky.

  Vilgers had formed a rough semicircle, their faces twisted with fear and rage, their hands clutching pitchforks, axes, whatever weapons they could find.

  At the point of their accusation stood two figures; a boy and a girl, seeming to be in their early twenties or te teens, their backs against the burning wreckage.

  Pietro Maximoff was a young man, with silver-white hair that stood out like a beacon and eyes that darted everywhere at once, calcuting angles of escape that didn't exist.

  His body has potential; speed that would one day make him one of the fastest beings on Earth; but now, in this moment, he was just a scared kid trying to protect his sister.

  Wanda Maximoff was younger, with the same unusual hair and eyes that held depths far beyond her years, except in her case, her hair was exquisite auburn.

  Those eyes were wide with terror, fixed on the mob before her.

  Her hands trembled, and around those hands, faint wisps of crimson energy flickered; uncontrolled, unpredictable, the source of the fire that had consumed the barn and the reason these people wanted her dead.

  She can not control it, so she doesn't want to use it against innocents and was, in fact, so nervous and fearful that her powers were failing her call.

  "Witch!" A man screamed, his face purple with rage. "Scarlet Witch! She brought demons among us!"

  "Burn her!" Another voice joined. "Burn the witch like she burned Kus's barn!"

  "We should have known!" an old woman shrieked, pointing a gnarled finger. "The strange hair! The unnatural eyes! They're not of this world!"

  Pietro stepped in front of his sister, his slight frame a useless shield against the mob. "She didn't mean to! It was an accident! She can't control it..."

  "Control?" The man with the pitchfork ughed, ugly and mean. "Dark magic can't be controlled, boy! Only cleansed!"

  The mob moved forward.

  Pietro tensed, ready to do something; anything; even if it meant throwing himself at them in a futile gesture of protection.

  Wanda sobbed behind him, her chaos energy flickering brighter, threatening to erupt again and make everything worse...

  BOOM.

  Something hit the earth between the mob and the twins with the force of a meteor.