My vision blurred into focus, revealing the striking figure of a blue-furred humanoid looming over me.
Instinctively, I reached out, my fingers brushing against the coarse texture of his beard. The sensation was undeniably real—rough, warm, and utterly bizarre.
This isn't a dream. The realization settled heavily in my chest. I was really here, in the world of the X-Men.
Hank McCoy—Beast—flinched slightly at my touch, his golden eyes narrowing in discomfort, but he didn't pull away. Instead, he gently guided my hand down and helped me sit up.
"Do you mind?" he asked, his tone more amused than irritated.
I groaned, rubbing my temples as a dull ache pulsed behind my eyes.
"Where am I?"
"Ah, an excellent question," Hank replied, adjusting his glasses.
"You're currently in our facility. We found you unconscious, though your body showed no signs of serious injury. However…" He hesitated, curiosity gleaming in his gaze.
"You're… different. Human, yes, but with cybernetic enhancements unlike anything I've ever seen."
His fascination was palpable. As a scientist, he thrived on the unknown, and I was a walking enigma. But if he ever discovered the truth—that I was an anti-mutant weapon—his admiration would quickly turn to horror.
Memories of my past life flooded back, filling in the gaps. The X-Men—heroes, outcasts, defenders of a world that feared them. Their battles were legendary, their enemies ruthless. Even the Avengers would struggle against some of the threats they faced.
Before I could dwell further, the door slid open. A striking woman with snow-white hair and piercing eyes entered, followed by a bald man in a wheelchair—Professor Charles Xavier himself.
"Hank, how is he?" Xavier asked, his voice calm but commanding.
"Stable, Professor," Hank replied.
"You can speak with him."
Xavier's gaze shifted to me, his expression unreadable. "I am Professor Charles Xavier," he introduced himself. "This is Ororo Munroe, and I believe you've already met Hank."
There was a pause, heavy with unspoken questions. Then, Xavier leaned forward slightly. "Can you tell us who you are?"
I could feel it—the faint pressure against my mind, like fingers probing at a locked door.
His telepathy, formidable as it was, found no purchase. Something within me repelled his intrusion, shielding my thoughts. The idea of him rifling through my memories made my skin crawl.
"I'm Cole," I said evenly, meeting his gaze. "And right now, I don't remember much else." It was a half-truth, a shield of my own. The less they knew, the better.
Xavier studied me, his lips curling into a knowing smile. "I see. Well, Cole, we don't fully understand what you are, but I'd like to."
Before he could continue, the door opened again—and my blood turned to ice.
Logan.
Rage surged through me, my vision tinting red as my systems flared to life. Energy crackled at my fingertips, ready to strike—until Xavier's voice cut through the fury.
"He wasn't responsible for the orphanage," the professor said firmly. "The Wolverine you fought was a clone."
I clenched my fists, forcing myself to breathe. "Explain."
"The real Logan had no part in the attack. Someone else orchestrated it."
The pieces clicked together. A clone. A setup. But why? Then it hit me—*Trask.*
"Did you find a man named Trask at the orphanage?" I asked.
Xavier's expression darkened. "Yes. He was among the dead."
I could see the weight of it in his eyes. Despite Trask's hatred for mutants, Xavier still mourned the loss. That was the difference between him and men like Trask—he believed in redemption, even for his enemies.
Ororo placed a reassuring hand on Xavier's shoulder, her presence steadying him. Then, the professor looked back at me, his tone shifting.
"Cole, how would you feel about joining my school?"
The question caught me off guard. Me? A Sentinel among mutants? The irony was almost laughable.
Hank, Ororo, and even Logan stiffened in surprise, but none objected. Their trust in Xavier was absolute.
I smirked. The old man was sharper than I thought. This wasn't just an offer—it was a way to keep an eye on me. A potential threat, neatly contained.
But if he wanted to play this game, I'd play along.
"If that's what you want," I said, shrugging. "Then sure, I'll join."
Xavier smiled. "Excellent. I'll have Jubilee show you around."
As they turned to leave, Logan shot me one last glare. His distrust was obvious, his instincts screaming that I didn't belong here.
I met his gaze, unflinching. Good. Let him wonder.
Hank sighed. "Don't take it personally. He's like that with everyone at first."
I chuckled. "I don't care if he accepts me or not."
Because this was just the beginning. I had sworn to live this life to the fullest—no regrets, no wasted chances. And if Xavier thought he could control me, he was in for a surprise.
The game was on.