The Golden Destroyer

The road to New York seemed endless, but I put up with it. The Brotherhood, however, didn't quite know what to do with me. The sideways glances, the muffled whispers, it was all starting to amuse me. Mystique walked ahead, maintaining her usual impassive air, but I could tell she was assessing every step I took. Magneto, on the other hand, remained silent, projecting that natural authority that made him the leader of this disparate group.

The others, however, were not as good at hiding their unease. Toad, for example, kept giving me furtive glances, as if I was suddenly going to turn around and crush him like the insect he resembled. Even Sabretooth, well known for his brutal arrogance, kept his distance, his low growls betraying a certain distrust.

I couldn't blame them. After all, I didn't really know everything I was capable of, so how could they?

I walked in silence, an ironic smile playing on my lips. The situation was almost comical: a band of formidable mutants reduced to nervous gestures and fleeting glances because of an intruder they themselves had recruited less than 24 hours ago.

As for me, I didn't have time to waste on their paranoia. Although it was amusing, I was here for a specific reason.

I had no illusions about my new companions. The Brotherhood was not exactly a model of altruism. They had their own objectives, ambitions that drove them to use anything and anyone to achieve their ends.

But what interested me was whether they were behind the attack, having targeted me. I knew my power was unusual, but that wasn't enough to explain such a coordinated attack. They wanted something from me, and I intended to find out what.

The X-Men, on the other hand, were another story. Their idealism wasn't unpleasant, but it seemed terribly naive to me. It wasn't that I was conceited, but my metacognition had disillusioned me. Cyclops had spoken to me of justice, of repentance. Jean Grey had tried to convince me that I had a place among them. But what was the point of joining a group that still believed the world could be saved by speeches and noble deeds? Especially me.

That said, I had no problem with their actions. They were doing what they thought was right, and I could respect that. But I didn't want to be a symbol, or a cause. I had my own objectives, and for now, that meant staying with those who operated in the shadows.

At the Xavier Institute

At the institute, faces were tense. The X-Men were gathered in the main room, each expressing their discontent in their own way.

"We should have stopped him," Jean Grey said, frustration piercing her voice.

"And how?" retorted Storm, crossing her arms. "He would have swept the entire team."

Cyclops, ever rigid, spoke in turn. "That's not an excuse. We have a responsibility to the world. Letting someone like him join the Brotherhood is a failure."

Professor Xavier, motionless in his chair, raised a hand to ask for silence. "We did what we could. But we must be realistic: he is a force we do not yet understand. Even if we had tried to confront him, we would have failed."

An awkward silence settled. Xavier continued:

"That said, we cannot remain inactive. Fury must be warned. We have information about Jonathan that he and his organization could use. He is our best chance to manage this situation before it escalates." "And besides, he's not a mutant."

In a dark and oppressive room, Earl seemed on the verge of collapse. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and he avoided Fury's piercing gaze.

"You don't understand," Earl stammered. "I don't know anything more! Jonathan was… just a normal guy… well, I thought."

Fury slammed his fist violently on the table, making Earl jump. "Don't take me for a fool. This 'normal guy' caused massive destruction, and now he's nowhere to be found in our databases. So either you're an idiot, or you're hiding something from me."

An agent entered the room, a file in hand. "Still no trace. It's like he never existed."

Fury gritted his teeth. "Perfect. Now we have a ghost walking freely and factions stirring in the shadows. This is getting fun."

As he breathed heavily out of frustration. Fury's phone rang, and he answered.

"Fury."

Charles Xavier's calm voice resonated. "Director Fury. I believe we need to talk about a problem, I presume, that's troubling you."

Night had fallen when we arrived in New York. The city, vibrant and chaotic, seemed oblivious to the tensions at play.

We entered a huge building in the heart of the city. Inside, mutants were waiting. Some were part of the Brotherhood, others seemed to be guests. But all eyes turned to me when I entered.

Then I saw her.

Selene, if my memory of the universe served me correctly. She was a creature of dark elegance, sporting ebony hair cascading down to her shoulders, framing a sculpted face where scarlet eyes shone, sparks of mystery. Her almost unreal pallor contrasted with her graceful silhouette, evoking a deadly and timeless beauty.

She was there, in the center of the room, her icy and oppressive aura spreading like a silent storm. Our eyes met, and the silence in the room became almost palpable.

There was something indefinable in her eyes. A challenge? An assessment? Perhaps both. Whatever it was, I felt we understood each other in some way. Not a word was exchanged, but the tension was almost unbearable.

The other mutants seemed to hesitate, unsure of what to do or say. The room resembled a cage filled with predators, each waiting for the slightest false move to attack.

She and I remained motionless, like two animals sizing each other up before a battle. One thing was clear: this confrontation was only just beginning.