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Chapter 18: Aura Farming
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Terror had a taste. It was tallic, like blood from a bitten lip, and it filled the little girl’s mouth as she fled.
Her small feet, clad in worn sneakers, slapped against the wet asphalt of a New York alleyway, the sound echoing the frantic hamring of her heart.
Tears stread down her face, mingling with the gri.
Behind her, the thodical, heavy footfalls of her pursuers drew closer, a terrifying symphony of intent.
They weren't running; they were encircling, their movents practiced.
The acronym on their black body armor glead under the sparse alley lights: M.R.D. Mutant Response Division.
She was a mutant. It was unmistakable.
Her hair, a tangled mass of chestnut brown, flowed around her like a living cape, far longer than her small fra and floating with a mind of its own, twitching and writhing with her panic.
Moreover, her hair was sotis changing colors. It was certainly an interesting mutant ability.
She was a child who had awoken to a nightmare, her power manifesting as a visible brand that marked her for hunting.
Mutants were a miserable existence, prey for the M.R.D., for Hydra's experints, for the hate of the Friends of Humanity, and the machinations of the Hellfire Club.
Desired, feared, and hounded.
Abandoned by parents too terrified to understand, she was now facing hell alone.
She ran until her lungs burned, until the darkness of the alley seed to be her entire world.
Then, abruptly, the oppressive gloom was banished. A heavy, white light fell upon her from above.
She looked up, squinting through her tears, and saw the outline of a massive, sleek aircraft hovering silently.
A hatch opened, and a figure dropped.
Her breath hitched, expecting another adversary.
But this was different. The man fell with an impossible grace, his body straight as an arrow.
He wore a form-fitting black leather uniform with a prominent 'X' emblazoned on the chest.
His white hair was swept back, save for a few strands that fell across a scarred left eye.
His hands were clasped calmly behind his back, and his gaze was fixed on her, utterly fearless despite the lethal drop.
Just before he struck the ground, the chanical pack on his back flared with a burst of energy, negating the impact with a low thrum.
He landed in a slight crouch, then rose to his full height, the very picture of controlled power.
[AURA FARMING! HE'S FARMING AURA!]
[That entrance was straight out of an ani!]
[My man just dropped in like a final boss!]
[The white hair, the scar, the cool landing… he’s cultivating his main character energy.]
The past month had been transformative for Adam Cypher.
Acquiring half of Victor von Doom's intellect was not a re addition to his IQ; it was a fundantal tamorphosis.
It was the spark of sothing transcendent, the quality that separated minds like Doom and Richards from the rest of humanity.
He saw the world not as a series of events, but as a complex, manipulatable system, lines of code and information.
He eyed the terrified girl, a smile erging on his face. "Your power is very cool." He comnted, followed by a joke to settle her mood.
"They had to work very hard ssing up to give this gorgeous white hair, and you get it for free?" He raised a brow and chuckled.
Yeah, his jokes aren't made for soothing moods.
Before she could process this, three more figures descended from the Blackbird, buoyed by a shimring telekinetic field.
Jean Grey, Cyclops, and Storm landed gently beside him.
"It's alright," Jean said, her voice a balm of empathy as she knelt before the girl.
"You're safe now. We're the X-n. We have a school, a place where you can be safe and learn, a place for special people like us."
Adam, anwhile, had already pulled out his phone, his enhanced mind processing data at a blinding rate.
"They're here," He stated without looking up. "The M.R.D. periter is tight."
On cue, Storm acted. "Co, child," Ororo said, her voice regal and reassuring.
She scooped the girl into her arms and ascended on a gust of wind, carrying her to the safety of the Blackbird.
The M.R.D. squad closed in, weapons raised. Their leader, a grim-faced man with a buzz cut, barked through a gaphone.
"X-n! You are overstepping your boundaries! Stand down and return the fugitive! She is a dangerous individual responsible for multiple acts of public endangernt!"
Jean and Cyclops frowned, ready to deliver their standard speech, hoping to smooth things over.
Adam took a single, deliberate step forward, silencing them both. "It's us that need an explanation."
He said, his voice carrying an unnerving calm. "The child hard no one. I've just done a very thorough scan. The internet is a wonderful thing for fact-checking. So, why are you lying?"
The M.R.D. team was stunned into montary silence. An explanation? They were not used to being questioned.
The leader recovered, his face reddening. "We don't answer to you, mutant!"
"Then I can only assu," Adam continued, his gaze sweeping over them like a targeting scanner,
"That this is a formal declaration of war against mutantkind. There is no other logical conclusion. Otherwise, you are the ones overstepping your boundaries, illegally hunting a child under false pretenses."
The tension snapped taut. Rifles were shouldered, fingers hovering over triggers.
Adam didn't even flinch. He spoke over his shoulder to Jean, his tone conversational. "Jean, if you don't put them all to sleep, I will kill them all. Your choice."
There was no malice in his voice, only a simple statent of cause and effect.
Jean didn't argue. She had reached a strained understanding with him over the past month.
As long as his actions protected mutants and weren't mindlessly violent, she would work with him.
Adam's logic seed to have reached her, even if that wasn't his intent.
Adam's Slow curse settled over them like a physical weight, giving Jean more than enough ti to do her thing, before they could pull the trigger.
And indeed, Jean's eyes glowed, and a powerful telepathic command; SLEEP; washed over the squad.
Their movents beca dreamlike, their minds struggling through mud.
One by one, they slumped to the ground, unconscious before they hit the pavent.
"Thank you," Adam said, offering Jean a charming smile.
Despite their harsh argunt weeks prior, he had never treated her differently; always observant, always charismatic, always making friends.
She had, reluctantly, begun to accept that his thods, while ruthless, were effective.
Adam walked over to the unconscious forms and produced a device from his pack, aiming to inject a micro-tracker into the neck of the squad leader.
Cyclops's hand shot out, grasping Adam's wrist. "What are you doing? Your stunt a month ago with S.H.I.E.L.D. already strained our relations with human authorities. If you harm them, it will only get worse."
Adam raised an eyebrow, his expression one of genuine confusion. "I made things tense? That's a confusing sentence. It is the humans who are illegally hunting children."
"There is no 'relation' to maintain with kidnappers. Regardless," He continued, his voice flat, "This is an assignnt from Forge. I'm injecting trackers to map their operational bases and command structure."
Cyclops held his gaze for a long mont, the conflict clear in his rigid posture.
He was still the boy scout, the true believer in Xavier's dream. But he also saw the logic.
He has yet to face or experience the many mutant genocides that would turn him into the extre Cyclops Adam rembers he would beco.
With a frustrated grunt, he released Adam's wrist.
Adam completed his task efficiently. As he stood, he didn't reboard the Blackbird.
Instead, a familiar, gruff figure dropped from the hovering jet, landing with a solid thud beside him.
"Logan?" Jean asked, confused. "What are you doing?"
"We got a few things to do," Wolverine grunted, popping his claws and retracting them with a sharp snikt. "You kids head on back."
Before Jean could protest, Adam added, "The X-n have more mutants to rescue tonight. Don't waste ti here. And Jean," He t her eyes, "Stop tolerating their arrogance. They are the criminals here, not us."
With that, Adam and Logan turned and lted into the labyrinthine shadows of the city, leaving a troubled Cyclops and a pensive Jean behind.
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