Under the Stadium Lights

The energy at Bayville High's football field was electric, the air buzzing with the sounds of students chattering, the marching band warming up, and the rhythmic pounding of football cleats against the turf. The bleachers were already filling up, the crowd a mixture of students, teachers, and locals gathered to watch the much-anticipated game. For the Bayville High team, tonight was significant—not just because it was their first game of the season, but because it was Hank's debut as part of the team.

Warren and Bobby were particularly excited, their voices rising above the surrounding noise as they eagerly discussed the game.

"I'm telling you, this is gonna be good," Warren grinned, practically bouncing on his feet as they made their way to the stands. "Hank's been training non-stop, but this is different. The pressure of a real game? Whole new ballpark, my friend."

Bobby smirked, cracking his knuckles. "Yeah, I bet he's nervous as hell. This is the first time he's playing for Bayville, and if he screws up, we're never letting him live it down."

Scott walked slightly behind them, his long strides unhurried. His posture was relaxed, but his mind wasn't here. His thoughts were elsewhere—on the threats looming over them. He had been doing his best to keep his mind sharp, analyzing, planning, staying ahead of the game. But despite all his preparation, he was no closer to figuring out when the assassin would strike, if the Marauders were truly in Bayville, or how much Black Widow had uncovered about him.

There were too many unknowns, too many pieces still missing.

"Yo, Earth to Scott," Bobby called, snapping his fingers near Scott's face.

Scott blinked, realizing only then that he had tuned out the conversation entirely. He looked at Bobby, who had an amused expression, arms crossed with a knowing smirk, while Warren just raised a brow.

"You back with us, fearless leader?" Warren teased. "Or are you out there strategizing how to ensure we don't survive the next Danger Room session?"

Scott exhaled sharply, forcing himself to return to the present. "Sorry, what did you say?"

Bobby rolled his eyes. "We were asking if Hank's actually any good. You saw him play back at Bard College, right?"

Scott nodded, shaking off his earlier thoughts. "Yeah, he's good."

Bobby and Warren exchanged a look, then grinned mischievously. "Alright, so in case Hank messes up, what kind of punishment should we give him?" Bobby asked, rubbing his hands together like a cartoon villain.

Scott glanced ahead for a moment, his gaze briefly landing on Jean walking toward the stands with another girl he vaguely recognized—Taryn, one of her new friends. He didn't let his eyes linger, turning back to Bobby and Warren, who were still waiting for his response.

"If Hank screws up," Scott finally said, his voice even, "I just take that as a sign that he needs more training." There was a beat of silence as Bobby and Warren digested Scott's words. Then, as if on cue, they turned to each other with identical wicked grins.

Warren threw an arm over Scott's shoulder, his laughter booming. "Dude, that's evil. I love it."

Bobby followed suit, wrapping his other arm around Scott's opposite shoulder. "Oh, Hank is gonna hate us," he cackled. "This is perfect." The two practically dragged Scott along between them, cackling like a pair of scheming devils.

Scott let out a breath, and before he even realized it, his lips curled into the faintest of smiles. It was small, almost imperceptible, but it was there. Maybe, just for a moment, he could afford to let himself enjoy the normalcy of this moment.

-X-

The sound of whistles blowing and the clash of helmets rang through the crisp early evening air. The crowd roared as Bayville High took possession of the ball, their players charging across the field with practiced precision. The marching band struck up a triumphant tune, their music blending into the mix of cheers, chants, and school pride that filled the stadium.

Warren and Bobby were among the loudest supporters, both of them standing and shouting at the top of their lungs as Bayville's offense took the field. "Let's go, Hank! Take 'em down!" Warren bellowed, cupping his hands around his mouth to amplify his voice.

Bobby pumped his fists in the air. "Yeah! Show them why you're the big man on campus, Hank!"

Beside them, Jean and Taryn stood watching the game unfold. Taryn, who had been chatting with Bobby earlier, now shifted her attention between the game and Jean, their conversation pausing whenever something exciting happened on the field. Every so often, Bobby would lean over to say something to Taryn, and she'd laugh or roll her eyes in amusement, while Jean focused on the game with polite interest.

Then, suddenly—a shift in the crowd's energy.

The ball was snapped, and Hank received the pass. The moment he had the ball in his hands, the field erupted into motion. He bulldozed forward, sheer strength and determination making him an unstoppable force. The opposing team scrambled to stop him, their defensive players crashing into him from multiple angles, but Hank was unyielding. One by one, they fell away, either shoved aside or unable to hold on. He powered forward, charging through the chaos like a battering ram before leaping into the end zone.

Touchdown!

The Bayville High bleachers exploded with cheers, the sheer volume of the home crowd drowning out the smaller group of visiting supporters. The marching band blared a triumphant tune, the cheerleaders at the sidelines waving their pom-poms with excited energy.

"That's my boy!" Warren hollered, grinning from ear to ear.

Bobby whooped, jumping up and down before nudging Taryn. "See that? That's all my doing."

Taryn smirked. "You're not on the football team, Bobby."

"Details," Bobby waved off, still grinning.

Jean smiled as well, pleased for Hank, though she turned her head toward Scott, who had remained seated. While everyone around them was cheering, Scott clapped politely but with none of the enthusiasm that filled the rest of the Bayville supporters.

He wasn't indifferent to Hank's success. He understood why it was a big deal, why it mattered to the school, to Hank, to the crowd. But Scott didn't feel the same sense of excitement as everyone else. Football, and sports in general, had never really appealed to him.

It wasn't that he hated competition, but in comparison to the battles burned into his mind—the memories of Cyclops—this? This was just a game. Cyclops had fought Mutants, Aliens, Demons, Supervillains, Interdimensional Conquerors, and Cosmic Entities. He had battled for the fate of the world, for the survival of his people, against enemies so vast and powerful that the idea of getting worked up over a high school football game felt impossibly small.

Scott's accomplishments in this world already felt small.

His training, his strategies, his battles so far—they paled in comparison to what Cyclops had done. He had fought, yes, but against enemies that Cyclops would have handled with ease. The more he thought about it, the more detached he felt from the excitement surrounding him.

So, while the crowd roared and the game continued, Scott's focus wandered.

His eyes scanned the bleachers, moving over the faces of the students, parents, and faculty present. He wasn't really expecting to see anything unusual—just a habit of staying aware of his surroundings, a natural instinct.

Then, he saw something strange.

Not in the stands, but beneath the bleachers. A shadowed figure moving with careful precision, weaving through the support beams and metal framework of the structure. Scott's clapping ceased, his muscles tensing as his focus sharpened.

He watched the way the figure moved—silent, deliberate, cautious.

Not a student sneaking away to avoid supervision, not a janitor making their rounds.

This was different.

Slowly, Scott rose to his feet.

-X-

The first quarter came to an end with another thunderous cheer from the crowd as Bayville High maintained their lead. The energy in the stadium remained high, students and parents alike buzzing with excitement. The cheerleaders took to the sidelines, preparing for a brief performance as the football players huddled together, catching their breath before the second quarter began.

Among the stands, however, Jean Grey's attention wasn't on the field.

Something was bothering her.

She glanced toward where Scott had been sitting earlier, only to find his seat empty. Frowning, she turned to Warren, who had been seated next to Scott, still laughing over something Bobby had said. "Hey, where's Scott?"

Warren blinked, only now realizing that Scott was gone. He turned to Bobby, who also looked confused as his gaze swept over the surrounding crowd. "He was right here," Bobby said, his brow furrowing.

"Did he say anything before he left?" Jean asked.

Warren shook his head. "Nope. He just—" Warren stopped, thinking for a second before nodding toward the field. "Actually, he did look really bored. He wasn't paying much attention to the game. Looked kinda zoned out. Guess he just left early."

"Yeah, but when isn't he?" Bobby quipped with a smirk. "Scott's always got that broody, 'I'm thinking about ten different things at once' look on his face."

Jean wasn't amused.

Something didn't feel right.

Scott shouldn't and she imagined wouldn't just leave without saying anything—especially not in a public place when he had explicitly warned them all about the dangers they might be facing. The only reason he might do that made sense to her was if he notified something.

'The Marauders. The Assassin.' Her stomach twisted slightly as she remembered the conversation from the briefing room. Scott had laid out just how serious the situation was. He had told them to always stay alert, to move as a team, and to avoid being alone if possible.

So why had he disappeared?

"I'm gonna go for a walk," Jean said suddenly, standing up.

Warren looked at her with a raised brow. "Jean, c'mon. You're seriously worried?"

"He'll be fine," Bobby added, stretching his arms. "You know Scott. He's like, the last guy you should ever worry about."

Jean hesitated for a moment, but then shook her head. "Maybe. But I just—" she stopped herself. "I'll be right back." She didn't wait for their response, making her way out of the bleachers and disappearing into the crowd.

Taryn, who had been watching the exchange curiously, tilted her head slightly and turned to Bobby and Warren. "You guys all live together, right?" She asked, her tone casual, but her eyes sharp.

Bobby and Warren exchanged a quick look, not sure where this was going. "Yeah," Warren answered slowly.

Taryn nodded. "So, do you think Jean has a thing for Scott?"

Bobby almost choked on his drink. "What?"

Warren snorted. "Jean? Nah."

Taryn arched a brow. "You sure? I mean, she's obviously worried about him."

Bobby leaned back in his seat, smirking. "Jean's just a nice person. She's like, Miss Morality or whatever. If one of us was missing, she'd do the same thing."

Taryn hummed, unconvinced. "Maybe. But she's not exactly running off after you guys."

Bobby rolled his eyes. "Okay, so she's a little more worried than usual. Big deal."

Warren crossed his arms, watching as Jean disappeared into the crowd below. He knew Jean was concerned for Scott's safety and honestly he understood why. Jean hadn't seen Scott fight, hadn't seen just how capable he was in a real battle.

She didn't know what Scott was actually capable of.

For him, Hank and Bobby, they had seen glimpses—Dunfee, Fort Washington, the fights against the Marauders, Oscorp. They knew that if anyone could handle themselves, it was Scott. But Jean didn't know that and that was what made the difference.

"She's not into him," Warren finally said, shaking his head. "Scott just has this 'mystery guy' thing going for him, and Jean's probably curious. That's all."

Bobby nodded in agreement. "Exactly. And besides, if she was into Scott, I'd totally know."

Taryn smirked, amused. "Oh yeah? Why's that?"

Bobby grinned and pointed at himself. "I have a sixth sense for this kind of thing."

Warren scoffed. "No, you don't."

"Yes, I do," Bobby shot back.

Taryn rolled her eyes as the two boys began bickering about which of them had the best 'relationship instincts.'