Unmasked

Scott walked at a sedate pace behind Hank, Warren, and Bobby, who were practically buzzing with excitement over Bayville's victory. The three of them bounced off each other effortlessly, cracking jokes and reliving Hank's most impressive plays with the kind of energy that only came from pure adrenaline and camaraderie.

"You know, Hank, I think that was the first time I ever saw a linebacker actually get existential dread mid-tackle," Warren said, smirking as he clapped Hank on the back.

Bobby snorted. "Yeah, man, that dude looked like he saw his entire life flash before his eyes the second you broke through the line."

Hank adjusted his glasses, looking slightly embarrassed but pleased. "Well, I do have a rather imposing physique," he admitted.

"Yeah, yeah, the physique of a freight train," Bobby interjected. "I swear, I saw one of their linemen just lay down and accept his fate at one point."

Warren nodded sagely. "That wasn't surrender, Bobby. That was self-preservation. You either get out of Hank's way, or you become part of the field."

Bobby clutched his chest dramatically. "Dude, imagine being that guy's parents in the stands. Like, 'Oh honey, look, there's our boy—oh, never mind, he's dead.'"

Jean laughed at that, shaking her head as Bobby and Warren cackled like a pair of delinquent hyenas. Hank, despite his usual reserved nature, couldn't help but join in, his rich, rolling laughter blending with theirs.

Scott, walking slightly apart from them, watched them all carefully. Jean, with her head thrown back in laughter, Hank looking content despite his usual awkwardness, Bobby and Warren feeding off each other's jokes with effortless synergy.

For the first time, he understood Cyclops' feelings

He had spent so long trying to separate himself from Cyclops.

The fractured memories that came to him in small, agonizing doses had never given him the full picture of who Cyclops truly was, only glimpses—snapshots of pain, discipline, and duty. The emotions attached to them were often raw and overwhelming, but until now, Scott hadn't fully understood the why behind them.

Why did Cyclops keep fighting?

Why, after everything, did he stay with the X-Men?

Scott had judged Logan harshly, kept Charles and Amelia at a careful distance, struggled with his tumultuous relationship with Alex, and refused to fully trust Warren, Bobby, and Hank. He had avoided Jean, pushing her away even more than the others, and he had run away from Xavier's, determined to forge his own team, to prove that he wasn't just Cyclops' echo.

But since being dragged back here by Logan, things had shifted.

He had changed.

Logan, whom he had once considered an annoying, antagonistic presence, had become a mentor, someone Scott respected. Charles and Amelia, who had once been authority figures he couldn't bring himself to trust, were now people he was allowing himself to rely on. Even his relationship with Alex had started to stabilize since his younger brother had been allowed to train with the X-Men.

Now, seeing Hank, Warren, Bobby, and Jean just being themselves, laughing, joking, existing together as something more than a team—Scott understood why Cyclops had never abandoned this life, no matter how much pain it brought him.

Because this was why he had fought.

Why Cyclops had risked and sacrificed everything.

Scott kept his hands in his pockets, looking toward the vast, open garden that stretched in front of the Xavier Mansion, its neatly trimmed hedges and towering oaks bathed in the warm glow of the mansion lights.

A small smile appeared on his lips.

Jean, still smiling from the boys' antics, looked to Scott to see his reaction and saw something rare. It was barely noticeable—just a slight upward twitch at the corner of his mouth—but Jean caught it. Scott Summers, the ever-serious, constantly calculating leader, was smiling.

She liked it.

Unaware of her gaze, Scott felt his phone buzz in his pocket. He pulled it out, his small smile instantly vanishing as a deep frown replaced it. The screen illuminated with a notification from the Daily Bugle, the news outlet Scott had purposefully subscribed to in order to keep track of both Spider-Man and Oscorp's activities.

Jean watched closely as Scott's expression shifted in an instant—his brief, almost imperceptible smile vanishing the moment he looked at his phone. His lips pressed into a firm line, his brows furrowing just slightly, but it was the way his entire body went still that set off a warning in her mind.

She had been watching Scott carefully since she arrived at the mansion, and in that time, she had come to recognize certain patterns about him. He was calculated, always in control of himself, rarely caught off guard. But right now, that control had slipped—just for a fraction of a second.

Something was wrong.

"Scott?" She asked, her voice light, but laced with curiosity. "Everything okay?"

Scott's fingers twitched around his phone before he quickly slipped it back into his pocket. When he turned to her, his face had already reset—the tension in his shoulders smoothed out, his frown relaxed into something neutral, unreadable.

"Yeah," he said simply. "Everything's fine."

Jean arched a brow, crossing her arms. She wasn't buying that for a second. "You sure? Because you had a perfectly good mood going until you checked your phone."

Scott barely hesitated. "Just something unrelated to us. Nothing that'll affect anything here."

Jean studied him for a moment, her eyes searching his face. He was good at deflecting, she'd give him that. But Scott had already proven that he had a bad habit of keeping important things to himself.

"This isn't another one of those situations where you hide something from us until it's convenient to tell us, is it?" She asked pointedly, her lips quirking into a knowing smirk. "Like, oh, I don't know—when you conveniently forgot to mention Sabretooth lurking around, or that some hitman is on his way to take your head off?"

Scott let out a quiet sigh, turning his gaze toward the mansion as if contemplating his answer, almost sounding amused. Jean narrowed her eyes at that. The fact that he was thinking about how to respond instead of just giving a straight answer meant there was something going on.

After a beat, Scott finally said, "It's not that bad. It's…something different. It doesn't affect the X-Men."

Jean studied him for another moment, not entirely convinced, but there was something about the way Scott answered that gave her pause. He had his walls up, sure, but there was no immediate tension in his posture, no deep concern in his voice.

Whatever it was, he wasn't ignoring it—but he also wasn't panicking.

For now, that was good enough.

Jean exhaled through her nose, shrugging her shoulders. "Fine," she said, turning away. "But I will find out what you're hiding, Scott Summers." She shot him one last look, half-amused, half-challenging, before walking off toward the mansion, her long red hair catching the porch lights as she disappeared inside.

Scott blinked, watching her go, genuinely confused. "…What was that about?"

"That, my friend," Hank said, appearing beside him, "is a good question. Any thoughts?"

Scott turned to see Hank adjusting his glasses, giving him a look of mild curiosity. "You tell me," Scott replied. "Because I have no idea."

Before Hank could attempt an answer, Warren and Bobby came up from behind, wearing matching grins that instantly set off warning bells in Scott's head. "Ah, classic," Warren said, clapping Scott on the back with a knowing smirk. "You, my guy, have just experienced the ancient and powerful phenomenon known as—"

"—a woman's interest," Bobby continued, nodding sagely as he draped an arm over Scott's shoulder. "You're doomed, dude. Doomed. Nothing more than a case file."

"Were you not sure whether to feel flattered or deeply, deeply concerned." Warren added on.

"So you settle for a confusing mix of both." Bobby finished.

Scott blinked, bewildered. "...Sure."

Hank just rolled his eyes. "You're both idiots."

Warren shrugged. "Maybe. But we're idiots with experience."

Bobby patted Scott on the chest. "RIP, buddy. It was nice knowing you."

Scott scowled, shrugging Bobby's arm off, but Warren just laughed, throwing an arm over Hank next. "C'mon, Hank, let's leave Scott to his brooding and celebrate your grand debut as Bayville's new sports superstar," Warren said, leading the way toward the mansion.

Hank sighed in amusement, allowing himself to be pulled along, though his lips twitched with a hint of curiosity.

As they headed up the steps, Scott still managed to catch the back end of Bobby's question before they disappeared. "Hey, when did Scott and Jean get so close, anyway?"

That made Warren pause as he and Hank exchanged glances before both looked at Scott who just frowned. "We're not." He replied.

Hank, Warren, and Bobby all gave him the same skeptical look.

"Riiiiiight," Bobby drawled.

"Sure, buddy," Warren said, voice dripping with sarcasm.

"You're very convincing," Hank added, tone dry.

Scott just crossed his arms, watching them disappear inside.

Finally left alone, he turned away from the mansion, walking over to the front steps before taking a seat. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his phone, the glow of the screen casting sharp shadows over his face as he scrolled through the article that had set off all of his alarms.

SPIDER-MAN UNMASKED—PETER PARKER EXPOSED!

The article was already filled with grainy photos of Peter, captured mid-action in his Spider-Man suit, his face clearly visible. Another showed him in his normal clothes, carrying his school bag, looking like a completely ordinary kid.

Scott's jaw tightened. 'Damn it, Peter.'

This was bad.

Scott had no idea how Peter had been exposed, whether it was through his own recklessness or if someone had deliberately set him up. But now, every single villain, criminal, and corrupt organization in the city was going to come after him. Plus, if Norman Osborn wasn't already aware, he would be now.

The thought made Scott clench his fist.

Peter was a good kid, but he was still just a kid, but now he was exposed.

Oscorp, SHIELD, the Marauders, the Hellfire Club—all of it was already pressing down on Scott's shoulders. He hadn't wanted to get involved in Spider-Man's fight just yet. Scott had hoped that things would continue for longer, that Peter with training from Callisto, the aid of the Morlocks and even being mentored and forming friendly relations with Doctor Octopus as well Curtis Connors and William Baker would be able to do even better.

Yet that had not been the case at all.

Now, he didn't have a choice.

Scott's eyes moved quickly over the article, absorbing every detail with an ever-deepening frown. The words were sensationalized, as always—clickbait, designed to spark outrage and paranoia—but the facts were all there.

Spider-Man and the Green Goblin had clashed once again in Queens. A brutal fight that mid-battle, had seen the Goblin somehow manage to unmask Spider-Man, exposing his identity to the world in a moment that would undoubtedly change Peter Parker's life forever.

There was now a protest outside the Parker residence.

Scott exhaled sharply, his jaw clenching as he clicked on an embedded video.

The footage was grainy, clearly taken from a phone, but it captured everything. A growing crowd had gathered outside a modest, two-story house—protesters, reporters, and the ever-present horde of rubbernecking bystanders all pressing up against hastily erected barricades.

Signs waved angrily in the air with some demanding Peter's arrest, others screamed about Mutants, despite Peter not being one. Then, just barely visible beyond the drawn curtains of a second-story window, Scott caught a glimpse of a silhouette.

Peter.

Scott turned off the video, sitting back against the front steps of the mansion with a long, slow exhale.

Peter was on the back foot now.

Norman Osborn had already invested heavily in his son, Harry, and now he had the perfect opportunity to tighten his grip even further. With Peter exposed, Norman could manipulate public perception however he wanted. He could paint Peter as a menace, as a villain, while elevating Harry as a hero in contrast.

It was an insidious move. One that Scott should have anticipated.

A flicker of guilt twisted in his stomach, though he refused to dwell on it.

Yes, he had played a role in how things had unfolded. His attack on Oscorp had unsettled Norman, likely pushing him to move more aggressively in securing Harry's role as the new Green Goblin. Now Peter was caught in the crossfire, his identity shattered, his safety compromised.

But Scott knew better than to waste time wallowing in regret.

What mattered now was how to fix it.

His mind raced through possibilities, analyzing variables, advantages, and risks.

From what Callisto had told him, Peter had been growing close to Otto Octavius who, along with Sandman and the Lizard, had formed ties with the Morlocks. That meant that for now, Peter and his Aunt May would have some measure of protection.

But Scott had learned the hard way that protection was never guaranteed.

There were too many moving parts in this game. Too many threats waiting in the shadows. He had not expected Peter's identity to be revealed this soon. Which meant he clearly couldn't predict everything to unfold the way he wanted.

Scott stared at his phone, considering his options.

Right now, he couldn't afford to leave Bayville and head to New York.

With Sabretooth on the prowl, the Marauders potentially in town, and an assassin hunting him, stepping away now would leave the X-Men exposed. That wasn't a risk he was willing to take.

But…

Maybe there was another way to help Peter.

It was time to regroup, strategise and fight back.

Scott's fingers tapped idly against his phone, his thoughts weaving through different angles, different ways to turn this mess into an advantage.

He had options.

That was better than being backed into a corner with none.

For now, that was enough.

It was more than enough.