X-MEN

As the sleek black jet touched down on the ruined remains of the facility, the rescued mutant children huddled together, eyes wide with uncertainty. Ethan, standing in front of them, remained calm, his smirk never leaving his face despite the blood splattered across his clothes and arms. He had lost count of how many guards and researchers he had slaughtered, but the bodies littering the floors told the tale well enough.

The ramp of the jet descended, and a team of X-Men stepped out, led by none other than Professor X, flanked by Storm, Cyclops, and Wolverine. Their eyes swept the area, taking in the scene of utter carnage, their expressions hardening as they saw Ethan.

Claire, the mutant girl who had contacted them, rushed to their side. "Professor, he's the one who saved the children! He's not an enemy!"

But her words came a second too late.

Ethan immediately sensed it—an invasive presence pressing against his mind. His expression darkened, and his eyes snapped toward Charles Xavier. "I'd think twice before trying that again, old man," he said, his voice carrying an icy edge. "Unless you want to add a few more bodies to the pile."

The X-Men tensed. Wolverine's claws extended with a menacing snikt, and Cyclops instinctively reached for his visor. "You got a hell of a mouth, kid."

Professor X raised a hand, stopping them before things escalated further. "Stand down. He's not our enemy." His gaze remained on Ethan, calm yet calculating. "My apologies, young man. I only wished to understand who you are. But it seems you have impressive mental defenses."

Ethan scoffed. "Yeah, well, I don't appreciate people poking around in my head. Try that again, and I'll make sure you regret it."

The tension was thick, but Professor X merely nodded. "Understood. May I at least ask your name?"

"Ethan. That's all you need to know."

The professor observed him, then asked, "How old are you, Ethan?"

"Fifteen."

The moment the words left his mouth, the X-Men's eyes widened in shock. Cyclops and Storm exchanged glances, and even Wolverine's hard expression softened slightly. "Kid's just a teenager?" Logan muttered under his breath, eyeing the sheer amount of blood on Ethan.

Professor X's gaze grew more sympathetic. "You don't have to do this alone, Ethan. You've suffered enough. You have a place with us at the Xavier Institute. A home where you'll be safe."

Ethan laughed—cold, mocking. "Safe? You mean with a bunch of idealists who refuse to do what's necessary? Yeah, no thanks. I've seen enough to know your way won't work for me."

Storm frowned. "And what exactly is your way?"

Ethan tilted his head, his smirk widening. "Simple. If someone tries to put me in a cage, I break them. If someone hurts the innocent, I bury them. Unlike you lot, I don't have a problem killing those who deserve it."

The X-Men visibly bristled at his words, but Professor X remained composed. "That is a dangerous path, Ethan. One that leads only to more bloodshed."

"Yeah, well, blood's already been spilled," Ethan said, gesturing to the carnage around them. "And guess what? I'm still standing."

Professor X sighed, realizing he wouldn't be able to convince Ethan. "At the very least, allow us to take these children to safety."

Ethan nodded. "That was always the plan. I just wanted to make sure they got onto the jet safely. Once they're gone, so am I."

One by one, the mutant children boarded the jet, some casting admiring glances at Ethan. To them, he was a savior, a warrior who had fought for their freedom when no one else would. The girl Claire, still standing by the X-Men, watched Ethan carefully, a mixture of curiosity and confusion in her eyes.

Then, just as the last child was about to board, Ethan felt it.

A presence.

Someone was watching.

His body reacted before his mind fully processed it. In a blur of motion, he reached into his pocket, gripping the knife he had taken from the guard earlier. With a flick of his wrist, the blade sailed through the air.

Bang!

The moment the knife made contact, the figure lurking in the shadows collapsed, their head exploding in a mess of blood and brain matter. The X-Men turned sharply, shocked by Ethan's instantaneous and ruthless attack.

"What the hell—?!" Cyclops shouted, stepping forward.

Professor X, who had also sensed the presence, turned toward the fallen figure, his expression grim. "An assassin. Someone who was waiting for the right moment."

Ethan rolled his shoulders. "Not anymore."

The X-Men stared at him, some in horror, some in reluctant respect. The sheer efficiency, the lack of hesitation—it was something even Wolverine rarely saw in someone so young.

Ethan turned back to the children and gave them a small, uncharacteristically warm smile. "You're safe now. Go live your lives."

Then, with a casual salute to the stunned X-Men, his body glowed, turning into countless particles of light. In an instant, he was gone, disappearing into the night sky, leaving behind nothing but silence and the lingering echoes of his ruthlessness.

The X-Men stood there, processing what had just happened.

Wolverine let out a low whistle. "Well, damn. That kid's something else."

Professor X exhaled, his expression unreadable. "Yes. And I fear this won't be the last time we see him."