The flight back to Westchester was a lot more different compared to when they left for Havelstadt, the trip was in silence. No one spoke. The usual banter that accompanied their missions was nowhere to be found, not that it was always fun when going for a mission with how deadly and dangerous it could be but still. The atmosphere in the plane was replaced by haunted stares, clenched jaws, and quiet, private grief. Even the hum of the jet seemed subdued, as if it too understood the weight they carried.
When the jet arrived, the sun had barely broken over the trees, casting long shadows across the green fields of the Xavier Institute. The hidden hangar which was disguised beneath the school's old basketball court. It began to part open with a mechanical whirr, the panels folding away to reveal the landing pad below.
As the Blackbird descended slowly into the hangar, Professor Charles Xavier was already there waiting.
His wheelchair sat still beneath the cold lights of the hangar, his expression was calm… or what looked like it, as if bracing for the emotional storm he sensed coming.
The ramp hissed and lowered. The first to step out were Ororo and Logan, with Gojo following behind them, hands in his pockets, his trousers in tatters, his chest bare. Behind them, Scott, Jean, Kurt, and the others emerged, moving like shadows, quiet, hollow-eyed, no trace of their usual fire.
Charles's eyes scanned each of them and noted what had changed.
'They left with hope, he thought. 'They've returned… haunted.'
He rolled forward a few paces and turned his gaze to Ororo. "How are they?" he asked gently.
Logan beat her to the answer.
"How d'you think, Chuck?" he growled. "They just saw a bunch of mutant kids butchered like animals. For existing and the celebration of destruction that followed."
He kept going, voice harder now. "We tried to stop it. But we were too late. Too slow. And too useless Chuck."
Ororo lowered her head, her voice soft but heavy. "And then Magneto came... and slaughtered the whole city. And we couldn't stop that either and thousands died…we could only save a handful thanks to Gojo holding him off."
Charles's face darkened with regret. "Erik… has gone too far this time."
"Has he?" Gojo asked, calm but edged in sharp steel.
Gojo moved past Logan and stood infront of the professor, arms still at his sides, his expression unreadable. His white hair drifted slightly in the breeze from the still-cooling jet turbines.
"What exactly did you expect would happen," he said, slowly, "when the world makes it a mission to exterminate metahumans?"
Charles's brows drew together. "That still doesn't make it right."
Gojo's eyes narrowed slightly, pale and glowing like blue fire. "Don't get me wrong… all of you are wrong here."
Everyone froze.
"The humans. And you lot."
He looked at them through and through. Each one in turn. "You're trying to coexist with a species that fears what it doesn't understand. That despises what it can't control. You keep hoping for peace, but they… they can't accept us. Not truly. Because we're different. Because we're unique in ways they'll never be. And because, deep down, they know it."
No one responded.
Gojo continued, stepping toward Charles now.
"Tell me, Charles… how many places across the world do you think something like this is happening?" His tone was sharp now, biting. "You have the means to see into the minds of everyone on the planet. So you know this wasn't an isolated event. Havelstadt was just the one we managed to reach."
He stared down at Charles, eyes cold and sharp. "So what were you expecting Magneto to do? Send flowers? Host a protest? When children and the innocents are being butchered, experimented on, erased… you expected him to sit and wait for a press conference?"
He shook his head.
"I don't approve of what he did either. Killing innocents people who weren't responsible will only serve to make them more wary, more fearful. But maybe… maybe it'll make them hesitate next time. If only for a moment and if there is one thing about humanity, it's that the always retaliate with violence."
The others shifted uneasily, some looking away. The silence stretched.
Logan crossed his arms, eyes hard. "The bub's right. What happened there was… unacceptable. It was a damn massacre."
"I know," Charles said quietly, finally.
Gojo chuckled, a bitter sound. The others turned to look at him again.
"Oh? Do you, Charles?" His voice was mockingly curious. "So tell me… what do you think happens now? After this warning has been sent?"
Jean spoke up softly, though her voice trembled. "They'll stop. Or at least… back down. Out of fear."
Scott nodded, trying to be the leader. "They'll think twice about attacking mutants. Especially after that kind of retaliation. It was brutal… but maybe it'll buy us time. A deterrent."
Gojo scoffed.
"If only," he muttered, before raising his voice. "How optimistic of you."
If only you all knew,' he thought.
His gaze drifted away. 'This always ends the same way in every version of the comic I've seen. Fear turns to aggression. Aggression breeds desperation. And desperation gives birth to deadly, giant and adaptable mutant killing Sentinels… I wonder where Trask is right now.'
He exhaled sharply and turned away.
"I'm going for a shower," he said flatly, walking past them with calm, unbothered steps, the remains of his trousers barely clinging to him, his body still marked by the battle.
No one stopped him.
They just watched him go.
And in that moment, as his footsteps echoed into the corridor… none of them could shake the feeling that the worst was still to come because deep down they all knew he was right. If there is one thing humans are good at its violence. Even against their own they show an aptitude of brutality that is sickening.
What would happen when they all put aside their differences for a new enemy to destroy?.
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