[ Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, Westchester, New York ]
In Jean's optimistic imagination, Storm would maybe toss two polite lightning bolts, Daisy would parry with a few tremors, and the whole sparring session would end with a bow and perhaps a joke about weather versus tectonics. Peaceful. Respectful. Contained.
That dream shattered the moment the volcanic island lit up like it was hosting the Four Horsemen's reunion tour.
Jean bent over the console, her eyes wide with disbelief. The Danger Room's main computer was spitting red warnings faster than she could read them. "The first principle of the training ground is hyper-realism," she muttered. "But… it has computational limits. And they've exceeded it." Her voice was tight with panic.
"Shut it down," Cyclops said, trying to mask his concern with command tone. He was already regretting giving them the green light.
"I can't shut it down! It's… it's crashed!" Jean barked, typing frantically. Her PhD in history wasn't helping her wrestle Beast's absurdly overengineered interface. The system, coded by a mutant Einstein with fur, wasn't user-friendly. Jean could execute basic scripts, sure, but stopping an escalating god-tier battle? Not her forte.
After a dozen failed override commands, she sighed sharply and contacted Professor Charles through their psychic link.
The old professor was mid-discussion with Nick Fury, breaking down a rather grim forecast about global mutant diplomacy. The mental ping caught him mid-sentence. A flick of a finger opened his terminal linked to the Danger Room's systems. What he saw made even his usually calm expression falter. On the screen, there was chaos unfolding between Quake and Storm.
The entire Hawaiian training field had transformed into a hellscape. Lightning split the skies like divine punishment. Volcanoes were erupting like they had a vendetta. Two women—one of air and light, the other of ground and fire—were unleashing more fury than a mythological war.
Even though the professor knew his own psychic strength was formidable, the sheer visual intensity of the battle made that power feel abstract in comparison. From where he sat, the difference wasn't in ability—it was in presence.
Nick Fury narrowed his eye, a flicker of genuine confusion crossing his face. He hadn't expected Daisy to unleash that level of power—not with such precision, not with such volatility. And Storm? Her raw force made his instincts tighten. Together, they weren't fighters. They were warheads.
But something didn't sit right. Fury had studied Daisy closely. She was the type to keep ten aces up her sleeve and play only half a card. She feigned simplicity, operated beneath perception, and rarely—if ever—showed her full hand.
"Their powers seem… heightened," Nick Fury said slowly, his tone wrapped in caution. "Agent Johnson is usually very restrained. Kind, even. But now… it feels like she's burning from the inside. Is someone pushing her?"
His words danced around the accusation, careful not to offend—but the implication was clear. He all but asked whether the old telepath in the chair had decided to go mining in Daisy's mind.
Professor Charles looked momentarily disoriented, caught off guard by the rising storm inside his own facility. Fury's pointed observation pushed him into action. He checked immediately. Daisy, protected by the Kunlun Ring. Storm, imbued with magic. Both insulated from telepathic influence. It ruled him out. External manipulation was off the table.
From what he could assess, the chaos was internal—self-generated. Emotional volatility, latent pressure. He made a mental note: Storm clearly needed firmer grounding. Perhaps a refresher in moral philosophy wouldn't hurt. Then, with a deeper probe into the system, the true cause surfaced.
The simulation data confirmed it. The crash had caused the Danger Room to remove safety buffers and exaggerate input power to mimic battlefield realism. Their powers were being amplified, yes—but what really worried Charles was that both of them had stopped holding back.
"The main control computer crashed. Their powers are being artificially amplified. It's temporary," he explained calmly to Nick Fury. "In the real world, physical limits remain. Cells can't survive that kind of sustained overload."
The honesty settled Fury's nerves, if only slightly. This kind of volcanic eruption and thunder and lightning really tested his ability to endure. He missed the era when Captain America was the best in the world.
Professor started working furiously to reboot the system. But he remained unaware that the chaos wasn't confined to his screen.
Across campus, students had tapped into the Danger Room's live feed using their own access privileges. What began as idle curiosity turned into stunned silence.
The usual group of overconfident students—those who prided themselves on conjuring fireballs or freezing puddles—were now frozen themselves, wide-eyed and speechless.
They had all trained in the Danger Room. They understood its mechanics, its limits. And precisely because they knew the simulation's constraints, they could fully grasp the weight of what they were witnessing. The difference between themselves and the two in that arena wasn't a gap. It was a chasm.
"Is this even training anymore?" someone whispered.
The children, unlike Nick Fury, lacked the insight to dissect what they were seeing. To them, it was simple—both women were terrifyingly powerful. So they watched, small and silent, as titans clashed before their eyes.
The more serious among them didn't care who won. They were calculating escape routes. Just in case.
"Colossus, you think you could take that boulder?" one student pointed at a chunk of flaming volcanic rock tearing through the sky like an angry comet. The student glance at the tallest boy in the group—broad, steel-eyed, and usually a beacon of confidence.
Each boulder was of the size of a dining table, moving with the fury of artillery and the heat of a forge. Kinetic force and searing temperature combined, turning the battlefield into something apocalyptic.
The boy scratched the back of his head awkwardly. One day, maybe—when his powers were mature and stable. But right now? His metal form flickered, sometimes unreliable. Earthquakes and lightning? That wasn't a test. That was suicide.
The boy scratched the back of his head awkwardly. One day, maybe—when his powers were mature and stable. But right now? His metal form flickered, sometimes unreliable. Earthquakes and lightning? That wasn't a test. That was suicide.
He didn't join the debate. Just gave a silent shake of the head.
The group quickly shifted focus, their awe redirected into whispered analysis. Who had the advantage? Who would win?
Storm, after all, was a teacher. A bit intense, but kind. Striking to look at and generous with her time. Most students liked her, and even those who didn't wouldn't dare say so aloud.
Storm had their respect. Most of them rooted for her. But there's always that kid in the back. The kind who disagrees just to feel seen.
"I think that other woman's got the edge," a voice finally piped up, cutting against the tide.
"Shut up! Ororo's gonna smoke her!" someone fired back.
Arguments broke out between the half-grown brats. But inside the simulation, none of that mattered. Neither Daisy nor Storm heard a word of it. They were past distractions, far beyond debate.
Back inside the simulation, Sheets of rain poured from above, drenching the battlefield—only to hiss into steam the moment they met the scorched ground. Magma seethed beneath them, devouring the water as quickly as it came.
But Storm didn't stop. She pulled in every ounce of weathercraft and ancestral magic she had. With surgical finesse, she spun the storm colder and faster.
Snow.
Sharp, dagger-like snowflakes formed, accelerated by wind and guided into ice tornadoes. The battlefield transformed from tropical mayhem to a white apocalypse. The sky went grey, then white. Snowflakes sliced air.
Visibility dropped. Temperature plummeted.
Daisy's movements grew more restricted with each passing second. The storm wasn't just attacking—it was caging her in.
Storm smiled through the chaos. "Your power is impressive, but nature always wins." Her voice boomed across the training space, tinged with a warrior's pride.
Daisy, crouched behind a slagged rock, rolled her eyes. "Oh please. You sound like a weather-themed motivational poster."
The earth was spent. The magma had stopped flowing, the crust too shredded to hold more fury. She considered teleporting up—but her attempts failed. Ororo regularly disturb the space around her with magic, so that she could not teleport near her like earlier.
Smart.
Daisy shifted tactics. She stood her ground, calculating the snowstorm's rotational speed and radius. She clenched her right hand into a fist. Her stance locked in.
The two ice cyclones collided and merged into a 50-meter wide blizzard of death.
Daisy didn't flinch. Her eyes locked onto the center, and she drove her fist forward without hesitation.
By blending modern physics with her own seismic abilities, she had shaped the battlefield itself. Gravity, though the weakest of the four fundamental forces, was ever-present—undemanding in energy, yet constant. Here, in a space saturated with her frequency, Daisy bent it to her will.
All matter fell under gravity's rule. The ice storm, caught in its invisible pull, began to slow. Its rotation faltered. Even Storm's flight wavered, momentarily stalled by the shifting forces
Daisy poured everything she had into the strike—her alien heritage, the heart-shaped herb's strength, and her chi. Gravity wrapped around it all, amplifying her force as her body twisted midair.
She had no doubt this punch would decide the outcome. Whether it tore the apart the simulation space? That had never crossed her mind.
All she cared about—was winning.
To Be Continued...
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