Xavier Institute, Westchester County, New York. The gates stood tall and quiet, hiding secrets that most of the world refused to believe existed. Locke paused just outside, hands in his pockets, eyes scanning the grounds with calm familiarity.
He had known for a long time that mutants existed in this world. Not just rumors or whispers, but verified, undeniable truth. And more importantly, he knew exactly who was inside right now—Logan, the man with claws and a past soaked in blood.
David had done his job well. The intel he dug up wasn't just surface-level gossip—it was buried data, classified records, fragments stitched together from overlooked sources. Years ago, during a United Nations summit on Ellis Island, an attack had been launched from the Statue of Liberty. World leaders had been present, and chaos had nearly erupted.
The attempt had failed, but the implications were obvious. Locke recognized the pattern immediately. That incident lined up perfectly with events from the first X-Men storyline. This place wasn't just a school—it was a hub of power, of instability, and of potential.
He hadn't come earlier for one simple reason—Charles Xavier.
Psychic abilities were absurdly unfair. The idea that someone could read your thoughts, copy your memories, alter them, or erase them entirely without you even noticing was disturbing on a fundamental level. It wasn't just power—it was violation.
But things were different now.
With [Soul Defense] active, Locke wasn't walking in blind anymore. The mind and the soul weren't identical, but they were deeply interconnected. If the soul was intact, the mind couldn't be easily tampered with. The soul wrapped around consciousness like armor, and without breaking that shell, intrusion became nearly impossible.
On top of that, his spiritual attribute had reached an astonishing 280 points. That alone gave him enough resistance to withstand Xavier, at least for a brief window.
And a few seconds was all he needed.
If it came down to it, Locke was confident he could kill the professor dozens of times within that margin. No one in this academy would be able to stop him. Not Storm. Not Cyclops. Not even Logan.
That level of certainty made him relaxed, almost casual, as he approached the gate.
Before he could even knock, the door opened.
Ororo Munroe—Storm—stood there, her white hair catching the light, her expression composed but curious. She studied him for a moment before stepping aside slightly.
"Hello," she said politely. "The professor asked me to invite you in."
Locke smiled, stepping forward without hesitation. As he crossed into the grounds, his eyes immediately caught a familiar figure leaning near the entrance.
Logan. Cigar in hand, posture loose, eyes sharp.
Locke didn't hesitate. "Hey, Logan," he called out casually. "How's it going with Jean lately? I'm rooting for you."
The reaction was immediate.
Storm's expression stiffened, and Logan nearly choked on his cigar.
"Jean already has a boyfriend," Logan muttered, coughing lightly. "And until that changes, I'm not—"
Locke raised a finger, shaking his head with a grin. "Come on. Strong man, beautiful woman—it's a classic combination. Nothing wrong with going after what you want. Love doesn't come with a waiting list."
Logan shot a quick glance at Storm before grabbing Locke by the arm and pulling him aside.
"Don't talk nonsense," he growled under his breath. "Jean's a good woman. Don't drag her name through the mud."
Locke shrugged, completely unbothered. "I'm just being honest. Maybe she's got a thing for you too. Love's not about who shows up first—it's about who matters more."
Logan stared at him, confusion building behind his eyes. Then it hit him.
Who the hell is this guy?
Before he could say anything else, two more figures approached—Scott Summers and Jean Grey. Their arrival was precise, almost deliberate, as if summoned.
Jean smiled politely. "Sir, the professor would like to see you."
"Perfect," Locke replied easily. He glanced at the two of them, his expression shifting into something almost amused. "You two make a great couple. When the wedding happens, don't forget to invite me."
He walked past them without waiting for a response.
Behind him, the four stood frozen, exchanging confused looks. None of them understood what had just happened, but all of them felt it—this wasn't normal.
Not even close.
Inside the mansion, Locke didn't need guidance. He moved with purpose, as if he had been here before, navigating the halls until he reached the professor's office.
The door opened.
Charles Xavier sat behind his desk, his expression already carrying a hint of strain. The moment Locke stepped in, the professor let out a quiet sigh.
"Sir," Charles began, rubbing his temple lightly, "I'd appreciate it if you didn't stir up any more trouble between those three. Their situation is already… complicated."
Locke chuckled, raising his hands slightly. "Hey, I'm just a straightforward guy. Sometimes the truth slips out. Don't worry—I'll talk to him later. Plenty of women in the world. No reason for Scott to hang everything on one branch."
Charles exhaled slowly, clearly resisting the urge to respond.
Then Locke grinned. "Relax. I'm joking."
The professor straightened slightly, his tone sharpening. "You seem to know a great deal about us. Care to explain why you're here?"
Locke raised an eyebrow. "Since you asked so sincerely, I'll answer with equal sincerity. I'm here to save the world, maintain peace, and promote love and justice."
Silence filled the room.
Locke turned his head slightly toward the door. Four figures were clustered just outside, trying—and failing—to eavesdrop discreetly.
"You can hear me anyway," he called out. "Might as well come in."
There was a brief hesitation before the door opened and the four stepped inside, led by Logan.
Charles ignored them. His attention was fixed entirely on Locke, his brow furrowed.
For the first time in a long while, he couldn't read someone's mind.
It wasn't resistance—it was absence. Like trying to grasp smoke.
Locke clicked his tongue softly. "Looks like the professor doesn't believe me."
He turned to the others. "What about you?"
They all shook their heads.
Locke smiled faintly. That was fine. This wasn't about immediate trust—it was about planting something deeper.
He shifted his gaze across them, one by one.
"Scott," he said casually, "did you know Logan once saved your life?"
Cyclops frowned immediately. "That's impossible."
"Ororo," Locke continued, "if you're looking for love, maybe you should try Africa."
Storm's eyes narrowed slightly, something flickering in her gaze.
"Jean," he went on, his tone sharpening just a fraction, "having trouble controlling the Phoenix lately?"
Jean froze. Confusion flooded her expression.
"Logan…" Locke's eyes landed on him last, a faint smirk forming. "Or should I say—James Howlett. Ever think about getting your past back?"
That did it.
The room exploded with tension.
Cyclops' skepticism cracked into uncertainty. Storm's composure wavered. Jean's confusion deepened into something closer to unease.
But Logan reacted instantly.
With a sharp metallic snap, his claws shot out. His entire body tensed, muscles coiling, blood rushing.
"You know about my past?" he growled. "Then talk."
"Enough!"
Charles' voice hit like a shockwave, his psychic force snapping through the room and forcing everyone back into clarity.
His expression had hardened completely.
"Explain," he said, eyes locked on Locke. "How do you know all of this? And why are you here?"
Locke didn't react with hostility. Instead, he simply raised his hand.
"Relax," he said calmly. "We're the same kind of people."
As his words fell, faint sparks flickered between his fingers. Tiny arcs of electricity danced across his palm, growing brighter, hotter, more defined. The air around his hand shimmered with heat as the energy stabilized.
The room fell silent again—but this time, it wasn't disbelief.
It was shock.
They didn't recognize the exact abilities, but they understood what it meant. This wasn't a single mutation. This wasn't even two.
At least three different powers were visible—and combined with his immunity to Xavier's telepathy, that made four.
Charles' eyes widened slightly. "Who… are you?"
Locke tilted his head. "Do you believe in God?"
"Bullshit," Logan muttered.
Locke laughed softly. "Not just God. Odin. Thor. Loki. Zeus. They all exist. Vampires, werewolves, demons, hell, death—none of it is fiction."
Charles remained calm, though his gaze sharpened further. "Get to the point."
Locke's expression shifted, the humor fading into something more serious.
"This world is far more complicated than you think," he said. "You've heard about the vampire incidents. The Manhattan quake. Afghanistan."
He stepped forward slightly, his presence growing heavier.
"Things are getting worse. More super-criminals. More disasters. More chaos. And beyond this planet…"
He paused, letting the weight of his words settle.
"There's a mad titan out there planning to wipe out half of all life in the universe."
The room went still.
Locke looked each of them in the eye.
"This world is heading toward a collision point. Everything is being pulled together, guided by something bigger than any of us."
His voice dropped, steady and deliberate.
"And when that moment comes, sitting on the sidelines won't be an option."
He smiled faintly.
"So I'm stepping up first."
A brief pause followed, just long enough to let the tension build.
"Now," he said, "I'm inviting you to join me."
He spread his hand slightly, as if offering something tangible.
"Let's do our part and save the world."
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