Chapter 478: Chapter 478: Who is Ready?!
[Third Person Pov]
"Wait, I still don’t understand," Steve said, his voice laced with genuine bewilderment. Logan had been made to sit down, one hand pressed firmly against his temple as his head throbbed worse than the worst migraine he could remember. "How is it that he’s still alive? By all accounts, it shouldn’t be possible. If old age didn’t finish him off, that bullet to the brain certainly should have."
Peter leaned forward, his expression shifting into that familiar mix of excitement and patience he wore when explaining the impossible. "That’s because he’s a mutant," he began, his tone steady and clear, as if laying out the rules of a brand-new world to the once frozen captain. "Mutants are people born with a special mutation in their genome—one that gives them the potential to develop extraordinary abilities, random powers that set them apart from everyone else. This place, Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters, is both a school and a sanctuary for them. Here, they learn to understand, control, and master those powers and abilities so they can live safely in a world that doesn’t always welcome them."
Peter then began introducing the others in the room with a sweep of his hand. "That’s Professor Charles Xavier. He’s the headmaster in charge of the entire institute—the heart and mind behind everything they do here."
"A pleasure to meet you, sir," Steve said respectfully, extending his hand. The two men shook firmly, Steve’s grip strong and steady from years of battlefield discipline.
"The pleasure is all mine, Captain," Charles replied warmly, though his handshake carried a surprising strength. For a moment, the professor’s gaze lingered.
While Peter moved on to introduce Jean and Scott—highlighting Jean’s remarkable telepathic and telekinetic gifts and Scott’s leadership as field commander with his optic blasts—Charles remained unusually quiet. He stared down at his own hands the entire time, turning them over slowly as if lost in a private daze, his expression distant and thoughtful.
"Logan—or rather, James Howlett—works here as a teacher," Peter continued, draping a casual arm over Logan’s broad shoulders. "He’s guiding the next generation toward a brighter future, teaching them the skills they’ll need to survive out there in a cruel, often unforgiving world."
Logan sat hunched forward, leaning heavily on one knee, his face tight with pain as he squinted up at Peter through the pounding migraine. He looked every bit the grizzled veteran trying to hold it together. "The man’s got the special abilities of a wolverine running through his veins," Peter added with clear admiration. "Superior healing and claws that can slice through almost anything. It makes him one tough bastard to kill. Our grandpa here is actually hundreds of years old—which technically makes him extra eligible for every senior citizen discount in the book."
Jean and Scott both had to suppress their snickers, covering their mouths. Logan, clearly unamused, smacked Peter’s hand away with a low growl of annoyance.
Steve watched the exchange, a slow grin spreading across his face as pieces clicked into place. "You know what? A lot of things are starting to make sense now," he said, staring at Logan with a mix of awe and nostalgia. "James always acted like nothing in the world could kill him. He’d charge headfirst into enemy gunfire to rescue our boys, surviving hits and situations that should have been impossible. He was the most fearless soldier I ever had the privilege of fighting alongside. The kind of man who made you believe you could win the war just by standing next to him."
Logan’s expression softened into something bittersweet. He kept one hand pressed to his temple, eyes fixed on the floor as memories hovered just out of reach. "I really wish I could remember it all," he muttered, voice rough with regret. "I really do. But it’s just not coming back to me. Not yet, anyway."
"Is there really no way to get that bullet out of his head?" Steve asked, glancing around the room with clear concern before settling his gaze back on Logan. The worry in his eyes was unmistakable—the old captain refusing to accept that his friend might stay broken forever.
Peter’s face suddenly lit up with an idea. "Actually, wait—can’t Kitty just phase her hand through his skull, grab the bullet, and pull it out on her way back? Or make him intangible while leaving the bullet solid so it just drops right out?" He mimed the entire process enthusiastically, hands slicing through the air in demonstration.
"Who’s Kitty?" Steve asked, brow furrowed in confusion.
Right on cue, Rogue and Kurt clung tightly to Kitty as she phased straight through the door, hitching an invisible ride with her. The trio materialized in the room in a slightly tangled heap before instantly straightening up like soldiers caught out of formation.
Kitty immediately snapped into a perfect salute, her body rigid as a flagpole. "Kitty Pryde! At your service, Captain America, sir!" she shouted, clicking her heels together sharply. She trembled with barely contained excitement, fighting hard not to freak out in front of everyone’s childhood hero.
Steve’s brows knitted together as he noticed the other two flanking her.
Nightcrawler clicked his heels together with dramatic flair and saluted crisply. "Kurt Wagner, codename Nightcrawler! Reporting for duty, Captain America, sir!" he exclaimed, deepening his voice in an overly serious attempt to sound more mature and imposing.
Rogue’s hand shook slightly as she raised it in salute, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "A-Anne Marie... C-Codename: Rogue, Captain Steve Rogers, sir—no, wait—Captain America, sir!" she stammered, mortified by her verbal slip-up but determined to finish strong.
Steve couldn’t help but chuckle, more amused than anything by their starstruck enthusiasm. "At ease, soldiers," he said warmly, the corners of his eyes crinkling with good humor as he waved them down. The genuine affection in his voice instantly put the young mutants at ease, even as they continued beaming with excitement.
His gaze then settled on Kitty, and she visibly deflated under the attention, her hand slowly lowering as her shoulders slumped. "I’m sorry," she said quietly, voice tinged with disappointment in herself. "The skill and precision required to pull that off... it just isn’t something I can do yet. I’d risk hurting him more than helping."
"No one is blaming you, Kitty," Steve said gently, offering her a warm, understanding smile that seemed to light up the room. His expression carried the same steady reassurance he’d once given to nervous recruits on the battlefield. "There’s no need to be so hard on yourself. You’re young and still learning. That kind of control takes time, and you’ve already got an incredible talent from what I’ve seen."
Kitty stared at Steve in a dreamy daze, her cheeks flushing pink. Curious, Jean couldn’t resist taking a quick, subtle peek into the girl’s thoughts. What she heard nearly made her burst out laughing: ’Take me away and let’s run away together...’
"Pffftt!" Jean immediately let out a chortle, quickly covering her mouth and turning away as she tried to compose herself. When she noticed everyone staring at her in confusion, she held up a hand and shook her head. "Nothing, nothing at all."
Kitty’s blush deepened to a full crimson as she suspected exactly what had amused Jean. She buried her face in her hands for a brief second, mortified.
Meanwhile, Peter stood pensively for a moment, fingers tapping against his chin. ’I could have Rogue copy my spider-sense and then copy Kitty’s phasing abilities... but I don’t think *she’d* ever forgive me if I passed up the chance to test out her skills like this.’
"It seems to me you have an idea brewing," Steve observed, his sharp eyes catching Peter’s thoughtful expression. "What is it, son?" He asks wanting to exhaust every possible solution if it means helping Logan.
Peter’s face lit up with mischievous energy. "Have you guys ever tried doing a lobotomy?" he asked, tapping his fingers together with an eager, almost theatrical grin.
A brief, stunned silence fell over the room.
"Hank and I discussed it at length before," Charles answered honestly, his calm voice carrying the weight of careful consideration. "However, this is one of those rare cases where the very power that makes us special becomes a significant hindrance. Due to Logan’s incredible healing factor, surgery is virtually impossible. Any incision we make closes up within seconds, faster than we can work."
"My dear, dear, dear Professor," Peter declared with a grand theatrical gesture, spreading his arms wide as if addressing an audience. "The Amazing Spider-Man, such as myself, finds that the word ’impossible’ is only relative! That word simply doesn’t exist in my vocabulary."
"Does that mean you have a way to suppress his regeneration long enough for us to extract the bullet?" Scott asked, sounding genuinely surprised and a little hopeful.
"I do, actually," Peter replied confidently. "But I’m not going to be the one to do it. Hold on just a minute while I make a phone call." He strolled toward the corner of the room, pulling out his phone with a dramatic flourish.
He tapped on the contact labeled ’basic white girl’—decorated with little ice cream cone and snowflake emojis—then held the phone to his ear. Turning back toward the group, he whispered excitedly while pointing at the device, "It’s ringing!"
"Whatchu want?" Gwen’s deadpan voice echoed clearly from the other line, cutting through the anticipation.
"Mi amor!" Peter practically shouted into the phone in an over-the-top manner. "Mi corazón! My love! My piece of apple pie! My frozen wildflower! Possessor to the key of my heart! The puzzle piece of my soul! My kryptonite and source of strength all rolled into one!!"
Jean placed a hand over her chest and looked toward Scott, jutting out her lips in an endeared expression.
Scott simply shook his head. "You can’t see it, but I’m rolling my eyes," he muttered.
"I’m in the middle of something, what do you want, oh my god," Gwen exclaimed, though her tone betrayed the grin she was clearly trying to suppress.
"Mi vida, how do you feel about putting your skills to the test and performing a genuine lobotomy on someone—?" Peter started to ask cheerfully.
The line went dead. Peter froze mid-sentence. "Hello...? Babes?"
He glanced over his shoulder at the others, who were all staring at him expectantly. Suddenly, Peter burst out laughing as if he’d just heard the funniest joke in the world. "Bahahahaha!! That’s so crazy—no freaking way! You said that to her?! Hahaha, what did she say? What did she say?! Okay, okay... I’ll be sure to tell them, I’ll let them know. Bye, love you. No, you hang up. No, you hang up first. No, you... okay, okay, we’ll hang up at the same time. Three, two—"
"There’s no one on the other line, is there?" Scott asked with a perfectly straight, deadpan expression.
Peter turned around fully, sniffling once theatrically as he slipped his phone back into his pocket. "Nah... she hung up on me."
Before he or anyone else could say another word, a swirling portal of crackling energy materialized beside them. Gwen stepped through wearing her full Ghost-Spider suit, both fists raised and deadly bone claws sliding out from the backs of her hands with a metallic *snikt*.
"Show of hands—who needs to be lobotomized!" she exclaimed enthusiastically as she fully entered the room, striking a dramatic pose.
Logan’s eyes widened. He immediately turned toward the others, pointing accusingly at the X-Men while growling in protest, "No one is letting her anywhere fucking near me!"
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