The spacious meeting room in Xavier's mansion was quiet, the soft hum of technology filling the air as Wanda Maximoff, Gwen Stacy, and Jean Grey waited for the arrival of the man who led the X-Men. Wanda leaned back in her chair, her crimson aura glowing faintly as she rested her chin on her hand. Gwen, perched on the edge of the table, absently fiddled with her Tazer of Truth, while Jean sat with her usual poise, though there was a subtle tension in her shoulders.
The door opened with a faint hiss, and in rolled Charles Xavier on his sleek, futuristic wheelchair. His bald head gleamed under the fluorescent lights, but it was the reflective mirror sunglasses perched on his face that immediately caught everyone's attention.
"Jean, Wanda, Gwen," Charles greeted warmly. "Apologies for the delay. I was assisting Storm with some training outside and, well... I lost track of time."
Jean's frown deepened as she stared at him. "Professor, it's nighttime. Why are you wearing sunglasses?"
Charles froze for a split second, then reached up to remove the offending glasses, his expression calm but slightly sheepish. "Ah, yes. A simple mistake. You see, the glare from... uh... the outdoor lights can sometimes be quite harsh on my eyes."
Jean raised an eyebrow. "Glare from the outdoor lights? At night?"
Charles cleared his throat, expertly deflecting. "I assure you, it's nothing suspicious. And certainly not anything as absurd as what you might be implying."
Wanda rolled her eyes, suppressing a smirk as she exchanged a glance with Gwen. I don't even have to try, and women gravitate toward me. Meanwhile, these guys seem to be compensating for... something.
Fracture's voice echoed in her mind. "At least you don't need sunglasses to win people over. These men are practically begging for attention."
"True," Wanda thought with a mental chuckle. "I'll take being naturally magnetic over that any day."
Shaking off the moment of levity, Wanda turned her attention back to Charles, her crimson eyes narrowing slightly. "Professor, we keep running into members of the Brotherhood of Mutants. They're recruiting aggressively and talking about Magneto building some kind of device—something dangerous to humans."
Charles's expression grew serious as he leaned forward in his chair. "A device? Do you have any details?"
Wanda shook her head. "Not much. The last Brotherhood member we encountered mentioned it, but he wasn't exactly cooperative."
Jean glanced at her. "What happened to him?"
Wanda's expression didn't waver as she said calmly, "He's dead. I killed him."
The room fell silent for a moment, the weight of Wanda's words settling over them. Before anyone could respond, the door opened again, and in strode Logan—Wolverine himself. His boots thudded against the floor, his trademark cigar clenched between his teeth as he surveyed the room.
"So, you're the one who took down a Brotherhood mutant," Logan said, his gruff voice tinged with amusement as he sized up Wanda. "Not bad, little lady. Nice work ethic. And I gotta say, you've got one hell of a fashion sense."
Wanda arched an eyebrow, a faint smirk playing on her lips. "Flattery will get you nowhere, Logan."
"Wasn't trying to flatter," Logan replied with a shrug. "Just calling it like I see it."
For a moment, the two locked eyes, and an unspoken understanding passed between them. The others in the room exchanged confused glances, but Wanda and Logan seemed to exist in their own world.
Logan's internal monologue kicked in as he took Wanda's measure. This one's a real badass. Takes out Brotherhood mutants, doesn't flinch, and rocks a suit that's basically alive. I like her.
Meanwhile, Wanda's thoughts mirrored his sentiment, though with her usual wry humor. This guy's a total badass. He looks like he eats nails for breakfast and probably has a second cigar lit just in case the first one runs out. Respect.
After a beat, Logan broke the silence. "You've got guts, Maximoff. I like that."
Wanda's smirk widened. "The feeling's mutual."
Jean cleared her throat, breaking the tension. "So, uh, back to the Brotherhood..."
As Logan took a seat near the back of the room, he frowned, his sharp eyes narrowing as he glanced at Charles. "What's with the sunglasses, Chuck? It's nighttime."
Charles, who had carefully placed the sunglasses on the table beside him, straightened in his chair. "As I explained earlier, they were for... the glare of the outdoor lights."
Logan snorted. "Right. Because that makes sense."
Jean, still frowning, added, "It's not just Charles. Cyclops was wearing them earlier too. And I've seen other guys here doing the same thing. Is there some kind of sunglasses club I don't know about?"
Gwen perked up at that, her spider-sense tingling faintly as she recalled her earlier thoughts. "It's not just here. My friend Peter and Harry Osborne do the same thing. Always wearing sunglasses, even indoors."
Logan raised an eyebrow. "That's weird."
"You're telling me," Gwen muttered. "I'm starting to think there's a worldwide sunglasses-wearing conspiracy. And it's always men. What are they compensating for?"
Logan chuckled, shaking his head. "Don't look at me. I don't need glasses."
Wanda smirked. "Good to know some of you can still be trusted."
As the conversation shifted back to Magneto, Charles regained his composure. "If Magneto is indeed building a device, we need to act quickly. I'll reach out to our contacts and gather as much information as possible."
"And in the meantime?" Wanda asked.
"In the meantime," Charles said, "I suggest you and your team get some rest. You'll need it for what's ahead."
Wanda nodded, though her mind was already racing with possibilities. The Brotherhood, Magneto's plans, and now the growing strangeness surrounding the men and their sunglasses—it all felt connected somehow, even if she couldn't see the full picture yet.
As the meeting was about to end, Jean instinctively moved to Wanda's side again, her telekinetic aura faintly flickering as she caught another whiff of Wanda's scent. Why does she always smell so good? Jean wondered, her cheeks flushing faintly.
Gwen, meanwhile, glanced between Wanda and Jean, her brow furrowing slightly. "Am I missing something here, or are you two just really good at standing suspiciously close to each other?"
Wanda chuckled. "Just trying to make sure Jean feels supported."
Jean smiled, though her thoughts betrayed her growing intrigue. Maybe Storm's right. Maybe trusting women is the way to go... especially women like Wanda. As the professor was just leaving.
Suddenly, Wanda paused, a realization flashing through her mind as she turned to Charles.
"Charles, I just remembered something interesting while we were waiting for you. There was someone who looked like they didn't belong here. They weren't wearing any sunglasses, which felt off—just like all of you."
Charles cleared his throat, expertly deflecting her observation. "I assure you, it's nothing suspicious. And certainly nothing as absurd as what you might be implying."
Wanda tilted her head slightly, watching him with a mix of amusement and skepticism. "Nothing suspicious at all? Like, say, someone sneaking around where they don't belong?"
Charles blinked, his smile faltering for a brief moment. "What do you mean?"
"I mean I noticed one of your male professors earlier," Wanda said casually, as if the topic was of little consequence. "And unlike the rest of your male staff, he wasn't wearing sunglasses."
Charles froze. His hands tightened around the armrests of his wheelchair, his usual calm demeanor slipping as the weight of her words hit him. His expression darkened with a sudden, uncomfortable realization. "What did you just say?"
Wanda leaned forward, her tone sharp. "I said he wasn't wearing sunglasses. You know, those reflective ones that seem to be a mandatory accessory for men around here."
Charles's jaw clenched, and for the first time since entering the room, his composure cracked. "Oh, no. We have an intruder."
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