JohnnyZ
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[Life is Good] Chapter 30
🕑 Added 2025-01-07 19:43:12 +0000 UTCReturning to the mansion didn’t exactly feel triumphant—no welcoming committee, no fanfare, no red carpet. We just parked the car. Yuriko dismissed me to catch up on sleep, adding that I was responsible for suit maintenance and would get instructions from McCoy tomorrow. Already half-asleep, I trudged to my room. The adrenaline rush from earlier had long since faded, and the hallways were empty—weekend vibes. Even the early risers weren’t out for their jog yet. Winter mornings, still dark.
I stripped out of my suit and collapsed onto the bed. Thoughts? Nah, didn’t have any. The warmth and quiet swallowed me whole, and I passed out before I even knew it.
A loud knock jolted me awake. For a moment, I thought I was home and Ginger was banging on my door. Nope—this was school, and my visitor had grown impatient. The door burst open without warning. Of course. Jubilee. There she was, standing there, big eyes staring. She opened her mouth to speak but lost her train of thought. Probably because I sleep naked. Blankets? Unnecessary. And, well, I’m fifteen. Let’s just say the monument of male biology proudly salutes the morning sun. Today was no exception.
"Jubes," I muttered groggily. "Did you want something?"
Her gaze snapped to my face, and she blushed furiously. Either she actually could be embarrassed, or her mind went somewhere very, very dirty.
"Uh-huh! Toby, I—" Her eyes flicked to my suit hanging casually on the chair. Her expression morphed into one of wide-eyed, chipmunk-on-a-sugar-high excitement. "IT WAS YOU, WASN’T IT?! You’re Mister Mutant! Tobias!!! You HAVE to tell me everything! We saw it on the news! You’re SO COOL!!! A mutant superhero—saving eighteen people from slavery, melting metal, shooting electricity, glowing face, camo suit—that was YOU, wasn’t it?!"
"Uhhh…" Well. That’s game over, folks. My secret identity? Toast. Yuriko didn’t say anything about this part. "Jubes. Be a pal. Let me wake up? Shower, coffee—comprende?" I asked as I stood, side-stepping with my pants in hand, using them as a makeshift shield while I shuffled toward the bathroom.
"Toby, I’ll die of curiosity while you’re waking up! How will you face Anna-Marie knowing you killed her best friend with boredom?" she hounded me, following right into the bathroom.
"She’ll kill you herself when she finds out you were spying on a guy taking a leak. What’s with this fetish? Wait in the room, for the love of—!" I groaned, exasperated.
"Just hurry!" she yelled through the door. "My life is in your hands!"
Jubilee. Terrifying. I got under the shower, praying she’d get distracted by something shiny and leave. Patience wasn’t her thing. Waiting was torture.
Wishful thinking. Voices outside told me she’d recruited a crowd. Great. I wrapped up my shower, toweled off, and stepped out, prepared for more insanity.
Five pairs of eyes. Five distinct expressions. And five blushing faces. Guess I forgot how impressive a shirtless guy, still damp, with a muscled torso, could be to an audience. Didn’t quite wake up enough for that. So there they were: purple-faced Kristiana biting her lip, Rogue and Jubilee redder than tomatoes, and Windy and Raisa doing their best to look away.
I snorted, slipped on a shirt, and laced up my shoes. "You girls joining me for a run?"
A chorus of "already did" and "it’s almost lunch" answered back, followed by Jubilee’s siren wail, demanding details about my heroic night. I gave a quick five-minute summary on the way out. The whole thing earned a squeal of "Awesome!" from Jubes, a sprinting retreat toward the common room, and a quick kiss from Kristiana after a tight hug. She didn’t look thrilled. Probably a chat waiting there. Raisa punched my arm with a grin. "Nice work, champ."
Secret identity? Yeah, right… Screw it. Jubilee would’ve made something up, and her version? A thousand warrior women in power armor, a demon army, Godzilla getting its jaw ripped open, and a celebratory orgy. This was better.
After my morning workout, I headed for lunch just as it started. Halfway through stuffing my face, Storm intercepted me with orders for McCoy’s lab. Might as well, right? I grabbed my suit and headed over.
Inside were Beast, Magneto, Xavier, Logan, and Yuriko. Beast looked focused, Magneto pleased, Xavier and Logan… less so. Yuriko? Blank as ever.
"Hello, ladies and gentleman," I greeted.
"Good morning, Mister Mutant," Magneto—Erika—smiled brightly. She loved that name. Figures. Anything with mutant in it made her happy. If she had to pick between Amazing Coffee Maker and Crappy Junk with Mutant Branding, she’d take the junk and rave about it. Me? Not a fan. Should’ve picked something cooler.
"Congrats on a brilliant debut."
"Uh… thanks. Bit unexpected."
"It was Miss Oyama’s idea," Xavier explained. "She found the location, learned the timing of the transport, and suggested it as a training exercise. We intended to enhance mutant reputation with this operation. Logan and I were opposed, but Miss Lehnsherr"—a sharp look at Erika—"and Miss Oyama presented… compelling arguments."
"Got it," I replied, wondering why the whole group had assembled.
"Kid, how do you feel about all this?" Logan asking questions, and with a pinch of concern? That… probably meant I should check outside to see if black snow was falling or if Blood Raven drop pods were landing.
"Honestly? I'm fine with it." I shrugged. "The Colonel Stryker incident taught me that being able to protect yourself is a must. No training can replace real experience. So, yeah, I’m even in favor—just maybe with less surprise next time."
"It’ll always be a surprise," Yuriko interjected. She paused, then added, "Almost always." Naturally, she didn’t elaborate. But hey, that’s what Erika was for.
"It really is a good idea, Tobias," she said. "Trouble never makes an appointment. And if you're serious about gaining experience, learning to handle sudden missions is a crucial skill."
"Without a briefing, building layout, or weapon intel?" Logan’s lip curled in disdain.
"There was nothing dangerous there," Yuriko said with the patience of someone explaining basic math to a toddler. "Six idiots with popguns, no bombs, no traps. Building layout?" She scoffed. "You’re not always going to have that luxury. If you have vision that detects wiring, heat sources, and air exchange systems, not using and developing it would be plain stupid."
"So, what’d you say to him?" Logan’s growl deepened. "Lemme guess: ‘Fight over there, slaves in the basement’?"
"If you coddle him, what’s the point of even training him?" Oh, Yuriko could growl too. Who knew? "We could’ve gone in, wrapped it up ourselves, and let him just free the prisoners. Boom—instant Captain America for mutants. With balls, a symbol for the masses. But does that teach him anything?" She waved dismissively, clearly done with the nonsense.
"She’s right, James," Xavier sighed.
"If you send them out unprepared, they end up dead," Logan shot back.
"Experience is the hard school of mistakes." Erika smiled faintly. "And in this case, the risk was negligible. His abilities make him uniquely suited. Frankly, he was better than Colossus would’ve been—stealth and subtlety don’t exactly run in her family. And look, not a single shot fired."
"And if this one"—Logan jerked his head toward Yuriko—"was wrong, and the place was rigged—"
"Logan," Erika interrupted smoothly. "These weren’t terrorists. They’re traffickers. Blowing themselves up to avoid capture? That’s not their style. Mass-murdering kidnapped girls would only increase their sentence. Right now, they’re looking at kidnapping charges—heinous, but survivable. Now, if it were boys in the mix? Sure. But those jobs come with much higher stakes and a whole different kind of client. This was standard fare. Low risk. Yuriko’s training approach works, and you’ve said yourself that the boy’s making progress."
"Enough," Xavier interjected, her calm finality cutting through the brewing storm. "Tobias, I realize it’s late to be explaining this, but I want you to understand our reasoning. After Stryker’s facility was destroyed, mutant-positive media coverage spiked. We don’t know why or who’s driving it, but it’s advantageous. In response, we debated pushing the narrative further. Erika suggested we spotlight you—a mutant boy rescuing innocents. It’s a narrative people can rally around. If those behind the media shift are genuinely supportive, we’ll see a favorable response. If not, we’ll reevaluate. Yuriko proposed combining this effort with practical training, shifting from a staged event to a live mission. Now, I ask—are you willing to participate in more operations like this?"
"Professor Xavier," I straightened, my tone formal, my posture respectful. "The mutant community has done so much for me—sheltered me, protected me. You feed, clothe, train, and help me stay connected with my family. Refusing to repay that kindness would make me an ungrateful pig. No, worse—an ungrateful spherical pig in a vacuum. I’m genuinely thankful for this chance. It’s not just about helping others, which matters to me and those I care about; it’s also about helping mutants—my family."
Every word I spoke was true. These people owed me nothing, yet they gave freely because I was one of them. They deserved my gratitude, respect, and loyalty. Erika wasn’t wrong—we are a family. Here, helping, supporting, and understanding each other was just how things worked. Good deserves good in return. That’s my creed—one I’ve lived by through two lives. It’s kept my conscience clean, my soul at peace. And judging by the smiles around me, I’d said exactly the right thing.
"Thank you, Tobias," Xavier beamed. "Then we’ll leave you with Dr. McCoy. Miss Oyama mentioned you had some ideas for improving your suit."
As they left, I muttered a slightly embarrassed farewell and focused on Beast. After a quick lesson on suit maintenance, I brought up a minor improvement: armor for the… vulnerable areas. McCoy chuckled but agreed. sHe even promised additional camo designs, ranging from urban to desert.
We also refined the mask—my idea for a swirly orange spiral was vetoed, but the final concept? Inspired by a Quarian helmet from Mass Effect: a face-shielding visor with one-way armored glass and snug fabric to protect my head and neck from heat during my outbursts. Since I still couldn’t project electricity at range, conductive elements were embedded throughout the suit for shock-delivering punches. Meanwhile, light and heat didn’t have the same limitations. More experimentation ahead…
Yuriko Oyama, Lady Deathstrike.
Everything was going perfectly. The timely insight from the community’s matriarchs, Lensherr’s proposal, and the adjustments Yuriko suggested had all come together to initiate the proper “education” of Onryo. Tossing him straight into the flames of hell right away? That would have been a moronic move—though she had to admit, the thought of watching him revel in vengeance once more was tempting… But too much blood too soon doesn’t temper; it breaks. Everything needed to be done in steps. And crossing Magneto, who practically treated the boy like her own grandson—if not her son—would’ve been entirely unnecessary. The trick was to start with easy missions, then increase the difficulty gradually, setting up situations that would push Tobias toward the right realizations and conclusions. Introduce him to people who’d leave just the right kind of impression on his impressionable mind.
Like Francine Castle, the redheaded killer with her arms practically soaked in blood. Or Deadpool... though she needed to tread carefully there. Yuriko shuddered as she recalled her own ill-fated incursion into Wilson’s apartment. The shrine she found, filled with photos of Tobias… including one where he was on the toilet. And that lab director from the Striker complex, where they’d experimented on him—locked away in a soundproof room. Still alive, though death would’ve been a kinder fate. Even Yuriko had felt a flicker of pity for the woman as she hung mutilated on hooks.
Yuriko Oyama understood better than anyone that she was far from sane. The fractures in her mind were part of her training, designed both to enforce loyalty through obsessive fixation and to thwart telepaths, for whom delving into madness could be as uncomfortable as it was perilous. That discipline, combined with the inherent chaos of her thoughts, let her maintain a veneer of control that even someone like Xavier couldn’t easily pierce. Oh, if the professor ever truly focused all her power on Yuriko, she’d undoubtedly unravel everything. Xavier was a mutant of terrifying strength. But Yuriko’s genuine desire to protect and teach Onryo—those thoughts, shining at the surface—were enough to conceal the darker, deeper truths beneath.
The truth was simple: shaping him into a true spirit of vengeance wasn’t just a goal. It was an obsession. Another twist in her broken psyche. And there was no part of her that resisted it.
He was a block of marble, a work-in-progress waiting for a sculptor. In the right hands—her hands—he could become a masterpiece. A force of nature. Ruthless to his enemies. Fearless. Bound by unshakable resolve to protect the ones he loved. The trick was balance. Too much pressure would shatter him, turning him into a monster like… her mother.
She giggled, the sound low and eerie.
Recently, someone had made her an offer fit for royalty. It aligned perfectly with her ambitions. They would make Tobias stronger, and in exchange? She’d be given her mother’s head.
Oh, how she’d build a shrine for that head. A temple, even. Her mother’s twisted, hateful visage would have a place of honor on the wall.
The only remaining question: who were these people?
Patience might be wise. But the fact that they knew about her, about her connection to Onryo, made her suspicious. Someone close to Tobias—perhaps even someone from the school—was feeding them information.
Were they patrons? Or players on a grander board, moving pieces to craft a mutant pawn?
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