Hal sat stiffly at one of the open desks inside the police station. The officer across from him barely looked up, scribbling away at a half-completed report as he worked through questioning each kid in turn.
"So," the officer finally said, pen pausing, "what's your name, kid?"
"Kyle," Hal answered smoothly. "Kyle Jordan."
"Maine?" the cop guessed before even asking, scribbling something down.
Hal nodded. "Yeah."
"Parents… one of the Vanished?"
"Both," Hal said, eyes downcast for effect.
The officer gave a long exhale. "Why didn't you join the relocation program a couple years back? You know, the one that sent all displaced kids to D.C.? Did you dodge it?"
"I didn't really know what was going on," Hal lied. "I wasn't close with my parents. After they disappeared, I stuck with a group of homeless kids. Most of them moved on or aged out. I figured I'd try Boston."
"In this weather?" the cop muttered, shaking his head. "How old are you?"
"Sixteen."
The officer narrowed his eyes, still jotting things down. "The others with you—same background?"
Hal shook his head. "Nah. We just met along the way. Grouped up."
The cop clicked his pen shut and stood. "Jesus. Alright. You can go back and sit with the others. Transport's on the way—you won't have to walk another step."
Hal forced a polite smile and rose to his feet. "Thanks, officer."
He was escorted back to the waiting area, where the others sat bundled close together near a flickering heater. Most were nursing cheap coffee in paper cups. Hal sank into a chair, rubbing his hands together to shake off the cold.
As he did, Illyana stood up.
He watched her walk off with the officer, something about her unreadable expression setting him on edge. When they disappeared down the hallway, Hal leaned closer to Rahne.
"Hear anything?" Hal asked quietly.
Rahne shook her head. "No. Not much chatter. Barely any calls at all."
Hal exhaled slowly, then glanced through the glass wall where Illyana now sat, arms crossed, looking impatient. "Keep listening in on her. I don't trust she knows how to lie."
"What makes you think that?" Roberto asked, frowning.
"Are you kidding?" Dani scoffed. "She's unhinged. Didn't you see what she did back in—"
Hal shot her a sharp look, silencing her mid-sentence.
Dani rolled her eyes and shifted gears. "I'm just saying, she doesn't exactly scream 'normal.'"
"Why do you not like her?" Sam asked, tilting his head.
"Sam, you of all people should understand."
"That was different," Sam said. "Totally different situation. And you haven't even talked to her since we left."
Hal raised an eyebrow. "What happened between you two?"
Dani shrugged. "She wasn't exactly… welcoming. When I first arrived."
"Ah," Hal murmured. "So that's why she was having a nightmare."
Dani turned sharply. "What? What do you mean?"
"The doctor," Hal said, lowering his voice. "They turned off your wristband while you were asleep. Wanted to test if I'm immune to your power. Illyana got the backlash."
"That bitch," Dani hissed under her breath.
"Wait—" Roberto leaned forward. "You're saying Dani is the reason I had nightmares last night?"
"Hey, don't blame every bad dream on me," Dani said defensively. "It's not like I can control it. I'm trying, okay? Just… give it time."
"Well, eventually, you'll have to control it," Sam said quietly. "Nightmares don't exactly bring people together. Isn't that your whole thing—making them?"
"No," Hal cut in before Dani could respond. "It's not nightmares. It's Fear Manifestation. Nightmares are the mild effect. But if the fear's strong enough, it can become real. Tangible. That's why they want to shut her down if it can't be managed."
"So you're saying it could be worse?" Roberto asked, eyebrows raised.
Hal gave a reassuring nod. "Don't worry. I've got something similar. I can teach her how to handle it."
Dani blinked. "How many powers do you have?"
Hal only chuckled and gave a noncommittal shrug, then turned back to Rahne, who had remained quiet.
"So?" he asked gently. "What's Illyana saying?"
"She's… saying strange things," Rahne said, her brow furrowed. "The cop asked why a Russian girl like her was even here, and she told him that when her parents vanished, she crossed into Alaska with a group. Said she was taken by bad men, brought here, and eventually escaped."
Hal leaned in slightly, frowning.
"That's all she said," Rahne added. "Refused to give any more detail."
Roberto threw his hands up. "What happened to 'don't use your real story'?"
Hal didn't answer—his eyes were already on the glass partition, watching Illyana and the officer. The cop's expression had changed—gone pale, his face twisted in a mix of pity and barely-contained anger. While Hal himself felt the searing heat of anger coming out of Illyana, as well as a smidge of fear.
Rahne went on. "He told her she didn't have to share more if she didn't want to… just asked if she could at least tell him about the men."
"And?" Hal asked quietly.
"She said they're dead. 'Nothing to tell,'" Rahne repeated, her voice soft.
Roberto let out a sharp scoff. "Seriously? Great. So much for keeping things low—should we run or what?"
"No," Hal said firmly.
"She just blew our—"
"I said it's fine." Hal's tone left no room for argument. "The cop probably took it as something else."
Roberto opened his mouth to protest again, then glanced at Dani—who was staring at him with a cold, knowing look. His face slowly fell as the implication sank in.
"Oh."
They all fell silent.
Through the glass, Hal watched as Illyana and the officer stood up. The cop looked rattled, like he'd been hit with something heavy and personal. He murmured something to her, then guided her out of the interview room and back toward the group.
"You kids are… tougher than most I've seen," the officer said quietly as Illyana sat down. His voice had softened. "When you get to the refugee center, make sure to check in with someone. A doctor, a counselor—whatever you can. They'll have support there."
He looked around at all of them.
"The transport's almost here. You can wait outside if you'd like."
—
The "transport" the cops had mentioned turned out to be a small black bus, worn around the edges, with Boston Refugee Center stenciled in white across the side. No escort, no guards—just a lone driver in a faded social services uniform.
No one questioned it. They just grabbed their bags and climbed in, grateful for the extra space. The seats were old but padded, and after days of walking and tension, it felt like luxury. Everyone settled in with a collective exhale—no trap, no chase, no alarms. Just a ride.
The bus rolled along the highway, slow and steady, the road ahead quiet and empty like the rest of the world. Hal sat in the very back, his eyes wandering. Across the aisle, Illyana took a window seat on the right. She was staring out in silence, jaw clenched, as if holding back something too heavy to name.
Hal shifted over, leaning across the narrow aisle.
"You alright?" he asked quietly.
She turned toward him. Her face, as always, was unreadable. "What? Why are you asking that?"
"I can feel it," Hal said. "Your emotions. Anger. Fear."
Illyana scoffed. "Fear? I'm not afraid."
"You can't lie to me. Not about that."
"No." Her voice was calm but firm. "It's your power that's wrong."
Hal let out a tired sigh and leaned back, shaking his head. "Fine. Believe whatever you want. Just… if something happens, don't lose it. We don't have room for that kind of chaos. Not now. We need to stick together."
He slid back into his seat, resting his head against the cool glass of the window. Outside, the highway stretched on, lifeless and vast. Not a single car in sight. Not a single sign of movement. He clicked his tongue, staring out at the silent horizon. It was the first time he truly felt the weight of what the world had become since the Snap.
Everything looked… hollow. Like the world itself had stopped breathing.
Hal's eyes drifted to the seat in front of him. Sam sat there, slouched and still. He looked just like the world outside—quiet, broken, and maybe a little too used to it.
What comes after this?
Hal didn't know. None of them did.
Maybe they'd make it to the Avengers compound. Maybe they'd be accepted, given shelter, protection… purpose. That was the best-case scenario. But if not?
Well, he had other places in mind. A few distant maybes. But even those weren't guarantees. Who would take them in? Who would want them?
And beyond that—what then? Drift around? Hide forever? Wait for the next lab, the next cage?
He exhaled slowly, eyes dropping to the scuffed floor beneath his feet. That future didn't sit right with him. It never would.
What he wanted—what he needed—was to find others like them. Mutants. Survivors. Strays. There was no Professor X in this world, no savior waiting with open arms, or at least, he guessed so with how this reality's situation is. The dream of a school, of safety, of a guiding hand… it was just that. A dream.
Could he be that hand?
Hal didn't feel ready. Not even close. He was still a young man—technically even younger now, teenager—just barely clawing his way back to life after years strapped to a hospital bed. Now he was free, but that freedom came with weight. With expectation.
Leading mutantkind? Uniting them under one banner?
It sounded impossible. But the word mutant meant something to him now. It was more than a label. It was identity. It was his.
And somewhere out there, he knew there were others who weren't as lucky as his group—others still trapped, hunted, dissected like animals in labs with no one coming to save them. That thought burned through his chest like fire.
But it was too soon. Too far. Too uncertain. First, they needed safety. Somewhere out of their hunters' reach. That was the priority.
His thoughts were interrupted when Rahne dropped into the seat beside him, her sudden appearance making him flinch slightly.
"What's up?" he asked, straightening.
"I might be… a wee bit too paranoid," she said, her voice low. "But I noticed somethin'."
Hal tilted his head. "Yeah?"
"There's still nae cars about," she said. "Which is normal, I suppose. But I heard engines up ahead. They're no movin'—just… idlin'."
Hal's eyes narrowed. "Like they're waiting."
Rahne nodded slowly. "Like a blockade."
Hal's jaw clenched. "Go to the back of the bus," he said. "Quietly. Tell the others to do the same."
Without another word, Rahne stood and started moving, whispering instructions seat by seat. The tension in the bus shifted—silent, but heavy.
Hal's gaze drifted to Illyana. She'd heard. She was watching him.
"No fights," he told her calmly.
Illyana's lips curled into a slight smirk, her eyes gleaming with something unreadable.
She didn't say a word.