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The vast Atlantic Ocean stretched endlessly in all directions—deep, blue, and impossibly calm. In the middle of it, a lone dinghy drifted aimlessly, its only passenger a man dressed in flowing purple-and-gold robes. His long black hair danced in the salty breeze, tied messily at the back, loose strands framing his sharp, almost mischievous face.
The oar? Not an oar. But an ancient, legendary staff—the Ruyi Jingu Bang, Its length shifted, shrank, and extended as Jack used it to touch the ocean floor, effortlessly propelling his little boat forward.
Somewhere behind Jack, several coast guard patrol boats lurked in the distance, their crews squinting in confusion at the sight before them.
In a nearby classified military facility, alarms were going off. Screens showed live satellite footage of a high-profile, unpredictable meta-human casually rowing out to sea.
"HOW THE HELL DID JACK HOU GET A BOAT?!" a general roared, slamming his fists on the control panel.
"Sir, we have no idea where he got it from!" a soldier stammered.
"HE'S A GODDAMN CRIMINAL WARLORD, NOT A FISHERMAN!"
"Sir, should we intercept?"
The general stared at the screen. Jack was just… rowing. On a tiny boat. With a stick. He let out a deep, defeated sigh. "…Just keep watching him."
Meanwhile, Jack was in high spirits. He cleared his throat and, with zero shame, began to sing loudly across the water.
🎶 "Every night in my dreams, I see you, I feel you, That is how I know you go on~" 🎶
His voice echoed over the quiet ocean, causing seagulls to squawk in protest. He grinned. "Ahhh, nothing like a bit of Celine Dion to set the mood!" His grip on the Ruyi Jingu Bang tightened.
🎶 "Near, far, wherever you are—" 🎶
Then his eyes narrowed in realization. He gasped. "Oh. Oh no." He stopped. "…WAIT A DAMN MINUTE." His eyes widened, as if he had just made a horrifying revelation. He whispered to himself. "His name… was Jack Dawson." He pointed at himself. "I am Jack Hou."
His mouth opened in shock. "AM I THE SPIRITUAL REINCARNATION OF JACK DAWSON?!" He clutched his chest dramatically. "NO WONDER I'M SO HANDSOME AND TRAGIC!" He sighed, staring wistfully at the horizon. "If only I had my Rose with me…"
Then, suddenly, his expression darkened. His eyes narrowed, his brows furrowed, and his lips curled into a scowl. His voice dropped into a low, angry whisper. "…That bitch let me die."
His fingers twitched. "There was clearly enough room on that plank of wood for the both of us!" He grabbed his hair in frustration. "AHHH, THE MISERY OF A HANDSOME MAN!" He collapsed backward into the boat, groaning in existential pain.
The coast guards watching through binoculars were now deeply concerned. One of them turned to his superior. "Uh… sir? Do we… do we do something?"
The officer stared at Jack—who was now dramatically rolling around in his boat, shaking his fists at the sky. A long silence. "…No," the officer finally said. "Just let him go."
Jack lay flat on his back, staring at the sky. The waves gently rocked the boat. A seagull landed on the edge of his dinghy. Jack slowly turned his head to look at it. "…She could've moved over," he muttered. The seagull just tilted its head.
Jack groaned loudly. "I WOULD HAVE MOVED OVER FOR HER!" The seagull squawked. Jack sat up, pointing at it. "See?! Even you agree!" The seagull took off in terror.
Jack sighed. He adjusted his robes, gripped his legendary staff, and continued rowing. "Well. Off to cause more trouble." The rowboat drifted forward, disappearing into the endless blue.
The sun hung high in the sky, reflecting off the vast, shimmering ocean. The gentle lapping of waves against the small wooden boat was the only sound—aside from the occasional giddy laughter of the boat's lone passenger.
Then—He felt it. A faint, yet undeniable energy brushed against the edges of his awareness. Jack's eyes snapped upward. Through the endless blue sky, something flickered. It was fast—moving at high speed, nearly invisible, hidden by its advanced camouflage technology.
Most would never notice it. Jack did. A smirk tugged at his lips. "Oh? What do we have here?" His golden eyes followed the jet's exact path, as if it were moving in slow motion to him.
It was the X-Men's Blackbird. "Hah. What are the nerds up to?" Jack muttered, watching it soar above him.
But it wasn't the jet that caught his interest. It was the presence inside. Or more specifically—Jean Grey. Her energy stood out like a golden beacon—no, something deeper. Something older. Something… divine.
Jack's smirk faded into mild curiosity. He squinted. "Tch. That's a godly entity." It wasn't just mutant power. There was something far greater, something cosmic lurking beneath her surface. Something trapped.
Jack once studied her energy closely, observing how it flickered—like a sealed fire struggling to escape its lantern.
But Jean had no idea. Jack exhaled through his nose. "Huh. Someone's been suppressing her memories." He tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Whoever this dumbass is, he's one hell of a dumb guy."
Back at the Xavier Mansion…
Inside the dimly lit Cerebro Room, Charles Xavier sat in the center, his bald head glistening under the soft blue glow of the massive Cerebro interface. Beside him stood Hank "Beast" McCoy, Moira MacTaggert, and Storm, all watching closely monitoring the team on the mission.
Then—Xavier scratched his ear. A slight itch. It was sudden. Unexplainable. "Hmm." Moira tilted her head. "Something wrong, Charles?"
Xavier paused, then shook his head. "…Nothing. My ear just felt itchy all of a sudden."
Moira blinked. Storm raised an eyebrow. Hank adjusted his glasses. "You are a telepath with access to the consciousness of every living mind on the planet, and you're telling me the most noteworthy thing happening right now is that your ear is itchy?"
Xavier frowned. "I'm simply noting it, Hank. Don't be sarcastic."
Storm smirked. "Maybe it's a psychic warning that someone is talking about you."
Xavier sighed. "If that were the case, my ears would never stop burning."
Jack snickered to himself as he rowed. "Well, no need to worry about it now." He looked up again, watching the jet fade into the horizon. A sharp gleam appeared in his golden eyes. "Let's follow them, shall we?"
Jack turned to his staff, giving it a few playful taps. "What do you say, buddy? A detour for more adventure?" The Ruyi Jingu Bang trembled in response. A shiver of excitement.
Jack let out a wild, giddy laugh. "KEKEKEKEKEKE! ALRIGHT THEN!" With one swift motion, he gripped the staff, adjusted its length, and suddenly rowed faster—his movements unnaturally smooth, like a force beyond physics was propelling him forward.
His tiny dinghy picked up speed. Faster. Faster. The coast guards watching from afar squinted in absolute confusion.
One of them lowered his binoculars. "…Did that guy's rowboat just accelerate like a speedboat?"
Another guard, still watching, slowly nodded. "Yep."
A long, painful pause. The first guard sighed, rubbing his temples. "Goddamn metas."
Jack, meanwhile, was grinning ear to ear, his boat slicing through the water like a missile. His golden eyes never left the direction of the Blackbird. "Alright, nerds. Let's see what kinda mess you're getting into."
…
The Blackbird hovered in the sky, maintaining a steady altitude above the mysterious island below. The entire landscape was shrouded in thick, swirling clouds—a strange anomaly that prevented any visual or technological scans from piercing through.
Scott Summers sat at the controls, his hands steady on the flight stick. His visor reflected the holographic displays in front of him—each one flashing uncertainty as the sensors failed to penetrate the mist.
"What the hell is this…?" he muttered under his breath.
Then—A voice from behind. "No can do, brother."
Scott turned his head slightly, seeing Alex Summers leaning forward, eyes locked on the monitoring screens. His expression was serious. "The island is full of clouds, and we can't scan past it."
Scott looked at the readings—Alex was right. Something was blocking their instruments. Scott's expression hardened. This wasn't normal.
A holographic feed flickered to life on the dashboard, showing Professor Xavier, Beast, Moira, and Storm watching the operation from the X-Mansion.
"Scott, do you see any—" Xavier began, but then—
Storm raised a hand. "Let him lead." Xavier hesitated. Storm continued, "It's his mission. We don't just want a feed of what's happening. Let's see what he does."
A moment of silence. Xavier nodded in agreement. Scott, who had been waiting for instructions, stiffened slightly at the realization. This was his mission. His breathing slowed. Inhale. Exhale.
Then—"Alright." His voice was firm. "There's a slight chance this cloud cover is from a new technology… or even a meta-human ability. We need to be careful."
His focus sharpened as he looked at his team. "Jean—" Jean Grey perked up, her fingers already pressed against her temple. "I want you to use your telepathic impressions to scan the island. See if you can detect any restrained mutants—or possible hostiles."
Jean nodded. "Understood."
"Petra—" The young geomancer straightened her posture. "Use your abilities to rattle the island. See if you can detect any underground bases or structures."
Petra smirked. "I'll make the earth talk."
"Bobby, Alex—" Both turned to Scott, waiting. "You're with me. Your priority is to protect Jean and Petra. There's a strong chance we'll have to fight, so be ready."
The two exchanged a glance, then nodded. Scott exhaled deeply. "We'll land on the beach. Gear up—we deploy in two minutes."
Leaning against the wall of the jet, Logan let out a gruff chuckle. "Not bad, Slim."
Scott rolled his eyes. "Don't give me that." He shook his head. "There's a bigger chance I'll mess this up. We need to stay alert."
Logan's smirk didn't fade. "That's the difference between a kid and a leader, Summers." Scott turned away, focusing on his gear. The mission was about to begin.
**A/N**
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