Harry Potter: The Revenant

The metallic latches of the crate groaned in protest as Natasha unfastened them, her every movement precise, her jaw set with grim determination. Beside her, May held her weapon at the ready, her eyes scanning their surroundings for any signs of an ambush. Years of experience had taught them both to expect the worst, but neither of them was prepared for what they found.

As the lid creaked open, the contents of the crate were revealed, and both women froze.

Inside were children. Some were huddled together, their tiny frames trembling with fear, while others lay limp, unconscious, their small faces pale and gaunt. Around each of their necks was a metallic collar, faintly glowing with a sinister red light. Their clothes were torn, their eyes hollow, and the air was thick with the acrid stench of despair.

Natasha sucked in a sharp breath, her fingers curling into fists at her sides. Her voice was low and cold, the edges of her words sharp as broken glass. "They're trafficking kids. Mutant kids." Her eyes flicked to May, who was staring at the collars with a frown that deepened with every passing second.

"Those collars," May said, her voice tight, "they're not just for control. This is tech—high-grade. Designed to suppress abilities." She crouched beside one of the children, examining the device. "These aren't just prisoners. They've been weaponized."

Natasha's lips pressed into a thin line, her anger barely contained. "Klaue's scum, but this? This is a whole new level." She knelt in front of a young boy near the edge of the crate, who was staring up at her with wide, tear-filled eyes. His voice was barely above a whisper.

"Are you here to save us?"

The words cut through Natasha like a knife. She forced herself to soften her expression, her voice losing some of its edge as she crouched down to his level. "Yeah, kid," she said gently. "We're here to get you out of this mess. No one's going to hurt you anymore."

The boy nodded, his small hands clutching the edge of the crate. Natasha reached out and ruffled his hair lightly before standing. "May," she said, her voice hard again, "we need to move fast. If these collars are tied to a central system, Klaue might have a kill switch."

May nodded, already assessing the logistics of getting the children out safely. "We'll need to deactivate them once we're clear. I can handle it, but we can't waste time here."

The sound of a heavy footstep behind them drew their attention, and they both turned as King T'Chaka approached, his presence commanding. His black-and-gold armor shimmered faintly in the moonlight, every step he took exuding an air of authority and control. His eyes, sharp and discerning, swept over the children before settling on Natasha and May.

"What have you found?" His voice was deep, steady, and carried the weight of someone who had ruled with wisdom and strength for decades.

"Your worst nightmare," Natasha replied bitterly, stepping aside to give him a clear view of the crate. "Mutant kids. Trafficked. Collared. God knows what they've been through."

T'Chaka's jaw tightened, the lines of his face etched with fury. He stepped closer, his gaze locking onto the children. Then, his eyes caught on one figure in particular—a girl sitting at the back of the crate, her posture straighter than the others, her expression unbroken. She was striking, her dark skin glowing faintly under the pale light, her white hair cascading around her shoulders like a storm cloud. Her piercing blue eyes met his without flinching, filled with a quiet strength that belied her age.

"You," T'Chaka said, his tone softer now, almost gentle. "What is your name?"

The girl tilted her chin up slightly, her voice steady despite the tremor of exhaustion in her limbs. "Ororo," she said. "Ororo Munroe."

Natasha's brow furrowed at the name. It was familiar, though she couldn't place it. "Ororo," she said, stepping closer, her voice quieter. "Do you know where they were taking you?"

Ororo hesitated, her gaze flicking to the other children before returning to Natasha. "To someone who wants us for what we are," she said simply. Her voice was calm, but there was a fire beneath her words, a defiance that hadn't been extinguished despite everything she'd endured. "They wanted to make us into weapons. But I won't let them."

May exchanged a glance with Natasha, her expression grim. "She's got spirit," May said under her breath. "We need to get her and the others out. Now."

T'Chaka nodded, his voice firm again. "We will not leave these children to suffer. You have my word, Ororo. You will be safe in Wakanda."

Before anyone could respond, a sharp noise pierced the air—a distant shout, followed by the rumble of heavy footsteps. The remnants of Klaue's mercenaries were regrouping, their weapons primed as they closed in on the compound.

"Dammit," Natasha muttered, drawing her pistols. "We've got company."

T'Chaka stepped forward, his claws extending with a metallic snikt. "I will deal with them," he said, his tone brooking no argument. "Protect the children."

Natasha opened her mouth to protest but stopped at the look in his eyes. This was a king who had made his decision. "Fine," she said, turning to May. "Let's get these kids moving."

As May began guiding the children out of the crate, Natasha crouched next to Ororo again. "Stay close to me, okay? I'll keep you safe."

Ororo hesitated, then nodded, her blue eyes flicking to the shadows where T'Chaka had disappeared. "He's going to stop them, isn't he?"

Natasha smiled faintly, her voice carrying a hint of admiration. "Yeah. He's not just a king. He's the Black Panther. And trust me, no one gets past him."

In the distance, the sound of claws tearing through metal and the anguished cries of mercenaries filled the air. T'Chaka's voice carried through the chaos, steady and unyielding. "You will not harm them. Not one."

As Natasha and May led the children to safety, Ororo glanced back one last time, watching the Black Panther cut through the enemy with a ferocity that was both terrifying and awe-inspiring. For the first time in weeks, she felt something she hadn't allowed herself to feel.

Hope.

—

The children shuffled quickly through the dimly lit warehouse, their small footsteps quickening with every turn they took. May, leading the group, kept her posture low, her hand resting near her weapon, ready to spring into action at a moment's notice. Natasha trailed behind, her sharp eyes scanning the shadows for any sign of danger, fingers itching for the fight she knew was coming.

The murmurs of the frightened children filled the air, their faces pale and eyes wide with fear. The tension in the air was palpable, but May kept her pace steady, her eyes flicking to Natasha with an unspoken understanding.

Just outside the warehouse, the Dora Milaje had already set up, like statues in the moonlight, their vibranium spears gleaming with quiet menace. Okoye, as always, led the charge, her eyes scanning the area with laser-like precision. She looked at Natasha and May, her voice commanding but reassuring.

"The children are in our care now. You have my word," Okoye's deep voice rumbled, a promise of safety that rang with authority.

"Good," May replied, her tone clipped. "Get them out of here. We'll cover you."

With a swift motion, Okoye directed the other Dora to move the children into the safe zone. Natasha's eyes narrowed as the unmistakable sound of rumbling engines reached their ears. She exchanged a quick glance with May.

"Two minutes. Maybe less," Natasha muttered, already positioning herself in a way that allowed her to cover the exit, her mind running through escape routes.

As if on cue, a black SUV screeched to a halt, and Klaue emerged from the vehicle with his signature grin. His metal prosthetic hand gleamed under the harsh warehouse lights, and his eyes scanned the area with cold calculation.

"Well, well," Klaue's voice echoed in the quiet night, his tone dripping with malice. "Looks like I've found myself a little party. How rude of you to crash my operation." He clapped his hands sarcastically. "Ladies, you've been real pests."

"Cut the act, Klaue," Natasha snapped, her eyes hard as steel. "You're not fooling anyone."

"Not fooling anyone?" Klaue grinned, his metal hand clicking. "Oh, I think I'm fooling someone. Don't you, sweetheart?" He winked at Natasha, his leer unmistakable.

Before Natasha could respond, a low, predatory laugh filled the air. Kraven the Hunter stepped from the shadows, his fur-lined coat billowing in the wind as he prowled forward. His eyes gleamed with the excitement of the hunt, and there was something animalistic in the way he carried himself. His presence seemed to warp the very atmosphere around him, as though nature itself was bracing for what was to come.

"I came for the Black Panther," Kraven said, his voice deep, guttural, and laced with hunger. "But this? This is an unexpected delight." His gaze flicked to Natasha, then May, his grin turning feral. "A red-haired widow and her companion. How delightful."

Natasha didn't flinch. Instead, she let out a dry chuckle. "Flattering, really. But you're barking up the wrong tree."

Klaue smirked beside him. "Enough of the chit-chat. Secure the children," he barked at his mercenaries, who immediately raised their weapons.

The Dora Milaje, poised and deadly, surged forward with practiced ease, intercepting the first wave of mercenaries with precision strikes. Natasha and May dove into action, their movements a blur as they cut down attackers with surgical efficiency. But the real threat emerged as Kraven darted into the fray with the speed of a wild animal.

With a predatory snarl, Kraven lunged at Natasha, claws extended, aiming for her throat. Natasha flipped backwards, narrowly avoiding the strike, her face unreadable as she landed in a low crouch.

"You'll make a fine trophy," Kraven growled, circling her.

"I don't plan on being mounted on your wall, sweetheart," Natasha retorted, flipping her combat knives into her hands.

Before Kraven could answer, a golden, shimmering portal erupted in the air behind him, crackling with an otherworldly energy. From the depths of the portal stepped Revenant, clad in his signature red and gold armor, the gleaming metal reflecting the harsh lights of the battlefield. His Cloak of Levitation fluttered behind him like a banner in the wind, and his green eyes gleamed with mischief and intensity.

"Did I miss something?" Revenant's voice rang out, light and irreverent as he surveyed the chaos. He grinned at Natasha, winking playfully. "Hey, Widow. Miss me?"

Natasha didn't miss a beat. "You always have to make an entrance, don't you?"

"Of course," Revenant replied, flashing her a grin that was equal parts charming and mischievous. "I'm nothing if not dramatic." His eyes swept over the battlefield, settling on Kraven. "And who do we have here? Discount Tarzan?"

Kraven's lips curled into a snarl, his voice dripping with disdain. "You must be the Revenant. I've heard of you."

"Aw, I'm flattered," Revenant quipped, his eyes narrowing. "But I'm afraid the feeling's not mutual."

Without another word, Revenant raised his hand, and his Vibranium claws extended with a loud snikt, the metallic sound ringing in the air like the prelude to a storm. Kraven's eyes flickered with momentary hesitation, but his confidence quickly returned, and he lunged at Revenant with a snarl.

The two collided with a bone-jarring clash, their strikes sending shockwaves through the air. Kraven's speed and strength were matched by Revenant's agility and reflexes, and the battle between them became a blur of slashes, blocks, and counterattacks. The sound of metal scraping against metal filled the air, punctuated by Kraven's savage growls and Revenant's taunting remarks.

"You know," Revenant quipped as he ducked under one of Kraven's vicious blows, "for someone who calls himself a hunter, you're surprisingly bad at hitting your target."

Kraven let out a growl of frustration, his claws raking through the air. "You talk too much," he snarled.

"And you fight like a Saturday morning cartoon villain," Revenant shot back, flipping backwards and landing with fluid grace. "Seriously, the fur coat? Overkill."

Kraven snarled, charging again, but Revenant was already in motion. He darted to the side, his claws flashing as he struck at Kraven's side, forcing the hunter back.

"You know, if you'd just stopped talking and paid attention," Revenant mused as Kraven staggered, "you might've had a chance."

"Enough games!" Kraven roared, his movements becoming erratic as he launched himself at Revenant once more.

But before Kraven could reach him, a sharp voice echoed over the comms.

"Revenant," T'Chaka's calm and commanding voice cut through the chaos, "the children are secure. Focus on ending this."

"Got it," Revenant replied, his voice focused now, his eyes narrowing as he zeroed in on his opponent. With a sudden burst of speed, he darted forward, his claws extending with terrifying precision as he drove Kraven back.

"Alright, kitty," Revenant muttered with a grin. "Playtime's over."

Kraven lunged one last time, but Revenant was ready. With a swift move, he caught Kraven's arm, twisting it with a sickening crack before using the momentum to drive his claws deep into Kraven's side. The force of the blow sent Kraven sprawling to the ground, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

Revenant stepped back, wiping his claws with a nonchalant flick. "I'm afraid your hunting days are over," he said, voice dripping with mock sympathy.

Behind him, Natasha couldn't help the small smirk that tugged at her lips. "Well, that was fun."

—

Ororo's wide eyes never left Revenant as he made quick work of Kraven, her breath catching in her throat. The way he moved, so effortlessly—like a force of nature—fascinated her. She had been told about the heroes of the world, the ones who wielded power and grace in equal measure, but seeing it up close was something else entirely. The sharpness in his strikes, the precision with which he moved, it reminded her of the storms she summoned, the raw energy she commanded, but with a fierceness she rarely saw in her own battles.

She leaned against one of the crates, heart still racing as the adrenaline of the fight started to wear off. Her fingers tingled, almost itching to reach out and feel the electricity in the air, but she kept her eyes locked on the red-and-gold figure of Revenant. The way he taunted Kraven, his every move laced with effortless confidence—it was like watching someone perform a deadly dance, each motion calculated and purposeful.

"I've never seen anyone move like that," Ororo murmured to herself, her voice barely a whisper, but the words held a mixture of awe and curiosity.

Behind her, the sound of approaching footsteps snapped her out of her thoughts. She turned just in time to see T'Chaka stepping forward, his regal presence imposing as always, though his gaze was locked on Klaue and the surrounding chaos. The Black Panther's posture shifted, his eyes narrowing with cold fury as he focused on the mercenary standing in the midst of his forces, Klaue's metallic hand gleaming in the warehouse light.

But before he could move, May's voice rang out sharply, cutting through the tension.

"Wait," May called out, stepping into view, her hand raised in a gesture of command. She stood with the same kind of authority that Natasha had, but there was something a little more weary in her eyes. As though, like Natasha, she'd been through too many battles to count. "Wakandan King," she said, addressing T'Chaka with a tone that left no room for argument, "you'll have to wait. Shield's orders are clear—we've been sent to take Klaue into custody."

T'Chaka's lips pressed into a thin line, and Ororo could see the flash of annoyance in his eyes, but he didn't respond immediately. The atmosphere in the warehouse thickened, tension rising as the weight of May's words settled over everyone.

"Shield?" Okoye's voice cut through the silence, disbelief clear in her tone as she stepped forward, her spear still in hand. "You think we're going to just hand him over?"

The exchange was sharp, filled with an undercurrent of distrust. Ororo could feel the heat building, a storm that wasn't far off, one that might boil over into something much worse. Her eyes flicked to Natasha, who stood alongside May, arms crossed, her expression unreadable but focused. And then her gaze shifted to Revenant, who seemed more amused than anything else by the standoff unfolding.

"This isn't a discussion," May continued, her tone growing more resolute. "We're not here for a fight, T'Chaka. But Klaue is coming with us." She paused, her gaze firm. "He's a threat to more than just Wakanda."

There was a long moment of silence as T'Chaka considered her words, the tension crackling in the air like static before a lightning strike. Then, slowly, he nodded once, his voice deep and commanding.

"Very well," he said, though his eyes were cold with the weight of his decision. "But know this: You are not taking him without consequences."

"Consequences?" Natasha raised an eyebrow, her voice low but sharp. "You know we're not here for a negotiation, right? If you try to stop us, things will get a lot worse."

The challenge in her voice didn't go unnoticed. Ororo could feel the storm in the air, the heat, the electricity building again. She wasn't sure who she was more worried about—May and Natasha, or the warriors of Wakanda.

Revenant stepped forward then, his cloak billowing behind him like a shadow in the night. He grinned, the mischievous glint in his eyes never fading, despite the tension mounting around them.

"Relax, everyone," Revenant said, his tone light but with an edge of seriousness beneath it. "We're all on the same side, right? I mean, I like a good fight, but I'm pretty sure this one isn't worth it."

T'Chaka's gaze shifted to him, his expression unreadable. The Black Panther took a step forward, but before he could speak, May's voice rang out again.

"Revenant's right," she said, her words clear and commanding. "We're here to do our job. Klaue's not going anywhere."

The tension crackled for a moment longer, then, with a final look at his people, T'Chaka nodded once again, though the anger in his eyes didn't dissipate.

"Then be quick about it," he said, his voice quiet but laced with authority. "I won't let my people suffer because of your orders."

May didn't flinch, though Ororo could feel the simmering undercurrent of her own irritation. "We'll handle it."

Revenant flashed one last grin before he turned to the rest of the team, his hands casually resting at his sides. "Well, that was fun. Can we move on now? I'm getting the feeling this could take all night."

As the tension finally began to settle, Ororo turned her attention back to the group, watching as they moved toward Klaue. Her mind raced with thoughts about what had just unfolded. The battle was far from over, but at least, for now, they had the upper hand.

In her heart, Ororo could already feel the storm on the horizon, and she knew it was only a matter of time before it would break. But for now, they had the moment. And that would have to be enough.

—

The silence that followed T'Chaka's grudging concession was thick, charged with an unspoken tension that clung to the warehouse air like the promise of a storm. Natasha and May moved with efficiency, taking control of Klaue, while Revenant lounged against a crate, his posture nonchalant but his gaze razor-sharp, scanning the room for any lingering threats.

"Alright," Revenant said, clapping his hands with exaggerated flair. "This little drama's been riveting, but I think it's time we hit the road. Places to be, bad guys to interrogate. You know, the usual."

Natasha shot him a withering glare but didn't dignify his comment with a response. Instead, she gestured for May to flank Klaue as they began to move toward the exit.

"Wait," Ororo's voice rang out, clear and unwavering.

All eyes turned to her. Natasha's sharp, calculating gaze lingered on the young woman with a flicker of suspicion. May raised an eyebrow, her expression unreadable, but her body tensed as though bracing for yet another twist in the night's events. Revenant tilted his head, curiosity dancing in his eyes as a slow grin began to spread across his face.

T'Chaka stepped forward, his imposing presence filling the space. His voice was deep, measured, and laced with disapproval. "Child, this matter does not concern you. Stand down."

Ororo squared her shoulders, her chin lifting with quiet defiance. "With respect, King T'Chaka," she said, her tone calm but firm, "this isn't your decision to make. I'm coming with them."

The room seemed to hold its breath.

"You are a child of Africa," T'Chaka countered, his voice steady but carrying the weight of authority. "Your place is with your people."

Ororo's lips pressed into a thin line as she stood her ground. "I'm an American citizen," she said, her voice unwavering. "My father, David Munroe, was an American photographer. My mother, N'Dare, while a princess of the Uzuri Tribe, grew up in America. I don't owe anyone allegiance except to myself."

Okoye stepped forward, her spear in hand, her expression a mix of disbelief and frustration. "You would turn your back on Africa?" she demanded, her tone cutting like a blade. "On your heritage? For what—these outsiders?"

Ororo's gaze shifted to Okoye, her voice softening but no less resolute. "I'm not turning my back on anyone. But I've lost enough in my life to know that where I belong isn't for others to decide. My parents were killed when a bomber crashed into our home. My only living family—my sister Vivian—lives in New York. That's where I should be."

Revenant let out a low whistle, crossing his arms as he leaned closer. "She's got a point," he drawled, the amusement in his tone barely concealing his admiration. "And, you know, having a young mutant on the team does sound like a win."

Natasha rolled her eyes, folding her arms across her chest. "This isn't a team-building exercise," she snapped, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "She's not cleared, she's not trained, and we don't need another variable in this mess."

May sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of her nose as though warding off an impending headache. "She's also not wrong," she said, her tone pragmatic. "If she's an American citizen, we can't force her to go to Wakanda."

T'Chaka's gaze burned with controlled fury as he turned to Ororo. "The world outside Wakanda is not kind," he said, his voice low and deliberate. "You will not find the safety or unity you take for granted here."

Ororo met his gaze without flinching. "I've survived losing my parents, living on the streets, and watching everything I loved taken from me. I'm not afraid of the world, King T'Chaka."

The tension was palpable, the air thick with the weight of unspoken emotions. Finally, T'Chaka stepped back, his expression hard but his voice calm. "Very well," he said, his words clipped. "But do not mistake this for wisdom. You are walking into uncertainty."

Natasha exchanged a glance with May, who shrugged slightly. "She's coming," May said simply, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Revenant stepped forward with a mischievous grin. "Welcome aboard, Ororo Munroe," he said, his voice light but tinged with sincerity. "Let's see if you can keep up."

Ororo allowed herself a small smile, though her heart raced with anticipation. She turned to Natasha and May. "So, are we leaving or what?"

Natasha let out a small huff, clearly unimpressed but resigned. "You better not slow us down," she said curtly, turning on her heel and striding toward the exit.

May gave Ororo a lingering look before nodding. "Stay close. And try not to get yourself killed."

As the group moved out of the warehouse, Revenant fell into step beside Ororo, his red-and-gold armor catching the faint light. "You know," he said, glancing at her, "you've got guts. I like that."

Ororo's smile grew a fraction wider, though she kept her voice even. "And you've got a habit of running your mouth. I noticed."

Revenant chuckled, clearly unbothered. "Fair enough."

As they stepped out into the cool night air, Ororo felt the storm on the horizon—both within her and in the world she was stepping into. But for the first time in a long time, she felt ready to face it.

—

The group moved through the narrow alleyways, the faint glow of Klaue's restraints casting eerie shadows on the damp walls. The silence was heavy, broken only by the faint hum of magic holding the smuggler suspended in midair. Klaue's muttered curses were silenced by a quick flick of Revenant's fingers, the shimmer of golden runes intensifying as his magic clamped the man's jaw shut.

"Don't waste your breath," Revenant said lazily, his red-and-gold armor gleaming faintly in the dim light. "You'll have plenty of time to talk later. Well, assuming you don't piss me off."

Natasha was at the front of the group, her movements silent and deliberate. Her sharp gaze scanned every corner, every shadow, her body language screaming control. "Stay alert," she said curtly, her voice low but firm. "I don't want any surprises."

"Relax, Natasha," Revenant drawled, his tone deliberately playful. "We're practically on a leisurely evening stroll. Just missing ice cream."

Natasha didn't so much as glance back, her voice cutting through the air like a knife. "And you're missing a mute button. Shame."

May, bringing up the rear, snorted softly. "She's not wrong, kid. Your mouth's writing checks I hope your magic can cash."

"Don't worry, May," Harry replied, his smirk audible. "I always pay in full."

May arched an eyebrow but didn't dignify the comment with a response, her sharp eyes scanning their surroundings like a hawk. Ororo walked beside Revenant, her steps steady but cautious. Her fingers brushed the cold metal collar still clamped around her neck, a grim reminder of Klaue's cruelty.

As they neared the cloaked jet, its faint outline shimmering against the night sky, Revenant stopped. The mask of his armor began to retract with a faint hiss, the intricate metal dissolving like liquid gold. When it disappeared completely, a young man stood before Ororo, his striking green eyes filled with an easy confidence, his unruly black hair catching the faint light.

He extended a hand, his grin equal parts charm and mischief. "Hi. Revenant's the codename, but you can call me Harry."

Ororo blinked, momentarily caught off guard. Her gaze flicked between his outstretched hand and his face before she hesitantly shook it. "Ororo," she said, her tone polite but guarded.

"Ororo," Harry repeated, as if savoring the sound. "Beautiful name for a beautiful person. Now, about that lovely little accessory…" He gestured toward the collar around her neck. "Mind if I take care of it?"

Her fingers brushed the cold metal again. "You can remove it?"

Harry's grin widened. "Of course. I'm full of surprises." He lifted his hand, golden runes flickering to life around his fingers. A faint hum filled the air as the collar deactivated with a soft click. Harry carefully removed it, holding it up like a trophy before closing his fist around it. The metal crumpled, disintegrating into a fine ash that scattered in the wind.

"There," he said with a satisfied nod. "All set."

Ororo's hand went to her neck, her expression a mix of relief and gratitude. "Thank you," she said softly, her tone carrying more weight than the simple words.

Harry stepped aside with a playful bow. "Anything for the young lady."

Natasha rolled her eyes, finally turning to face them. "Are you done with the theatrics, or do you need another minute?"

"Just being friendly," Harry replied with a shrug. "You should try it sometime."

"Friendly doesn't keep people alive," Natasha shot back, her tone sharp but not unkind. "And we're wasting time."

"Relax, Natasha," May interjected, her voice calm but firm. "The jet's prepped. Let's just get in the air."

As they moved up the ramp, Harry gestured for Ororo to take the seat across from him. She hesitated, glancing around the sleek, high-tech interior of the jet, before settling into the seat. Harry leaned back, his green eyes twinkling with curiosity.

"So," he began, resting an elbow on the armrest, "you're a mutant. What's your power? Something flashy, I bet."

Ororo tilted her head, her expression thoughtful. "I control the weather."

Harry blinked, then let out a low whistle. "Seriously? Like storms and stuff?"

She nodded. "Storms, wind, lightning, all of it."

"That's badass," Harry said with an impressed grin. "You're basically a goddess."

Ororo's lips twitched in a faint smile. "That's what the locals called me, back home."

Natasha, standing nearby, folded her arms. "Control's going to be your biggest challenge," she said bluntly. "If you're going to work with us, you need to learn how to stay steady, no matter what."

Ororo frowned slightly. "I've been learning. But when I get… emotional, it's harder."

May's voice came from the cockpit. "Don't worry, kid. Everyone starts somewhere. Even Natasha used to have feelings."

Natasha shot May a look, her lips twitching despite herself. "Funny."

Harry leaned forward slightly. "We'll help you figure it out," he said, his tone softer now. "Controlling powers is kind of our thing."

"Strap in," May called over the comms. "We're taking off."

As the jet hummed to life, Ororo glanced out the window, the city lights fading below. A small part of her felt nervous—uncertain of what lay ahead—but the flicker of hope in her chest was undeniable. Harry's easy confidence, Natasha's sharp focus, and May's steady presence made her feel, for the first time in a long while, that she wasn't facing the storm alone.

---

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