Marvel: Starting with the Homelander Template

After parting ways with Charles and Erik, Alex hadn't sat idle.

Just like the two elder mutants, he'd been traveling from region to region, evaluating potential recruits and quietly building a force capable of standing against what was coming.

Jean Grey—unsurprisingly—had been flagged early in his searches.

She wasn't the kind of mutant you missed.

But the problem with Jean wasn't about finding her.

It was deciding what to do with her.

Because Jean Grey wasn't just a mutant.

She was something else entirely.

Her power wasn't merely potent—it was limitless in a way that defied logic and understanding.

On the surface, she was just a girl.

Young. Uncertain.

But beneath that exterior lurked something ancient, volatile, and terrifyingly primal.

She wasn't a ticking time bomb—bombs had fuses and predictable blast zones.

Jean was a nuclear warhead with a cracked casing, held together by the thinnest psychological restraints.

If she lost control…

The fallout wouldn't be measured in casualties.

It would be measured in craters. In mass extinctions.

In eras.

Every cinematic or alternate timeline version of her told the same story:

Jean Grey was both salvation and annihilation.

Sure, there'd been that one glorious moment she destroyed Apocalypse in a blaze of divine fury, but even that victory came laced with uncertainty.

Because when Jean snapped—and she always did—the outcome was always the same.

Catastrophe.

Even when she wasn't possessed or broken, her emotions alone could trigger outbursts strong enough to level reinforced compounds.

Her normal state was dangerous.

Her unhinged state was apocalyptic.

So despite knowing of her, despite tracking her emergence and fluctuations in mutant power signals across the globe, Alex had made the deliberate decision to avoid her.

Because unlike Charles, he lacked telepathy.

And with someone like Jean, if you didn't have psychic tethers in place at all times, you weren't recruiting her.

You were lighting the fuse yourself.

Emma Frost, despite her own impressive abilities, couldn't hold a candle to Charles when it came to telepathic control and psychic barriers.

Frankly, only Charles stood a chance at keeping Jean Grey stable.

And even he had failed before.

So, no—Alex had stayed away.

But that didn't mean he hadn't kept one eye on her at all times.

He knew where she was.

He always knew.

---

When Charles and Erik brought up her name, Alex didn't even flinch.

"Alex, I knew you'd have noticed her too."

Charles smiled, calm as ever, though there was a spark in his eyes—something that hinted at both awe and concern.

He knows, Alex thought. He's seen it too.

If both Charles and Erik had marked her as important enough to visit in person, there was no way Alex hadn't sensed her awakening.

"Saves us the trouble of explaining," Erik added with a shrug. "We're going to meet her, but Charles thinks you should come along."

"Why?"

Hank, who'd been reviewing sensor logs nearby, looked up with genuine confusion.

A teenage girl? That needed all three of them?

Sounded excessive.

"Because Charles believes her potential threat requires Alex's presence to counterbalance," Erik explained bluntly.

Hank's mouth fell open.

The words felt like a thunderclap.

"Wait—what?"

Now he was staring.

And not just him.

Raven, Emma, and Copycat all turned toward the conversation, stunned expressions blooming on their faces.

Even among seasoned veterans, that kind of phrasing meant DEFCON 1.

Alex? Backup for a girl?

"Who is this Jean Grey?" Raven demanded, arms crossed, eyes narrowing.

"As I said—a mutant of extraordinary potential," Charles said carefully. "Her power may even surpass Alex's."

The silence that followed was so thick you could slice it with a blade.

Emma, finally, let out a short, incredulous scoff.

"I don't believe that."

To her, Alex wasn't just powerful.

He was the upper limit.

A reality-warping anomaly who didn't play by the same evolutionary rules as the rest of them.

She'd watched him decimate threats that should've overwhelmed even the strongest X-Men.

And now someone was suggesting some little redhead could outclass him?

Preposterous.

Yet the unease in Charles's tone, the firm certainty in Erik's posture…

It planted a seed of doubt.

They weren't the type to exaggerate.

And they looked... serious.

"So, Alex—care to join us?" Charles asked lightly.

"Why not?"

Alex's smirk was laced with interest.

This was Phoenix.

He knew the name.

He knew the stories.

And truth be told?

He'd always been a little curious.

---

Ninety Minutes Later

The car ride had been quiet.

Mostly.

Charles had spent the time reviewing her files—dozens of medical reports, school records, incident logs, and psychic impressions.

Erik stared out the window.

Alex leaned back with his eyes closed, mentally preparing for anything.

The sedan pulled up in front of a quaint home nestled in a sleepy neighborhood—a place where the lawns were trimmed just right, and neighbors waved to each other every morning.

It looked peaceful.

Normal.

But Alex knew better.

Sometimes, the most dangerous forces on Earth wore the most innocent masks.

They stepped out.

Charles approached the door and knocked.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

A woman answered—Elaine Grey.

She looked tired.

Worried.

But she still smiled politely, ushering them in after a brief introduction.

Charles explained himself as a headmaster of a school for gifted individuals.

Her husband, John, joined the conversation shortly after.

The moment he heard the pitch, his face shifted—first hopeful, then guarded.

"Our daughter… she's different," he muttered.

"No school will take her. She's… sick."

That one word sent Erik's face into a shadowed grimace.

"Illness?" he repeated coldly.

Elaine elbowed her husband gently, silently warning him not to go further.

They knew.

Of course they knew.

Jean's abilities weren't something you could hide forever.

They'd just never wanted to face it.

Charles smiled disarmingly.

"May we speak with Jean alone?"

Elaine hesitated… then nodded.

She stepped toward the stairs.

"Jean? Sweetheart, could you come down?"

A few seconds later, footsteps echoed from the upper floor.

Soft. Careful.

And then, she appeared.

A girl—young, maybe thirteen—wearing jeans and a loose sweatshirt, her auburn hair tied back in a ponytail.

She paused on the staircase, her eyes—glowing ever so faintly—landing on Alex.

And just for a second, the room shivered.

Not from wind.

From her.

Jean Grey had arrived.

And her power… was already listening.

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