American comics: I am full of martial virtues and I love to be kind to others.

"Five hundred meters," the one-eyed man reported. "Three hundred meters, two hundred meters. I see the ground. Prepare for contact!"

The open area appeared even more rugged than it did from the air. In the moonlight, Lynn could see scattered stones, withered bushes, and ditches eroded by floods. It wasn't an ideal landing spot, but they had no other choice.

"Everyone, hold on tight!" the one-eyed man shouted.

The moment the Blackbird's wheels touched the ground, the entire aircraft felt as if it had been grabbed by a giant hand and violently shaken. Lynn heard the screeching of metal, the sound of stones hitting the fuselage, and someone's scream—he wasn't sure who it was.

The plane taxied on the ground, its fuselage shaking violently, its left wing scraping against the ground, sparks flying. Lynn felt as if his insides were about to be thrown out; the seatbelt dug deep into his shoulders and waist, leaving deep marks.

Then, there was a loud bang.

The Blackbird's left wing struck a large rock, breaking off entirely at the root. The unbalanced aircraft began to spin, its nose plunging into the muddy riverbank before finally coming to a stop.

Everything was quiet.

Lynn's ears were ringing, and his vision was blurry. He tried to move and found himself still alive—a good sign. But every part of his body ached.

“Report the situation,” the one-eyed man’s voice came from ahead, hoarse and weary, “Is anyone injured?”

“I’m fine,” Logan’s voice said. “Storm is still unconscious, but there are no new injuries.”

“I’m still alive,” Sarah’s voice trembled, “though I feel like my stomach has shifted.”

“Little rascal?” Lynn forced himself to turn his head and look at the stretcher next to him.

The little rascal opened her eyes, her different colored eyes filled with terror, but she nodded. "I'm okay, I was just scared."

"Where's Victor?"

Lynn struggled to turn around and look at the other end of the cabin. Victor was still strapped to his seat, his head drooping, and he still appeared to be unconscious.

“He’s still here,” Lynn said, then began unbuckling his seatbelt. “We need to get off the plane. If the fuel tank leaks—”

He didn't need to finish that sentence. Everyone knew what lingering at the crash site for too long meant.

Escaping the plane was an ordeal. The emergency exits were blocked by the twisted fuselage, forcing them to climb out through the broken cockpit windows. Logan carried the unconscious Storm out first, then returned to help the others.

Lynn insisted on walking, even though each step felt like his ribs were piercing his lungs. He supported Sarah, whose leg had been twisted upon landing, causing her to limp. One-Eyed dragged Victor—the mind manipulator—still unconscious, as heavy as a corpse.

Little Rascal was the last to emerge. She refused anyone's help and stubbornly climbed out of the wreckage herself. Her gloves were missing sometime during the night, and her bare hands looked pale and dangerous in the moonlight.

They stopped about fifty meters from the plane, where there was a relatively flat rock where they could rest. Lynn looked back at the wreckage of the Blackbird—the once elegant fighter was now a pile of twisted metal, its left wing completely broken, its fuselage riddled with bullet holes and cracks, and its nose buried deep in the mud.

“At least there was no explosion,” Sarah said, trying to find some reason to be optimistic.

“The fuel tank may have been deformed by the impact,” Cyclops said, “which actually reduced the leakage. But we can’t expect it to stay that way indefinitely.”

“What about the communication system?” Lynn asked. “Can we contact the Xavier’s School?”

One-Eyed Dragon pulled a small communicator from his waist—a similar emergency device to the one Lynn carried. He pressed the button, but only static noise came out.

“No,” he said. “Either the equipment was damaged in the crash, or there’s signal interference in this area. We’ve lost contact with Xavier’s Institute.”

“So what do we do now?” Sarah asked, her voice tinged with despair.

No one answered immediately.

Lynn looked around, assessing their situation. They were in the hills of the Appalachian Mountains, with dense forests covering the rolling hills. A small river flowed nearby, its surface shimmering silver in the moonlight. The air was filled with the scent of pine needles and earth, along with a faint smell of burning—from the wreckage of an airplane.

All around was pitch black, with no light source except for the moonlight. There were no roads, no houses, and no signs of civilization. They were trapped in a wilderness, with an unconscious prisoner, two wounded people, an exhausted mutant, and a girl who couldn't control her powers.

“First, we need a temporary camp,” Logan broke the silence, his voice unusually calm. “Find a sheltered place to take care of the wounded. Then, we’ll figure something out after daybreak.”

"Wait until dawn?" Sarah questioned. "That could be another six or seven hours!"

“Do you have a better idea?” Logan countered. “Crossing this forest in the dark? My healing abilities can do it, but what about you?”

Sarah fell silent.

“Logan is right,” One-Eyed said. “We need rest, we need to assess the injuries, we need to make a plan. Acting rashly will only make things worse.”

Lynn nodded. "Then let's find a place to camp. How about the riverbank? There's water there, and the riverbank is quite open, making it easier to observe the surrounding area."

“Agreed,” Logan said. “I’ll go scout ahead and make sure there’s no danger.”

He disappeared into the darkness as soon as he finished speaking, moving with the agility of a wild beast.

The remaining people began to move slowly towards the river. One-Eyed continued to drag Victor, while Sarah supported Lynn—despite her own injured leg, she insisted on helping. Little Rascal brought up the rear, alone, maintaining a safe distance from the others.

"Are you alright?" Lynn asked, turning around to look at her.

The little rascal didn't answer, only nodded slightly. Her eyes were vacant, clearly still processing the memories she had absorbed from Victor.

They found a semi-enclosed space by the river, surrounded by large rocks and fallen tree trunks, a decent makeshift campsite. Logan was already waiting for them there; his reconnaissance indicated no danger—at least no human threat.

“But there are bear tracks,” Logan said. “They passed by here about half a day ago. Don’t worry too much; as long as we don’t provoke it, it won’t cause trouble.”

“A bear?” Sarah’s voice rose again. “You mean a real bear?”

“This is the Appalachian Mountains,” Logan shrugged. “It’s normal to have bears. There are also cougars, wild boars, rattlesnakes—you name it, this forest has it.”

“That’s great,” Sarah said sarcastically. “We just escaped being chased by fighter jets, and now we have to worry about being eaten by bears.”

“You won’t get eaten by a bear,” Logan said. “Bears rarely attack humans unless you touch its cubs or food, or you look like a delicious dinner.” “That makes me feel much better,” Sarah rolled her eyes.

Lynn wasn't involved in the conversation. He was checking on Storm's condition—she was still unconscious, but breathing steadily and her pulse was normal. She was just exhausted; a little rest should help her recover.

“We need to make a fire,” he said. “It will be cold at night, and the firelight will scare away wild animals.”

“I’ll do it,” Logan said, and began gathering dry branches and leaves.

One-Eyed Dragon leaned Victor against a large rock, making sure his restraints remained secure. "He shows no signs of waking. The little rascal absorbed a large amount of his spiritual energy, which may have caused him serious damage."

"Will he die?" Sarah asked, her tone complex—half worry, half something else.

“I don’t know,” the one-eyed man said, “but even if he wakes up, his abilities should be suppressed while he’s wearing the limiter.”

“Should?” Lynn noticed the word.

“The limiter was designed for regular mutants,” Cyclops admitted. “Victor’s ability level may have exceeded the design intent. We can’t be entirely sure.”

Lynn glanced at Victor. Even unconscious, the man looked dangerous. His face possessed a calm, cold beauty, like a sculpture. It was hard to imagine that the owner of such a face could be a monster who controlled and destroyed so many people.

Logan quickly started a fire. The flames leaped in the darkness, their orange glow dispelling some of the chill and fear. Everyone sat around the fire, weary and silent.

“We should take turns keeping watch,” One-Eyed broke the silence. “Two people per group, two hours per group. Logan and I will go first, then Lynn and Sarah—if your injuries allow.”

“I can keep watch,” Lynn said. “A few broken ribs won’t affect my eyesight or hearing.”

“Me too,” the little rascal suddenly spoke up, “I can’t sleep.”

Everyone looked at her. She sat by the fire, her knees drawn up to her chest, the firelight dancing in her different colored eyes.

“You need rest,” the one-eyed man said. “You’ve been through—”

“I know what I’ve been through,” Little Rascal interrupted him, her voice sharper than before. “I have the entire memory of a monster in my head. Every bad thing he did, every single person he hurt, I remember it all. Do you think I can sleep?”

silence.

“So what did you see?” Logan asked. “What was in Victor’s memories?”

Little Rascal stared at the flames, his expression pained. "So much...too much. I can't fully grasp it all yet. But one thing I'm sure of—he wasn't acting alone. That organization...they call themselves the 'Brotherhood.'"

"The Brotherhood?" The one-eyed man's expression changed. "Magneto's Brotherhood?"

“No, not Magneto’s,” Rogue shook his head. “It’s another organization, more secretive, more complex. Victor is just one of their field agents, responsible for recruiting and controlling mutants. He’s never seen the real leadership. But he knows they have a lot of resources—money, weapons, technology, and political influence.”

“Political influence?” Lynn asked warily.

“Victor has some fragments in his memory,” the little rascal said, “some faces, some names. I’m not sure which are real, which are his own fantasies, or implanted false memories. But if even half of them are real…”

She paused, then looked at Lynn. "They have connections in the government. High-ranking ones."

This information silenced everyone. A secret organization possessing fighter jets, mutant technology, and connections within the government—this was not an enemy they could easily deal with.

"Can you remember those names and faces?" Lynn asked.

“Part of it,” Little Rascal said, “but it’s a jumbled mess. Victor’s memories aren’t in chronological order; they’re like…like a pile of fragments. I need time to piece them together.”

“Professor X can help you,” Cyclops said. “He has experience in helping mutants integrate complex memories. But first, we need to get out of here.”

“How do we get there after daybreak?” Sarah asked. “We don’t know where the nearest town is, and we don’t have a map—”

“I have a good sense of direction,” Logan said. “And I’ve been in these mountains before. There’s a highway about thirty kilometers away; if we head northeast, we should get there by tomorrow afternoon.”

“Thirty kilometers?” Sarah’s face changed. “Thirty kilometers of mountain path with wounded and prisoners?”

"Do you have a better idea?" Logan asked in return.

“We can wait for rescue,” Sarah said. “The Xavier’s School knows our approximate location, and they will definitely send someone to look for us once they realize we’re out of contact.”

“The problem is that organization will also come after us,” Lynn interrupted her. “Those two fighter jets were shot down, but the pilots may have reported our crash location. What if they send ground troops to search?”

“We will be found,” Logan finished the sentence. “This forest is large, but not infinitely large. If they have enough manpower and equipment, it’s only a matter of time before they find the crash site.”

“So we must move,” One-Eyed Dragon said, “before they can organize a search party.”

Lynn nodded. "I agree. We'll leave immediately after dawn."

“And tonight?” Sarah asked. “Are we just going to sit here and wait for dawn?”

“Let’s rest,” Lynn said, “to conserve our energy for tomorrow’s march. Don’t waste your energy worrying.”

Sarah looked like she wanted to say something more, but in the end she just sighed, leaned against a rock, and closed her eyes.

Lynn wanted to rest, but his mind was racing. He stared at the flickering flames, his mind replaying everything that had happened that day—Little Rascal's loneliness and pain, Victor's temptations and threats, the fighter jet chase, the crash, and that horrific revelation about the secret organization.

This was all far more complicated than he had anticipated. He had initially thought Victor was merely a psychopathic serial killer, and that capturing him would end everything. But now he realized that Victor was just the tip of the iceberg. The real enemy lurked in the shadows, far more powerful, more dangerous, and more elusive.

"What are you thinking about?" a voice came from the side.

Lynn turned his head and saw the little rascal sitting not far from him. She was still keeping her distance, carefully avoiding any skin contact with anyone. (End of Chapter)