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

“I’ve been thinking about how we got to this point,” Lynn said. “Three months ago, I was just a regular FBI agent investigating a mutant-related case. Now…”

"You're in the middle of nowhere, with a bunch of mutants, just escaped from a fighter jet chase," Rogue chimed in, a slight smirk playing on his lips. "Sounds like some kind of terrible action movie."

“Yes,” Lynn laughed, though the smile was quickly broken by the pain in her ribs, “but action movie protagonists usually don’t break ribs.”

The little rascal was silent for a moment, then said, "Thank you."

“Thank me for what?”

“On the rooftop, you pulled me away, even knowing that contact would hurt me,” she said. “And later, on the plane, when you asked me how I was, the way you looked at me.”

What kind of look is that?

“Normal eyes,” the little rascal said. “Not fear, not disgust, not pity. Just…normal. Like looking at an ordinary person. You have no idea how rare that is for me.”

Lynn didn't know what to say. He remembered Logan's warning—not to show any fear or rejection. But the truth was, he hadn't deliberately done anything; he simply saw her as someone who needed protection.

“You’re just an ordinary person,” he finally said, “except for having an extraordinary ability. That doesn’t change who you are.”

The little rascal lowered her head, the firelight casting flickering shadows on her face. "Sometimes I feel like my ability is who I am. My whole life revolves around it—I can't touch people, I can't hug, I can't... I can't be close to anyone normally. If one day I could control it, I don't even know what I'd have left."

“You’ll be left with yourself,” Lynn said. “Your thoughts, your feelings, your choices. Ability is only a part of you, not the whole.”

The little rascal looked up at him, his different-colored eyes meeting his. "You really believe this?"

“I believe,” Lynn said. “I’ve seen other mutants—at Xavier’s School of the Xavier’s, on the battlefield, in hospitals. Each of them possesses immense power, but they are first and foremost human. There are good guys and bad guys. Their abilities don’t define who they are; their choices do.”

The little rascal was silent for a long time. Then she said softly, "I saw something in Victor's memories. Something about why he became the way he is now."

"What?"

“He was abused as a child,” the little rascal’s voice deepened, “His father, after discovering his psychic abilities, locked him in the basement, wanting to ‘exorcise’ him. He stayed there for three years, beaten, starved, and told he was a monster. Eventually, his abilities went out of control and killed his father and the entire family.”

Lynn's expression became complicated. He looked at the still unconscious man, trying to connect this information with the serial killers he knew.

“That cannot be an excuse for what he did,” he said. “Many people have experienced trauma, but they did not become killers.”

“I know,” said the little rascal, “I’m not defending him. I’m just trying to understand. He has a lot of pain, a lot of anger, and a deep loneliness in his memories. In a way, I can understand that feeling.”

"But you didn't become him."

“Not yet,” Rogue said. “But if I continue to be alone, if I continue to be treated like a monster, who knows what I’ll become? Today on the rooftop, when I absorbed that silver-eyed man’s power, for a moment I felt power. Real power. It felt good, so good. I understand why some mutants are obsessed with their abilities, feeling superior to ordinary people. That temptation is real.”

Lynn fell silent. He recalled his time training at Xavier's School, the exhilarating feeling of growing stronger. If that power were combined with years of loneliness and resentment...
“That’s why you need help,” he finally said, “not just help with control, but also mental support. Xavier’s School can provide that.”

“Maybe,” said the little rascal, “but I’m still not sure. That bald guy in the wheelchair, Professor X, he seems fine, but Victor has some memories of him.”

"what?"

Rogue frowned, as if trying to recall. "It's vague, like secondhand information. Victor has never met Professor X in person, but his organization seems to know a lot about Xavier's School. They consider Professor X dangerous. Not because of his abilities, but because of his ideals. They say any attempt to make mutants and humans coexist peacefully will ultimately fail, and the cost of failure will be devastating."

Lynn pondered these words. "Do you believe it?"

“I don’t know what to believe,” Little Rascal said, “but I know one thing—before today, I didn’t trust anyone. And today, someone got hurt protecting me. That’s made me start to rethink some things.”

She looked at Lynn, a vulnerable glint in her eyes. "Maybe...maybe I can give Xavier's School a chance. At least I can see. If I don't like it, I can leave anytime, right?"

“Yes,” Lynn said, “no one will force you to do anything.”

The little rascal nodded, then stood up. "I'll go sit over there for a while. You should rest; you have a long way to go tomorrow."

She walked away, found a spot on the other side of the fire, and continued to keep her distance from everyone.

Lynn watched her retreating figure, a complex mix of emotions welling up inside him. This girl carried a weight far too heavy for her to bear—her own abilities, Victor's memories, and a profound, bone-deep loneliness. Yet she persisted, still trying to find her way forward.

This requires more courage than most people.

The night grew deeper, and the temperature began to drop. Lynn pulled his tattered coat tighter around himself, trying to drift into a light sleep. But every time he closed his eyes, images of fighter jets chasing him, the violent jolts of the crash, and the horrifying revelation about the secret organization flashed through his mind.

Tomorrow will be a tough day. Thirty kilometers of mountain road, carrying the wounded and prisoners, while also evading possible pursuers. But they have no other choice.

The flames continued to flicker, offering a faint warmth and light in the darkness. The surrounding forest emitted a variety of sounds—the rustling of leaves in the wind, the whispering of small animals through the bushes, and the distant call of an owl.

Accompanied by these sounds, Lynn finally drifted off to sleep.

Dawn came earlier than expected.

Lynn was awakened by a bone-chilling cold. When he opened his eyes, the sky was already turning a pale white. The fire had gone out, leaving only a pile of smoldering ashes. Morning mist shrouded the entire riverbank, making the surrounding scenery appear hazy and unreal.

He tried to sit up, and his ribs immediately protested violently. The pain made him gasp, but it was better than last night—perhaps the rest had helped, or perhaps his body was simply getting used to the pain.

“You’re awake,” Logan’s voice came from not far away.

Lynn turned his head and saw the old soldier squatting by the river, washing his face with the river water. His leather jacket was covered in mud and blood, but he looked to be in good spirits.

“Where are the others?” Lynn asked. “One-Eyed is scouting the area, Sarah is still asleep, Storm is awake but still weak, and Little Rascal…” Logan gestured with his chin in another direction, “He hasn’t slept all night, just sat there.”

Lynn followed his gaze and saw Little Rascal sitting on a large rock, facing east, watching the sky gradually brighten. Her figure appeared lonely and fragile in the morning light.

"Where's Victor?"

“Still unconscious,” Logan stood up and walked towards Lynn, “but breathing. I checked his restraints; they’re secure. If he wakes up, we’ll know immediately.”

Lynn nodded, forcing himself to stand up. Every part of his body ached, but he knew they had no time to rest.

The next half hour was spent in hurried preparation. They salvaged some useful supplies from the wreckage—a first-aid kit, a few bottles of water, some compressed food, a spare pistol, and several magazines. Not much, but better than nothing.

The one-eyed scout returned with both good and bad news.

“The good news is, I found a hunter’s trail, roughly northeast,” he said, “which should speed things up. The bad news is, I spotted a helicopter about three kilometers away.”

“A helicopter?” Sarah’s voice became tense; she had just been woken up and still looked tired.

“They’re not coming in our direction, but circling in the air, like they’re searching for something,” One-Eyed said. “They may not have found the crash site yet, but time is running out. We have to leave immediately.”

No one objected.

They began their arduous march. Logan led the way, his familiarity with the mountains astonishing; he seemed to know every tree and every rock. One-Eyed brought up the rear, constantly on guard for any potential pursuers. Lynn and Sarah walked in the middle, supporting the still-weak Stormgirl. Rogue walked alone on one side of the group, keeping his distance from everyone else.

Victor was a problem. The comatose mind manipulator was as heavy as a corpse, and they had to take turns carrying him. Logan bore most of the weight, but even he was exhausted carrying an adult man across rugged mountain paths.

The forest gradually awakens in the morning light. Birds begin to sing, squirrels leap among the branches, and dewdrops on spiderwebs sparkle in the sunlight. If it weren't for their perilous situation, this could have been a pleasant hike in the wild.

But danger lurked everywhere. Every sound of a branch snapping made their hearts race, and every distant roar could be a search helicopter. They tried to stay under the cover of the tree canopy to avoid being spotted from the air.

“Take a break,” Logan said two hours later, placing Victor at the base of a large tree. “Five minutes.”

Everyone sat down, exhausted. Lynn leaned against a pine tree, feeling as if his legs were made of lead. The pain in his ribs became a constant torment, each step a reminder of the damage to his body.

"How much further?" Sarah asked breathlessly.

“About twenty kilometers more,” Logan said. “At our current pace, we might not reach our destination until the afternoon.”

“Twenty kilometers.” Sarah closed her eyes in despair.

Storm sat on a rock, still pale, but better than in the morning. "I can try to fly—"

“No,” the one-eyed man interrupted her, “your strength hasn’t recovered yet, forcing yourself to use your ability could cause permanent damage. Besides, it’s too dangerous in the air; those helicopters will spot you immediately.”

Storm wanted to object, but in the end she just nodded. She knew Cyclops was right.

The five-minute break ended quickly, and they continued on their way.

The terrain became increasingly complex. They traversed dense bushes, forded icy streams, and climbed steep slopes. Lynn's uniform was already torn by thorns, and his arms and legs were covered in scratches. But he gritted his teeth and persevered, moving forward step by step.

Around noon, they stopped to eat some compressed food. It tasted like cardboard, but at least it provided some energy.

"What's that?" the little rascal suddenly asked, pointing into the distance.

Everyone looked in the direction she was pointing. On the other side of the valley, about five kilometers away, a wisp of smoke was rising.

“It’s a house,” Logan said, squinting as he examined it. “It could be a hunter’s hut, or a farm.”

“Then why don’t we go there?” Sarah asked. “Maybe we can find a phone, or a car—”

“It’s too dangerous,” Lynn said. “If that organization is searching this area, they may have already taken control of all the residences. Approaching rashly could be a trap.”

"So we'll keep going?" Sarah's voice carried a hint of despair.

“Let’s keep going,” One-Eyed confirmed. “Our destination is the highway. Once we’re on the highway, we have more options—hitch a ride, steal a car, or find a gas station to make a phone call.”

They bypassed the smoking house and continued heading northeast.

The afternoon sun grew intense, making it sweltering even under the shade of the trees. Lynn felt his water bottle was almost empty, but he knew he couldn't waste it—who knew where the next water source would be?

"Did anyone hear that?" Logan suddenly stopped and listened intently.

Everyone stopped. Lynn held his breath, trying to make out what Logan had heard.

Then he heard it too—the sound of an engine in the distance, not a helicopter, but a car.

“The highway is just ahead,” Logan said, a smile playing on his lips. “About half a kilometer.”

The news thrilled everyone. They quickened their pace, passed through the last grove of trees, and finally saw traces of civilization—a two-lane asphalt road winding through the valley and disappearing behind the distant hills.

“This is wonderful,” Sarah almost cried. “I’ve never been so happy to see a highway.”

“Don’t get too excited,” Logan warned. “We’re not out of danger yet. Staying along the highway will make us easier to spot.” (End of Chapter)