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

“That won’t happen,” Lynn said. “You know why? Because you’re worried about it. Real monsters don’t worry about becoming monsters. They just enjoy power and don’t question themselves. But you’re different, Anna. You’re struggling, and that means you’re still yourself.”

The little rascal looked at him, his eyes flashing with complex emotions.

"Do you always do this?" she asked.

"What?"

“Always say the right thing,” she said, “to make people feel better.”

Lynn gave a wry smile. "Not always. I say the wrong thing sometimes. But this time... I meant it."

As dusk settled, the setting sun disappeared completely behind the mountain ridge, the sky changing from golden yellow to deep purple, and then to complete darkness. Lynn turned on the headlights, two beams of light stretching across the winding mountain road.

They entered the Blue Ridge Highway, a famous scenic road that was exceptionally quiet at night. Occasionally, a car or two would pass by in the opposite direction, their headlights flashing briefly in the darkness before silence returned. The forests on both sides stood like black walls, and only the stars overhead reminded them that they were not in some enclosed tunnel.

"Are you tired?" the little rascal asked. "I can drive if you need a rest."

"You can drive?"

“I learned when I was sixteen,” the little rascal said. “In Mississippi, everyone learns to drive because there’s no public transportation.”

“Maybe in a little while,” Lynn said, “I can hold on for now.”

They continued along the winding mountain road, occasionally passing small viewpoints and rest areas, all of which were deserted. A night breeze blew in through the half-open car window, carrying the fresh scent of the forest, instantly invigorating them.

Lynn drove while checking his rearview mirror every now and then to make sure no one was following him. So far, everything was calm—no suspicious vehicles, no helicopter sounds, no signs of pursuers.

“Looks like your plan worked,” Little Rascal said.

“It’s temporary,” Lynn said. “We still have a long way to go.”

They stopped at a secluded rest area, ate some food from their backpacks, and used the restroom. The rest area consisted of only a simple wooden shed and a few picnic tables, surrounded by dense pine forest, the air filled with the scent of pine resin.

“It’s so quiet here,” Little Rascal said, standing beside the wooden shed and looking up at the starry sky. “I’ve never seen so many stars before. Even in Meridian, light pollution isn’t much, but it’s never this clear.”

Lynn stood beside her, also looking up at the starry sky. The Milky Way stretched across the sky like a ribbon of light, and countless stars twinkled in the darkness like diamonds scattered on black velvet.

“You’ll never see these things in New York,” he said. “The city lights are so bright they block out the stars.”

Do you like New York?

“I’m used to it,” Lynn said. “That’s where I live and work. But sometimes… I miss the peace and quiet.”

Little Rascal was silent for a moment, then said, "If I could control my abilities, maybe I would go live in New York. There are lots of people there, and no one would notice me."

"You want to go to New York?"

“It’s just imagination,” Little Rascal said with a wry smile. “Right now, I can’t even touch a single person, let alone integrate into life in a big city.”

Lynn wanted to say something comforting, but his phone suddenly vibrated.

He frowned, took out his phone, and saw that it was Michael's number.

“Lynn,” Michael’s voice came through the receiver, visibly tense, “we’re in trouble.”

Lynn's heart sank. "What's going on?"

“An ambush,” Michael said, “near the intersection of I-40 and I-81. At least six vehicles are blocking the highway, and—”

A burst of gunfire and explosions came from the other end of the phone, drowning out Michael's voice.

“Michael!” Lynn shouted, “Michael! Are you still there?”

A few seconds later, Michael's voice rang out again, but more urgent. "I'm still here. Logan and Cyclops are fighting back, but they outnumber us. At least twenty armed men, and a few mutants—"

Another explosion was heard.

“We’ll hold on,” Michael shouted. “Keep going, don’t look back!”

"but--"

“This is your plan, isn’t it?” Michael interrupted him. “To draw attention. We’re doing our job, you do yours. Protect the girl, don’t let our sacrifices be in vain!”

The call was cut off.

Lynn stood frozen in place, holding her busy phone, her heart churning with complex emotions.

"What happened?" Little Rascal asked nervously.

“The FBI convoy was ambushed,” Lynn said, his voice hoarse, “at the intersection of I-40 and I-81.”

"What about Logan and the others?"

“They’re fighting,” Lynn said. “Michael said they’d hold on, but…”

He didn't finish speaking, but the little rascal understood what he meant.

Should we go and provide support?

Lynn closed his eyes, forcing himself to calm down. Every instinct urged him to turn back and help his colleagues and friends. But he knew that wouldn't be the right choice.

“No,” he said, his voice strained, “we must move on.”

"but--"

“Michael’s right,” Lynn interrupted her, “that’s the plan. They’re the bait; we’re the real targets. If I go back now, not only will I not be able to help, but I’ll also make their sacrifices meaningless.”

The little rascal looked at him with a mixture of understanding and sympathy in his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly.

“Don’t apologize,” Lynn took a deep breath and rallied his spirits. “We need to go. If the enemy discovers you’re not in the decoy convoy, they might start searching other routes. We must get as far as possible before dawn.”

They quickly returned to the car, Lynn started the engine, and continued along the Blue Ridge Highway. But this time, he pressed harder, and the car noticeably sped up.

The night wind howled in through the car windows, ruffling Lynn's hair. His hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles turning white from the force. The sounds from the phone call kept replaying in his mind—gunshots, explosions, Michael's frantic shouts.

A battle was taking place there, his comrades were bleeding, and he could only keep going.

"What are you thinking about?" the little rascal asked.

“I’m wondering if I made the right choice,” Lynn said. “To use them as bait.”

“If you all get together, everyone’s probably going to get into trouble,” Little Rascal said. “You said that before.”

“I know,” Lynn said, “but knowing what the right choice is and accepting the consequences are two different things.” Little Rascal fell silent, seemingly pondering his words.

“I understand,” she finally said. “After I absorbed Victor’s memories, I saw many of the choices he made. Every single one was ‘right’—from his perspective. But every choice hurt someone, ruined someone’s life. Sometimes, ‘right’ and ‘good’ are not the same thing.”

Lynn glanced at her. This girl was much more mature than her age, perhaps because of everything she had been through, or perhaps because of the memories in her mind that didn't belong to her.

“You know what’s the scariest thing?” Rogue continued, “When Victor made those choices, he genuinely believed he was doing the right thing. He wasn’t one of those movie villains who yell ‘I’m going to rule the world!’ He genuinely believed mutants needed protection, and that his organization was saving them. He just went down the wrong path.”

"This cannot be an excuse for him to harm innocent people."

“I know,” said the little rascal, “but it taught me one thing—evil isn’t always obvious. Sometimes it looks like good intentions, just twisted.”

The car continued forward in the darkness, away from where the decoy convoy was fighting, heading towards the Xavier's Academy.

Lynn didn't know what would become of Michael and the others, whether Logan and One-Eyed could hold on, or what awaited them at the end of this road.

But he knew one thing—he had to complete his mission: protect Little Rascal and get her safely to Xavier's School. That was what he could do, and what he had to do.

The rest is up to fate.

After midnight, they stopped at a small gas station to refuel. The gas station had only one drowsy elderly clerk who showed no interest in the two late-night travelers.

While refueling, Lynn tried to contact Michael again, but the call didn't go through. He then tried Sarah's number, but there was no response either.

"Still can't get in touch?" Little Rascal stood by the car, watching his expression.

“I can’t get in touch with them,” Lynn said. “It could be a signal problem, or it could be…”

He didn't finish speaking, but the little rascal understood.

“They’ll be alright,” she said, though her voice held a hint of uncertainty. “Logan and Cyclops are both very strong.”

“I hope so,” Lynn said.

They continued on their way, and Little Rascal offered to drive so Lynn could rest. Lynn hesitated for a moment, but his body had indeed reached its limit—his broken ribs protested from the constant jolting, and his eyelids were so heavy he could barely keep them open.

“Okay,” he said, “but wake me up immediately if anything seems amiss.”

“I will,” said the little rascal.

They switched places; the little rascal got into the driver's seat, adjusted the rearview mirror and seat, and then smoothly started the car. Lynn leaned back in the passenger seat, closed his eyes, and let fatigue drag him into a light sleep.

His dream was chaotic—the roar of fighter jets, the flashes of explosions, gunshots, screams, Michael's voice, Logan's roars. These images intertwined in his mind, like a poorly edited movie.

When he opened his eyes again, it was already daylight.

As dawn broke over the eastern horizon, the sky was painted a pale pink and golden hue. They were driving along a highway that wound through a valley, with open meadows and rolling mountains in the distance on either side. The air was fresh and cool, carrying the scent of dew and grass.

“You’re awake,” said the little rascal. “You’ve slept for about five hours.”

Lynn rubbed his eyes and glanced at the time—a little after six in the morning.

Where are we?

“Virginia,” the little rascal said, “will be in New York State in a few hours.”

Lynn nodded, took a bottle of water from his backpack, and took a few sips. His body was still aching, but he felt much better than last night.

"Was there anything unusual along the way?"

“No,” said the little rascal, “it’s very quiet. A few cars pass by occasionally, but no one is following us.”

“Very good,” Lynn said, “it seems our plan has indeed worked.”

He tried calling Michael again, and this time the call finally went through.

“Michael!” Lynn’s voice was filled with obvious relief. “How are you guys?”

“We’re still alive,” Michael’s voice was tired but firm, “but at a great cost.”

"What about casualties?"

“Three agents were wounded, one seriously,” Michael said. “Sarah was also injured.”

Lynn's heart clenched. "How is she?"

“She was shot in the leg, but it wasn’t fatal,” Michael said. “She’s in the hospital now, and the doctors say she’ll make a full recovery.”

Lynn let out a long sigh. "Where are the others? Logan, Cyclops, Storm?"

“They were the main reason we survived,” Michael said, a hint of awe in his voice. “That Logan. I’ve never seen anyone fight like him. Bullets hit him like they hit a wall, and the wounds healed in seconds. He took down at least seven enemies single-handedly.”

"Where's the one-eyed man?"

"His eye laser? Destroyed three enemy vehicles and suppressed their mutants. Storm, though weakened, summoned a small storm at a crucial moment, buying us time to retreat."

"Where are the prisoners? Victor and Jason?"

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone.

“Victor is still in our hands,” Michael said, “but Jason…”

"What's wrong?"

“He was rescued,” Michael said. “During the fight, an enemy mutant—the kind that seems to be able to teleport—suddenly appeared in our car and took Jason away. We didn’t even have time to react.”

Lynn cursed. "The fact that they went to such lengths to save Jason means he's important to them."

“Or rather, what the little rascal absorbs from him is important to them,” Michael said. “Anyway, at least we still have Victor.”

Where are you now?

“In a safe house,” Michael said. “The FBI has sent more support, including a medical team. Logan said they will continue to escort Victor to New York, but he needs to rest for a few hours.”

“Understood,” Lynn said. “We’re almost there. We should reach Xavier’s School in about four or five hours.”

"all the best?"

“Everything went smoothly,” Lynn said. “No pursuers. Your decoy plan was a success.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Michael said, a hint of bitterness in his voice. “At least our sacrifices weren’t in vain. Take care, Lynn. See you in New York.” (End of Chapter)