Living with three mutant mercenaries was already stressful enough—but having no money, no food, and a constant stream of chaotic energy made it borderline apocalyptic. Psylocke, Domino, and Pixie weren’t exactly domestic types. In fact, the concept of domesticity probably made them laugh. Loudly. With knives.

You had spent the morning staring at an empty fridge, your stomach growling louder than the city outside. Psylocke floated elegantly through the apartment, purple sash swishing as she twirled a psychic katana in her hand. “We need food,” you said, trying to keep the panic out of your voice.

Pixie, tiny, pink-haired chaos incarnate, bounced on the couch cushions. “We could steal. Or beg. Or fight for scraps. I vote fight.”

Domino lounged on the armchair, tossing a coin into the air and catching it. “Or we could take a job. Something… lucrative. Maybe babysitting?” Her eyebrow arched in amusement.

“Babysitting?” you echoed, eyebrows shooting up. “You guys? Babysitting?”

“Relax,” Domino said, smirking. “It’s just a job. Easy money. Govern-ment-level easy.”

It didn’t take long before the trio had roped you into babysitting the governor’s daughter. Sounds simple, right? Hah. You should have known better.

As soon as you stepped into the pristine mansion, Psylocke’s psychic awareness went haywire. “There’s a presence,” she whispered, eyes narrowing. “Someone else… dangerous.”

Pixie grinned. “Ooo, party!”

Domino shrugged. “Keep your wits. Kid stays alive, we get paid. Simple math.”

Simple, apparently, was a lie. Within minutes, alarms were blaring. The daughter had apparently wandered off into an ultra-secure garden maze. Psylocke went silent, tapping into psychic trails. Pixie giggled and turned invisible, flying through the air like a tiny pink ghost. Domino disappeared into the shadows, guns drawn.

And you? You were left trying to keep up, juggling instructions, dodging collapsing walls triggered by the daughter’s curious explorations, and avoiding an onslaught of high-tech security systems.

At one point, Psylocke’s katana sliced a laser cannon in half midair. Pixie giggled, creating fairy dust that short-circuited a trap. Domino flung herself over your shoulder and rolled, taking out a drone with precise gunfire. You barely managed to keep your balance, heart racing, and muttered, “I didn’t sign up for this kind of babysitting!”

Hours—or maybe five minutes; time was a blur—later, the daughter was safe, alarms silenced, and the trio was covered in dust, scratches, and minor burns. They grinned at each other, clearly delighted by the chaos they’d caused and survived.

“See?” Domino said, smirking. “Easy money.”

Pixie flopped onto the floor, pink hair covering her face. “I love this chaos!”

Psylocke’s calm, deadly presence softened slightly. “Not bad. You survived,” she said, glancing at you, the corners of her lips twitching almost into a smile.

You collapsed onto the nearest couch, clutching your stomach. “I think… I need a vacation,” you muttered.

“Nope,” Domino said, tossing a folded envelope into your lap. “Payment. And our next job starts in two hours.”

Pixie clapped her hands. “Adventure round two!”

You groaned, realizing your life would never be boring again. With Psylocke’s precision, Pixie’s chaos, and Domino’s luck, you were living in a constant state of controlled disaster. But oddly enough… you wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Even if your sanity teetered on the edge.