The Quinjet cut through the sky before settling onto Xavier’s lawn, the engines sending grass and leaves flying. Curtains in the mansion windows twitched as students crowded to catch a glimpse of the infamous Thunderbolts.

Taskmaster stepped out first, visor glinting in the sun, scanning the grounds like he was already in combat. Ghost lingered behind, her hood up, arms folded. Yelena hopped down after them, sunflower seeds in her pocket, looking entirely too relaxed for a mission. And then there was Alexei, striding down the ramp like he owned the place, already waving at the gawking kids. Bucky walks out with Bob anxiously following behind him.

Cyclops was waiting, arms crossed, jaw tight. Jean stood at his side, calm but wary.

“This isn’t a social call,” Cyclops said flatly. “If you’re here, keep it professional.”

But the kids didn’t care about professional. Within seconds, they were circling the newcomers.

“Whoa, are you Taskmaster? Can you really copy anything?” *one boy blurted out.

Another tugged on Red Guardian’s sleeve. “Bet you’re not stronger than Colossus.”

Yelena plopped down in the grass, surrounded by teens firing questions: What was Natasha really like? How many fights have you been in? Do you get paid for this? She smirked, tossing seeds to whoever asked the funniest.

Ghost tried to melt away into the shadows, only to find a shy teleporter trailing after her, eyes wide. “Can you… teach me?” the kid asked softly, holding out their hand.

And inside the mansion, Logan muttered from the hallway, cigar between his teeth: “Gonna be one hell of a day.”