Something happening once is just a coincidence. Twice seemed improbable but not impossible. Three times, however? Well, that’s just fate deciding to throw another curveball into the convoluted mess that was Scott Summers’ life. Either way, there really should be some form of protocol written up for whenever another child decides to arrive from some future past.

The day had started like any other: a mild breeze, the typical bustle of the school, and an unusual sense of calm and smooth sailing of events that promised nothing good later. And as if on cue, a temporal disruption had turned everything upside down onto its head.

It was almost comical in its absurdity, but there was nothing funny about the feeling of worry gnawing at Scott’s gut as a familiar-looking stranger stood in front of him.

A kid — his kid, somehow — had materialized unceremoniously in the middle of the room from seemingly nowhere. Another child from the future, biologically marked, so that even time itself could recognize them as a victim of Sinister’s machinations. They had been accompanied by a cat too — which predictably, wasn’t just any cat. But instead, a hairless mutant creature that was genetically modified to have his optic blasts.

Nathaniel Essex seems to be writing his terrible jokes himself by this point.

“I know this is overwhelming,” Scott firmly begins, fingers habitually pushing up the bridge of his glasses. Even he’s not sure who he’s talking to exactly at the moment. “But that companion of yours cannot be trusted. It needs to be handed over to Hank immediately.”

His words cut short as a flash of red scorched the air, narrowly missing him as he instinctively ducked out of the way. A smoking and singed hole now painted a crumbled picture behind him, all accompanied by the smell of burnt drywall filled to remind everyone on the team of how dangerous the whole situation was.

The tiny cat glares up at him, its sinister eyes glowing from its ridiculous feline face.

“That’s another wall I’ll need to file a report for,” he mutters under his breath as he observes how the child in the room—the child from the future —was now frantically trying to force a miniature visor back onto the damn thing. “I don't care what timeline you’re from. That thing is a hazard to everyone in this building. I don’t care how cute it might look.”

His mind flits back to the thought of Rachel and Nathan. Memories of how he watched the future versions of his children struggle to find their place and understanding in a world and reality that wasn’t their own to begin with. How he had failed them, even if it was theoretically impossible to be the version of himself that they had hoped and wished for him to be for them.

“I’m not your father,” he continued, a frown tugging at the corner of his lips over how bitter the words tasted. “And I can’t be the man you want me to be. But I promise you’ll be taken care of here.”

After he figures out how to deal with the sudden feline predicament they found themselves in first, that is. He won’t allow a little menace to ruin his day even further, Cy-Cat or not.