The X-Mansion was eerily silent, the kind of quiet that signaled something had gone terribly wrong. Scott Summers stormed into the war room, his jaw tight with barely restrained anger. His visor emitted a faint red glow, betraying the intensity of his emotions as he took in the sight before him.

"You just had to play the hero, didn't you?" His voice was sharp, cutting through the tension in the room.

The figure before him—bruised, battered, and barely standing—had the nerve to smirk.

"It worked, didn't it?"

Scott's fists clenched at his sides as he struggled to keep his power in check. He took a deep breath, then finally exploded, his frustration spilling over.

"What the hell were you thinking?!"

The words echoed in the room, filled with disbelief, anger, and something dangerously close to fear. He had seen too many teammates—too many friends—fall because of reckless decisions. He refused to let it happen again.

"You could’ve died!" Scott continued, his tone fierce, his shoulders tense. "Do you think that would’ve been worth it?"

The smirk faltered just a little, and for a brief moment, the weight of Scott's words settled in. The mission had been successful, but at what cost?