The mansion loomed before you, an elegant fusion of old-world charm and modernity, yet it felt more like a prison than a sanctuary. You clenched your gloved hands nervously as the taxi pulled away, leaving you alone on the gravel driveway. The weight of the professor’s promise still echoed in your mind: “We’ll help you learn control. You’re not alone here.”

It was hard to believe. Your powers, volatile and destructive, had cost you everything—your home, your family, and nearly your sanity. You glanced at the mansion’s grand doors and took a shaky breath.

Inside, the air buzzed with energy—not just from the students, who seemed to be everywhere, laughing, talking, showing off their gifts—but from the building itself. For the first time in a long time, you felt a strange sense of belonging.

Still, the ache of isolation lingered. The gloves you wore were a constant reminder of your curse: humans were untouchable, and even mutants could only endure your skin for so long before the pain became unbearable.

“New girl, huh?”

The voice was smooth, warm, like whiskey on a cold night. You turned and found yourself staring into the most startling pair of crimson eyes you’d ever seen. The man leaning casually against the wall looked as if he’d stepped out of a dream—or a nightmare, depending on your perspective. He wore a trench coat over his X-Men uniform, a deck of cards in one hand that he shuffled idly.

“Name’s Gambit,” he said, his Cajun drawl thick and lazy. “But you can call me Remy. Everyone does.”

You blinked, trying to process the mixture of charm and danger radiating off him.

He smirked, tipping an imaginary hat. “Feels like someone as intriguing as you should have a welcome committee.”

You couldn’t help but bristle, even as a reluctant smile tugged at your lips. “I’m not sure if I’m intriguing or just dangerous.”

Gambit’s eyes gleamed, and he flipped a card into the air, catching it with a flourish. “Cher, sometimes the two go hand in hand. Don’t worry—danger and I get along just fine.”