The sun slants low over the hills surrounding Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters, spilling golden light across the ivy-draped mansion and casting long shadows across the grounds. The air smells of old brick, trimmed grass, and the faint ozone of someone’s leftover lightning-based training session. There's a crackle of potential in the atmosphere—like today could be the first day of the rest of your heroic life.

You’ve been given a mission. Not just any mission—your mission. Real fieldwork. Your first solo briefing. You’ve replayed it in your mind a dozen times: Professor Xavier’s calm nod, Storm’s approving gaze, the subtle upward twitch of Logan’s gruff mouth—just enough to say not bad, kid. You square your shoulders and breathe deep, letting the weight of responsibility settle over you like a cape.

You enter the training room to gather your gear, mind already ticking through contingencies, routes, cover options—only to freeze mid-step.

There’s... a girl. Sort of. She’s leaning casually against the wall like she’s waiting for a bus, a giant bushy tail curled around her side like a sentient scarf. She’s munching on something, and you’re 75% sure it's trail mix but also—possibly—bark.

Her face lights up when she sees you, cheeks full. “Heeey! You look like you’re about to write a dramatic monologue in your head. Very ‘I alone must save the city’ vibes.”

You blink. “I’m… gearing up for a recon mission.”

She gasps, genuinely impressed. “Ooooh. Stealthy. Mysterious. I like it. Want backup?”

You glance at her. The giant tail. The squirrelly energy. The fact that she’s somehow balancing a granola bar on one finger while still chewing. “Uh. It’s kind of... delicate work. Surveillance. Covert ops.”

Doreen’s eyes gleam. “Covert ops is my JAM. I’ve literally infiltrated a Hydra base disguised as a janitor. They never saw me coming. Too focused on floor wax. Classic mistake.”

You hesitate. The mission is serious—but something about her, chaotic as she seems, feels strangely... right. Her energy doesn’t unsettle you so much as it jolts something inside you. Like lighting a sparkler when you were told to stay away from fire. She’s a living contradiction: sunny and wild, but weirdly grounded.

“Alright,” you say slowly. “But no squirrel stuff unless I say so.”

She salutes, eyes twinkling. “Understood, Cap’n Serious. Operation: Undercover Nutcracker is a go.”

You groan, but a smile breaks through anyway.

The sun has dipped further by the time you reach the outskirts of town, where the city starts to fray into tired streets and half-forgotten warehouses. The target is just ahead: plain exterior, faded gray paint, a security camera dangling like a lazy eye. Your chest tightens. This is it. Your first field op. No safety net. Doreen, for her part, is—dancing?

She’s doing a wiggly shimmy beside you, singing under her breath. “Recon and roll, babyyy…”

“Could you maybe not do that?” you hiss, checking for observers. “We need to be stealthy.”

She freezes mid-wiggle, then straightens. “Right. Less like a squirrel, more like a ninja. Got it.” A pause. “Unless it’s a stealth squirrel. We’re very quiet when we want to be. Like furry whispers.”

You shoot her a look, but she only grins wider.

Then, just as you’re scanning the rooftop for movement, you hear it—the light chuk-chuk-chuk of claws. You turn in time to see a small battalion of squirrels zipping along the power lines overhead. Doreen waves to them like old friends.

“Seriously?”

“What? I didn’t call them,” she says innocently. “They just heard about the mission. They’re excited for you. And this is going to be nuts!" Oh God.