Sarah Across the Multiverse

General (POV)

A thick fog of despair hung heavy over the wreckage of the CIA facility, a grim reflection of the mutants' collective mood. The air was thick with defeat, the kind that seeped into your bones and left a chill no power could warm. Charles and Erik had returned by dawn, only to find their dream of mutant-human harmony lying in tatters amidst the debris. The once-hopeful ragtag group of mutants now slumped like toppled dominoes, burdened by the night's horrors and an uncertain future.

Meanwhile, Sarah snoozed blissfully, dead to the world like a teenager after an all-night gaming binge. When she finally stirred, peeling her eyes open to the harsh light of reality, Raven was already in motion. She stood by Sarah's bedside, looking wired enough to fuel a coffee shop for a week. Before Sarah could fully shake off the fog of sleep, Raven hustled her out of the room and into a waiting car with the no-nonsense urgency of someone on a mission.

"Where are we going?" Sarah mumbled, disoriented as the car sped away from the wreckage she'd just left behind. Missing the "morning memo" left her out of the loop, and the knot of unease in her stomach tightened. Her mind turned to Darwin, the quiet but steady teammate who'd faced every challenge with resilience. His survival in this timeline was an anomaly, a ripple in the fabric of the story she thought she knew. Was his death not the catalyst that pushed Charles toward building his dream team?

Raven, seated beside her, broke the silence with a soft chuckle. It was the kind of laugh that said, You look ridiculous, and I'm enjoying it. "Relax," she said, her tone just this side of comforting. "We're heading to Charles's mansion. A little mutant oasis where we can train, grow, and maybe stop blowing up public property."

Sarah squinted at her, the mental fog lifting just enough for sarcasm to slip through. "You're serious? He's just handing out invites for Mutant Boot Camp?"

Raven's smirk deepened. "More like Mutant School, but yeah, you've got the gist."

"Hogwarts for mutants," Sarah muttered, her mind already leaping ahead to what she could gain from the setup.

"Hogwarts?" Raven repeated, eyebrow raised.

"Yeah, magic school. Went there in my teens," Sarah said, her voice slipping into autopilot.

Silence. The kind of silence that presses pause on reality itself. When Sarah glanced up, every pair of eyes in the car was fixed on her. If confusion were a sport, they'd all be Olympians.

"Magic school?" Erik asked, his voice carrying that dangerous mix of curiosity and skepticism. "You're saying there's a school for magic users in our world?"

"Oh yeah, wand-waving, potion-brewing, the works. It's tucked away in Scotland," Sarah said, her tone casual—too casual.

"Charles," Erik said, turning to the professor with a sharp look. "Do you know anything about a magic school in Europe?"

Sarah blinked, her brain rebooting. "Wait, no—no. It's a book. Fiction. Muggles, Quidditch, the whole thing. Not real."

Raven stifled a laugh, and Charles raised a patient brow but said nothing, probably filing this whole exchange under Things to Ponder While Meditating.

As the banter ebbed and flowed, the miles seemed to melt away. Finally, the mansion appeared on the horizon, rising like something out of a fairy tale—if fairy tales included psychic parapets and a vibe that screamed, We're cooler than your average school.

"That's a house?" Sarah said, half-joking. "Looks more like a Bond villain's hideout."

"Trust me," Raven quipped, "the interior design is way less menacing."

"Yeah? What about the headmaster?" Sarah asked.

Raven grinned, tossing a wink toward Charles. "Depends on your definition of menacing."

Sarah stared at it in awe, the weight of its legacy settling over her like a second skin. This wasn't just a mansion. It was the mansion—the birthplace of the X-Men. A place where destinies would be forged, lives would be changed, and futures rewritten.

"Well," Sarah muttered to herself, her voice a mix of determination and reluctant admiration, "here we go."

The sleek black car rolled to a stop in front of Charles Xavier's estate, its engine purring before cutting off like a panther retreating into the shadows. Sarah stepped out, her boots crunching on the gravel driveway as she tilted her head to take in the sprawling mansion before her. It was every bit the castle she remembered from the X-Men movies, though less "technological marvel" and more "Victorian chic" for now. No Cerebro, no Danger Room, and definitely no X-Jet parked out back—at least not yet. She smirked. Give it a few years.

To anyone else, this might just be an impressive old house. To Sarah, it was a blank slate about to become a nerd's fever dream of futuristic tech and mutant badassery. She could already see it: Hank McCoy tinkering with cutting-edge gadgets in his lab, blue fur everywhere; Charles fine-tuning Cerebro to reach any mind on the planet; the Danger Room simulating apocalyptic battles for training. The place was a sandbox waiting to become a playground for heroes—or a war zone for mutants.

Her real interest, however, lay in Hank's lab. That was where the magic—or rather, science—would happen. Hank's serum, which could temporarily suppress mutant abilities, was impressive, sure. But Sarah wasn't just interested in suppressing powers. Her mind raced with what-ifs. What if she got her hands on blood samples from other mutants? What if she used them as blueprints? What if she pushed the envelope further?

Could she combine the mutant X-gene with the super-soldier serum? Supercharge powers? Give them to regular people? Her grin widened at the sheer chaos that idea brought to life in her head. Hell, maybe she could even engineer something like the Sentinels' adaptive capabilities—bio-mimicry, constantly evolving to counter any threat. But not for extermination. No, hers would be a combat suit, a literal Swiss Army knife of powers.

Now that would be a statement piece.

"Nice place," Sarah said aloud, her voice thick with sarcasm, because what was life without a little bite?

Ahead of her, Raven turned, her yellow eyes gleaming. "You get used to it."

Sarah raised a brow. "Oh, I plan to," she replied, her tone deceptively light. But inside, the gears were spinning faster than ever. This wasn't just a mansion; it was a workshop. The towering structure wasn't a home—it was a catalyst.

As she followed the group inside, Sarah ran her fingers over the cool stone of the mansion's exterior. She wasn't just here to train. She was here to experiment. To build. To push boundaries. And if her grin was anything to go by, she was going to enjoy every second of it.

...

Sarah stood on the sunlit grounds outside Xavier's mansion, her arms crossed as she observed the chaos of mutant training. It wasn't quite The Avengers—more like a circus act in the early rehearsal stage. The air buzzed with raw energy, a cocktail of frustration, determination, and the occasional outburst of flames or sonic waves. It was like watching a live-action X-Games for superpowers, and Sarah wasn't sure if she was impressed or deeply concerned.

"Are you going to stand there gawking all day, or are you planning on contributing?" Erik's voice cut through her thoughts, sharp and precise like he was already gearing up for a verbal sparring match.

Sarah turned, arching a brow. "And here I thought you were the king of staring dramatically into the middle distance. Trying to steal your thunder?"

Erik's lips twitched, but no smile emerged. "If you're done posturing, perhaps you could stop holding back and show us what you're really capable of."

"Right," she drawled, brushing a blonde strand from her face. "Because revealing all my cards to a group of strangers sounds like a genius idea. What's next? Trust falls?"

"You don't trust us?" Erik's gaze sharpened, a challenge embedded in his words.

"Not really," Sarah said lightly, her voice a polished edge. "But I do enjoy the free entertainment. Watching you all flail is… satisfying."

From a distance, Charles observed the exchange with an air of amusement. He stepped forward before the tension could ignite. "Erik, let's not intimidate our new recruit on her first day. Sarah's acclimating to her new surroundings."

"I'm not intimidated," Sarah shot back, smirking. "But thanks for the pep talk, Professor."

Raven sidled up next to Sarah, her grin laced with mischief. "Don't mind him. Erik's like this with everyone. It's his way of saying 'hello.' But if you really want to win him over, you'll have to do something showy."

"Showy's kind of my thing," Sarah replied under her breath, glancing at Erik. "Alright, metal man. What's the test?"

Erik's expression flickered with something close to intrigue, but his cool composure remained intact. "Simple," he said, gesturing to a nearby iron rod. With a flick of his wrist, it shot into the air like a missile, hurtling straight toward her at a speed that screamed, I'm testing you—and also kind of daring you to fail.

Sarah barely blinked. A tendril of shadow unfurled from her side, snatching the rod mid-flight and snapping it back with enough force to rival Erik's original throw. He caught it effortlessly, his expression betraying just a hint of surprise.

"Not bad," he admitted, twirling the rod before setting it down. "But shadows are… indirect."

Sarah tilted her head, a teasing grin forming. "Are you saying I'm not flashy enough for you?"

"I'm saying you're wasting potential with hesitation," Erik replied, his words cutting but not without a sliver of curiosity.

The exchange drew attention. Banshee and Darwin paused their training, their eyes bright with interest. Beast adjusted his glasses, likely running mental equations on the kinetic force of Sarah's shadow tendrils. Even Raven seemed amused, leaning in with a whisper.

"Don't take it personally. He does this with everyone."

"Good to know," Sarah muttered, her gaze lingering on Erik as he turned away. She was used to being an outsider, running solo missions, and trusting no one but herself. Yet this group, with all their quirks and dysfunctions, felt oddly magnetic. Intriguing, even.

Before she could slink back into her observer role, Charles's voice broke through her thoughts. "Sarah, would you consider sparring with Erik?"

Her head snapped to him, her expression somewhere between disbelief and amusement. "Spar with him?" She turned to Erik, who stood arms crossed, his smirk as infuriating as it was inviting.

"What's the matter?" he asked smoothly. "Afraid you'll lose?"

Sarah let out a laugh, rolling her shoulders. "Oh, I'm just worried you'll cry when I win."

The rest of the mutants formed a loose circle, eager spectators to the impromptu showdown. Erik stepped into the makeshift arena, his stance calm, calculated, and far too confident for Sarah's liking. She mirrored him, shadows curling around her feet like waiting serpents.

"First to disarm," Charles announced his tone calm but carrying the weight of authority.

"Let's make it interesting," Erik said, lifting a wave of metal shards from a nearby toolbox. They hovered ominously in the air, gleaming in the sunlight.

Sarah's lips curled into a wolfish grin as she summoned her shadows, dark energy pulsing at her fingertips. "Alright, metal man," she said, her voice low and dangerous. "Let's dance."

The first volley of metal shards shot toward her, and the battle was on.

...

The cluster of metal shards tore through the air like a swarm of angry bees, all aimed squarely at Sarah. She didn't flinch. Instead, shadows erupted from the ground, surging beneath her to boost her speed. With a sharp, deliberate motion, she thrust her hand forward, and dark tendrils shot out like whips, ensnaring each shard mid-flight. The metal projectiles hung suspended in the air, held fast by the tendrils before they dropped harmlessly to the grass.

"Not bad," Erik acknowledged, his tone cool but undeniably laced with challenge. "But let's see how long you can keep that up."

Erik immediately raised both hands, and Sarah barely had time to react as an entire tool cabinet groaned, its metal frame bending and creaking under Erik's control. He hurled it toward her with the force of a freight train.

"Really?" Sarah muttered under her breath, stepping aside as the massive object flew past her. "Overcompensating much?"

She momentarily contemplated using telekinesis to deal with Erik's metal barrage but decided against it. Stopping a bullet was one thing stopping a massive object like that was a gamble.

Her shadows coiled upward, snaking around the cabinet as it neared. With a precise pull of her arm, she yanked the object to a stop in mid-air. Then, with a firm push, she sent it hurtling back toward Erik. He caught it effortlessly, twisting it into a compact ball of crumpled metal, then dropped it like it was nothing more than a discarded soda can.

"Alright, you've got a good arm," she quipped, rolling her shoulders. "What else you got?"

Erik smirked, unshaken, and raised both hands again. This time, the ground beneath them trembled as metal pipes, bolts, and pieces of machinery that had been buried beneath the lawn began to rise around him, spinning in a chaotic orbit like some kind of metallic storm. The debris whirled in the air, gleaming in the sunlight, ready to strike.

"Cute," Sarah said, shadows flickering around her feet. "Let's raise the stakes."

Her hands shot forward, and the air around her thickened. Tendrils of shadow exploded from the ground, weaving together into a wall of darkness that surged forward like an unstoppable tidal wave. The two forces collided, Erik's metallic storm meeting Sarah's writhing shadow in a clash that rattled the air with an electric intensity.

Erik pressed harder, his shards and debris grinding into the shadows, sparks flying as they fought for dominance. Sarah's smirk only deepened as she dissolved the tendrils holding the metal at bay, letting the shards rush toward her like a swarm. In an instant, she vanished into the shadows, teleporting shadow teleporting behind Erik, switching places with a shadow duplicate, that crept behind Erik.

"Surprise!" she called a tendril of shadow lashing out toward him.

Erik spun on instinct, raising a nearby metal pipe with his magnetic powers just in time to block the attack. The impact sent him skidding back a few feet, boots digging into the earth as his grip on the pipe tightened.

"That's a neat trick," he said, eyes narrowing with interest. "But you'll need more than that to win."

"Good thing I've got plenty more," Sarah shot back, her grin widening.

This time, she switched tactics, a wave of frost spreading from her feet. The grass beneath her turned brittle and white, icy tendrils creeping toward Erik. He barely had time to react before the frost began to reach his boots, freezing the ground beneath him. He twisted his hands, creating a magnetic force field to lift himself off the ground, but the ice continued to spread, creeping up the hem of his coat.

"Predictable," he called, his voice confident despite the frost. He focused on the surrounding metal, preparing to manipulate it to his advantage. But the frost was different—this wasn't something he could just bend with magnetism.

As the ice inched closer to his legs, Erik's focus shifted, trying to figure out how to break free from the chill. Before he could act, the shadows, relentless as ever, began to snake around him again, slipping past his magnetic shield and wrapping around his limbs.

"Shadows and ice," he muttered under his breath. "You're testing my limits, Sarah."

Sarah smirked as she teleported once more, reappearing behind him. Her shadows surged toward his face, a tendril lashing out to strike.

Erik, his senses heightened, twisted another metal pipe with his power and used it as a shield, blocking the shadow's strike. The pipe cracked under the pressure but held long enough for him to maintain his ground.

"That's a neat trick," he said, a note of begrudging respect in his voice. "But you'll need more than that to win."

Sarah's grin widened as she shadow-teleported above him, her form reappearing in an instant. With a decisive motion, she extended both hands toward the ground, and the air around her crackled with cold energy. A storm of icy shards materialized, spiraling outward as she hurled them toward Erik. The frozen projectiles collided with his shield, shattering on impact with a loud, satisfying crack. But the ice didn't stop; it continued to pour down in a relentless, freezing torrent, piling up like a winter storm, each shard threatening to overwhelm him.

He struggled to maintain his shield, his magnetic powers barely able to hold off the sheer force of the attack. With a final burst of strength, he flung the frozen debris away, the force of his magnetic pulse scattering the ice.

Sarah landed lightly on the ground, her breath steady, but her eyes alight with excitement.

"Call it a draw?" she suggested, rising to her feet, her voice full of challenge.

Erik, also breathing hard, gave a begrudging nod. "You're better than I thought."

"Gee, thanks," Sarah said, brushing dirt from her sleeve. "Next time, maybe bring a little more flair. You're starting to look predictable."

The crowd of mutants watching erupted into cheers and applause, with Raven whistling loudly. Beast adjusted his glasses, undoubtedly running mental calculations in his head. Even Charles couldn't help but smile at the display of power.

"Well, that was something," Charles said, stepping forward, his tone warm yet mildly reproachful. "Though perhaps next time, we keep the property damage to a minimum?"

"Where's the fun in that?" Sarah asked with a grin, clearly unfazed by the havoc left in their wake.

Erik approached her, his expression unreadable, yet there was an intensity to his gaze. "We're not finished," he said quietly, his voice low but firm.

"Oh?" Sarah raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

"There's more to you than shadows and ice," Erik said, his voice carrying a certain weight. "I felt it. You have an affinity for metal, even if you don't realize it yet."

Sarah's playful smirk faltered, "Kind of not really."