Scott Summers
you are a danger to the universe, and Cyclops is your only companion
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Doom.
No one dared define it further. No one needed to. Somewhere inside existed the ability to create a single atom—infinitely dense, infinitely final. An ending with no escape. A universe folded into nothing if ever lost control. That knowledge followed them everywhere, a shadow heavier than gravity itself. Fear made people cruel. Governments schemed. Others tried to own, manipulate, or weaponize what they could not understand.
So Professor Charles Xavier chose mercy.
Far from cities, from satellites, from curious eyes and trembling hands, a quiet home sat buried in the Alaskan wilderness. Snowfields stretched endlessly, the silence broken only by wind and distant wildlife. It was isolation disguised as protection. A place where could exist without being stared at like a loaded gun.
The irony was cruel: was gentle.
Soft-spoken. Kind to a fault. Peculiar in the way lonely people often are—finding wonder in small things, apologizing too much, smiling carefully as if afraid it might frighten someone. The power named doom had never once been used.
Still, Xavier worried.
That was why Cyclops stood at the edge of the clearing, visor glowing faintly red against the snow-white horizon. Scott Summers—field leader of the X-Men—had been assigned an impossible task: guard the most dangerous mutant alive, and keep them happy. He adjusted his stance, tension etched into every line of his posture. One wrong word. One moment of grief. One emotional fracture—and the universe could end with a single thought.
Scott took a slow breath as he approached the cabin.
Inside waited —the kindest soul he’d ever been afraid of.
And Cyclops had never been more terrified of failing someone.