Storm's words were a balm, her maternal concern genuine and disarming. As she knelt to comfort him, her expression soft, Ethan's gaze was momentarily, involuntarily drawn downward into the deep valley of her black uniform. A jolt, unexpected and electric, shot through him. It was the primal, reflexive response of the adult soul trapped within his now-pubescent body, a stark and awkward reminder of his bizarre existence. A blush crept up his neck, a hot wave of embarrassment. This, he thought with a flicker of dark humor, must be one of the stranger benefits of being reborn as a child.
"Everything will get better," Storm murmured, touching his head with a final, gentle pat before standing up, completely oblivious to the boy's fleeting internal chaos. To her, he was just a child, and what sort of wicked thoughts could a child possibly have?
Ethan coughed, clearing his throat to cover his awkwardness, his mind snapping back to the tactical situation at hand. He straightened up, his demeanor shifting from that of a child being comforted to a peer addressing a council.
"Piotr hasn't been able to contact the Professor," he began, his voice clear and steady, capturing the room's attention. "The primary target of last night's raid was clearly the Cerebro machine. Considering the Professor's abilities and the function of that device…" He paused, letting them connect the dots before he drew the conclusion for them. "I suspect they have captured the Professor. They plan to use him in conjunction with the machine for something terrible."
A stunned silence fell over the room. The adults stared at him, their expressions a mixture of shock and disbelief. He had just articulated the very fear that had been coalescing in the back of their own minds, but with a clarity and certainty that was unnerving.
Logan was the first to break the silence. He strode forward and placed a heavy hand on Ethan's shoulder. "Don't underestimate this one," he growled, his gaze sweeping over the others. "He's not just a kid. He took down most of Stryker's men himself last night. Ten combat helicopters are heaps of flaming scrap metal because of him. Without his help, I'd still be pinned to a wall somewhere. I suggest he's included in every meeting and every action from here on out."
Ethan felt a surge of satisfaction. He'd spoken to Logan earlier that morning, walking him through his own analysis, carefully seeding his conclusions. Now, the gruff mutant was presenting them as his own vetted intelligence. Of course, a small, cynical part of Logan's mind added, this has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that the kid has photographic evidence of me sharing cigars with a minor.
"An extraordinary elite," Magneto breathed, his eyes gleaming with an intense, proprietary admiration. He looked at Ethan not as a child, but as a masterpiece of raw potential. Strength, intellect, and the will to use them, all at such a tender age. He imagined this boy, forged in his own crucible, becoming a general in the war to come. A prince for his new world order.
"But he's still a child, Erik," Jean Grey interjected, her voice firm but laced with concern.
"He shouldn't be anywhere near a battlefield," Storm added, her protective instincts flaring. "No matter how powerful he is."
Magneto scoffed, a sound of pure, aristocratic disdain. "He is a warrior, forged in the fires of a real war in his own country, not one of the delicate flowers you've grown in Charles's greenhouse." He gestured dismissively at the X-Men. "You have power, yes, but you lack resolve. You are trained to wound, never to kill. A fatal flaw you inherited from your naive headmaster. It is the reason I am standing here a free man and not a corpse."
"Yeah, a free man who got his ass handed to him on Liberty Island and tossed in a plastic box," Wolverine snarled, raising his right hand and extending only his middle adamantium claw in a universal gesture of contempt.
Magneto merely smiled, a cold, condescending expression. "You have such a short memory for a man who has lived so long." A low hum filled the air, and Logan felt a deep, sickening vibration in his very bones, a phantom echo of unimaginable pain. Magneto could make his indestructible skeleton his own personal prison at any moment.
Mystique glided forward, her yellow eyes glinting as she leaned close to Logan, trailing a blue finger along his jawline. "You won't always be so lucky, James," she purred.
"Alright," Ethan's voice cut through the rising tension, sharp and commanding. "I don't think now is the time to settle old scores. The Professor is in danger. That's the mission, isn't it?"
The raw animosity in the room subsided, the adults chastened by the logic of a child.
"The boy is right," Magneto conceded, giving a magnanimous nod. Wolverine retracted his claw with a resentful grunt.
Ethan stepped forward, taking Storm's hand in one of his and Jean's in the other. He looked up at them, his eyes firm and pleading. "I know you're trying to protect me," he said, his voice earnest. "But this is a special situation. For the Professor, for the school… for my brother and sister. I have to be a part of this. I grew up in Sokovia. I know how to fight, and I know how to protect myself. If there is real danger, I promise I will be the first one to find cover."
Storm and Jean exchanged a look. His sincerity was undeniable, his logic sound. They sighed, a shared expression of helpless resignation. What a remarkable, good-hearted, and terrifyingly capable child. They nodded.
"But you listen to us, you understand?" Storm said, squatting down to his eye level. She leaned in closer. "And that old man," she whispered, tilting her head toward Magneto, "is a bad man. He uses beautiful words to sell ugly ideas. Do not listen to him."
"Don't worry," Ethan whispered back with a conspiratorial wink. "I won't be fooled by him so easily."
In the conference room, a large holographic map of North America glowed in the center of the mahogany table.
"This is the situation," Magneto began, taking command as if by right. "Stryker has taken Charles, and he has taken the core components of Cerebro. He intends to build a new, improved version at his own hidden base. Once complete, he will force Charles to use it to amplify a psychic attack that will kill every mutant on Earth." He paused, tapping the helmet on his head. "All of you will die. I, however, will not. But I find the idea of a world without anyone to challenge my intellect… boring. Thus, I am here to help. The problem is, I do not know the precise location of Stryker's base."
He let his gaze fall on Wolverine. "But one of you should."
"The Professor tried," Logan growled. "My memory of that time is a brick wall."
"Oh, you think everything is about you, don't you, Logan?" Magneto mocked.
Ethan stepped forward. Now was the moment. "The old gentleman is not talking about Logan," he said clearly. All eyes turned to him. He pointed across the room to the blue-skinned, frightened man Ororo had carried in. "He's talking about him."
He waited for them to catch up. "Stryker used him, controlled him, to attack the President. That means there is a very high probability he has been inside that base. Professor Jean," he said, turning to her. "If you use your telepathy to read his memory, you might be able to find it."
He watched as understanding dawned on their faces. He had just handed them the key. He had proven his worth, not with his fists or with energy blasts, but with his mind. From now on, they wouldn't just see him as a child. They would see him as a player.