Marvel: Starting with the Homelander Template

"All right, everyone. Hank's prepped our high-intensity tactical suits. You've got five minutes to gear up!"

Charles didn't waste time with more speeches. After the rallying words were done, he got straight to business.

Off to the side, Selina gestured, and several aides wheeled out a large case.

Clang!

The lid swung open—revealing rows of black-and-gray armored suits, each one customized for protection and mobility.

Given that their enemies weren't humans but Decepticons—lethal alien machines—no one objected. Silently, one by one, the mutants began to suit up.

Even Alex, who technically didn't need it. With his current level of invulnerability and telekinesis, battle armor was cosmetic at best.

But now wasn't the time for special treatment. He changed along with the rest.

Meanwhile, Hank took charge of organizing support teams, med supplies, and field logistics.

Half an hour later, everything was ready.

> "All right, everyone. First destination: Rochester. Move out!"

Charles led the way to the hangar, where the Blackbird was already fueled and humming.

---

> "Look! They're heading out to fight the Decepticons!"

"So cool… When will it be our turn?"

"Ugh, if only we weren't still so weak…"

Back in the base, younger mutants watched from the sidelines, envious of those boarding the jet.

Scott. Vincent. Liz. Names now spoken with awe.

But the hard truth?

Against alien war machines, these juniors were dead weight—liabilities.

> "Damn it, why did I have to stay behind?!"

"I'm not the only telepath in this place!"

Emma Frost was absolutely livid.

The plan had left her out of the fight.

The reason?

Her telepathy would be used remotely through Cerebro to provide battlefield intel—like tracking Decepticon positions in real-time.

It was important, yes.

But in her mind, not a task only she could do. Charles had the same gift—and he was far less durable in a fight.

Emma, with her diamond form, could at least hold her own.

Charles, out there on the front lines? Sitting duck.

> "Ugh! He's going into the warzone, and I'm stuck at base like a glorified secretary!"

She stomped down the hallway in heels, fuming.

> "Oh please,"

Mystique chimed in from a bench, arms crossed.

"You really wanna die fighting space tanks? Let the glory hounds have their fun. I'll take a drink and a nap, thanks."

Emma paused, exhaled through her nose, and pivoted.

> "Fine! Let the Earth burn! Not my damn problem anyway!"

She strutted away, heels clacking furiously.

---

Back at the launch pad, the mutants were already boarding the Blackbird. Flames burst from the engines. The jet roared skyward and disappeared into the clouds.

Inside, Hank piloted while Alex, Charles, and Erik sat up front—laughing, talking, and for a moment, it felt like the old days.

In the rear cabin, the teams from Xavier's and Alex's base were already chatting and bonding like they'd known each other for years.

Erik's recruits… not so much.

His Brotherhood of Mutants was standoffish, aloof. Either Erik had rubbed off on them, or he just naturally attracted that type.

They kept to themselves, arms crossed, unimpressed.

Still, no one brought it up. Not today.

---

> "Alex," Charles said suddenly, turning toward him with an incredulous expression.

"I must say—you've truly surprised me."

He wasn't just referring to the base, or the organized squad, or even the gear. No, it was more than that.

The government feared Alex.

Charles had seen it.

When Laughing Man—the President—called him in, the tone was clear: Charles wasn't the main ask.

Alex was.

The President hadn't summoned Charles to lead mutants into battle.

He wanted Charles to convince Alex.

Whatever Alex had done… it had left a mark. One so deep, even the world's most powerful office tread carefully.

> "Seems like you've been busy," Erik added, giving Alex a probing look.

"Gathering allies, building a sanctuary, but not making moves. What are you planning?"

Alex just smiled, palms up.

> "Aren't we all doing the same?"

The three exchanged glances—nothing more needed to be said.

They were each building something. Each walking their own path toward the same goal:

A future for mutants.

The conversation drifted, and with it, the tension.

Just three old allies, reunited. For a moment, the war seemed far away.

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