“If You See Something, Say Something” is Homeland Security’s national campaign to raise public awareness of the signs of terrorism and terrorism-related crime. One relays who or what one saw, when one saw it, where it occurred, and why it’s suspicious. Most calls will be connected to local authorities or a fusion centre where Suspicious Activity Reports are received, analysed, and shared with the necessary law enforcement officials.
For people like S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, the Avengers, and the X-Men, who are separate from national governments, there’s GTAN. The Global Threat Assessment Network. A secure, proprietary system used to log, track, and assess global threats and criminal activities…
Most often, GTAN serves as a ledger of threats observed by those on the front lines. An archive of chaos pieced together by the heroes who stand between the world and disaster. But sometimes—rarely, yet almost inevitably—the system bears witness to a darker twist of fate. When the threat comes too close. The system meant to track danger out there reflects the danger within. Again, it’s a rare occurrence, but one that sends ripples through the network. A reminder that sometimes, as they say, the call comes from inside the house. Even superheroes, after all, are not immune to the dangers they strive to contain.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The common room was hopelessly too bright. You slumped in an armchair, pressing your fingertips against your temples as if you could physically hold your skull together. The headache had evolved into something monstrous. Each pulse of pain carrying remnants of unfamiliar hunger, and desperate, feral thoughts that were sure as hell not your own.
In hindsight, the warnings from Bruce and Tony about neural feedback and data overload now seemed less like cautionary advice and more like a sure-fire side effect. Your brain felt raw, as if someone had taken sandpaper to your synapses. Every blink brought fragmented images: data streams, security feeds, creatures falling like puppets with cut strings. And underneath it all, that inexplicable connection. The moment your consciousness had brushed against something inhumanly ravenous.
But fatigue was settling over you, each blink lasting longer than the last. In the background, you caught bits of concerned conversation—Bruce mentioning neural plasticity, Tony arguing about bandwidth limitations. But as your overtaxed brain finally shut down, their voices grew distant.
The last thing you registered before consciousness slipped away was the weight of a blanket being draped over your shoulders, and Natasha's quiet voice, "Someone take her upstairs. The questions can wait until later."
Tony stood at his mobile workstation, mission data floating around him in translucent layers. His hands moved through the air, pulling apart video fragments and biometric readings from the hybrid encounter. The footage played on a loop: creatures dropping simultaneously across the city, their bodies freezing mid-transformation.
Steve's entrance barely drew their attention, each too absorbed in their respective searches. "What's wrong with her?" he asked, his voice cutting through the ambient hum of equipment.
Tony's hands stilled mid-gesture. "OmniSight's no joke. Neural feedback, sensory overload..." He glanced up from a particularly concerning neural spike reading. "Kid's got the constitution of a bull, but even she has limits."
Steve moved to lean against Bruce's desk, careful not to disturb his (organised?) mess of chicken scratch notes. "Still, she's proved herself. Twice now. She kept her cool under pressure, saved lives." He crossed his arms, watching the mission playback. "That’s not an easy feat for anyone, let alone someone on their first real missions."
"Think she's earned it?" Tony flicked away a layer of data, focusing on the team's vital signs during the crisis. "A permanent spot on the team?"
The question drew Nat's attention from her research.
Steve shifted his weight, considering. "I think it's definitely a conversation worth having." His eyes tracked the neural feedback patterns Tony had isolated. "But if OmniSight's going to do this to her every time..."
"We tweak, we optimise." Tony's fingers danced through the holographic interface, already making adjustments. "You know me, I don't build a product without an upgra–"
"Hey, did you guys know there was another burglary last night? At the X-Mansion up in Westchester." Bruce's interruption shattered the already-tense atmosphere, his voice carrying an edge of urgency that gave everyone pause.
"What'd they take?" Steve asked, momentarily setting aside his concerns about the programme's intense effects on you.
Bruce double-checked the GTAN feed on the monitor, adjusting his glasses. "They don't say what was stolen, but apparently, Cerebro was destroyed."
The revelation hit the room like a thunderclap. Cerebro—the most powerful mutant-detection system on the planet. The timing was too perfect to be coincidence.
Tony's head whipped toward Steve. "Cerebro gets destroyed the same night the Project X Compound's stolen?"
"You thinking what I'm thinking?"
Bruce rose from his seat, quickly putting two and two together. "The invasion wasn't a coincidence, but a consequence. The compound, X-Mansion... these are very specific targets."
Nat's face remained neutral as she scrolled through the GTAN discussion threads. "Yep, that's the running conspiracy on GTAN, alright. Everyone’s talking about it."
The room fell silent as the implications sank in. The holographic displays filled with new data streams, with OmniSight automatically compiling threat assessments of the developing situation.
Steve's grave voice cut through the heavy silence. "So, basically, we could be on the cusp of World War III without even knowing it."
"Gird your loins, gentlemen," Nat uttered dryly. Though, after the harrowing invasion, her insides somersaulted at the mere thought.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The sky blue of the infirmary ceiling swam in and out of focus as you lay there, still recovering from back-to-back OmniSight exposure. A soft knock broke the silence. Before you could respond, Nat slipped in, her movements equal parts casual and intimidating.
"How are you holding up?" she asked, pouring you a glass of water.
You managed a weak smile, trying to ignore the lingering headache. "I've been better. But I'll live. Thanks to you guys."
"You've had a big week. Saved several lives." She paused, searching your face, very clearly studying your expression. "Even impressed Coulson’s golden boy."
"Yeah, well… teamwork makes the dream work, right?"
Natasha smirked, but it didn't reach her eyes. She handed you the glass of water and took a seat on the edge of the plinth.
"You know, I've been watching you. Since day one."
Your stomach tightened. "Okay..."
"I didn't trust you. Still don't. Not entirely."
You slow-blinked, surprised by her unnecessary candour. "Right. Good to know where we stand, I guess."
"Don't take it personally. You show up out of nowhere, no memory, no records, no trail. Then you conveniently save the Bus and know exactly where everything is. The whole thing screams 'plant'. You have to admit..."
"You think I'm some kind of double agent."
"I thought you might be a red herring. Something to distract us while someone else pulled the strings."
You didn't respond, unsure of what to say.
"But then you go and save all of New York..." Natasha's expression softened, but only slightly. "Makes me wonder if maybe... I was wrong."
"That almost sounds like a compliment."
"It's not."
The room went quiet for a moment, filled only with the perpetual soft hum of the Medical Wing.
"Those guys downstairs? They're my family. All of them." Her voice took on an edge that made your skin prickle. "If you're here to hurt any of them, I'll know. And when I do..."
She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper as her eyes bore into yours.
"...I won't hesitate to rain hellfire down on you. And there's no such thing as girl code in my book. They come first. Always."
You swallowed hard, meeting her gaze. "I'm not here to hurt anyone."
"Good. Because if you are, you won't even see me coming."
Nat rose to her feet, starting toward the door. Without turning back, she added, "Now... That said... I guess I'm officially welcoming you to the team."
"That's..." you scoffed incredulously, "that’s a welcome?"
She turned back, one eyebrow raised. "That's as much as you're gonna get from me. Don't screw it up."
You leaned back, gaping up at her. It didn't feel like a warm embrace, but it was something. A hard-earned acknowledgment from the most guarded Avenger.
"Duly noted."
Nat walked out, leaving you to process the conversation. It wasn't approval, not entirely, but it was a start. Somewhere between Nat’s threat and her welcome, you'd crossed a threshold. Now you just had to prove you deserved to stay on the other side of it.
The mahogany-panelled office seemed to absorb the tension as Logan and Storm strode in, responding to Charles's urgent summons.
"This better be good, Chuck," Logan growled, his patience already wearing thin from a long day of damage control.
Charles wheeled himself behind his desk, his expression grave. "Thank you both for coming. We need to discuss the recent attack on Cerebro."
Storm settled into one of the leather chairs facing the desk while Logan took up his characteristic pose against the fireplace mantle.
"We've logged the burglary on GTAN, but are still piecing together the damage report," Storm announced, her white hair gleaming in the sunlight. "Is that what's troubling you?"
Charles steepled his fingers, guilt flickering across his features. "No, not in the way you imagine. The theft, for one. I've not been entirely honest with you. They didn't just destroy Cerebro. They took something. A device I'd hoped would never see the light of day."
Logan's eyes narrowed. "Device? What device?"
"A prototype," Charles reluctantly admitted. "A portable unit designed to amplify telepathic signals. A crude version of Cerebro, built for short-term use in the field. I abandoned it years ago when I realised its potential for abuse."
Storm frowned, the temperature in the room dropping slightly with her concern. "And now it's in God-knows-who's hands. Could they reverse-engineer it?"
"Easily. Worse still, its components could be repurposed for other uses. The creatures we saw in Manhattan... they weren't just random alien beings. I suspect they were mutants, created using a combination of advanced genetic manipulation and the prototype's amplification abilities."
"So they trashed Cerebro to stop you from finding them and stole the mini version to make Franken-mutants. Great." Logan's sarcasm did nothing to mask his growing anger.
Storm leaned forward, her brow furrowed. "But why destroy Cerebro outright? Surely they could have just taken the prototype and left."
“I’ve been asking myself the same question. And I believe their motive to be the most obvious inference. To isolate me from the broader mutant population, thus precluding any detection of their next move.”
Logan snorted, clearly unimpressed. "Pretty bold, cutting off your eyes and ears. So what's next? We wait around for them to hit us again?"
"No. We focus on the mutants we've rescued. Some of them may have answers they don't even realise they hold."
"If they've taken the prototype and weaponised it," Storm mused, "how far could they go? Could they amplify more than just telepathic signals?"
Charles's expression darkened. "In theory, yes. They could amplify any genetic or psychic trait. Strength, speed, resilience… Imagine an army of enhanced beings, controlled by whoever holds the device."
"Yeah, I'm imagining it, and I don't like it." Logan pushed away from the mantle, stalking closer to the desk. "So, who's pulling the strings this time? Hydra? A.I.M.?"
Charles paused, something troubling passing behind his eyes. "Possibly. But I sensed something... peculiar during the invasion. A distinct mental signature. Not entirely mutant, but not fully human either. It was familiar, though I can't yet place it."
Storm shifted in her armchair. "Could it be someone connected to us?"
"Perhaps..." Charles trailed off, his gaze distant.
"If you've got skeletons in the closet, now's the time to bring 'em out, Charles."
"If I knew more, Logan, I would share it. But for now, our priority is containing the damage and finding this device before it can be used again."
Only an hour or two away, the Avengers were reaching similar conclusions, OmniSight painting the same dark picture that Charles was piecing together for Logan and Storm. Two teams, separated by just a short stretch of land, sensing the tremors of an approaching storm. Neither group yet realised that while they studied the signs of war, the first shot had long been fired… Not with a bang, but with the silent drop of a duffel bag in the middle of Times Square, New York.
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