One Step Forward...

The late morning sun poured through the windows above, casting shafts of light across the polished floor of the grand ballroom turned dormitory. The air smelled faintly of sex, silks, and something floral and strange that Hisako had come to associate with Markandan luxury.

She found Magik on her bed moved defensively back into the corner of the room. Illyana was seated sideways, one leg propped up on the cushions, the other hanging loosely over the edge. Her arms were folded across her stomach, a faint scowl creasing her usually impassive face as she watched the rest of them.

Hisako hesitated a moment before approaching. Magik’s loose white top hung off one shoulder, and no bra shielded the clear divots of her nipples. They jutted through the soft fabric like twin declarations of arousal, involuntary and unrepentant—just like the constant hard-ons the boys sported.

Her own nipples were hard they just weren't as... long as Magik's.

Hisako looked politely away. She tried not to acknowledge it. Not even Magik was immune.

Illyana didn’t bother adjusting her shirt. “You going to keep standing there staring, or are we talking?”

Hisako swallowed, stepped closer. “Wensanga offered me a device. A neural emitter. She said it’ll show me what the X-Men have been up to. A visual feed. She wouldn’t say more.”

“Of course she didn’t.” Magik let out a soft snort. “Yes, obviously it’s more manipulation. But we need info on where they’re being held.”

“I know,” Hisako said. She looked down at her hands, fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. “I’m just worried it’s… I don’t know, basically a brainwashing device. All the Markandans have those neural implants, right? Like... cyberpunk data jacks or something, wired into their skulls.”

Illyana raised an eyebrow as she got to her feet and began to pace. “They don’t need machines to mess with our heads. They have the Professor.” She ticked her fingers. “And Grey. And Frost. That’s already three world-class telepaths in one gilded cage. We’re getting rewired from the inside.”

Hisako grimaced. “That’s true.”

There was a silence between them, filled only by the distant murmur of moans and a soft rustle of sheets elsewhere in the ballroom.

“I just wanted to check with you before I did it,” Hisako said. “I almost—almost just accepted. Without thinking. I guess I kind of… trust Wensanga.” She winced, then rushed, “I mean, not really trust, just… I don’t know.”

Magik’s eyes narrowed sharply, and she stopped pacing, her body tensing. “That’s a fake implanted thought,” she said, her tone cutting through the air like a knife. “Whatever you do, don’t trust your assigned maid. If you talk to the rest of us, you’ll find everyone trusts their own maid. They all feel like their maid is different, that they’ve somehow ‘bonded.’ You’re getting played. Don’t forget—they want us to trust them.”

Hisako blinked, her chest tightening as she absorbed Magik’s words. “I didn’t think of it that way,” she admitted quietly, feeling a wave of guilt wash over her. “I just... I don’t know. I wanted to believe that Wensanga wasn’t like the others. She’s different. She listens to me, and she’s helped me a couple of times, especially when I—” She faltered, unsure if she wanted to go down that path.

Magik cut her off, her expression turning stern. “Trusting them is their game. I know you want to believe it’s different, but it’s not. They’re all the same. They’re just here to manipulate us, to keep us in line.” She clenched her fists at her sides, her jaw set in that familiar way. “But if we need that information, we need to know where the X-Men are so we can leave together, so do it. Just don’t get lost in some false sense of loyalty or whatever. It’s just a tool. Nothing more.”

Hisako blinked. “I thought you’d tell me to hold off—”

“We don’t have the luxury of playing cautious,” Magik said. “I’m not opening a portal unless we know where the X-Men are. I’m not leaving without them.”

Magik’s presence filled the room like a dark, electric charge as she paced back and forth, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. The cold, intense energy of the Russian mutant had always been a comfort to Hisako—Magik had always been the one with the answers, the one who kept her head on straight. But now… things were different. She was more withdrawn, more resolute than ever before, refusing to entertain the idea of escaping without the entire group. Hisako had pushed, tried to nudge Magik into action earlier, but the older mutant had been obstinate.

Hisako’s chest tightened as her mind drifted back to what Professor McCoy had said before the X-Men were taken away in their teensy g-strings. He had been concerned about the telepathic influence at play, convinced that the telepaths were making it so they wouldn’t truly try to escape. He’d mentioned that it was all part of Mark’s plan to keep them subdued, to keep them in line, and that the telepaths were working overtime to make sure they didn’t get the idea to leave.

She really couldn't help but think that Magik's refusal to see the logic of at least some of them escaping to get free of this mind-fuck and getting help might be a result of mental manipulation.

“But what if it’s a trap?”

“It is a trap,” Illyana said coolly. “Just one more manipulation and mind-game but we need that info."

Wensanga was already at Hisako's bed when she returned to it.

The white skull tattoo stretched perfectly across her beautiful black face, sharp and pale against her dark skin, making her look like something from a fevered dream or a sacred ritual.

But it was her eyes—those dark, unreadable, knowing eyes—that made Hisako shiver with... something.

Wensanga’s voice was as calm and cold as always, but there was always that low, hypnotic rhythm beneath it, a lullaby soaked in oil.

“You have chosen to act,” she said simply.

Hisako nodded slowly. Her breath caught in her throat as Wensanga came closer.

“Yes,” she said. “Magik agrees. We need to see. To know where the X-Men are.”

Wensanga tilted her head slightly, a half-curious, half-satisfied gesture. “Even if what you see changes you?”

She brought Hisako to sit down and then lay back on her bed.

“I’m already changing,” Hisako muttered, trying not to sound ashamed.

A slow blink. “Then you are honest. That is good.”

Wensanga raised her hand, revealing a small silver bead resting in her palm. It caught the light like quicksilver.

Hisako hesitated. “Is it going to hurt?”

“No,” Wensanga said. “But you will remember it forever.”

She leaned down, and gently placed the bead against the center of Hisako’s forehead.

The metal melted.

A cool warmth spread across her skin as it dissolved into a star-like shape that clutched her.

Wensanga’s fingertips lingered against her brow for a moment too long.

“Beautiful,” she murmured, barely above a breath.

Hisako swallowed. Her body was already responding—tense, expectant. She hated how much the girl's attention aroused her.

Wensanga leaned in, her lips brushing Hisako’s ear.

“You will see truth. Not lies. Not illusion. Truth... wrapped in flesh. Revealed by sweat and sound.”

Her voice was velvet **** and obviously bullshit but why did she still believe her?

Hisako’s heart pounded.

Wensanga pulled back just enough to look into her eyes. “Do not look away, Hisako Ichiki. What you see… is what you are.”

And then—

The world changed.