[Life is Good] Chapter 62

TN: Formatting’s fucked. For some reason, Patreon bolds everything and removes italics. There’s a PDF attached below if you prefer that.

As soon as I got back to the school, I went looking for Yuriko. Found her exactly where I expected—second floor library. She hadn’t changed a bit. Same cold expression, same frosty stare peeking out over the book she was reading. Although, I could’ve sworn there was the tiniest glimmer of amusement in her eyes... but with Yuriko, being sure of that kind of thing was basically impossible.

"Sensei, did I imagine it, or were you actually smiling in the car when that crowd tried to rip me apart for souvenirs?"

"You imagined it," she confirmed without even flinching. Her expression didn’t warm by a single degree, no sign of awkwardness, not even a twitch of her eyebrow. Still, something deep down told me she was absolutely full of shit.

"Thought so," I muttered with a smirk. That earned me a slightly raised brow—which could’ve meant anything from "Interesting" to "Why the hell are you still talking to me?"

"So what’s this mission we’ve got over the weekend?"

She studied me in silence for a few seconds, then nodded toward the balcony door.

"Rescue," she said once we stepped outside. "Another facility. Similar to the one where we first met. I’ve got coordinates. We’re flying out this weekend. Pack your desert-camo gear."

A quiet pause followed while I frantically tried to recall canon details and figure out what the hell kind of facility she meant.

"Everything’s cleared with Erika and Charlene. It’ll be you, me, Creed, and a couple of mercs. You know one of them. You’ll want to get acquainted with the other. We’ll rendezvous with the main team on-site. Sunday night, we breach their defenses, extract the mutants, and bounce. The mercs will handle cleanup. Cameras and comms’ll be down. We grab every drive and recording we find—those files’ll be useful down the line."

The "cleanup" part didn’t sit right with me, and she clearly saw it on my face. Her hand came down lightly on my shoulder, and her eyes locked onto mine. For once, that chilly distance wasn’t all-consuming. Beneath it, I could feel something steadier—firmness, understanding, even a trace of sympathy.

"You chose this path. Walk it. Think, doubt, adjust as needed. But don’t freeze in the middle of the road. That’s how you end up nowhere—just a statue of your own indecision. The road you’re on, Tobias, is paved with hard choices. With nightmares that’ll keep you awake. With blood. And with grateful tears. If you don’t cling to illusions, you won’t end up broken by reality."

"...I think I get it, Sensei."

The corners of her mouth ticked up—just barely—and her hand tightened on my shoulder in what I’d learned to recognize as her version of encouragement.

"I hope you do."

Understanding, I thought as I headed back to my room, doesn’t mean peace. I just wanted a shower. Maybe rinse away the heavy thoughts. The upcoming op would probably involve killing again. More decisions. More names to add to my internal graveyard.

After showering, I had to do two unpleasant things: cancel dates with Sinclair and Deadpool. First one was fine—Wolfsbane grumbled, sure, but she’d seen my training regimen, she knew what Oyama was like. She made me promise to take her to the movies next week, wished me luck, and went on her way.

Calling Wanda… was weirder. She wasn’t mad I canceled. If anything, she sounded happy about it. The whole conversation was rushed, weirdly cheerful. She ended with, "Okay, babe! Gotta prep for the weekend!"

Either I’m an idiot, or I know damn well who one of those mercs is gonna be. If I’m right… if I’m right, then I’m already scared. Sabretooth’s not gonna enjoy Deadpool’s circus act one damn bit.

Then again, they’re both professionals. They won’t ruin the mission. It’s after that I need to worry. Still, I feel better imagining Creed and Wilson pounding each other into paste while Oyama sits on a rock, munching popcorn like it’s a documentary. Actually… might wanna bring some popcorn packets. I can cook it with my powers. Could be funny.

The morning had been delightful for the elderly Fräulein. A perfect cup of coffee, and a lovely article in the Daily Bugle had her in an excellent mood.

The young woman seated quietly across from her respectfully said nothing, knowing better than to disturb her—especially since calling their superior merely "respected" didn't quite do her justice. Revered was probably closer to the truth.

"Well," the aristocrat said with a warm smile, gently setting the paper down. "What do you think of Salamander, my dear?"

"I liked him," came the serious reply from Liza—the same Liza who’d sparred with Tobias just yesterday. "Smart, strong, grounded. And his views are in the right place."

"Wonderful, Liza. Just wonderful." The older woman’s expression sharpened slightly. "Now listen closely. That boy is of great value to the Organization. I want his worldview, his values, and his instincts to stay intact. That is your minimum duty as his teammate." Her eyes bore into Liza’s. "The fact that you like him will only make your job easier. Stay close. Say the right things. Be the friend he leans on. If things get more personal…" She smiled with a wicked little curl to her lip. "Think of it as your bonus."

Liza held her gaze steady, though her ears turned slightly pink. The older woman just chuckled softly.

"What’s rare, Liza, is that this boy already thinks the right way—and without any real guidance from us." She tapped the paper lightly. "A united, powerful Humanity… that’s not just a dream. That’s the goal. Every branch of our Organization works toward that. Every one of us is a cog in a machine designed to bring humans together, to make us one people. The road is long, and yes, full of sacrifices—but the end? The end will be worth it. You were the top of your class, known for your focus and your gift for making people trust you. I know you’re young, and youth craves glory and action. But I’m asking you now, with all seriousness: take this task to heart."

"Go on, Liza," the older woman dismissed her with a small nod once the younger officer had agreed. She watched the girl’s retreating back for a moment, then let the kindly, understanding-aunt expression fall away from her face like a dropped mask.

People were a complicated tool, as her nephew had rightly put it—most useful in the hands of a skilled craftsman. And like any tool, they needed care to stay effective. That’s what these little chats were for: to reinforce their value, to inspire, to make them feel seen… and, ultimately, to deepen their loyalty.

Liza was dependable. Steady. Unlike Betty, who’d softened after years of family life and motherhood, this blue-eyed girl was still sharp-edged and efficient. And the environment she’d be operating in wouldn’t be doing her any favors when it came to mellowing out.

Young, but not naive. Idealistic, but not blindly fanatical. She’d make a fine piece in the game—one of many—to gently, subtly steer her nephew toward the Organization’s goals. Through casual jokes, whispered encouragements, little speeches full of fire and hope. The woman hadn’t decided yet what exact role Tobias might one day play, but she wasn’t about to let his potential go to waste. Especially not if it meant one day having to face him as an enemy.

And it wasn’t even about his power. Blood still meant something to her. If the time came, of course, she’d pull the trigger herself—but if there was a chance her nephew could remain on their side, why not take it?

So yes, the recruitment effort was now official. Ever since the boy had shown what he was capable of—and with S.H.I.E.L.D. sniffing around—no one was surprised the Organization had entered the ring.

But no brainwashing. No threats. No childish coercion. People forced into service were garbage: mindless meat puppets you could throw at a wall once and never use again. Real value came from those who gave everything willingly, with purpose—striving toward the same goals as their leaders.

"Let’s hope the slit-eyed one doesn’t screw it up," the woman murmured with a grim smile. "Sweet little Toby should go ballistic when he finds out sweet Auntie Sam and the Pentagon are busy housebreaking little girls." She chuckled dryly. "And we’ll clean it up so thoroughly that no one will even think of mutants or Salamander. The boy needs a clean public image, and X could be a useful boost for him later."

Around midday Saturday—right on schedule for deployment—Creed arrived. Sabretooth wore the same resting-bitch-face she always did, that eternal Logan-and-I-are-surrounded-by-idiots expression.

We met in the garage. Yuriko and I had just arrived, and she was hauling a fairly large suitcase, which she wordlessly tossed in the trunk. I was actually damn happy to see Victoria, and even happier when she smiled at me. Creed didn’t hold back—she pulled me into a crushing hug that made me grunt like a deflating tire.

"You’ve grown. Even look healthier," she said, holding me at arm’s length and giving me a good once-over. Then her gaze shifted to Yuriko, and she gave a surprisingly civil nod. "Hey, Yuriko."

"Victoria," my Sensei responded with her usual level of warmth—meaning almost none. "Right on time. Ready?"

"Mhm."

We were on the road for about an hour, heading away from New York. Creed perked me up with the news that Toad’s girl was pregnant and they were moving to the school permanently. "The bastard’s ecstatic. Keeps raiding baby stores like he’s on a mission from God. 'We’ve already got a whole room filled with baby gear, man!' You guys lose all sense sometimes."

I asked about her own love life, and she just snorted like I’d cracked a bad joke. Classic Creed. Yuriko, naturally, remained silent the entire drive, calmly handling the wheel like we were out for groceries instead of en route to a black ops mutant extraction.

"So, where are we going, Sensei?" I asked, glancing at her through the rearview mirror. Creed let out a low chuckle, amused by my tone.

"There’s a helicopter waiting. We’ll meet the rest of the team at the landing pad."

Ah, right. Getting flight clearance over the city’s a pain in the ass.

"Why are we flying out so early if the op’s scheduled for tomorrow night?" Creed asked, sounding more curious than usual—which for her was practically giddy.

"Desert terrain," Yuriko replied. "We’ll test how Tobias’s ability interacts with heavier weaponry. Since we’re heading that way anyway. McCoy sent the recording equipment."

So that’s what the suitcase was for. Of course. And as for the weapons...

"They’re already there."

The conversation petered out. Neither of them were big on talking. I, meanwhile, spent the rest of the ride mentally cycling through who we might meet at the pad—and what exactly those weapon tests would entail. Yuriko hadn’t mentioned them. Not that I asked. I’d gotten used to her brand of minimal communication. She told me what she deemed important. Lately, though... I’d noticed she was saying more than usual. Huh.

The road finally brought us to a small airfield—probably private. By then I’d already masked up and pulled on my hood.

The chopper was compact. From outside, I could see silhouettes already seated. Creed and I headed toward the passenger doors while Oyama made a detour to the admin building with a dry "Be right back." Honestly, with her poker face, I had to get her to say "I’ll be back" one of these days. Especially knowing about her adamantium skeleton. It would be too perfect.

Creed opened the hatch and hissed.

Yeah, no kidding. There was hissing coming from inside. From several people, harmonized as if in choir. And then a voice I knew very, very well—and was actually thrilled to hear—spoke up. Deadpool. Lately, she’d become a lot more than just some crazy merc with a mouth. Hard not to care about someone who literally reattached your mom’s arm, y’know?

"Whoa, easy! You girls hiss like my frying pan. Are we related?"

As Creed climbed inside and took her seat, the voice went on:

"Well, if it isn’t Sabre-Bitch herself! Been a hot minute! How’s your brooding beefcake of a brother?"

Then it was my turn to board. And I’ll be honest—I kinda didn’t wanna. The crew inside was... eclectic. Deadpool, some redheaded woman in her thirties with the kind of scowl that said she’d punched people for less than a sneeze... and two figures dressed head to toe in black, faces hidden behind fully-tinted motorcycle helmets.

Why did I immediately think vampires?

Well, one, because the getup practically screamed it. And two, their thermal signatures were way colder than normal. One of them was clearly a kid.

“Hey everyone,” I greeted the group as I climbed aboard, timed perfectly with Victoria’s low, barely-audible grumbling at Deadpool. I think I caught something like “you again,” but the rest sounded like mumbled cursing… or maybe I just misheard—Sabretooth usually didn’t bother with actual profanity, just radiated it by sheer presence.

“Yo, Salamander!” Wanda chirped from her seat between the redhead and a very unimpressed-looking Victoria. “Ready for a thrilling weekend full of adrenaline, blood, and violence?”

“Good to see you, Pool,” I said honestly, then gave the rest of the crew a quick glance. “Ladies, good afternoon. Salamander, at your service.”

Silence.

Creed was eyeing the two helmeted figures with barely concealed suspicion, flaring her nostrils dramatically before wrinkling her nose in distaste. Wanda looked like she was about five seconds from napping. The redhead gave me a quick glance—and wow, was she related to Logan and Victoria? Because she had that same signature "ugh, a talking turd" look down to a science.

Strangely enough, the first to speak was the smallest of the vampires.

“I’m Lily-Rose, and this is Marishka,” said the child-sized figure, nodding toward her more grown-up companion. “Nice to meet you in person, Salamander.” Her voice was soaked in mischief. “You never wrote back, you know. I waited. Shattered my delicate little heart into a thousand bloody pieces.”

“Hm…” was all Victoria said, shooting me a sideways glance. Deadpool scratched the back of her head like she was trying to hide a grin. The redhead? Still pretending the window was more interesting than us. But I could tell her ears were locked in on every word.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” I replied. “I figured I’d keep my blood to myself for a bit. Also, my mom doesn’t like me sneaking out at night. But hey, I do know a guy—crazy regen, rugged good looks, charismatic as hell, noble five-o’clock shadow. Want me to hook you up?”

Hey, she shouldn’t have been eyeballing Yuriko like that. Call it… academic jealousy. Totally normal.

Across from me, Creed broke into a predatory grin, showing off her slightly-too-large canines. Looked like Big Sis Sabretooth was enjoying the idea of her little bro picking up some fanged admirers.

“Oh yes, please,” Lily giggled, whipping out a pink flip phone with a bunny charm dangling off it. “Regen boys are a rare species. And if he’s hot? Even better.”

Before I could blink, Victoria had already started dictating Logan’s number. Damn. That joke escalated quickly. But whatever—Sabretooth wasn’t about to rat me out, and worst-case scenario, I could always crash at one of Magneto’s hideouts. Heh.

“You two are like the ultimate matchmakers!” Wanda laughed from her seat. “Hey, Punisher Princess, maybe Hairball and SuperDong can find you someone too!”

That got a snort from the redhead. Victoria coughed delicately, smoothing her immaculate hair—which, for the record, she now styles herself. I, meanwhile, choked out, “Super what?!”

“Oh, Salamander, you should see what people are posting about you and your… little sidekick.” Wanda leaned in with mock-conspiracy. “They say that codpiece of yours isn’t for protection—it’s for public safety. If it weren’t there, sweet law-abiding girls would be turning criminal just to get arrested by you.”

Victoria howled, tilting her head back and laughing from her chest. Even the Punisher cracked a grin—actually a nice one, if I’m being fair. The vampire girls joined in too: the little one giggled like a bell, and the taller one let out a stifled laugh-cough under her helmet. And me? I laughed right along with them. Gotta admit, it was hilarious. Locker-room-level banter, but hey—when in mutant merc company, right?

Our little moment was cut short when Yuriko slammed the chopper door and started flicking switches like a seasoned pilot. Looks like it was go time.

Shame we weren’t flying an invisible jet, but with this many outsiders on board, the X-Men weren’t exactly advertising their ride.