The black SUV rolled to a gentle stop. Outside the windows, the landscape unfolded like a surreal dream Hell's Kitchen—Now, Golden Peach. Yet… nothing like it had ever been. John Proudstar stepped out first, his boots crunching softly on snow-dusted pavement. He looked around in awe. "I can't believe this is Hell's Kitchen," he muttered. "Hell, I can't even believe we're in New York right now."
Rows of peach trees lined the sidewalks, their petals blooming in defiance of the snow that gently blanketed the city. Pale pink blossoms clung to dark branches, swaying peacefully as flakes fell all around them. The contrast was breathtaking—white snow, warm peach, a fusion of two seasons that had no business existing side by side. The effect was almost… magical.
Piotr stepped out behind him, his expression just as mesmerized. The air was different here. Fresh. Warmth mingled with the crisp winter cold, carried by the soft scent of ripened peach. It didn't even feel like New York anymore. It was like stepping into another realm.
From around the corner, a group of local children in mismatched scarves and mittens came skipping their way, their cheeks red with cold. And then—singing. "♪ Deck the halls with boughs of— ♪"
Piotr's smile broke through instantly. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a small wad of bills, and handed them to the kids without a word. They grinned, sang louder, and kept moving down the sidewalk, little boots trailing joy through the snow.
John exhaled, watching them vanish around the corner. "Forgot it's almost Christmas."
Piotr nodded. "With everything that's happened… no one can blame you."
A pause. Then John's voice dropped a little. "Yeah. Especially after what Charles did."
Piotr glanced at him. "Do you want to talk about it?"
John shook himself like brushing snow off his shoulders, face unreadable. "Nope." Then he started walking.
Piotr watched him go, quiet for a beat. He knew this hit harder for John. John had been recruited personally by Charles. He believed in him. Piotr, on the other hand, had joined on a mission. It was Ororo who reached out to him, not the man in the chair.
He's holding it in, Piotr thought. Warrior's heart. He won't let himself feel it out loud. He picked up the pace, falling into step beside John again. "Slow down," Piotr said with a chuckle. "Even Grandfather Frost wouldn't walk this fast."
John shot him a sideways smirk. "That's 'cause he's fat." Piotr laughed, and for a moment, the air between them felt lighter—even if the snow kept falling.
As John and Piotr made their way down the peach-lined streets of the Golden Peach district, they began to notice something. People were staring. Not with hostility—more like… confusion.
Piotr looked down at himself and realized why. His organic steel form gleamed in the soft snowlight like a walking statue. It wasn't exactly subtle in a peaceful district full of peach trees and quiet warmth. He scratched the back of his neck. "Maybe I should've brought my overcoat," he muttered.
John smirked. "Too late to be blending in now." They turned the corner and stopped in front of a cozy-looking tailor shop with gold embroidery around the signage. John blinked. "Yep. This is the place."
They stepped inside. A small bell rang. The warmth inside hit them like a hug—scented with lavender, fresh linen, and something… sweet.
"Welcome!" said a bright, childlike voice. They turned to see a young boy behind the counter, his head barely poking over it. Messy hair. Bright eyes. Barefoot, holding a long stick like a toy staff.
Piotr smiled. "Hello. Are you the big boss of this store?"
The boy puffed his chest. "Nope! Aunty Vivi is."
Just then, from the back room, a woman in her mid-forties stepped out with fabric tucked under one arm and a pin cushion on her wrist. "Oh! Customers?" she said cheerfully. "Billy, why didn't you tell me?"
Billy pouted. "I did say welcome…"
John chuckled. "He did, ma'am. Very professionally."
She laughed. "Oh, just call me Aunty. Ever since Jack brat started calling me that, everyone in the Golden Peach does now."
Piotr nodded. "Well, Aunty… we're here to pick up a new set of clothes. For Jack." He reached into his pocket and unfolded a slightly crumpled piece of paper. "'A Jack Clothes 2: Electric Boogaloo.'"
Aunty Vivi sighed, rubbing her forehead. "That brat. It hasn't even been a week and he already needs new clothes? Hold on, I'll get it." She disappeared into the back.
While they waited, Billy twirled his stick like a baton, hopping around with carefree glee. John watched him with a faint smile. "Be careful with that," John warned, eyes trailing the tip of the stick. "A staff might be a simple weapon… but in a professional's hands, it's deadly."
Billy giggled. "Like Uncle Jack?"
John raised an eyebrow. "Yes. Exactly like Jack Hou."
Billy beamed and spun again—this time faster. But something changed. A burst of cold air brushed past John's cheek. Piotr felt it too—his shoulders stiffened. The temperature in the room dipped suddenly.
Billy froze. He sensed it too… but it was already too late. A flicker of chill energy pulsed from beneath his feet, and the floor directly around him shimmered with a thin, perfect circle of ice.
"Billy, wait—!" Piotr reached forward.
But Billy had already bolted toward the back room in panic, disappearing behind the curtain. At that exact moment, Aunty Vivi stepped out, holding a neatly folded outfit in a paper-wrapped bundle. "Alright, here's—"
She stopped. Her eyes snapped to John's and Piotr's worried expressions. Then she saw it, the thin glint of ice spreading across the floor. Her face fell. "Oh no. Billy…" Without a second thought, Aunty Vivi slammed her hand against the side wall, pressing a folded paper talisman into a seal etched into the plaster. A sudden fwoosh! of golden light exploded outward—WHOOMPH!
John and Piotr were blasted out the front door in a surge of soft force, landing flat on their backs in the snow-covered street. The tailor shop shimmered once, then cloaked itself in a barrier—just like the kind Jack used around his territory. John groaned. "Ow…" Piotr exhaled a puff of frost.
John dusted the snow off his jacket and approached the tailor shop once again. He reached out, pressing his palm flat against the barrier veil shimmering like a soap bubble over the entrance. It didn't budge. Not even a ripple.
From inside, Aunty Vivi's voice came, muffled but firm. "I can't risk it. I don't even know if you really know Jack—or if you came here to kidnap Billy."
John opened his mouth, but Piotr spoke first, stepping up beside him. "Aunty, we swear—we're not here to cause trouble. I know we've never shown ourselves before, and my friend John here tends to scowl more than smile, but we're part of the X-Men. We can help."
Silence. Then Aunty Vivi's voice again, skeptical. "You mean the ones who fought off Magneto a few years back?"
Piotr nodded, then realized she couldn't see him. "Yes. That's the one."
A longer pause. Then—"I'll call Jack's clones. Until they arrive, you stay outside my store."
John sighed and leaned against a lamp post. "Didn't think we'd get the boot before even saying 'Merry Christmas.'"
…
Fifteen minutes later, a flutter of petals and wind swept down the street. Two Jack clones descended on separate clouds—one dressed in an elegant green hanfu, the other in a sharp red tang jacket. Both barefoot. Both glowing faintly with mischief.
One grinned wide and waved lazily. "Oh! If it isn't the metal dude and thunderchick."
John squinted. "It's Thunderbird, not thunderchick."
Neither clone acknowledged him. They floated past and stepped up to the shop. The barrier shimmered as they approached—and then, surprisingly, let them through. John and Piotr stepped forward after them, but the veil still stopped them cold.
Both clones turned around and let out identical laughs. "Kekekekeke—!"
Other waved at Aunty Vivi through the window. "Aunty, you can drop it now. These two are harmless. Well… mostly." Aunty Vivi nodded, stepped over to the paper seal, and pressed her hand against it. The magic rippled, then dispersed.
John and Piotr stepped through, finally crossing into the warmth once more. "Nifty, isn't it?" said other, arms folded. "Every shop in the Golden Peach has one. No demons, debt collectors, or nosy humans allowed unless we say so. So don't do anything stupid."
Piotr let out a breath. "Bit hard not to draw attention when your skin is literal metal."
"Nah," Other said with a dismissive wave. "I think people were staring because you're not wearing Christmas colors."
John frowned. "And neither are you."
One pointed to himself. "I'm wearing green."
Other pointed to his own coat. "I'm wearing red."
Then both grinned. "And we're always together—so it counts."
Piotr glanced outside, blinking. Sure enough, everyone walking down the street wore Christmas-themed outfits. Festive scarves, red-and-white coats, elf hats—even the streetlights had golden ribbons around them.
John muttered, "It's still too early for this."
"Hey," said One. "It's our effort to liven up the territory, okay? No one wants a grim criminal district anymore."
The Other added, voice mock-whispering. "I just hope the obese man who watches me sleep doesn't put me on the naughty list for killing Kingpin… otherwise he might not sneak into my house and leave presents." Both clones turned to each other, nodding solemnly.
John blinked. "…Weird way to say Santa." Piotr, deadpan. "But… he's not wrong."
The back curtain parted, and Aunty Vivi returned with a small scowl and even smaller sigh. In her wake, Hogan stepped through the curtain—his massive arms gently cradling Billy, who clung to his shirt like a koala.
The tension in the room settled into a heavy stillness. One of the Jack clones clapped his hands together. "Alright! Let's start from the top. What are you two doing here? New Year's caroling, or…?"
Piotr and John looked at each other. John stepped forward. "We're here for you." One of the clones blinked. "Me?" "No, the real you," Piotr corrected, then added quickly, "No offense."
Both clones burst into identical fits of laughter. "Kekekeke! He's still pantless, isn't he? Kekekeke!" John rolled his eyes. "Couldn't you two just deliver it to him? You both have clouds, don't you?"
Other shook his head dramatically. "No can do! He's on a personal journey of growth and enlightenment." One nodded, twirling his sleeve like a dramatic sage. "Very sacred. Must walk the path barefoot, clothed in air and destiny." They both giggled like teenage girls who just got away with something.
John turned back to Hogan, exasperated. "We're not here to take Billy. We just want to understand his mutation. It's clear he's already developing powers, and he's got zero control. That's dangerous—not just for him, but for everyone around him."
One rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Hmm… Hogan, what do you say? Wanna hear the Apache warrior out?"
Hogan glanced at Billy, still tense in his arms. The boy avoided everyone's eyes, his fingers tightening on Hogan's shirt. A father's concern weighed in his chest like iron. He knew the truth. Billy needed help. And he couldn't give it. If something happened—if the boy lost control in public… people would see another "mutant threat." And that would be it. Labels. Fear. Police. Maybe worse.
Hogan inhaled slowly and spoke, voice low. "Billy." The boy didn't respond. "Son. Look at me." Billy lifted his head, hesitant. Hogan's single, strong eye locked with his. "Do you want to have control over your powers?"
There was a pause. Billy looked down. His lips trembled. Then finally—quietly. "…Yes."
A long silence followed. Then Hogan let out a breath and looked up at the X-Men. "Alright. Let's talk details."
The clones both cheered. "Wow! Look at that—mediated like pros!" "We're incredible at this diplomacy stuff!" They patted each other on the back proudly, as if they'd done anything besides stand around cracking jokes.
Aunty Vivi rolled her eyes so hard they nearly left orbit. She shoved the neatly wrapped Jack Clothes 2: Electric Boogaloo into one of their arms. "Here. Make yourself useful and deliver this to yourself."
One blinked. "Whaaat, Aunty, how could you…"
Smack!
She slapped the back of his head, already walking away. "Go." With a groan, the clone trudged outside. A gentle gust swirled, and his Zephyr cloud arrived like a loyal taxi.
He hopped on, muttering curses under his breath. Just as he rose into the sky, Other yelped. "Heyyy! We're supposed to go together!" Another swirl of mist. Another Zephyr cloud. He leapt after his twin, shouting. "Don't leave me behind with the adults again!"
Both clouds zipped off into the snowy sky, streaks of red and green twirling between the falling peach petals. Inside the shop, the tension had finally lifted. But the real work—the real conversations—were just beginning.
**A/N**
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~🧣KujoW
**A/N**