Mobius Academy was different from other schools in the way it was ran. It wasn’t run by a committee, or a group of founders, or even really by its teachers. It wasn’t run by the man who bankrolled the entire flying city, or his co-leader of the Avengers… Mobius Academy was ran by an Artificial Intelligence, a joint collaboration between some of the greatest minds in the universe. Principal P.R.I.S.M. or Principal ‘Please Retaliate If Students Mutiny’ ran the school all by his lonesome.

Pris handled all the day to day operations of Mobius Academy, from selecting the teachers, to building the classes and gathering the students together for the day one introduction, like always. It was his favorite day of the year, after all: the first day of school. Principal Pris liked the first day of school, because it meant that people were going to be at Mobius!

The first day at Mobius was a special one. All the new students for the year gathered in the auditorium, where they would receive a bit of a pep talk from their principal, as well as something that they might end up finding useful during their time at the Academy.

“Welcome to Mobius Academy!” Principal Pris said toward the students from his spot behind a podium. His voice was booming and happy, and he looked like a generally joyous, older man. Sure, he was technically only born a matter of years ago, but living on the internet took a toll on one’s appearance. “It’s good to have you here, and I know I speak for all of us here when I say that we’re as happy to have you here as you are to be here.”

Like all good educators, Principal Prism liked to assume that his students were as eager to learn as he and his staff were to teach. That was, of course, rarely ever the case.

“If you’re wondering why we’ve gathered you all here, instead of letting you begin your career as heroes, good! It’s important to always wonder. Anyway, before you can even think about that, you’re going to have to graduate this esteemed academy, and earn your Hero License before you can even think about participating in something like that.”

“Here at Mobius, we break first year students into four different classes, who will work closely with a Pro Hero that has been — well, more or less — selected to work well with your class! I know in the brochure it promises missions, and missions will come, but before that can come, there are some first steps. Firstly, you’ll have to move into your dorm. You’ll have a bunkmate, randomly assigned of course — it might be coed, we don’t care about that kind of thing here — and there you’ll learn to live and work with your dorm mates, who will be your teammates, should you be assigned any missions!”

Principal Prism was nodding along as he spoke now, grinning. They would get excited now, any moment now… “You’ll also have a chance to work with a pro hero team. There will be a sports festival at the end of the semester, where we’ll watch you students put your new skills to the test, and then you’ll get contacted by a team that’s interested in taking you out on an internship!”

“Plus, Mobius Academy works closely with these pro hero teams to bring them in to give seminars and private classes of their own, where they’ll teach you things they think you need to succeed. Don’t worry, we’ll take good care of you now… you’re dismissed! Underneath your chairs, you’ll find keycards corresponding to your assigned class — Class 1A through 1D. Don’t trade the keycards. I’ll know.”

“Class 1A will be taught by Shadowcat — Kitty Pryde, on loan from the X-Men. Class 1B by War Machine. Class 1C by Wolverine. And, finally, Class 1D by Ant-Man. That’s Scott Lang, not Hank Pym. Don’t get too excited, I know. Starstruck.”

“After you’ve retrieved your keycard, head to your dormitory, and spend the rest of the night getting accompanied with your teachers, and fellow students, and whoever is sleeping on the top bunk.”

Principal Prism sighed. Another year. Another lack of excitement.

“You can’t be serious, can you? You’re going to take his name?”

In response to the question, Sadie nodded her head. Was it really as big a deal as the Agent was making it out to be? She already had her Dad’s shield… it was only natural she take the name as well. Personally, she didn’t think it was a big deal; the mantle would have to live on. She wasn’t even the first person to do so, and she was certainly the first person to do with Captain Rogers’s blessing. “Taking the shield and the mantle… that’s brave, especially for someone who doesn’t even have their license yet. You know it’s not official? Some might even call it disrespectful.”

This guy was judging her hard. He was supposed to just be giving her a ride to Mobius… Maybe it was a bigger deal than she thought, but her father would have had more to say if that were true… She wished she could have asked him — it was hard to not depend on her father when he was who he was. The perfect man, according to a lot of people on the planet. “I’ve been working my whole life for this. I think I’ll earn it.” Sadie replied with a smile.

There was one thing her father had always told her. Stand your ground, and words can’t hurt you — they’re just words… unless they’re the truth. And the things the S.H.I.E.L.D. Agent was saying? Sadie would make sure that they weren’t the truth.

“Well, here’s to you kid. I hope you pull it off.”

“Thank you. I’ll do my best, I promise.”

---

Sadie was listening intently to everything the Principal was saying. She knew what to expect already, but in case any curve balls were thrown her way… she wanted to be focused. After all, she was trying to step into big shoes. Sadie was excited to learn. When he rattled off the teachers, she was excited to hear all four of the names. There was something all of them could teach, and even if she wasn’t in their class, she could still pull them aside to soak up knowledge from them…

Like a sponge, of sorts. A very strong, very fast sponge.

Sadie had spent a lot of time working for this. She’d worked with her father to train her hand to hand combat, as well as how to operate the shield (there had been a lot of ‘you have to look beyond what you want to hit’ in that part of her training), but she didn’t have any real combat experience, so she was happy to be taught by someone who’d had plenty of it.

Once they were dismissed, she reached underneath the chair to retrieve her keycard, and she was on her way. On the way out, she noticed there was someone struggling to get their card, and she was compelled to help, but when she saw that someone else had already stepped up to the plate, Sadie smiled and kept on. She needed to unpack anyway…

As soon as Prism mentioned the keycard beneath their seats, cold plastic zipped into Morgan's hand. He was barely paying attention to the commencement speech, and it was more instinct than anything else –– instinct, plus a dash of performance anxiety. What if the powers that be forgot to put the card there? What if it was blank on both sides? What if it was just a huge misunderstanding, and no, he wasn't actually accepted into Mobius, and also he's far too late to apply to pre-med, better go join the circus instead, clown.

Morgan knew well his natural tendency to catastrophize and cut that death-spiral short by flipping over the card.

His read that he was in Class 1A, and that meant he was due to be trained by Kitty Pryde. As in, the X-Men's Kitty Pryde. As in, Shadowcat. Something to stroke his ego and kick him right in the Impostor Syndrome all at once.

Though he had another moment of unease before he swiped it, he was let in. It was not, in fact, the huge misunderstanding he thought it might be. He was not the king of clowns, not today.

Morgan was not the first person to arrive at his dormitory, he noticed. The lights were already on, and people were milling about to find their rooms and roommates. He was, however, the first person to arrive at the dorm room of 'Morgan LeBeau & Janet Star Lucasta'.

He blinked. Co-ed. Right.

Dorm living wasn't a new experience for him. When he spent the summers at Xavier's, he was always placed with a kid his age rather than given a private room like his Mom. It was supposed to be good for his childhood development, a chance to get to know other kids, as if he didn't socialize enough back then. Whoever was this Janet person was could only be an upgrade from the friendly discussions of, 'Your mom nearly killed my mom-slash-dad on x, y, z occasion - is she still evil?' and the much worse, 'Wow, dude, your mom's a MILF!'

Morgan found his luggage at the foot of the bunk-bed, and restrained himself from settling into one. They ought to at least flip a coin for the top. He did, however, begin to unpack, carefully arranging a wardrobe of flannel shirts by shade, smoothing them out where they had been wrinkled in transit with a nip of telekinetic energy. What were powers for, if not to make his life easier?

No posters to put up. No picture-frames, because the only ones he had were in his wallet. Maybe there was some place to get fairy-lights to spruce up the place (also to sap in a pinch, because while electrical energy might tingle, it was still energy) and he had to find the perfect place to sit Karen, his lava lamp...

But he didn't want to make any extreme decorating decisions until he'd met his roommate and they'd come to an agreement. That would just be rude.

Søren wasn’t paying attention to the principal as he spoke. His mind was elsewhere, on better things than what Prism was droning on about. For Søren Thorson and Charlotte Danvers-Thordottir, after all, this whole ‘school’ thing was nothing more than a formality. It was a little bit different for Christopher Quill, but he would probably ride their coattails — as he had for the past few years. When Prism finally got to the interesting part, Søren perked up just long enough to hear the different teachers of the classes, and receive the instruction to look under his chair for his keycard.

Quickly, he reached down and retrieved his, then looked down at the lettering… When he saw what it was, he quickly looked up at his sister and their friend, “show me yours. There must be some mistake… I’m in Ant-Man’s class.” Søren said in complete and utter disbelief.

“Ohhhhh, man. I’m, uh, not in Ant-Man’s class.” Chris said, looking down at his card. Hadn’t they gotten his letters about how they shouldn’t split him from the Thor siblings? He’d sent like, twelve. “I’m in Kitty Pryde’s.”

When it came to attending a school meant to guide and educate the next generation of superheroes, Charlotte had to balk at the idea of attending; she balked when her parents informed her of their ultimatum and she balked once she arrived and laid eyes on the ones who would be her supposed ‘heroes in training’. She was familiar with some but at a glance throughout the lecture none of them stood out as particularly...on her level. When it came to heroics, she figured she - along with her brother and their idiot friend - had something of a leg up on the competition. Which was precisely why Charlotte spent the majority of the principal’s boring speech stifling a yawn and entertaining herself by arcing little sparks of photon between her index fingers.

Sandwiched inbetween Søren, her brother, and Chris, their idiot friend, Charlotte hadn’t stirred until the familia rustling of the end of a speech woke her from her finger-sparking revelry. Only an idiot would ask questions - that would be admitting she hadn’t been paying attention - so Charlotte simple observed what her brother did and followed suite, reaching under her chair. “Do you think Rhodey will go easy on me? Or can he not afford to play favorites?” Charlotte, it seemed, believed she was a shoo-in for War Machine’s class.

And then she looked at her keycard.

“Who in the hells is Scott Lang? Did dad ever mention him?” She looked to Søren for support and then turned to Chris, putting a hand on his shoulder with slightly more pressure than a simple friendly tap. “I think you read that wrong. You are with Scott Lang, right?”

Chris looked between the two Thor siblings, and wondered when they started looking so intimidating. Did they always look like that? Maybe it was the force of Charlotte’s hand on his shoulder, maybe it was the was Søren had casually looped Mjölnir’s handle over his wrist — if he thought Chris wouldn’t notice, then he had been dead wrong. Of course, what the twins — no, wait, despite appearances and personality; they weren’t twins — lacked in subtlety they made up for in power… which only made this worse. Geeze, was this how they made other people feel usually?

“Uh, no, I’m in Kitty Pryde’s class. Shadowcat, y’know?” Chris gave a hopeful smile as Søren shook his head, and Chris realized that he was suddenly in trouble. “I didn’t pick the classes, you know that right?”

“How dare you betray us. We’re supposed to be a team!” Søren protested, pointing an accusatory finger over Charlotte and at Chris. That little bastard got the good class. That didn’t make any sense! “How come you get a good class? And yes, father has spoke about the Ant-Man, Scott Lang. He’s useless, he used to be a criminal! What can he possibly teach us?”

Meekly, Chris offered. “How to be a more understanding friend?”

“Understanding?” Charlotte tightened the grip on Chris’ shoulder, now pushing part of her weight down on him while doing her best not to scowl at her supposed friend. “I am plenty understanding. I understand that we are supposed to be a team. I understand that friends are supposed to stick together. I understand that you are going to demand we be transferred to your class, or the three of us transferred to my godfather’s class. And I understand that if you wish to remove part of the package from the package deal then you will have to find yourself two new Asgardians to befriend.”

Though she didn’t increase her strength or turn her photons on as she spoke, her voice grew more and more intimidating and by the end of it she was standing up and leering down at Chris. “You’re the plan guy, right? Make a plan.”

“Got it. I’ll make a plan.” Chris didn’t know how he got in this position, but somehow, someway, he was always the one they blamed when things went wrong, and when they went right? That was their fault. Even if he came up with the plan! Oh well, the life of a Captain wasn’t one that was enviable, after all. “Right. I got it. We can rendezvous tomorrow, we’ll probably have class or something together, right?”

With Mjölnir wrapped around his wrist, Søren had already stood up. “Hurry up. Run along now.” He said, gesturing with his hammer toward the door. Chris sighed and looked between the two Asgardians between him. Søren waited for him to say something, casually spinning the hammer in his hand, and Chris threw his hands up into the air.

“I SENT LETTERS!”

“Well, obviously, someone didn’t get them. Tut tut.” Søren tapped the hammer against the opposite shoulder that Charlotte was grabbing, and then Chris stood up, and had nothing left to say as he walked away from the pair. Søren hung Mjölnir in its holster, and looked at Charlotte. “What’s his problem?”

“I have no idea.” Charlotte gently cracked her knuckles as if restraining Chris had been the easiest thing in the world; she was showing off for an audience of one, rubbing salt in the wounds of someone who had fled the scene in a huff. “Knowing him, he forgot to mail the letters. I can talk to Rhodey, he has to accept a transfer. I’m family. Kind of.” Charlotte and James ‘War Machine’ Rhodes had a unique relationship, the short version was that he was her godfather. Charlotte had never asked for a favor but if ever there was a time to call one in, it was now.

“This is insulting, though. Your dad, my parents...they’re Avengers. They can’t treat us like this! Tony Stark changed my diapers!” That was something she probably could’ve kept to herself, but the frustration was making her say strange, strange things. “Is it too late to drop out?”

“Pretty sure your mother is in the A-Force.” Was Søren’s quickest reply, as he began to walk away from the auditorium. He would wait for Chris to sort this out, he always did. “And we can’t drop out, no matter how much we want to. If we do, Father said he’d lock us in the dungeon for at least a year. I don’t understand why; the incident was hardly our fault. That was Chris.” Søren and Charlotte were here as a punishment, nothing more. Looking over his shoulder as he walked away, Søren gestured for Charlotte to come along.

“Come on sister, I heard there is a ‘Hulk stan’ among the students. I’m very interested in meeting this person. I don’t know what a ‘stan,’ but I certainly know what a hulk is. Our confrontation shall be legendary.” Søren was at least trying to stick to a good attitude; there were certainly good things that could come out of this venture. Søren could at least flex his muscles a bit, if there was an actual Hulk roaming the building. Casually, he lifted Mjölnir off of his holster, and swung it in a slow, arcing uppercut. “Plus, I saw a cute girl or seven in the gathering.” Søren was sold on the idea of the school, just not the ‘education’ part.

“Only seven? Your eyesight is slipping, brother.” Charlotte had seen at least ten, but she didn’t feel the need to surface that information lest the cute girl - and boy - population of the school flock to one of the siblings rather than an even spread between both. “It’s the first day, I don’t think any confrontation will happen other than who gets what bunk.” Charlotte had little other option but to tag along with her brother, she had nothing more pressing to do and part of being a package deal at least meant walking the halls as if they owned them. Which, of course, they intended to in due time.

“On the subject of girls, promise me two things: your little Stark remains out of your system and if either of us has eyes on one, we stay out of each other’s way. I don’t need you flaunting your little hammer when I’m on the job.”

“Don’t be jealous of the hammer. It’s perfectly natural to not be worthy, there’s nothing wrong with you.” Søren casually replied as they headed through the halls. When she mentioned the Stark, he sighed and rolled his eyes, “are you still on about the Stark? I told you already, once was enough. She was okay, but a little new, and I wasn’t put here to teach. I like midgard girls because they already know what to do. Asgardians are a little… eh.” Søren shrugged his shoulders, looking forward. “I make no promises. We might have similar interests, and then everything’s on the table…”

“Still on about it? Unlike you, I might have to go to Tony’s mansion for a holiday and that’s an awkward time enough as it is. You do not want to see Tony Stark in a Christmas sweater. Or my mother singing Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer.” Charlotte shuddered visibly at the sheer horror of last Christmas, when there was a bit more nog than egg in the eggnog, More to her point, though, her brother didn’t exactly seem to care about the consequences of his actions or conquests and normally Charlotte didn’t mind - but when Søren rocked the bed a little too close to home...well, that had a tendency of riling up Charlotte. “Brother, the only interest you have is a good fight and a better lay, and I doubt you’ll find either here.” With any fortune, they wouldn’t run into any issues of that nature, both of them, or at least Charlotte, had had enough of that particular drama.

“Speaking of, your little Hulk quest seems to be failing.”

“Just come home with me for the holidays. We’ll talk, we’ll drink, we’ll laugh, we’ll fight. We’ll make our ancestors proud. It’ll be a grand time, compared to any mortal holiday parties. Bring your mother.” Søren suggested, as they rounded the corner towards their dorm. When she mentioned a failing quest, Søren scoffed. He hadn’t even had a chance to start the quest, not really. They had to meet their dorm partners, and Søren had to try and secure the top bunk. Hopefully, they’d be big enough for him, but he had a feeling they wouldn’t be… “What are you on about, how is my quest ‘failing,’ sister? I haven’t even tried to find the Hulk stan yet. I feel it can’t be very hard. I’ll just… hit people until one of them turns green.”

“You can’t just hit people here, there are rules against it.” Why was it that Charlotte had to constantly be the voice of reason in their little duo, it made her sound like she was opposed to fun when really she just knew that anything Søren did reflected equally as poorly on her. THat was the one downside of being a package deal. The punishments also came in twos. “The last time I was in Asgard for the holidays one of the Warriors Three thought they could outdrink me. He still owes me fifty.” Søren was right about one thing, though, a party on their shared home of Asgard on its worst day was still likely far better than a party thrown by a Midgardian. “My money is on the Hulk stan, by the way. Even father struggled against Banner, the way I hear it.”

“Only at first, he won once he got his powerup.” Søren said in protest, as they walked up to the door. He couldn’t believe that his own sister, his flesh and blood… bet against him that blatantly. “I would totally beat a Hulk. Any Hulk at this school probably isn’t trained in any formal comb-” Søren said, opening the door to the common room of Class 1D, and he immediately called it. “Dibs.”

“Dibs.” Charlotte was almost as fast as Søren, she was distracted by the fact that she was scoffing at her brother’s fierce belief that their father bested a raging green monster. Even still, she called it damn near in unison with her brother. “I called it first.”