Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Okay. Deep breath. You can do this, Pryde. It’s your first day of university, not Magneto at Cape Citadel.

The car came to a stop, and there Kitty Pryde found herself, just in front of Empire State University, about to have her first day. The year before, the Professor had agreed along with Kitty and her parents that an accelerated program to get her into university earlier would be suitable for her, that high school was officially pointless. Kitty couldn’t agree more, even if she’d miss taking classes with some of her friends. So here I am, sixteen years old and about to go to university. Let’s do this. Why am I even nervous? I got a perfect score on the SAT.

“Must be pretty excited. Big day for you.” Logan glanced out the side window distrustfully before giving her a small grin. “Don’t think this place is ready for you, half-pint. Just remember, don’t kick everyone’s ass unless you really gotta-”

“- and then make sure they remember it. ” Kitty finished for him, leaning over to give him a quick hug. “I’ll be fine. It’s college. Barely even a thing compared to the things we deal with on a regular basis. I don’t think the Juggernaut’s hanging out anywhere near here. Besides, there’s a couple of us that take courses here. It’ll be great.” Honestly, Kitty was trying to convince herself just as much as Logan, which she was pretty sure he could pick up. Logan rarely missed these things.

“Yer worried because people know.” Logan, as she figured he would, picked up the source of her anxiety pretty much perfectly. “That you’re a mutant and that you were there at Cape Citadel.” Jean’s was the only name that had been officially publicly released, but it hadn’t taken the media long to figure out the others that were at Cape Citadel. That had been a very, very hard thing for her parents to swallow and she still wasn’t quite sure how she’d convinced them not to take her back to Chicago, or more realistically, try to, because she wouldn’t have allowed it.

“You don’t like it because you know ya can’t just fight your way out of it. Sometimes, fightin’ looks like the easy way, don’t it?” Logan took a deep breath. “Anyone who gives you a hard time for being a mutant ain’t shit. Not worth the effort. Anyone who’s worth a damn’ll give you a chance to show who you are.” A bit of a shark-toothed grin. “Shame I can’t take you out for a beer afterwards, half-pint, but in this dumbassed country, you’re five years too young.”

“Ew, beer.” Kitty wrinkled her nose slightly, but couldn’t help but smile. “I really, really don’t get the appeal of that stuff.” She’d stolen several sips of the course of the last few years, in a foolish attempt to get a taste for it. Kitty had concluded that she had no idea whatsoever why any of the guys liked it so much. Not that she imagined Piotr’s vodka or the Professor’s scotch was any better. At least Betsy seemed to have the good sense to drink wine. Kitty didn’t mind wine, she’d had it at Passover dinners and weddings in the past.

“Get out of my car.” Logan growled, but there was a faint grin on her lips. Kitty stuck her tongue out at him and phased out of the car, out onto the ESU campus, an impressively roomy and green space, smack dab in the middle of Manhattan. Kitty could only begin to imagine how valuable the real estate was these days. She turned towards Logan and waved and then stepped out further, clutching a bag full of books on her shoulder. Huge crowds of students were milling about in various directions. Kitty took out her phone and loaded up the ESU app. First two classes are in the Howard Stark building, which is … Kitty looked around. Probably that huge shiny one. App agrees.

As Kitty started walking towards the building, she started noticing eyes on her- at first she tried to convince herself that people were wondering what the kid was doing in university or that guys were checking her out. She hadn’t made twenty steps before realizing, however, that they were trying to place her. They know they recognize my face from somewhere, they’re probably trying to figure out where. Kitty continued to walk towards the Howard Stark building, mostly ignoring the stares, but finding herself checking her back every so often.

Kitty steeled herself for what would probably follow, the abusive slurs, the near-total social exclusion, the possibility of a physical confrontation. It wasn’t that she was exactly afraid for her own safety- she had faced threats which a pack of college kids could not even remotely compare with, but that part of her wanted to be judged based on who she actually was as a person, not because she was a mutant. But if people are going to do that, I’m not going to let them stop me. I’m not ashamed of who I am and people are going to know that.

There was a cluster of big guys starting to form directly on her path- from the way a few of them had been on their phones, Kitty had no doubt whatsoever that they were coordinating somehow. Kitty stopped about ten feet away from them. Eight total. Most of them twice my size or better. Football players? Dumbasses for sure. Kitty raised her eyebrow, looking evenly at the one who looked like the ringleader with a gently raised eyebrow.

“Hi there.” Kitty put on her best obviously-fake looking smile. “Thanks for the welcoming committee, but I’d rather not be late for my first day of classes.” It would be easy, of course, to simply run through them in phase, but the notion of running away from cheap punks like these guys annoyed her. At the same time, though, she knew that there were other considerations. It would look bad for both her and the Xavier Institute if she got into a fistfight on her first day of school.

“You should go back to your freak school.” The ringleader, a huge redhaired guy, cracked his knuckles and glared down at her. “Turn around and go back the way you came and this doesn’t have to get worse for you.” The others started making a rough crescent shape, not completely surrounding her but plainly trying to cut off her flanks. Kitty expected that they thought she’d cry or run or maybe even gear up for a fight herself. It might not have been the wisest thing to laugh, but she couldn’t help it. It came out so deeply and strongly that her body shook with it.

“Nothing’s funny about this, mutie, stop laughing. Get the fuck off of my campus while you can still walk off of it.” There was a broader crowd gathered around now, probably mostly there to watch whatever happened, but Kitty had few doubts about where their actual sympathies lay. Great. My first day and I’m already dealing with a mass convention of the Hate Squad.

“And … how did you find out I was a mutant, Thompson?” Kitty noticed the embroidered last name on his jacket and instantly knew who he was, the bigshot quarterback of the ESU football team. She fixed him with an intent gaze, noticing that he was slightly rattled by her using his name. “Only one way you could possibly know.” Kitty had faced down Magneto and nuclear armageddon at Cape Citadel, lost a good friend and nearly lost some others. “So, knowing that, do you really think that I’m frightened by you? All I want is for you to get out of my way and let me go to class.”

“Get out of her way, dumbasses.” A random voice shouted from the crowd and there was an almost immediate murmur of what actually sounded like approval from them. Kitty glanced around quickly and realized, somewhat to her surprise, that the crowd was supporting her. Several others began to say similar things and the football thugs in a crescent around her were looking shakier and shakier. I guess I shouldn’t be so surprised. This isn’t high school anymore. The jocks don’t rule the roost anymore. Most of the students don’t give a damn about sports.

The other thing that was happening was that a veritable sea of cameras were coming out, recording the event, taking pictures of it. If Kitty had nurtured any hope of being anything less than completely open about being a mutant, she knew it was over now. At the same time, however, there’d be photographic and video evidence of half of the football team openly threatening a girl who was less than half their size. That she had mutant powers that made it almost impossible to touch her and had combat training from one of the world’s best fighters might not factor into a lot of people’s gut responses. They’ll see a girl threatened by massive guys.

“This isn’t over yet.” Thompson growled just as he turned into the flash of a camera, an actual proper camera- which suggested the campus paper at least. The big guy growled and went for the guy who was holding the camera. “Gimme that camera or I’ll kick your ass, Parker.” Parker, who happened to be a rather nerdy-cute guy with brown hair, scampered out quickly- very, very quickly, almost suspiciously quickly, with Thompson following. Yeah, not gonna let that happen. Kitty moved up, phasing right through a couple of the guys who moved to restrain her, dropped low and aimed a sweeping kick at Thompson’s legs, bringing him down roughly to the ground.

“You bitch!” He growled, splaying on the ground like some colossal turtle, finding it hard to even get up. Kitty stood up and brushed herself off, watching as the other guys stood around, whatever courage they had gathered clearly fading as they realized they were outmatched. With the crowd clearly on her side, they all slowly started departing, some of them with muttered curses, others sheepishly. Finally, Thompson himself got up and walked off with his own curses under his breath.

At that moment, campus security- rather belatedly in Kitty’s opinion, started to show up, hastening the retreat of the football thugs and dispersing a lot of the crowd that had gathered around her. Kitty walked over a few steps to where the guy who the quarterback had called ‘Parker’ was, still holding his camera. He gave her a slightly awkward smile for a moment, before putting away the camera into her bag and taking out a notepad.

“Peter Parker. Um, I work for the campus paper. I actually also do photography and web design for the Daily Bugle, but this is for the campus paper. I imagine you’re probably trying to get to class and so am I, so I was wondering if you wanted to, um, talk sometime? Give your view of what happened? I mean, you don’t have to, but I actually, um, I actually believe pretty strongly that people like you don’t really get a fair shake in the media? And even though it’s just the campus paper …” Up close, Peter Parker was very much in the nerdy-cute axis, though he looked notably fitter than she might have expected from a journalism student, if that’s what he was.

“... so what you’re saying is that you’re looking for my phone number.” Kitty couldn’t help but smile slightly, even as the brief adrenaline rush from the confrontation started to ebb. “And where would we have this interview, Peter? I’m pretty new here. Fresh out of freak school.” If the direct reference to her being a mutant was at all upsetting to him, he wasn’t showing it. He seemed a little flustered, but she got the idea it was more because he thought she was cute than because she was a mutant. Honestly, she was kind of wondering if he was a mutant himself. His brief bit of running had been pretty fast.

“There is a great coffee shop right on campus, in the student union building. I mean, I go there a lot because you know, it’s right below where the paper’s offices are. It’s funny, because I’m actually majoring in nuclear physics. I just really like journalism. Photography most of all, but we’re really short on reporters so I gotta do whatever to keep it going, you know?” Peter laughed. “I’m really sorry. I keep going on and on and you’ve probably got a class to head to.”

Kitty took the notepad and pen from him and quickly wrote down her number, passing it on to him. “Drop me a text sometime. I think I can slot in an interview somewhere.” She gave him another smile. “Soon, I promise. But I actually do have to get to class. I’ve already been in a physical confrontation, I really can’t add being late to that. On my first day, too. Hell of a welcome to ESU.” She managed to laugh slightly.

“I’m really sorry. Flash is like, I’ve been dealing with Flash Thompson since I was a little kid. He’s a complete jerk. But one hundred percent bark and no bite. That was pretty gutsy standing up to him like that. But, uh, I guess you’ve seen worse.” Peter laughed again. “I’m sorry. I need to let you get to class. Some of the professors are really intense about punctuality. But uh, I’ll send you a line sometime soon and we can meet up for coffee- interview. For an interview.”

“Interview.” Kitty replied with a smile. “Talk to you soon.” She clutched her books again and continued on her way to the Howard Stark Building, which was a truly impressive building- at least thirty stories high and extremely modern, having only been finished about five years ago. Walking into the doors, she couldn’t help but feel a new rush of excitement at the publicly displayed arc reactor that powered the entire building and around which all the floors were arranged, the gleaming steel and glass architecture. This place is amazing. Incredible.

Hastily, she took out her phone, hoping that the phase protection that Forge had put into it would actually hold- and thankfully, it did seem to work and she was able to quickly check where her class was. The class that started in two minutes. Forgetting about propriety and having been thoroughly exposed anyway, Kitty dashed as quickly as she could, phasing through several people and a few walls along the way until she reached the classroom, darting through the door just as it was about to close.

“I see that some of us feel compelled to make our entrances dramatic.” The professor dryly noted as she walked in and sat down towards the back of the class. This time, nobody spoke up on her behalf. It was hard to tell if it had even been particularly anti-mutant anyway or simply a mild annoyance at something that was potentially distracting. I guess it is kind of weird to see a girl walk through a door or a wall. “I suppose, considering the circumstances, we can forgive mild tardiness. In any case, if everyone would settle down. I’m well aware nobody likes lectures in gigantic theatres- least of all me. Thankfully, you have a lab component to even this course, with the other section. That being said, we have a lot to get through.”

Dr. Octavius clearly didn’t love lecturing before large crowds, but it was manifest that he was every bit the inspired genius that she had heard he was and she looked forward to the lab section of the class, which would be tomorrow. She found herself hurrying over to subsequent classes, introductory biology with Dr. Connors, to a spectacularly boring English literature class- it was probably awful of her to be so disinterested in classic literature, but she couldn’t help but wish she could tag team with Rogue or somebody who actually liked tedious discussion of Jane Austen.

Her classes finished for the day, Kitty was headed to the bookstore to purchase some exhorbitantly expensive textbooks for her classes when she saw a familiar face heading out of a building. Her eyes narrowed and she glanced around her before following him. It looked like one of the kids that Magneto had hired in order to help him kidnap the Professor. She knew that somehow they’d managed to escape prison and were still probably at large. What the hell would he be doing on campus?

Kitty was surprised when he turned around- she’d have to get Logan to add some stealth lessons to her curriculum. She wasn’t particularly afraid of him, though- if she remembered correctly, his powers were something to do with earthquakes. Kitty more or less floated in place when she phased. Up close, he was surprisingly handsome- not especially tall, but clearly in good shape, with dark hair and dark eyes. Greek?

“Hey there.” The guy grinned easily, slightly insolently, before making a seemingly mocking show of putting his hands up. “Don’t worry, I got out of that business awhile ago. Back to school. They, uh, have a pretty good remedial program here. Just another student like you.” Behind the shit-eating grin, though, there was a wary glint in his eyes. He’s not actually a grinning idiot, but he doesn’t mind if people think he’s one.

“And why should I believe you?” Kitty took a step closer, looking around to see if any of his fellow goons were around. Her hand reached towards her phone, ready to press the emergency button that would summon any of the others that were around to serve as backup. Scott’s on campus for sure. Piotr and Betsy might be too. Rogue can fly here in a few minutes. My ass is pretty covered. “Last time I met you, it wasn’t exactly friendly. And you weren’t exactly helpful during the blackout.”

“And both times, I had my ass royally kicked. Truth is, I dropped out of high school and now I think that was pretty stupid. Just like working for Magneto was stupid. I know, stupid decision king right here. Speaking of stupid decisions, don’t you think a mutant-on-mutant throwdown would be one of them?” Kitty had to admit the guy was making sense, even if she trusted him only about as far as she could throw him. “Actually, you want the full and total truth? I’ve been … wanting to talk to you guys. At the school. Because I mean, the program here is pretty good but it’s probably better there. And I’d like to properly train to use my powers-”

“You mean not knocking down churches? I don’t know, Avalanche-” Yeah, that was the weird mutant name he had. Avalanche. “You seemed pretty good at causing a lot of damage. What makes you think we’d trust you to come anywhere near us?” Someone else would probably have been a better diplomat, but she was still less than sure diplomacy was what was actually called for. Kitty was really not particularly inclined to buy the argument that he couldn’t control his powers- he’d caused a lot of damage.

“Purity churches.” Avalanche replied. “I can’t imagine that, deep down, you’re terribly sad about that. I mean, yeah, I’ll own it. They murdered children . But then, then Magneto was threatening to destroy half the world with nuclear missiles. And that’s when I got off the crazy train. I don’t want to be enemies, we’ve got too many of them already.” He took a breath. “My name’s Dom.” Another breath. “You trusted Rogue. I just want a chance.”

Kitty paused for a moment and then nodded. “You got a number I can forward to Professor Xavier?”

“You asking me for my number?” The tenseness disappeared and Dom grinned again. “Yeah, I got a number.” Kitty tentatively closed the distance between them and handed him her phone to put his number in, ready at any moment to defend herself at the slightest sign of aggression from him. The only thing she noticed, though, was that he was definitely checking her out, though his gaze didn’t linger overlong and he handed her phone back.

“I’ll pass that on. But don’t get ahead of yourself. And I don’t date mutant terrorists, so don’t get any of those ideas either.” Kitty rolled her eyes. “But yeah, I don’t know if you’re still in touch with your old buddies, but tell them they’d better not get back to any of their old tricks. You’ve seen the news, I’m sure.” The X-Men, as they’d been dubbed by the press, had been quite active over the last while. A lot of supervillains, expecting an easy time with the Avengers out on some insane space mission, were sorely surprised.

“Yeah, I’ve seen them. There’s a brain behind this handsome face.” Dom grinned again. “The last thing I want to do is get my ass kicked again. So, what’s your name?”

“Kitty Pryde.” Kitty replied, unsmiling. “And if you step out of line, you’ll damn well remember it.” And don’t think I’d hesitate for a second, even if you have a cute smile. Wait, where the hell did that thought come from? Check yourself, Pryde.

“Talk to you soon, KPryde.” Dom grinned and gave a little salute before walking off.

Whelp. Today’s been quite a day. I think I was going to get books? I should probably get books. Kitty turned around and went back the way she came, though she found it very hard indeed to concentrate on something so insignificant as purchasing textbooks. She kept thinking about the confrontation earlier that day, her brief conversation with Peter and the latter one with- Dom. I’ll be nice and call him by his actual name.  

Helluva first day.

Chapter Text

The X-Men had received the notification only a few minutes ago- a major bank robbery in progress, involving superhumans. Within moments, the Blackbird had been loaded and ready to go, invisible to both visual detection and radar. Ororo turned towards Longshot at the controls- with Scott gone to attend a gala dinner with the Professor and all of their so-called friends at the Hellfire Club, that left Longshot as the only other person who seemed to have a gift for flying. It also meant that she was left in charge.

It still seemed strange that she would find herself frequently leading field missions, but Scott was frequently busy with other engagements, often having to go with his father to various conferences or meetings and maintaining full-time attendance at university as well. Ororo knew that he preferred to keep busy, but she also knew that it was in great part to distract himself from the pain of losing Jean Grey. We all feel that loss, but her spirit lives on. Her sacrifice was not in vain and never shall be.

“The intelligence suggests that there are four individuals on the ground, all possessing physical superhuman powers. They call themselves the Wrecking Crew- and this is their leader, the Wrecker. The others are straightforward brutes, but it suggests that he may possess other abilities.” Ororo glanced around at the team that she’d been able to gather. Powerful as they were, she doubted they were so much so that her team would be overmatched.

It was true that Kurt Wagner was not a powerhouse, nor was Longshot who was next to him, but both of them were incredibly agile, easily able to avoid stronger but slower opponents. Longshot’s uncanny luck and Kurt’s teleportation gave them additional advantages. The two had become remarkably adept at fighting in tandem, Longshot with his throwing knives and Kurt with a vibranium-alloy rapier he had been gifted with in exchange for saving the King of Wakanda from a terrorist bomb.

If Kurt and Longshot both possessed finesse in spades, both Rogue and Piotr possessed immense raw power. Both of them were immensely strong and durable and Rogue also was able to fly at supersonic speeds. While he was grounded, Piotr was nearly twice as strong as Rogue and almost totally invulnerable- virtually nothing actually harmed the big Russian. He could fight in close quarters with just about any foe and win.

“So what you’re sayin’, `Ro, is that they might actually last long enough to be fun.” Logan grinned at her as he leaned back on the seat. They’d all become good fighters during their time as X-Men, but there was no question that Logan was more skilled than any of them. His mutant physiology gave him a modest measure of superhuman strength, his healing factor and adamantium bones made it hard for him to be critically wounded, but more than anything, it was his fearlessness and ferocity that made him dangerous.

The codename ‘Wolverine’ had been very apt indeed. And yet, he’s an intelligent, thoughtful man. There was no question that he was her closest friend on the team. They both shared a love of nature and while she sometimes felt that people humoured her philosophy as much as they respected it, he seemed to understand it intuitively. They both shared a need to occasionally escape from the others, Logan in his cabin in the Institute’s woods, Ororo among her plants in her attic rooms that more closely resembled a greenhouse.

“Nightcrawler, get ready to open the hatch so we can get Rogue out there. The sooner she’s out there and flying, the better.” Ororo focused herself on worsening the weather around the site of the robbery, creating a powerful microstorm, capable of sending howling winds, driving rain, vicious sleet or devastating lightning bolts at any time. “Find a good landing place for the Blackbird.” The hatch opened and almost instantly, Rogue was out. “Nightcrawler and Longshot, keep civilians away and keep them well-distracted and off-balance.”

“Oh you know what that means, Petey.” Logan grinned. “I think that means we’re front and centre for the best part. Maybe we’ll even get a chance to do a fastball special.” Piotr smiled faintly at that, armouring up so they could hit the ground running. “Can’t let Rogue have all the fun, like last time. Gonna have to do some work to catch up to her on the takedown pool.” Ororo rolled her eyes at the mentioning of the running bet several of them had on who could take down the most villains. She knew that Scott despised it, but while she had no particular interest in participating, she didn’t think it actually did any harm.

By the time the Blackbird had actually landed on a conveniently close small urban park, the storm had become suitably intense, driving rain and hail into the ruined shell of the bank. It looked like any civilians who were present had largely fled or were being held in a more secure location. Ororo took to the skies again, scanning around for any sight of the Wrecking Crew. “Nightcrawler, if we don’t see them shortly, I want you to smoke them out.”

As it happened, however, there was no need, because almost immediately, four bulky men in extremely garish costumes emerged into the driving rain and sleet, all appearing to have some sort of specialty. Ororo summoned up a colossal straight-line wind almost immediately and three of the four were knocked instantly off their feet, all struggling to brace themselves. The final one however stared defiantly at the approaching X-Men.

“Bring it. Let’s see what you X-punks are made of. Thunderball, knock that bitch out of the sky. She’s makin’ this weather. Piledriver, Bulldozer. Stop cowering like a bunch of little girls and let’s take `em down.” Bulldozer managed to brace himself to charge in, but almost immediately, he had a face full of Wolverine, thrown with immense force by Colossus and went down yelling. Thunderball hurled a gigantic wrecking ball up at her, the chain of which seemed to magically expand as it moved swiftly, but before it could hit, Rogue neatly grabbed it, yanking up Thunderball with it.

“Awful impolite, don’t y’all think? Guess we’re just gonna have to kick your butts.” Rogue yanked the wrecking ball hard and Thunderball went flying along with it. Nightcrawler and Longshot had already got closer, keeping Wrecker himself busy. Up close, he was clearly a better fighter than the rest of them combined and the way that he pulverized whatever hit the ground with this crowbar suggested that neither of the two would want to be hit with it.

Ororo focused the power of the storm to strike Wrecker with a lightning bolt, but was surprised he simply raised his crowbar for an instant, ignoring largely ineffective blows from both Kurt and Longshot. He roared with triumph as the electrical power from the lightning bolt surged through him and he directed a lightning bolt of his own towards Wolverine, the energy coursing through both him and Wrecker’s supposed ally.

“That hurt, bub.” Wolverine growled as he picked himself up, picking up Bulldozer at the same time and hurling him in Piotr’s general direction before charging off towards Wrecker himself, claws bared. It was a frightening sight, with much of his flesh visibly charred by the lightning, but Ororo knew that any damage inflicted would heal quickly. Wrecker seemed not to mind the notion himself and he charged confidently past Logan with his magical crowbar aloft.

Soon afterwards, Ororo could see Thunderball hurled out of one of the walls of the bank, landing in a groaning pile just as Rogue hurtled towards him, a single punch rendering him unconscious. Bulldozer had ended up in a brawl with Colossus, which was an almost piteously one-sided spectacle- Bulldozer couldn’t ram into Colossus given the extremely close proximity and his punches had no hope whatsoever of hurting Colossus- the opposite did not hold, however and when he was knocked out, it came as a relief to Ororo, and she imagined, to Piotr himself. He does not relish the fact that he’s got an inborn talent for combat.

It wasn’t long before Piledriver too, was laid out on the ground and that left only Wrecker himself. It was Rogue that moved in first, but he was able to move out of the way of her straight-line attack. “Don’t indulge him by attacking individually.” Ororo admonished her team. “Everyone together.” She summoned up a small but intense tornado, moving it to where he was, making it difficult for him to stand effectively. Nightcrawler teleported in at the same time that Wolverine pounced, claws out. Wrecker’s crowbar and Wolverine’s claws met each other and to Ororo’s surprise, the adamantium claws didn’t slice through the crowbar. The expression of surprise on Wrecker’s face suggested that he expected his crowbar to break off the claws with a twist. Instead, he simply hurled Wolverine through the air.

Ororo shifted the tornado so that the pressure around Wrecker would be drastically lowered, making it difficult for him to breathe. Before it could have any major impact, however, he teleported in a flash of purplish energy, but as he materialized, Nightcrawler himself teleported and in a moment, he was without his signature weapon. Rogue hurtled into him, this time far more accurately, knocking him hard into the ground, just as Colossus arrived onto the scene. Wrecker was able to wrestle Rogue off, grasping towards his weapon, but Nightcrawler had passed it over to Longshot, who hurled it into a sewer.

Wrecker took a deep breath and glared for a moment, spitting hard on the ground before putting up his hands. “Fine. You win this time. But next time, I know what you can bring to the party and you’re gonna be screwed.” Almost immediately after he spoke, there was the whine of a landing jet engine as the Avengers Quinjet landed, Iron Man and Thor landing on the ground near Wrecker. Ororo herself gracefully landed on the ground just as Captain America, Black Widow, Hawkeye and Scarlet Witch came out of the Quinjet.

“Looks like you have this well in hand.” Captain America smiled faintly as Thor got Wrecker into the adamantium cuffs and Iron Man prepared the unconscious and semiconscious other members of the Wrecking Crew for transport in the Quinjet. His smile tightened somewhat when he spotted Rogue, but he didn’t say anything about it. The Avengers had known for a long time that Rogue was one of them now. Ororo didn’t much like the look that Hawkeye gave her though.

“Hi Fuzzy.” Scarlet Witch waved over at Nightcrawler, who grinned broadly and immediately teleported over to where Wanda was, kissing her deeply as she wrapped his arms around him. Whatever tension existed at the moment was pretty nearly completely dissipated seeing the two lovers happily reunited. Ororo knew that it had not always been easy with them, especially in the aftermath of Jean’s death, but one wouldn’t know it from the sheer joy the two showed every time they were reunited.

“Salem Center is a little closer to the city than Avengers Headquarters is.” Ororo smiled slightly, speaking to Captain America. “It’s good to know that either way, he wasn’t going to succeed. One of these days, we’re going to have to properly work together.” She looked over, unable not to smile at Longshot speaking animatedly to a clearly merely tolerant Hawkeye. Thor was heartily congratulating Colossus on his feats of strength, which Piotr accepted slightly awkwardly. Black Widow and Wolverine were talking, though Ororo noticed with some amusement that her gaze occasionally drifted towards Piotr.

“Well, ma’am, between us, I’d kind of hate to see the sort of threat that could potentially require both our teams.” Captain America laughed slightly, looking around. Ororo noticed Rogue standing aside, looking awkward and uncomfortable. There’s so much easy camaraderie between our teams, but she doesn’t feel like she can be any part of it. She cannot be blamed for what happened with Carol, but I imagine each time they see footage of her using Warbird’s powers, it’s an ugly reminder of what happened.

“Ma’am?” Ororo replied, raising an eyebrow, but before the Captain could apologize for his mistake, she smiled confidently at him. “I’m quite certain that should something so dire arise, that we can handle it.” She noticed Longshot drifting away from Hawkeye towards Rogue. Good. Were I a telepath, I would have told him to do just that. Hawkeye moved over to where Black Widow and Wolverine were talking, probably about some shared experience they’d had over their unusually long lifespans. “Perhaps a happier occasion first? There’s still time in the year for a barbecue.”

“Hm, I’ll have to look at my calendar.” Captain America smiled faintly and then raised his eyebrow slightly. “Cyclops not here?” It was fairly well known that Ororo was the leader of the team when Cyclops himself wasn’t around, though it was rare for Scott to miss a field mission for any reason. However, his attendance at the Professor’s gathering was deemed essential. Ororo didn’t doubt that Scott would far rather be out in the field than at some stuffy social. Certainly, she would truly loathe such a thing, no matter how nice Logan insisted she looked. He doesn’t exactly like fancy dress either.

“Kept busy by a fancy dress social if you can believe it.” Ororo smiled faintly. “The same with Psylocke and Beast.” That they had a reasonable amount of depth on the team was always fortunate, if someone was recuperating from injuries or was otherwise indisposed. “I could ask the same of Ant-Man, though it’s entirely possible I’m just not seeing him.”

“Hopefully he’s not hating it too much.” Captain America glanced over at the two teams happily chatting back and forth for a moment before his gaze returned meaningfully to Ororo. “Is he doing okay? I’ve never really been able to talk to him. I know it’s been almost two years since Cape Citadel, but-”

“He gets by. I imagine you know something of what it is like, to bury loss in your work.” Ororo didn’t feel that it was proper to get into too much detail with the Captain. Scott was depressed and lonely and essentially lived for his work. Other than his father and Wanda, he largely avoided non-essential company. She glanced over at the distant sound of approaching sirens. “It’s best we left.” The X-Men didn’t have the legal sanction that the Avengers did, though at the same time, it seemed they had maintained much of the goodwill that had been gathered from Cape Citadel. All the same, however, it was best that they did not test it.

Moments later, they were in the Blackbird, heading back home, everyone contentedly chatting with each other. Everything had gone well, nobody had been hurt, either X-Men or civilians and dangerous and powerful criminals had been removed from the streets. It was possible, too, that they would receive some positive press for what they had done. In just about every respect, things had gone about as well as they possibly could have.

“Leader looks good on you. Should do it more often.” Logan grinned at her from his seat, which he’d somehow managed to get to lean back further than she thought was actually possible. He’d also managed somehow to sneak several beers onto the Blackbird, because he and Kurt were happily downing one. Scott would have had a fit, Ororo imagined, particularly because Kurt was underaged by US law, but Ororo was perfectly all right with them engaging in a little celebration.

“And here I was, imagining that it was about how you performed, not how you looked.” Ororo smiled back at Logan teasingly. “Beer on the Blackbird? You know, I should have you written up for that. We’re still technically on duty. A proper leader probably wouldn’t tolerate something remotely as foolish as letting you get drunk on the jet.” Not that Logan was going to get drunk with just about any amount of beer. Ororo had personally observed him drink an entire bottle of Canadian whisky with no more apparent effect on him than if she’d had a beer. “And you, Kurt, you’re underaged. For shame.”

“I’ve been legal to drink in Germany for years now.” Kurt replied, taking another sip of his beer. “And Logan tells me that I am also quite capable of legally purchasing liquor in his home country of Canada. Quite why America has such ridiculous laws, I do not know.” Finishing his bottle, he looked at it. “Alas, poor ale. I knew it well, Logan. A most excellent brew-” The merriment, however, was broken by communication on the emergency line. Everyone sat bolt upright.

“Sentinels are attacking the gathering. Requesting reinforcements. We’re doing the best we can, but any help you fine gentlemen and ladies could tender is appreciated.” Hank’s voice rang through on the communicator. “I am currently in the process of evacuating the Professor. Do you copy? Was that what I say? I’m not terribly an expert on these affa-”

“We hear you, Hank. We will be there immediately.” Ororo glanced over at Kurt and Logan. “Your party will have to wait. And I expect not to see that on the Blackbird again.” Ororo felt a little ashamed that she had been so easygoing about it a moment ago. Fortunately it’s not far and Longshot doesn’t partake so he can safely pilot the jet if needed. If there’s Sentinels, that means we cannot expect an easy way in. Has the Hellfire Club finally sprung its trap?

“Hank, tell me more about what’s happening. How did the Hellfire Club do this?”

“They didn’t. I assure you, the Sentinels are attacking the members of the Inner Circle that are present just the same as us. Which of course, raises all manner of fascinating and disturbing questions about how Mr. Shaw’s own designs are turning against him. With luck, there will be time for such queries. In the meantime, we’re terribly in need of assistance, even if, as it turns out, Mr. Shaw is a surprisingly capable fighter.”

“We will be there as quickly as possible- Longshot, how long?” Ororo turned towards him quickly.

“Three minutes twenty-five seconds. Well, twenty-four since I started talking-”

“Keep the Professor and everyone else safe, Hank. We’ll be there and then we are going to find out exactly what the hell is happening.” Every indication that Ororo had was that Sebastian Shaw was in near-complete control of the Hellfire Club, and was a nearly godlike power over his company. They had entered into a delicate association with the Hellfire Club based, in part on the presumption that the Club possessed resources and connections they needed, but also that it was a stable force.

It appeared that presumption was a false one. Ororo didn’t like the implications of that.

Chapter Text

Scott had never enjoyed parties, had never looked forward to a large gathering full of mostly strangers. It’d be a lot easier to endure, though, if you were here, Jean. That, of course, was a forlorn hope- it’d been over two years and he knew that he was supposed to be, or already have, moved on from her loss. Everyone else seemed to be able to do it- even Wanda, who he’d learned some months later, had been in love with Jean too. But she loved Kurt too, and just under a year after Cape Citadel, the two had started dating again and remained a couple.

Scott was happy for them, was glad that Wanda could find some happiness amid the multiple griefs of her life, with her relationship with her father utterly destroyed, and with Pietro nearly so. I’ve got to stop dwelling on this right now. I wish I could go out into the field instead of being here. Am I really that necessary? My father’s the one doing all the real negotiating. Hank and Betsy are more than capable of making our presence here.

He could get by when he was able to keep himself busy, when he was either leading the X-Men into combat or deep into coursework in what was a rather punishing course load. People frequently counseled him to make sure he rested enough, but the truth was that it was the nighttime that was often the worst, when he was left alone with his thoughts, knowing that he’d never again be able to wake up and see Jean there. That they’d never be able to resume their quixotic quest for the Westchester Bobcat, that they’d never have the future together they always hoped for.

“And I thought I was bored.” Scott turned at the sound of the crisp voice towards Emma Frost, a twenty-one year old woman who also happened to be a billionaire who ran a colossal media empire, including a national television network. “You look as if you’d like to remove those fetching red glasses of yours and obliterate every single last one of us. Perhaps I should be standing behind you.” She had a glass of champagne in each hand, offering one to him.

“Uh, I’m still about a year underaged.” Scott replied slightly awkwardly at the drink, not wanting to be impolite and at the same time not particularly wanting to talk to her or anyone else at the moment. He didn’t want to obliterate anyone. He just wanted to go home and work on Danger Room programs or fix up the Blackbird or his car and try to ignore the need to limp off alone to his room for as long as possible. Champagne wouldn’t help with that. The fact that he didn’t particularly trust Emma Frost or any of the Hellfire Club’s elite didn’t help either.

“It’s the Hellfire Club, darling. Do you think anyone is going to care if you have a little champagne?” Emma smiled thinly. “Unless you think I’ve done something to it. Can you imagine the scandal? Billionaire media empress roofies unsuspecting boy. I don’t think even I could bury that. Indulge me. I may not be feeling quite as bitter as you, but this isn’t exactly my vision of an ideal party either.”

Scott couldn’t help but chuckle at the joke. He kind of loved dark humour, which regularly surprised people- only Wanda really seemed to understand that. He shrugged and took the drink. “I’m not much of a party guy. But I guess you probably knew that already.” She probably knew a lot of things already. He hadn’t exactly been shy about his thoughts and he remembered, with some chagrin, that she was a telepath. It always kind of amazed him, how many telepaths there seemed to be around.

“I don’t need telepathic powers to figure out that much. Shame, really, you don’t look half-bad in that suit.” Emma sipped her champagne. “I mean, I’d certainly suggest a little retailoring, but considering that I imagine you bought it off the rack, it’s surprisingly adequate.” That at least seemed to jive about what he knew about Emma Frost, a woman who was always ready with some sort of veiled insult. Though he wasn’t sure if that was actually intended as such.

“If I meant to insult you, you’d know it. Anyway, why would I do that?” Emma raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow. “I suppose, though, from your perspective- you’re wondering why I came over here to talk to you in the first place. What nefarious plot could I possibly be looking to advance? What vile conspiracy?” Scott had to admit he’d had the thought. Certainly, if she could read his emotions, even if she couldn’t read his actual thoughts, she’d get the idea that he wasn’t incredibly social.

“I guess I’ll have to find out.” Scott decided that he was going to throw caution to the winds and have a sip of the drink- bubbliness and the flavour of wine weren’t things that he immediately thought made a good combination, but other sip and he found he kind of liked it. “Thanks for the drink, though.” The thought of getting completely drunk did flit through his mind, but he knew that there was no way he’d escape through any substances. Alcohol just breaks down inhibitions. I’d end up a sobbing mess, probably.

“Well, what sort of hostess would I be if I didn’t make sure you at least sampled the champagne we spent many thousands of dollars on?” Emma took another sip of hers. “There’s fifty dollars in that glass you’re drinking, by the way.” Scott found himself sipping it again and concluding that if it really was some sort of particularly special kind of champagne, he’d be unlikely to tell the difference. I probably make a pretty awful rich kid. Oh well.

“Your lack of class consciousness is disturbing, yes, but not insurmountable. Some would consider that you have a fairly impressive common touch.” Emma finished her champagne and set it on a passing tray. “You certainly have impressive skills in other fields. A gift for leadership that could, if you so desired, translate to endeavours beyond leading about dangerously unstable people in garish costumes to battle even more dangerously unstable people in even worse costumes. Your father, Sebastian, they all have their gifts, but they’re not young. They know intellectually, but don’t really understand that the mutant race is a youth movement. As far as mutants go, Scott, we’re actually old. ”

“You sound like you’re proposing an alliance, Emma. Hasn’t that already happened? Isn’t that why we’re here?” Scott raised an eyebrow and finished his champagne. It didn’t particularly seem her style to compliment someone simply to be nice and if she somehow found him attractive, his thoughts would’ve made that pretty clear that wasn’t going to happen. Not that she herself wasn’t attractive, as a matter of fact, she was gorgeous, almost impossibly so, but he wasn’t even entirely certain he was capable of really wanting another woman. The very thought felt like a betrayal.

“Between your father and the Hellfire Club? Certainly.” Emma replied, neatly finding another glass of champagne, though Scott noticed the next sip was a far daintier one. “But I’m quite certain this is the longest conversation that the two of us have had. Which really seems a shame, considering that you and I, respectively, shine the brightest in our respective firmaments.” Scott tried very hard not to mentally project the incredible eyeroll that he couldn’t possibly resist.

“Roll your eyes as you must, but it’s true. I cannot imagine you’ve heard terribly flattering things about me from Elisabeth or Piotr, but the fact is that we share an interest in finding and guiding young mutants. We have different, but I believe, complimentary approaches. I manipulate people.” She sipped her glass. “You inspire them. I like subtlety and you have a talent for direct action.” Her gaze drifted towards his. “I have a special project that I have been working on and I would like to bring you in on it.”

“Don’t imagine that I could find a lot of time for it, between school and the superheroics in garish costumes.” Scott noted dryly, finding himself another glass of champagne. “So I’m probably going to have to say thanks, but no thanks to that. It was nice of you to consider me, though. And thanks for the drink.” He took another sip of the champagne, feeling the first one already start to hit him. It really was pretty good, though he still wished it was a beer instead.

“You know, it’s terribly rude to so cavalierly dismiss a lady when she’s explaining her special project.” Emma reached over to grasp his champagne. “And while it’s all well and good to have a drink, that particular mentality is a fabulous way to end up right in alcoholism.” She indicated with her head slightly to where Harry Leland was barely on his feet, having switched from glasses of champagne to an entire bottle. “Do you know, that Harry there could be one of the most powerful mutants in the world? His power is gravity control. If he weren’t morbidly obese and miserably alcoholic, he could rival Magneto. He doesn’t look depressed, but he’s been a shell of a man since Sebastian took over the Inner Circle. You can tell me to shove off if you like, once you’ve actually listened to me, but do take that warning into account.” Emma let go of the glass, though the appeal had gone and Scott simply rested it on a nearby table.

“Okay, fine.” Scott replied, taking a breath. “I wouldn’t want to be rude.” He smiled a little grimly, but the truth was that he was a little intrigued at what Emma Frost both considered so important and wanted him in on. He also figured that it wouldn’t be anything too obviously evil, because she wouldn’t have broached the idea to him if she didn’t think there was at least a reasonable chance that he’d go for it. Fine, Emma Frost, you’ve got your audience.

“Your X-Men are very impressive, but they’re mostly known qualities, people who you only have a limited opportunity to shape. Now, you’ve got a very lovely school set up there. Spectacular and unique facilities. But it’s all a little hands-off. The new generation of mutants cropping up needs strong guidance and a constant, living example that they can accomplish great things with a little discipline.” Emma daintily sipped her champagne. “Unlike just about everyone else in the Hellfire Club, I actually believe in the value of a good education. If you can actually believe it, I’m in education.”

Scott was suddenly reminded of Jean, who had wanted nothing more than to be a teacher, who could have been a doctor, could have been a scientist, taken any number of routes to wealth or glory, but believed there was no greater calling than educating young people. She hadn’t had the chance to follow her dream very far, though in a very short time she’d helped Longshot improve his reading skills dramatically.

Even vaguely comparing Jean to Emma Frost, however, made him almost physically ill. He had no special reason to dislike Emma, but Jean had been selfless and he couldn’t imagine Emma ever putting someone else’s interests truly over her own. I shouldn’t be so uncharitable. And I shouldn’t be so quick to dismiss people. It annoyed him that Emma could probably sense every single one of his thoughts just as he was having it, and that she wouldn’t hesitate to use that knowledge.

“What do you want?” Scott replied, not terribly worried if it came off a little harshly. More than anything, he simply wanted Frost to get to the point. What does she want from me? It seems sort of vaguely-perhaps interesting, but I don’t like this beating around the bush. “I mean, you say you value education and that’s a nice-sounding platitude, but what are you talking about, actually, in the here and now?”

“I want to find or assemble a group of young people and for the two of us to take a direct hand in their education and training. We’re both strong academically, I’m an accomplished socialite and you’re a proven tactician. Now, in a nice world, none of the theoretical young people that we would be mentoring would ever need to fight, but I think you and I both know that’s unlikely. The Xavier Institute has unique technological resources and expertise and the Hellfire Club has social and political contacts that you can scarcely even imagine.

The fact is, that I think you and I could accomplish a great deal together, Scott. So what do you think? I can tell you’re at least somewhat intrigued, by the way. Your thoughts aren’t exactly difficult to sense-” Which meant that she knew all about his thoughts about Jean, though she seemed to have the good grace not to mention them at all.

That’s when Scott heard the faint roar of a jet engine, his eyes immediately inclined above him. Directly above us.

“What are you doing?” Emma looked up. “Probably just some ridiculous jetliner flying above us.”

“No. It’s not.” He reached over to remove his watch, which immediately shifted into his hands into the additional component necessary to turn his civilian-wear red sunglasses into his combat visor. The faint roar of jet engines had become louder and glasses were clattering. Guests were still with panic, not sure what was happening. He tapped the side of his visor, which activated communicators that his father, Hank and Betsy all wore. “Trouble. Hank, get my dad out of here. Betsy, keep civilians calm and try to get them out.” He looked at Emma. “You should do that too. Now.”

A huge section of the ceiling exploded down on the ground and Scott immediately let loose with a wide arc optic blast, trying to make sure that as much of the debris as possible didn’t hit anyone. Emma instinctively put up her hands to her ears, no doubt surprised by the nearly-deafening thundercrack his powers made, but immediately afterwards, he saw her eyes furrowed with concentration and literally dozens of nearby guests make an orderly but swift queue for the exists.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Hank quickly grabbing the Professor and leaving. Other guests were calmly evacuating based on Betsy’s mental commands. He looked up at what was now a blank patch of evening sky as a multitude of humanoid shapes descended from the sky. Scott let loose with another optic blast, breaking one of them up in a way that suggested they were mechanical rather than human. Good. Won’t have to hold back.

The realization about what had happened hit him hard- Sentinels. These are the Sentinels. A trap? One that, judging by Emma’s outward attitude and willingness to take his orders, she wasn’t in on. Sebastian? Shaw had some sort of implant which blocked telepathy. The only person who could even communicate with him mentally was his assistant, Tessa. Shaw had assured them that the Sentinels were simply sitting in underground facilities gathering dust. That was clearly not the case.

As it happened, the man himself dashed forward, his eyes wide in surprise and rage, which suggested that perhaps he wasn’t behind this after all- which left some disturbing questions. Who else could possibly have ordered an attack like this? The government? It seemed like a strange time to do so, however. The Hellfire Club was closely allied with several people in the government. Tessa was a close adviser to the President himself.

“Tessa, put on your damned interface glasses and transmit the kill code.” Sebastian barked out as the Sentinels drew closer. His eyes went towards Scott for a moment as he let loose another blast. “Your blasts, boy. What are they made of? Heat or force?” He noticed that the man was stomping the ground impatiently, though as he looked closely, Scott noticed the stone tiles of the floor were breaking underneath him. Superpowers? I didn’t know he had any worth mentioning.

“Force, sir. Concussive force.” Scott replied. There was no point lying about it. Tessa could have identified his powers perfectly in an instant anyway. He had a feeling, too, that Shaw was asking for a very specific reason.

“Hit me. As hard as you can. They’ll land to begin apprehension- if their programming hasn’t been entirely subverted, they won’t even recognize me until I’ve destroyed several of them.” Scott didn’t wait to ask the obvious question, figuring the man knew what he was getting into well enough and blasted Sebastian with his optic blasts. To his surprise, the man didn’t go flying, or even fall down. He simply basked in it as if it were sunlight. After a second or two of continuous blasting, Scott turned his attention back towards the skies.

“Much obliged.” Sebastian grasped a column from the hall, ripping it out and hurling it up into the sky as if it were some sort of bullet. The whole movement was so fast as to be a virtually invisible blur, recognizable mostly from the astonishing impact it had on the Sentinel as the targeted Sentinel flew apart into tiny pieces. Sebastian immediately went to the next one, about to do the same thing.

“Do you think that’s a good idea, sir? It may be unwise to tear out too many of those-” The last thing they needed was even more structual damage to a building in which there were still a huge number of civilians, though the number was dwindling quickly, thanks to the efforts of Betsy and Emma. It was clear from the expression on Tessa’s face as she crouched beneath a marble table that she was having no success.

“I was an engineer by training. These columns are decorative more than functional.” Sebastian hurled the pillar at another Sentinel, which virtually exploded. At least we seem well-capable of harming them. They were getting close enough that they were shooting back now, with beams of energy flattening portions of the room. One of them hit Sebastian, but for all the harm it did, it might as well have been a pillow. How tough is this guy?

“Scott, I’ve called the others in, they’ve finished their mission, they should be here in a few minute- oh dear.”

“Yeah. I see it.” A colossal shadow loomed over the gaping hole in the roof of the building, this particular Sentinel standing over a hundred feet tall. Scott hit it with an optic blast, but it seemed to inflict little or no damage. It responded with a blast from its eyes that Scott had to leap to avoid, landing heavily on his ankle. He cursed at the spike of pain as he got back on his feet, but he had no choice but to keep moving.

“Pierce.” Sebastian hissed. “I will tear him limb to limb for this. Perhaps when this is all done, there will be a place in our Inner Circle for your father.”

“I’m sure he’d love to be around to have that conversation later. Help’s on the way. We just have to stay alive until then.” Another blast hurtled his way, but Sebastian moved in front of him swiftly, absorbing the force of it, once again, looking absolutely none the worse for it, save for ruining the front of what he imagined was a very expensive coat.

“Until then, it would seem it’s the two of us. Our lovely lady friends and their telepathy isn’t of any particular use here- Tessa, why haven’t you got inside their AI routines yet?” Sebastian hurled a huge piece of what was once the roof.

“I’m locked out completely. I could get into it with time, but Sentinel AIs aren’t exactly easy to hack into. Your friends will be here long before then. Let us hope we can hold out until then.”

Easier said than done. There’s a lot of them and effectively only two of us.

Chapter Text

“That is a very large robot.” Longshot commented, his eyes open wide. Thankfully, it seemed that the Blackbird’s stealth capacities were such that the Sentinels hadn’t spotted them yet, or perhaps they were too busy attacking their targets. It certainly looked like there was quite a fight going on down there, with a veritable swarm of the more or less man-sized Sentinels descending into the wreckage of what was once probably a very nice manor estate and one colossal Sentinel, demolishing much of what was left of it. People were running around, in all directions, some intercepted by Sentinels, others seemingly ignored.

“Well, you know what they say, the bigger they are, the harder they fall.” Rogue cracked her knuckles. “I had a run-in with some of these before and I don’t know about y’all, but I’m downright eager for a rematch.” It felt good to know, though, that there were people that could watch her back. Not that it usually needed watching, but she knew those Sentinels inflict a lot of damage. Yeah, well, so can I, and I’ve had years to learn how these powers I stole actually work.

“Rogue, take Wolverine down with you. Kurt, you can teleport down to the ground. Longshot, I want you to stay in the jet, be ready to pick up casualties if necessary. But first, I want you to get up a lot higher. And then we’re going to drop Piotr out of the hatch.” Ororo turned towards Piotr. “Think you can handle being dropped out of an airplane at, say, 30,000 feet?”

Piotr’s eyes opened wide for a moment, but he nodded. “Yes. I have always wanted to skydive. No better time to learn than now.” There was a dead silent beat before he sighed. “It was a joke. This is why I do not make them often. I never get the timing right.”  

“A small correction- Rogue, I want you to throw him out of the aircraft. As hard as you can.” That was quite a thing to contemplate, picking up your teammate and hurling them as hard as she possibly could. Math wasn’t really her thing, but she reckoned that she could probably get Piotr to break the sound barrier if she put enough of her shoulders into it. She glanced towards Piotr for a moment, before nodding.

“Yeah, I can do that. C’mon, big guy, let’s get to the hatch. Y’all are gonna have to give me some really precise timing on this, because going off even a little bit isn’t going to be good.” Rogue watched as Piotr quietly unbuckled his seat, stood up and walked over to where the hold was, armouring up along the way. It felt a little strange to pick him up, as if he were some giant baby or something, getting him so he was in more or less of a vertical torpedo shape- the weight was nothing, but physically handling someone so much larger than her was a little awkward.

“So this is what it feels like to be on the other end of the fastball special. Strangely vulnerable.” Piotr smiled faintly and Rogue couldn’t help but giggle. The whole thing seemed utterly ridiculous right now, but she had a feeling that it wouldn’t soon. Piotr was pretty heavy in his armoured form and he’d be hitting the giant Sentinel at a truly immense velocity. If she got the aim right, there was a better than average chance that he’d simply obliterate it.

The hatch opened and Rogue hurled Piotr down as hard as she could, the giant Russian practically a blur. The hatch closed instantly again after that, but much of the oxygen in the hold had been consumed already. She was starting to feel lightheaded by the time that Logan joined her and they were at a low-enough elevation that the air was breathable again. Rogue flew out of the aircraft with Logan in hand, just in time to see the crater that Piotr had formed, along with a Sentinel that was splayed on the ground, one of its legs almost totally obliterated. Dang. Aim was a bit off.

Rogue maneuvered Logan to the big Sentinel’s head, having to engage in some tricky maneuvers to avoid several energy beams from the smaller Sentinels swarming around. Reaching her target, she let him go and flew back up to achieve sufficient height before dashing down again at a cluster of the smaller Sentinels, breaking the sound barrier twice over before hurtling into the cluster, obliterating one of them physically and ruining their formation with the resulting shockwave. It didn’t hurt anymore than a bad dive off a high board- it wasn’t comfortable, but she was fine.

Rogue went down to ground level where she saw Scott, who looked like he had a bit of a bad leg, blasting away several of the Sentinels and, to her considerable surprise, Mr. Shaw, whom she didn’t actually know was a mutant, serving as something of a human shield for Scott and a third person- whom she didn’t recognize but who looked to be in rather bad shape, clearly in some sort of deep concentration. Rogue flitted away for a moment to knock away a Sentinel before soaring over to where Scott was.

“Good to see you.” Just as that was happening, thick black clouds gathered over the ruined roof of the estate and colossal bolts of lighting rained down on several of the Sentinels, just as clouds of driving sleet started to cover them. “How was the Wrecking Crew?” Scott blasted another one of the Sentinels. “We officially have no idea how these things are attacking us, but I fully intend to find out.”

“That makes two of us-” Sebastian turned towards the obese man for a moment. “Harry, the cavalry’s arrived. You’ve got to mind your heart-” Rogue had never heard anything about the man other than his ruthlessness, but he seemed concerned about Harry. Suppose even the worst kind of people have their human side. Harry, for his part, fixed his face with a grim determination and closed his fist and as he did so, nearly a dozen Sentinels collapsed into some invisible spot on the floor, mushing into a nearly unrecognizable tangle of parts as he collapsed onto the ground.

At that point, though there were still a lot of Sentinels around, it was pretty clear that the tide of the battle had turned. Rogue could hear the big Sentinel outside thrashing about, probably trying to dislodge Piotr and Logan, but crippled as it was by the loss of a leg, she doubted it had much of a chance. A randomly directed blast from the big Sentinel burst through the hall and Rogue was forced to pounce onto Scott to knock him out of the way as a huge section of the remaining estate was obliterated.

Before long, the remaining people stood in a building that had been almost totally demolished, with bits and pieces of it standing. The ground was strewn with bits and pieces of Sentinels, though blessedly, there didn’t appear to be any dead bodies. An ambulance had to come for Harry Leland and a few other wounded- but the fact was that nobody had been killed, which seemed an astounding result. Scott was hobbling around slightly on a bad ankle.

“I’m not certain whether to be more relieved or insulted.” Sebastian growled as he brushed himself off, his elaborate 18th-century clothing almost totally ruined, but obviously totally unhurt, despite having been hit by dozens of energy beams. His movements were all off, faster than they should have been normally. “If Pierce’s aim was to kill us, however, he failed miserably. Why the devil would he use the old Sentinels, though?”

“Because killing us wasn’t his intention.” Tessa left her hiding place, brushing herself off and walked over to Sebastian. “His intention was to ruin your reputation. Assuming that Pierce was actually in charge of this. Frankly, it seems too sophisticated for the man. He would have probably simply preferred to try to kill us outright.”

“Ruin our reputation?” Sebastian’s hands balled into fists. “We were the ones who were attacked here. I suppose, perhaps, it’s an unflattering debut for the Sentinels, but they were prototypes. There are more advanced models, which will have to be secured more intensely. I assume you’ll look after that.” The notion that there were more Sentinels after that was one that Rogue found disturbing. The idea that they were associated with someone who had built them was even more so, and the idea that they’d been hacked into or subverted somehow was triply so.

“Someone will have obtained footage of the battle here. They always do. And once that is released, there will be no denying you are a mutant, which will almost immediately result in the public exposure of the others. Furthermore, you will have been seen as openly associating with the X-Men. Truthfully, it’s a fairly brilliant opening gambit. Which suggests that if Donald is involved in this, it was at someone else’s behest. I would suspect Selene, but it wouldn’t be her style. I hesitate to suggest she’s innocent of anything, but I do not consider her a likely suspect here.” Tessa bent down to pick up a bottle of liquor that had miraculously survived the battle unbroken, unscrewing it and guzzling down a fair quantity before passing the bottle to Sebastian. “My professional assessment of the situation is that we are quite fucked.”

Only because you relied on playing both sides against each other for your personal profit. Be real interesting to see what happens now that you might actually have to make a stand of some sort. Rogue kept her thoughts to herself, though. The situation was bad enough without her inflaming tension, but still, for a man who was so manifestly tough and ruthless, he struck her as a moral coward.

“Pierce wouldn’t have planned this unless he considered our association to be a threat.” Emma Frost emerged, looking frightened and dirty, but unhurt. Rogue noticed how she drifted over to where Scott was standing. “If we allow this travesty to ruin our alliance, then he’s won and everyone who hates mutants and wants to see us wiped off the face of the Earth wins too. You and Charles have some ambitious ideas, Sebastian. I say it would be a shame if they weren’t carried out.”

After a few more moments of listening to the conversation of the Hellfire Club’s Inner Circle, Rogue decided to go and check on her actual people. She supposed she could see the value of the connections and resources the Hellfire Club brought the X-Men, but that didn’t mean she liked any of them. She didn’t like how everything boiled down to cold amoral logic for Tessa, how Sebastian seemed to care about little other than his bottom line, how Emma was so clearly trying to worm into Scott’s trust. Probably his pants too, ugh. Don’t like any of them.

The plane was pretty crowded on the way back, with Scott joining them. A couple of the bottles from Logan’s ill-considered attempt to have a post-mission party were lying around but either Scott actually didn’t notice them or was too distracted by other things to properly consider things. He looked weirdly pensive, clearly having a lot of things on his mind. Rogue was kind of tempted to ask him what was up, but he doubted he would talk to her. Doesn’t really talk to anyone except his father and sometimes Wanda. He’s never really got over Jean’s death or moved on from it.

“I don’t really understand something.” Longshot sidled over closer to her. “We won, right? And nobody died or anything. I mean, Scott hurt his ankle, but he’ll probably be better pretty soon? Why is everyone so … sad? I mean, we won, that’s good, isn’t it? And it’s a shame about that pretty house but everyone’s always talking about how much money the Hellfire Club has. I’m sure they can build an even fancier country house with all that money.”

Rogue couldn’t help but smile- one could say a lot about Longshot being naive and it wasn’t wrong, but sometimes it was nice to have a perspective so completely free of cynicism. “It’s just politics, sugar. I don’t really get it, either. What really matters is that you know who your real friends are.” Feeling tired and wanting to be comfortable, she carefully rested her head against his chest. “I’m right beat, though. How’s your reading coming?”

“Great! Mr. Guthrie’s chart says that I’m reading at a high school level now, which is pretty good. The Lord of the Rings sure is long, but I like the bits with the hobbits. I guess sometimes I kind of see myself like that? I mean, I don’t have incredibly amazing powers like you or Ororo, but you can’t let that stuff stop you. I mean, I can always help rescue people or fly the plane. Which is good.” Longshot carefully put an arm around her. “It’s great that we have a lot more teachers and students at the Institute now, even if it sometimes gets a bit crowded. Also, squirrels. Always lots of squirrels.”

“So many danged squirrels.” Rogue agreed, unable not to smile slightly. She knew that Doreen had an enormous crush on Longshot, but she was the last person who was ever going to tell Longshot that. “Don’t tell Doreen, but when I was a kid back in Mississippi, I’d sometimes go squirrel-hunting.” She laughed quietly as Longshot audibly gasped. “They’re pretty good, you know. Willing to bet Mr. Guthrie’s eaten squirrel too.”

“But squirrels are adorable and they helped us beat Doctor Doom.” Longshot seemed legitimately aghast, but didn’t let go of Rogue. “Um, well, maybe … I’m just going to have to get you some stuff that’s better than squirrels, so you don’t feel tempted to eat any. Because Doreen would not like that and I’m kind of fond of the squirrels too. Maybe pizza. I get a little money helping with stuff around the house, maybe we could go get pizza. But not pizza with squirrel meat.”

“...” Comfortable as he was, she made herself get up and move just a little further away from him. That sounds like a date. That wasn’t a good idea. It was nice to have friends, but it wasn’t safe to even consider the possibility of having more than a friendship with someone. Rogue couldn’t touch anyone, after all, even simply holding hands under a glove would easily hospitalize or kill someone. She didn’t even, as a rule, use her actual mutant powers in combat.

Longshot looked like he’d just had a knife put through his heart and he looked down at the floor, probably convinced he’d just done something terribly wrong. Or that he’s misread the way I feel about him. Damn it. How could anyone blame him either, I was draped over him like tinsel on a Christmas tree. It’s my own danged fault, not his. Rogue reached over with a gloved hand, placing it gently over his arm, wishing that it could all just be so much simpler than this.

“It’s not you. It’s … you know how my powers are. I can’t, it’s not safe for me to see people like that. I’m dangerous.” It’s true. I am dangerous. Look what I did to Carol Danvers. She spent nearly a year in a coma and she’s still not the same. There’s a good reason a lot of the Avengers won’t look at me, even though they’re so chummy with the rest of the X-Men.

“I know that.” Longshot replied, with a seriousness in his tone that few people ever heard. Rogue knew that between his wide-eyed optimism and his almost-total lack of formal education, people tended to underestimate how smart he was sometimes. That’s a load and a half. Look how quickly he learned to pilot a jet plane. Or how he’s managed to get a decade of reading progress in a few years. “I can deal with that. I promise you, I can. But if you wanted to, I’d really like to go out on a date.”

Part of Rogue wanted to run away from the moment and simply listen to her fears- which she reminded herself, were fears in the first place for really good reasons. The first boy she’d ever kissed, the only boy, had spent a week in a coma. The last person she’d touched for more than the briefest of instants had spent the better part of a year in a coma and would never be the same. The notion of doing that to Longshot made her feel almost physically ill.

And yet, she’d made even harder decisions multiple times over the last few years- she’d made a moral stand that had almost totally estranged her from her Momma and Rogue wasn’t even entirely sure if her mother completely understood. So if I can do something like that, make a total leap in the dark, surely I can go get a pizza with a guy I like. I’m coming back from fighting a small army of killer robots. Seems weird that this would be the moment that I’d chicken out of something.

Rogue smiled at Longshot. “I’d love to go for that pizza, sugar. Next Friday, maybe? I’m gonna be honest, I’m pretty beat tonight. But … I have a feeling my old movie-watching buddy is going to be elsewhere tonight, so maybe you want to swing by? I can promise only laughter, tears and popcorn.”

“Oh, Kurt! Where’s Kurt going? He doesn’t need backup, does he?” Rogue couldn’t help but laugh at Longshot’s answer. Suppose I’m getting ahead of myself in worrying too much about … things. Not even sure anyone’s explained to Longshot how that actually works. And I’m the last person who’s going to be doing that. Hank’ll probably have to bite that bullet.

“Pretty sure Kurt’s going to be sneaking over to see Wanda again.” Rogue replied, with an amused eyeroll. “Isn’t that right, Kurt? Surprised you’re still in the plane. We probably flew over Avengers HQ at some point.”

“It’s only a short drive, or a few times teleporting. I’ve got it quite memorized at this point.” Kurt grinned broadly. “I’m glad to hear that you’ll be inducting Herr Longshot into the Old Movie Society. You’ll be finding soon enough, friend, that movies don’t need expensive computer effects to be good. In fact, they are very often much better. Rogue of course, I think, she feels even more strongly that way.”

“Hard for an actor to actually act with a green screen.” Rogue smiled.

“Do I need to be giving Longshot the pseudo-brotherly lecture?” Kurt’s eyes flashed slightly, but his tone was an amused one. “I was not intending to listen, but we are in a relatively small aircraft.”

“Don’t remind me.” Rogue rolled her eyes. It was a little strange to think of Kurt as a brother of sorts, seeing as the relation was indirect and not one of blood as far as she knew. However, it was nice having something resembling family. “You saw me throw a man out of an aircraft fast enough to break the sound barrier. You can save your overprotective brother act for Jimaine.”

“Y’know, there’s still a few beers on this plane. Happy news like this deserves some celebratin’.” Wolverine drawled, somehow finding a way to lean back farther on the seat than Rogue thought was actually physically capable. “Heh. Got a cigar in my pocket too. Dunno about you all, but I think I’m set.”

“You’re not-” Scott began.

“- ever going to bring beer on the Blackbird again.” Ororo finished, unable not to smile slightly.

If Scott found that amusing, he didn’t show it. “When we land, I want to talk to you about something, Ororo. Something important.”

Well, that doesn’t exactly sound good. What could that be?

Chapter Text

Most of the people in Salem Center liked to pretend that there wasn’t actually a mutant “school” in their community and that that the Xavier Institute for Higher Learning was pretty transparently a front for the superheroic mutant group known as the X-Men. For the most part, people treated Logan and his friends with a sort of intimidated civility. A pretty prosperous commuter town populated largely by well-heeled professionals, it wasn’t exactly much of a target audience for hate movements, but people weren’t fond of mutants either.

For the most part, that suited Logan just fine- he was pretty used to being feared and distrusted, though he knew that it quietly ate at some of the others. He also knew that sometimes the cool civility gave way to unpleasant stares, to supposedly subtle evasion that was anything but. You’d think saving the world would get you some more damn appreciation, but I guess I was wrong. Maybe the people in Salem Center didn’t hate the idea of mutants so much as they were uncomfortable with their proximity.

Of course, this just made Harry’s Hideaway even more of a goddamn treasure than it already was.

As far as Logan had gathered, a few years ago, the building had been a mouldering relic that had limped from bad owner to bad owner over nearly a century. Designated a local historic site, it had somehow managed to avoid the wrecking ball but never succeeded, until some guy named Harry Morel moved into Salem Center with his life savings in cash in two briefcases and a hilariously oversized Christmas stocking and purchased the building, again, with cash. It had taken nearly a year to do the restorations, opening as Harry’s Hideaway around the time that Logan had first arrived at the Institute.

Harry’s Hideaway was a riotous compromise between a loving restoration of the historic pub and a small museum with various relics of what had been a wild life, well-lived. Above the fireplace was a well-worn giant photo of Harry drinking with Lemmy from Motorhead, next to a carefully framed Silver Star and two Purple Hearts from his time in Vietnam. Virtually everywhere were surprisingly well-composed pictures of his travels, usually from atop a motorcycle, over the back roads of what seemed like half the planet. There was a crumpled old map with red pins for every country that Harry had been in, and blue pins for everywhere a patron had come from.

“Another pint before your friends show up?” Harry himself was a big man, nearly as tall as Piotr but much broader, especially around the gut, with balding grey hair, a great big beard and a broad grin with missing teeth. Though he’d developed a formidable paunch in his old age, you could still see the outlines of muscle pretty clearly in his arms and he had no problem hoisting around large kegs of beer. More than anything, though, you could tell Harry was around by his booming laugh, which filled the room. He laughed a lot. It was pretty obvious that Harry was exactly where he wanted to be in his sunset years.

“Yeah, why not? Gotta pay your bills somehow.” Logan smirked slightly as Harry poured him another pint and passed it over, letting out another huge booming laugh. It was fairly quiet in the pub- the few regulars that were there at this time knew the score. Harry had made it clear really early that he was neither afraid of mutants nor did he have any problem with them. All Harry cared about was that people paid their tabs, didn’t destroy the bar and had a good time. Unsurprisingly, it had pretty much instantly become a favorite hangout for the X-Men.

“Keep it up. Every pint is a little bit into my niece’s college fund.” Harry laughed again. “Busy week at the office? Your crew usually doesn’t show up on Tuesday nights.” That much was true, they were usually there like clockwork on Fridays- there weren’t many places to go out for a drink in Salem Center and fewer places yet where they could really feel comfortable. Thankfully, Harry’s Hideaway was the best anyway. The beer was probably the cheapest in town, the food was unfailingly decent and Harry was something of a national treasure.

“Hell of a week. And it’s only Tuesday, Harry.” Logan grinned as he took his long drink of a pretty excellent IPA, nice and hoppy. It had always amused him that Harry had decided to refer to their exploits as ‘the office’, because Logan in particular looked less like a typical office drone than just about anyone. “Maybe I should just quit and start up a pub of my own. I like beer too, maybe I could sell it.” Harry’s laugh boomed through the bar and Logan couldn’t help but join him.

“Ha! I’d like to see it. You’d kill half the customers. Besides, there’s books and things to do too. You wouldn’t last a week, Logan. Best stay on that side of the bar.” Harry grinned, just as the door opened and Hank, Piotr, Betsy and Ororo walked into the bar, Ororo going over to claim their favored corner booth while the others walked up to get their drink orders. Damn shame that the Germans’ still too young. 21 to drink is stupid. You can join the army and get killed at younger.

“You got your drink already, why don’t you join your friend at the table?” Harry gave Logan a bit of a look as he, without being bidden, set up to make Ororo’s green tea. “You know how the crew are, they’ll jammer at me for ten minutes while I’m trying to pour them a bit of a beer.” The subtext to it was pretty thick. Logan knew that Harry was pretty convinced there was a thing between him and Ororo and was pretty shameless about encouraging it.

Was there a bit of a thing? Maybe there was. They’d come to spend quite a bit of time together over the last few years, being the two who were the most interested in nature and the outdoors, both not being especially comfortable in urban and technological settings. Logan had never been especially shy about the fact that he preferred Ororo as team leader to Scott. He didn’t especially have anything against Summers, he respected the kid, but he didn’t like him much. Scott was too much of an martinet and the X-Men were a lot of things, but they weren’t an army.

Sure, we get along great, but in the end, she’s half a goddess and I’m half an animal. Ororo was almost hauntingly beautiful, tall and regal, whereas he most decidedly wasn’t. It wasn’t just about looks, though, but about something so much more fundamental. Even Ororo’s anger was majestic, the fury of a good thunderstorm. When Logan got mad, people tended to die. Logan glanced over at where she was sitting and she smiled over at him.

“Don’t get smug.” Logan cautioned Harry as he grinned back at Ororo, taking his beer and walking over to claim the spot directly across from her.

“I see you got here well before we did. Should I praise that as advance scouting or reprimand you for drinking all the best beer before the rest of us got here?” Ororo smiled back at him, raising her eyebrow slightly. One of the many differences between you and Summers, `Ro, is that you joke about it and he might be serious about it. “And how concerned should I be that Harry’s obviously watching us talking right now?”

“He’s makin’ your tea.” Logan shrugged, before leaning back in his seat. “I gotta admit that I never would’ve figured him for a tea person.” As it happened, though, Harry had a pretty good selection of loose-leaf teas, drinking endless gallons of it himself. It had been a boon, because Ororo was a non-drinker who was cordial at best towards coffee and positively hated soft drinks, finding them offensively sweet. Logan couldn’t blame her, he thoroughly hated them himself. Hard liquor’s can just be damn well served by itself and a beer’ll beat a Coke any day.

“He’s a man with a sense for the better things in life, clearly.” Ororo smiled, as the others went up to order their favorite beverages. Betsy would jokingly order a Cosmopolitan, but come away with a double gin-and-tonic. Hank would get scotch on the rocks, and Piotr would get an ice cold vodka and water on the side. A teapot appeared on the bar and before Ororo could get up to get it, or the waitress to bring it over, Logan had sprung out of his seat to grab it and bring it over. As he was coming back, the table filled up, but he noticed that Hank was standing, as if acknowledging Logan’s place at the table. As Logan slid in with Ororo’s teapot and cup, Hank sat down himself.

“Well, once again, I’m bloody grateful that you came when you did.” Betsy sighed. “I hate robots. Nothing like a bunch of damned robots to make a telepath feel useless. At least I got the satisfaction of seeing Emma hiding like a little bitch right alongside with me.” Betsy smiled thinly as she sipped her gin-and-tonic. “Quite a stunt as the Human Missile there, Piotr. I’d be jealous of how much Rogue was putting her hands on you, but I hear that’s not really a concern anymore.”

“It is surprising how little you consider such things when you’re being hurled out of an aircraft at supersonic speeds.” Piotr observed, taking a sip of his vodka. Logan noticed that they weren’t holding hands at the moment- he took that as a sign that, Betsy’s mildly possessive remark aside, they were probably ‘off’, rather than ‘on’. Logan’s personal assessment of it was that the two liked each other, were attracted to each other, but didn’t quite have that elusive extra that made relationships really stick. They liked each other, wanted each other, but didn’t, really, love each other. Logan wasn’t going to offer that insight, though, unless someone specifically asked for that. It wasn’t really any of his business.

“Your ability to be so calm about all that never ceases to amaze me.” Hank observed mildly, taking a small sip of his drink. “You do realize that such a thing would be limitlessly fatal to just about anyone.” Damn right. Even with my adamantium bones and healing factor, at that speed and height, all my organs are finished and I’m probably done for instantly. It’s a damn good thing that you’re on our side, Russian, because I’d hate to fight you.

“I’m told that all this will have troubling political consequences for us, but between us at this table, I’m hardly unhappy that the Club might be humbled a little.” Ororo calmly poured herself a cup of tea and took a sip of it. “I understand the value of their connections, and that you have friends in the Club, Hank, but I’ve never liked the idea of being leashed to them. Nor do I enjoy the thought of one of their elites joining us to teach young mutants. I’ve seen enough of Ms. Frost’s television network to know she is one of the last people I want to work closely with.”

“I do have a friend in the Club.” Hank replied quietly, but firmly. “And it’s very easy to throw stones, but at the same time, we live in a very dangerous and uncertain climate and we need friends-”

“Friends. Not a pack of backstabbing bastards.” Betsy’s eyes flared. “I know those people. I’ll play polite if I have to, Jesus, I’ve done that enough in my life to be damn good at it, but none of them will ever be my friends. Even if I used to have playdates with Tessa when we were both little girls. I know you like her, Hank, but she’s every bit as ambitious as the rest of them. Just more calculating. I say that makes her more dangerous than Emma. At least you know she’s a right proper cu-”

“Elisabeth.” Piotr rarely spoke unless directly addressed and for such a big guy, he had a remarkably soft voice, but Logan had found that made people listen when he spoke. His hand went back towards hers and Logan noticed she didn’t pull away. He looked around quietly at everyone. “It is well known that I do not like the Club, nor do I trust its leaders, but it is true that we live in a dangerous world. We do not always have the luxury of choosing our partners. At the same time, we keep our eyes open and our doors locked, yes?”

“Admirably stated as always, Piotr.” Hank took another sip of his drink. “In any case, the last thing I think any of us want is a fight over our association with the Hellfire Club. Fundamentally, for the moment, it is out of our hands anyway. I don’t know about the rest of you fine gentlemen and ladies, but I personally would enjoy making something of an evening out of this. What do you think about ordering some food alongside our drinks and staying awhile? With two major battles in a single day, I’d say we earned it.”

“I think that would be a wonderful idea.” Ororo replied with a small smile. “I’m certain we’ll have hell to pay for what happened yesterday soon enough, but in the meantime, I think a small celebration would be wonderful. Hopefully soon, we can have everyone out here.” Scott would be turning twenty-one soon enough. Longshot’s fake ID put him at the same age as Scott. Kurt would turn about a year later. Rogue would be legal in three years. Poor half-pint won’t be twenty-one for five years. She’ll have her Master’s Degree at least by the time she can buy a damn beer in a bar. Hell of a world.

“You guys know it’s karaoke tonight, right?” Harry grinned and called out from across the bar. “Can’t wait to hear you all give it your best shot. You guys get a free round of drinks if Logan does the Spice Girls.” Clearly thinking himself hilarious for suggesting that, Harry let out another booming laugh. Logan was pretty sure that Harry didn’t even own enough booze to make him try to sing anything, let alone the goddamn Spice Girls. If I didn’t have to live in a school with a bunch of dumb kids, I wouldn’t even know about them.

“Oh come on, Logan. I’ll even duet with you.” Betsy grinned. “Really now, I’m sure you’ve been dying to tell the world what you want, what you really, really want-” Harry’s laughter was practically deafening at that point and even Ororo couldn’t help but snicker. Much as I like seein’ you laugh, `Ro, ain’t no way in hell. Never happening.

Ororo sipped her tea delicately. “We should all sing it. It would build team morale, wouldn’t it?” Logan really didn’t like the look of that little Mona Lisa smile that appeared on her face. “Don’t you agree that it’s important that we do things as a team, Logan?”

“Yeah, like fighting giant homicidal robots, I am not singing some goddamn Spice Girls song-”

About five hours and a great number of beers later, Logan found himself hoarsely shouting the chorus of ‘Wannabe’ with Hank and Piotr into one microphone held by Ororo while Betsy strutted around the bar with the other microphone, probably imitating the dance moves from the music video. At least Logan could console himself with the notion that Piotr was as uncomfortable as he was. Hank was clearly too drunk to be terribly concerned about what an ass he was making of himself, and Ororo seemed happy to serve as the enabler of their collective humiliation.

The other small consolation was that Harry was a man of his world and fresh drinks were being sent to their table just as the song ended, which was a relief, because Logan needed a beer more than just about anything else in the world after that. He had been in a huge number of wars and battles over his life, though many of them were only fuzzily recalled now, but he’d take a night in the freezing mud of a French trench or New Guinea foxhole over singing in public. Any damn day.

Logan finished his beer quickly and, suddenly craving a cigar, some fresh air and a chance to get away from his fellow agents of humiliation for a moment, walked quickly out of the pub. “Enjoy your free drinks. You’re not getting `em that way ever again.” With that parting shot, he stepped out of the front door, fishing around in his pockets for a cigar and a lighter. Damn Ororo. Apparently I’d walk through a river of flaming shit to see her laugh. You’d think I wouldn’t care about seeing a pretty woman smile after all I’ve been through. Getting soft.

Apparently you didn’t have to speak of the devil, but just think of one, because Ororo stepped outside just as he lit up his cigar, leaning against a wall, looking over at him and then up at the night sky. “It’s a beautiful night, isn’t it?” Logan looked up himself, at the big, full moon and the stars- much brighter out here than they would be in the big city, though still obscured somewhat by the vast amount of light pollution pouring out of New York. It was early fall, the air was crisp and cool, but not yet cold. All in all, yeah, yeah it is a beautiful night.

“It’s not bad.” Logan grinned faintly as he took a long drag of his cigar, exhaling a plume of smoke into the cool autumn air. “Good weather for a hunt. Thinking of going on one tomorrow morning.” Betsy, Hank or Piotr might find the notion of Logan going out and killing a deer on the property to be a little disconcerting, but he was pretty sure Ororo understood. Tasty as the steak had been at Harry’s, there was nothing like wild meat that you’d killed yourself. Ororo gets that. I’m a hunter. I need to hunt sometimes.

“Thank you. For putting yourself out there.” Ororo actually grinned, her usual poise and reserve visibly thawed. “It was fun. And I think in the future, we’ll leave the karaoke to Betsy and perhaps Hank. He was certainly enjoying himself. You might have to be helping him into the cab at the end of the night, though.” Logan couldn’t help but grin at that. Hank was pretty drunk, possibly the most drunk of any of them- it was a bit hard to tell with Betsy because she was a pretty seasoned drinker. She laughed, a sound that Logan was pretty sure he’d wade through fucking Omaha Beach to hear on a regular basis. “The headman of the village had an old tape of Western pop he’d taken off the radio. That was one of the songs- it’s quite a thing to hear half a village sing along to music from an ancient battery-operated stereo.”

“Was Betsy there dancing like … whatever their names are. I only know they exist because of Kitty. Who thinks of them as retro. Retro. When did stuff from the 1990s become retro?” Logan shook his head. Somewhat disconcertingly, though, he didn’t remember very much of anything about how he spent the Nineties. Most of his better memories were of the Second World War and earlier. He could remember sitting in a seedy bar with Gabriel Dumont, lamenting the failure of the Metis risings, but he couldn’t remember what he was up to twenty-odd years ago.

“I grew up in the 1990s.” Ororo smiled for a moment, though it faded away for a moment. “I sometimes forget how long you’ve been around. It must seem strange, comparing the way things are today to how things were then. Exciting, though.” She took a breath. “I hope that, an equivalent time from now, that there’s still people here. Maybe by then we will have learned to develop our technology without harming the Mother.”

“Pretty sure the planet will be around regardless.” Logan replied. “It’s us. We should be careful, if we want to stay on it.” He turned towards her. “Two things that human beings are good at, is fucking things on and finding a way to fix things in the nick of time. Should’ve obliterated our asses thirty times over during the Cold War, but never did. Somehow I think there’ll be people a hundred and fifty-whatever years from now, lookin’ up at the sky and wonderin’ what things’ll be like in another century and a half.” Logan shrugged.

“I thought you were supposed to be the grouchy pessimist of the group.” Ororo smiled warmly and moved a little closer to where Logan was standing.

“Yeah, me too. Goin’ soft.” Logan shrugged and finished his cigar. It was true, too, he really was going a bit soft, but he wasn’t sure that was a bad thing after all. It’d been a long time since he’d had people around him that he could give a damn about. “Pretty soon I’ll be signin’ up for art classes with the Russian and wearin’ flowers in my hair.” He grinned slightly.

“I don’t know, I think some wildflowers would look fetching in your hair.” Seemingly impulsively, Ororo leaned down and he felt soft lips brush against his cheek. “We should go in. The others are probably wondering if the Juggernaut’s attacked us out here.”

“... yeah, sure.” Logan wanted to ask her what she meant by that kiss, but maybe she felt like being a little mysterious. The damndest thing about it was that he kind of liked that.

Chapter Text

“You must think that this is wonderful.” Robert Kelly fumed as he stared at the footage yet again, footage that had been confirmed as genuine and clearly implicated the Hellfire Club and its main leadership, including the man whom he thought was one of his best friends, Sebastian Shaw, as not only mutants, but involved deeply with the renegade mutant group known as the X-Men. Further investigation had turned up even more disturbing indications that there may have been contacts between the Club and the terrorist Magneto- ties that Kelly would have denounced as a joke only a moment ago.

“Go ahead, I know it’s on the tip of your tongue. I told you, I told you that mutant interests went deeper than you could imagine, I told you that Sebastian Shaw was not a good friend.” Kelly lashed out at the Reverend William Stryker, who sat quietly across from him, holding but not drinking from a cup of coffee. Kelly knew that he probably should have stuck to the coffee himself, but couldn’t help it, he’d brought out the whiskey. And he’d have more of it and he didn’t care what Stryker thought or felt about it.

“Robert.” Stryker began softly. “If you think that I’m taking personal pleasure in your obvious pain … I’m not. I know that you considered Shaw to be a good friend of yours, that he introduced you to your wife, that he financed your campaigns. I know how much it must hurt now that you realized that you were being manipulated to fulfill his agenda. If yelling at me makes you feel better, than go ahead. I can only pray that Jesus heals your wounded heart so we can move forward.”

“I wish that Jesus would do some other things.” Kelly observed acidly. “Sharon’s convinced this is all a hoax. I don’t know if she’ll ever see Sebastian as anything other than the man who introduced us, who gave her a job when she needed it. Move on? How do I move on? The whole architecture of the Mutant Registration Act lay on these people. Sebastian’s political connections. Emma Frost’s network. Or his girlfriend. I don’t know how much Tessa knows about all this …”

“The devil has many, many ways of deceiving us. I’ve seen you with this woman, Robert.” William glanced over at him significantly. “I know you haven’t touched her, but adultery can be committed in the heart too.” Robert would have liked to have lashed out even more at Stryker or even hit him, but the comments hit closer to home. He had become infatuated with Tessa and realistically, he figured she was privy to all of Sebastian’s secrets. Perhaps she was even a mutant herself.

“In this fallen age, however, the devil has means of bypassing your defences and forcing his twisted, perverted vision upon you.” William paused for a moment. “It is my belief that you have been telepathically manipulated, Robert, and not just once, but many times. How many times have you found yourself questioning something, finding that you’re not capable of making the big leap? You feel like you’ve put two and two together, but your brain insists that it actually makes three. It doesn’t feel right but it seems logical. It’s not your logic, Robert, but the devil’s logic, through his mouthpieces. Near the top of which are Sebastian Shaw and his women, a loathsome pack of she-devils on par with any who have ever existed.”

“... how do you know that, William? What’s your evidence?” Robert found that he couldn’t really deny the accusation, which seemed to strike home with several late-night struggles he’d had mentally, but it was a harrowing consideration, that his mind had been manipulated, altered on several occasions? How far back did it go? How many times? Once that particular can of worms was opened, there was really no going back.

“To know for certain what they have done to you, Senator, would require a rather exhaustive examination of your mind.” A tall slender man with silvery hair, a flawlessly trimmed goatee and a rather strong French accent walked into the room. “Forgive me, I know this is a personal moment between you and the Reverend, but it was an opportune time to make my presence known.” The man held a crisp yellow folder and placed it down in front of Robert.

“Your evidence, Senator. We cannot be quite certain what they’ve done to you without examining your mind very closely, more closely than I imagine you would be comfortable with, but this will erase all doubt that your so-called friends are quite capable and willing to engage in such an enormity.”

Robert stared at the envelope for a moment before looking up at the man who had just walked in, unannounced, into the room, though apparently on William’s invitation. “Who the hell are you? You’ll forgive the rudeness, but I am not exactly thrilled about surprises right now. William, you never mentioned you were bringing anyone else. I thought this would remain a private conversation between the two of us.”

“My name is unimportant.” The Frenchman replied, grey eyes gazing back at Robert, unafraid of his anger. “Call me Bastion. A man who is interested in the salvation of my species. And make no mistake, Senator Kelly, the mutants- those that matter, are thinking of this as a race war. Magneto was simply the first and most spectacular such statement. The Hellfire Club simply believes in different tactics and these X-Men? They seek to deceive the public into thinking they are serving their interests. Tragically, they even have one of their agents on the Avengers.”

Robert took the envelope, picking it up and ripping it open, removing one of the files underneath. “... the government knew that Emma Frost was a mutant? And the other members of the Hellfire Club?” He set that file aside and saw a file for Tessa Hartley and despite knowing damn well that she was implicated in all this, he still felt his heart sink slightly. He forced himself to read the file. Enhanced analytical abilities, eidetic memory, telepath, ability to read and analyze genetic codes of individuals within proximity of her. The file also emphasized that she was skilled in espionage, sabotage and assassination. A perfect agent.

“Every indication we have is that the government has been perfectly aware of all of this, that the President has knowingly utilized this woman, who is known to have attended the Taskmaster’s little supervillain school, as a high-level advisor.” William finally set aside the coffee he hadn’t touched since he’d come into the office. “I’m afraid that the only conclusion that we can draw is that he does not have the best interests of America and of humanity at heart. That, in this critically important issue, he must be considered an enemy.”

“An enemy, however, who is on his way out soon. You have explored a potential Presidential campaign, Senator.” Bastion smiled faintly. “It seems catastrophic, yes, that some of your supposedly largest supporters have been acting against you, but I assure you, you can find new and stronger allies. William, perhaps you can speak to this more directly.” He laughed softly. “I must confess to the sin of not being an American. Mine is a global crusade, but as we all know- America is the world’s nerve center. Even we French must admit that the world looks to America first.”

“People are under the assumption that Magneto’s terrorist campaign fatally undermined the Purity Crusade, but Robert, I promise you, we are stronger than ever. And furthermore, there’s a new political movement that reaches far beyond our churches. The Friends of Humanity. You’ve heard only a little about them now, but you will be hearing much more soon. Its leader, Graydon Creed, wants very badly to meet you-”

“Graydon Creed? The CEO of BeneTech Industries?” Robert raised an eyebrow at that. Creed was fabulously wealthy, having earned a colossal fortune in biotech, patenting a huge range of crop varieties and organisms. They also had an active pharmaceutical wing which held the rights to a great variety of widely used medications, including the first new effective antibiotic to come onto the market in a decade, one that had thus far flawlessly defeated even the most strongly resistant bacteria.

Kelly had remembered a speech he’d given at Berkeley, to an audience that was largely hostile to large biotech companies and how he’d earned the crowd’s respect and, Kelly imagined, changed quite a few minds. In times as ferociously partisan as they were today, it was a rare gift for someone to be able to speak to people of ostensibly opposing political views and actually be listened to by them. Creed was young- he hadn’t even quite turned forty yet, remarkably telegenic and charismatic, a man who, Kelly, thought, would make a useful surrogate.

“Creed has traditionally remained somewhat aloof from electoral politics, preferring to focus on his business, but he understands that he has an obligation to use the wealth and power the Lord has given him for a higher purpose. He regrets that he was unable to come today, but he wishes very much to speak with you about close collaboration on your upcoming campaign.” Stryker apparently decided to drink some of his coffee anyway, cold as it was. “We also have another backer, someone who, like you, was a close associate of Sebastian Shaw, who is shocked and appalled at being manipulated, as you are.”

“Who is that?” Kelly replied. He imagined there were any number of people who were reconsidering their friendship and allegiance with Sebastian Shaw after this. He’d be sure to contact his fellow Senator from Pennsylvania, along with the Congressmen from the state. The senior Senator from New York as well. Sebastian played his game well, I have to admit. He had a lot of men from both parties under his thumb.

“Donald Pierce, owner of Pierce Robotics, one of the companies that assisted Shaw Industries in constructing the Sentinels. He claims to have knowledge of how to ensure that Sebastian’s influence is locked out of them-”

“And that’s why a bunch of Sentinels that Sebastian Shaw manufactured attacked his party.” Robert stood up. “I know it might be hard for the two of you to believe this, but I’m not actually an idiot. I know what you want of me. You want me to stand for a far more hardline mutant policy. Here’s my question for you two fine gentlemen, and for Creed and for Pierce. Why the hell should I, knowing how badly I’ve been manipulated by the mutants, jump ship to yet another goddamn cabal of shadowy powers? I’ve never even heard of you, Bastion- is that even, what, your last name? A nickname?”

“The last thing that either of us are interested in, Senator, is your further embarrassment. Since you seem to be demanding our honesty- yes, the attack was staged, because given that these fiends were telepathically manipulating you, we knew it would take something dramatic to make you understand the truth.” Bastion spoke quietly. “They all had positioned themselves very strategically, particularly since both you and Sharon were absent, as you very often are not, from Hellfire Club functions. The only property damage was to a country estate owned by Harry Leland and there were no civilian deaths or severe injuries.”

“Robert, we are in the midst of an struggle for the survival of not just America, but the entire human race. The Hellfire Club, the X-Men, Magneto, they may consider themselves to have differences of philosophy, but they’re all working towards the same goal. Mutant dominion of the planet. You know my theology very well and whether or not you strictly believe in it, Robert, you know that we cannot accept mutant rule.” William set down the coffee again, leaning in closer to Robert. “We need your help, your leadership. We need you to be President of the United States and we can finally deal with these freaks with a strong hand.”

Freaks. It was the sort of word that Robert was always very careful not to use in public- even though many people would agree with him, others would be repulsed. He reached over and turned on the footage again, watching a gigantic furry beast bounding through the room, footage of Sebastian taking multiple energy blasts and seemingly only becoming stronger and faster, of some kid with glasses unleashing devastating energy blasts. The video continued, showing another mutant plowing into the command Sentinel like a living bullet, emerging unscathed afterwards. Another one with metallic claws fused into his body.

The word felt powerful in his mind as the sheer wrongness of the video evidence came over his mind, as he thought of the other things that mutants had done. One mutant had created a blackout over a third of America’s population and threatened the planet with nuclear armageddon- another mutant had displayed the raw power to stop the simultaneous detonation of every single one of those nuclear weapons. Mutants had entered into his mind and manipulated him personally, who was to say they hadn’t done it to other people. Perhaps the President was relatively mutant-friendly because they’d found some means of hacking his defences.

“Even if every single mutant was well-intentioned, the sheer power they possess is an existential threat to humanity. I believe that we have learned in the last few days that they are not well-intentioned. If you read through all the files, you’ll see clearly that Charles Xavier is a mutant as well. A telepath of power even exceeding that of Emma Frost. It’s something of an open secret that he has been training what appears to be a very effective group of mutant adventurers in the X-Men.

What his ultimate intentions are, I do not know, but I think it plain that we cannot trust them nor can we consider them friends. Magneto came from the ranks of that so-called school, Senator, and how the Hellfire Club that so callously manipulated your trust and friendship have allied with them. I suppose it is natural in the end. People support their own. The mutants are banding together against us and if we do not unite against them, we surely will lose.” Bastion paused for a moment, taking a deep breath and Robert got the sense that it was personal for him.

“I do not wish, Senator, to go too deeply into my own past or my own reasons for fearing the rise of the mutants. Suffice to say that you will not have a more staunch ally in this struggle.”

Robert decided that it was an appropriate moment to take another drink, bolting down the remainder of his scotch, taking a certain degree of comfort in the wonderful burning sensation of the liquor sliding down his throat. They’re trying to give me the hard sell. William and this Bastion both know that I’ve been cut away from the support that I was going to rely on for a potential Presidential campaign. But what choice do I have? Someone’s got to have their hands on the rudder of state and God knows that I don’t trust the current President or his hand-picked successor.

“Let me make something very clear to you both. I do not appreciate being jerked around, by Shaw, by you, by anyone. If we’re going to work together, I expect that we’re going to be honest with each other. I expect that you are going to be honest with me. If you’re planning anything with your churches or with reprogrammed Sentinels or anything, I want to know about it. I am a long damn way past being innocent.

And you also understand, that this is going to be done my way. Yes, we take a firm hand with the Mutant Registration Act. All mutants registered, no exceptions. Properly designed Sentinel protectors, far away from that conniving bastard at Shaw Industries. An effective means of detaining superpowered criminals. Research into means of suppressing mutant powers. Gene therapy treatments to be made available to those mutants who want it-”

“The mark of the Beast can’t be removed by a simple medical treatment, Rober-”

“As I’ve said before, you’re entitled to your theological beliefs, William, but as a President, I have to act as a US President. My concern is with minimizing, even eliminating a national security threat. If we can reduce that threat by helping those mutants who no longer desire their powers to get rid of them, we do that. But you all must understand, that is is America and there are limits on what we can do here. We can’t be having mass deportation of mutant civilians. We can’t be having massacres of mutants on our streets. National security means security from everyone, and the rule of law must apply. Do you both understand that?”

William rose from his seat and crossed the distance between him and Robert, putting his hand firmly on Robert’s shoulder. “That’s what we’ve been waiting for for all this time, Robert. You’re a leader, not a follower. I knew something was wrong, but I didn’t know what had come over you, until Bastion showed me the information. Now that you’re finally yourself again, yes, we’ll all work together to make America safe again and take back our planet.”

“As for me, Senator, I accept the parameters you have set forth. If we can meaningfully implement what you have just told me, we will have gone a long way towards ensuring that the human race has a future on this planet. And then, perhaps, we can go back to squabbling over foreign policy, yes?” Bastion smiled thinly. “I look forward to the day when we can afford to be anything less than perfectly united. In the meantime, however, I believe we all shall make a formidable team.”

“Do you drink, Bastion?” Robert asked. “William doesn’t, I know, but I think this is a moment that calls for a toast. Sorry-” He grinned thinly. “We don’t have any good wine handy, but there’s some excellent American whiskey, if you want some.”

“Whiskey will do nicely, Senator. It is kind of you to offer.” Bastion’s smile broadened slightly and as he received a glass with two generous fingers of whiskey in it, he raised his, along with Robert’s own glass and William’s coffee cup in the air. “To humanity. May we all continue to reign over this planet.” They all took a drink together.

“To America. Let’s make her safe again.” Robert raised his glass into the air again, and all three of them had another drink.

Chapter Text

Whelp, here I am. The Xavier Institute. Last time I was here, I was the bad guy. And I got my ass kicked for it.

Frankly, though, Dom probably deserved to have his ass kicked, considering what had gone down here. It had seemed to make sense at the time- it was easy to swallow the idea that Xavier was some kind of stooge for the government, that Magneto would never hurt someone who was an old friend, that they could get back to fighting their real, shared enemies in quick order. And then everything had very early ended up in a nuclear holocaust. He’d learned about where those nukes were headed. He’d been born in Chicago and he had family there still and in New York.

There were surely a lot of bigoted assholes in those cities that wouldn’t have thought twice about wiping every mutant off the face of the Earth, but there were also a hell of a lot of mutants in those cities. And people who hadn’t particularly done anything wrong. Dom Petros didn’t have a lot of sympathy for the bastards who joined the Purity movement, but the idea of killing innocent people left a really, really bad taste in his mouth. Hell, when it’d come down to it, he had trouble with the idea of killing anyone.

Dom had got into some fights with some of the other people at the House over that, particularly with John and Pietro who both thought, that while Magneto was a tool of the first order, that their first job was to fight the enemies of mutantkind in the streets. It seemed simple enough on the outside, but the fact was that it was also a good way to end up in jail, and while he had less than no problem with attacking Purifiers and their ilk, John and Pietro had a somewhat wider idea of who the enemy was.

Dom would be lying to himself, though, if he’d left to to go to the Institute primarily because of philosophical and political differences with some of the other people in the so-called Brotherhood. The fact was that he’d dropped out of high school a few years ago to go be a mutant resistance fighter and he was beginning to regret that now. There weren’t a lot of options available to high-school dropouts and the fact was that he’d never seen his life plan as one of endless fighting.

Dom wanted to own a restaurant, but unless he got some more culinary and business training, he wasn’t going anywhere with that. Nobody was going to give a bank loan to a kid who crashed in someone else’s room, who was a high school dropout. You needed to know people, you needed to seem reliable, and he wasn’t going to get one step towards all that where he was. Xavier’s seemed to offer the prospect of actually picking up some useful skills.

Besides, I saw what those guys did to those fucking Sentinels. Jesus Christ.

Finally, at length, Dom got to the door, pressing the buzzer.

“Hello, Xavier Institute for the Gifted. This is Dr. Hank McCoy speaking-”

“I have a meeting with Professor Xavier. Dominic Petros.”

There was a pause at the other end- no doubt they were probably checking on who that was and Dom had a feeling they knew exactly who he was and what he’d been doing the last time he was there. All the same, though, Xavier had agreed to speak with him and Dom didn’t think he would have summarily changed his mind. Everything he’d heard about the Professor from Pietro seemed to indicate that he was a man of integrity.

“Ah yes. The door will be opening momentarily. Come in, Mr. Petros.” Just as Dr. McCoy promised, the door opened and the path into the Mansion was clear. Taking a breath, Dom walked down the hilariously long driveway towards the front door of the Mansion, looking around at the gorgeous decor. The whole thing looked more like some sort of English country palace than the secret base for a team of mutant superheroes and a training facility for some of the most powerful people in the world.

As soon as he arrived at the door, it opened, and there was Kitty Pryde with a somewhat skeptical look on her face. Dom guessed that she was maybe a little surprised that he’d actually shown up. She didn’t seem actively hostile, though, which was good, because the last thing he was looking for was a fight, especially with her. The girl seemed positively ferocious and would probably level him, seismic powers or no.

“Well, we meet again. Dom, right?” Kitty raised her eyebrow slightly. “The Professor sent me to bring you to his office.” Well, shit, if Xavier sent girls this damn hot to greet every guy that came to the door, I’m amazed there’s a mutant guy who doesn’t attend the school. Kitty Pryde was a complete babe, slim and fit, with a fiery light in her dark eyes and a seemingly effortless knack for looking like a complete badass. “Don’t be getting any ideas, or we’ll find out about it.”

“Hey, I promise. I’ve got nothing up my sleeve here.” Dom set down his bag and put up his hands as if to surrender, but grinned broadly. “I know that if I step out of line, you’re going to kick my ass. You don’t have to worry about me. So, do you escort every new arrival to the Professor’s office, or am I just that lucky?” Dom reached down slightly to pick up his bag, which contained nearly all of his fairly meager personal possessions. Funny thing about being a mutant militant is that it doesn’t pay well.

“Anything else you need to bring in? I mean, we’ve got a couple of minutes, you might as well bring your stuff in. The Professor’s not likely to kick you out.” Kitty looked away for a moment before meeting his gaze again. She’s wondering about my situation, if she should be suspicious of me or feel bad for me. The truth was, what she thought of Dom was her own business. She had every right to be a little suspicious of him and so did everyone else. The fact that she was implying he was probably going to be given a chance at all was pretty cool in and of itself.

“Nah, this is it. Right here.” Dom grinned at her. “I like to travel light. Never know when I gotta roll somewhere else, right? But hey, if you ever needed evidence that crime doesn’t pay, here it is.” Looking around, though, his grin faded away a little bit- there was serious money in this place. It was a lot for a punk kid from a blue-collar neighborhood to take in, even more so when he’d been basically crashing in someone else’s house for the better part of three years.

“Yeah.” Kitty actually smiled slightly and of course her teeth were perfect and she looked like a goddamn angel when she smiled, but there was an uncertain edge to it all. Dom could tell that she was a bit curious about his situation, about what he was leaving behind, about what he’d left behind to join the so-called Brotherhood. Curiosity was good. That meant she had a motivation not to ignore him. “Well, anyway, you’re here, with the good guys. Come on, let’s go talk to the Professor.”

The halls of the Xavier Institute did absolutely nothing to dispel the feeling that maybe he was getting in slightly over his head here. Jesus Christ, I don’t really belong in a place like this, do I? Kitty didn’t seem to notice, but for all he knew, she’d grown up in a palace just like this. Oh come on. Don’t get all self-pity. You’re fine. It’s a goddamn school and you’ll be fine. Just try not to stare at her ass. She’ll know. That particular directive, though, was easier thought than done.

They reached a set of impressively carved oak doors and she turned towards him with a slightly raised eyebrow. “Like I said. Don’t be getting any ideas, Dom. Have a good talk with the Professor.” Dom swore she actually smiled slightly at him and gave him a quick once-over as she walked through a nearby wall, disappearing completely into it like she was a ghost. A sexy ghost who can kick my ass. I mean, damn. Okay, time to focus and put forward your best self.

Dom crossed the remaining distance to the door and knocked on it, the few seconds after the knock feeling like half an eternity. How come time always has to slow down when you’re scared or tense and not when you’re having sex or something else that’s awesome. Could’ve done with a few more hours of Pryde checking me out. Instead I’ll probably get grilled for what feels like seven weeks by a guy who can reduce my brain to tzatziki.

I can assure you, I have no intention of doing so. Come in, Dominic.

Uh, you’re … right, you’re telepathic. Dom sighed inwardly and opened the door, walking into what was a fairly modest office, though very nicely appointed, with Professor Charles Xavier sitting behind the desk. The guy looked more than a little bit like Captain Picard from Star Trek, but with slightly more prominent, angular eyebrows and a slightly longer face. “So … do I sit down?”

“Please.” Xavier replied, gesturing towards the seat. “Make yourself comfortable.” He smiled warmly over at Dom. “Thank you for coming. I imagine this must have taken some soul-searching for you.” Maybe that was just the Professor being polite, but Dom appreciated the effort. The guy could probably do whatever he wanted with Dom’s brain. He realized with some embarrassment that he’d probably picked up all his thoughts about Kitty. At least most of them weren’t terribly explicit. Oh goddammit. Focus, Dom.

“A bit, I guess.” Dom replied, sitting down in the seat and suddenly feeling a bit smaller than he was accustomed to being.

“If you don’t mind me being direct, Dominic, why did you decide to come here?” The Professor’s eyebrow raised slightly, but it seemed to be curious more than skeptical. Dom didn’t know if it was some sort of trick question, but he figured the best policy was simply to be honest about things. Surely, Xavier would catch on pretty quickly if he was lying and the fact was that he really didn’t have much to hide, except maybe that part of his motivation was increasingly to see if he could get Kitty out on a date. Wonder if she’s single.

“I’m coming up empty in my life, Professor.” Dom began, trying to clear his mind of distracting thoughts about sexy babes and focus on the matter at hand. “If you’re looking for some crazy, uh, Road to Damascus story about how I suddenly converted to believing that we’re going to get along great with normal humans, I’m sorry to disappoint you sir, but I don’t see that happening. But at the same time, what we were doing wasn’t doing anything positive either. And personally, I wasn’t going anywhere. I dropped out of high school- and I’m not really proud of that. So I’m definitely looking at fixing that, somewhere where I can be a mutant and not have to deal with a bunch of bigots.”

“I have to admit, I didn’t expect you to make a reference to St. Paul.” Xavier actually smiled thinly for a moment before his expression turned more thoughtful. “I appreciate the honesty, Dominic, I truly do. In return, I want to be similarly straightforward with you about a few things. Whatever you’ve done in the past remains in the past, but I want to be very clear that while you are here at the Institute, you are absolutely not to be going out and engaging in street battles with Purifiers or anyone else. That is the primary condition I have to your coming here. Do you understand that?”

Dom nodded. He didn’t love the idea, necessarily, of sitting and doing nothing while Purifiers went around and terrorized and killed mutants, but he also appreciated that the Institute couldn’t be used as a base for that sort of activity if anyone was even remotely expected to be safe there. He was amazed that the government seemed to tolerate the Institute as it was and whatever his gut told him about political things, he didn’t want to be the guy who ruined the Institute for everyone. “Yeah, I understand. I’m also guessing that, uh, the other rules are going to be a bit stricter. In the sense that you probably actually have rules here.”

“There’s a code of conduct that I will expect you to familiarize yourself with, yes. I promise that most of the rules are obvious and that they’re not excessively onerous.” Charles smiled slightly again. “The primary other thing that I would like to say to you is less of a condition than a challenge. I’ve dug up all the relevant records, Dominic, regarding your academic performance.”

“... uh. To be fair, Professor, there’s some serious reasons that I didn’t do so great in my last year or two of school. Family problems.” Jesus fuck, I don’t really want to get into the fact that I had to look after my drunk-ass father and lie about my age so I could get a job to help support us. That Mom split when I was six and we found out she died when I was thirteen. Yeah, high school was a pretty bad scene. I know I can do better than that.

“All I want you to do is to take the opportunities before you seriously. Can you do that, Dominic?” Someone else might have asked that as a loaded question, implying that they didn’t think he would. Hell, he’d been faced with those loaded questions before as a kid in high school from teachers and principals. People had never really expected much of him. Raven had probably been the first person who had actually done that.

“Yeah, I mean, I’ve maybe got an actual shot at things. I dunno how much you’ve kind of got from my mind, but I’ve kinda had this idea, something I’ve wanted to work towards. And it’s been really back-burnered because of mutant things. And it probably will be for awhile, but I’d like to fix some of the mistakes I made. And make some progress.” Dom took a breath. “That probably made no sense at all. I’m gonna need some remedial classes in speaking for sure.”

“It made perfect sense and the truth is that I’ve already considered a few possibilities for you here, including a paid internship on our cooking staff. As you can imagine, it’s quite a task trying to feed so many hungry mutants, and our numbers increase regularly and on an uneven schedule. Rogue told me that you were a good cook and mentioned something about you wanting to open a restaurant one day.” Xavier paused for a moment. “It seems to me that it might be valuable experience, learning to cook for larger groups.”

“Yeah, I mean, that’d be awesome.” Dom sat up straighter in his chair. It probably meant something like a cafeteria, but honestly, he was starting pretty much at zero and he’d happily take whatever he could. It also meant getting to spend lots of time in the kitchen which was honestly one of his favorite places to be- unless he got to get into Kitty Pryde’s bedroom. That’d definitely be his favorite place. Great, the Professor probably got that one too. I gotta remember that people are telepaths around here.

It might be advisable, yes. If there’s one thing I’ve learned about working with teenagers for several years, though, it’s not to be overly judgemental. Charles leaned back slightly. “Your powers are impressive. How is your control of them? Powers training is mandatory of course, but if you have specific concerns, the programming is flexible.” And probably lots of exercise too, if that hard body of Pryde’s is any indication. Dom wasn’t in bad shape, but he figured he had room to improve. Not drinking or smoking weed will probably help with that too.

“Honest truth? I think I have pretty good control over my powers. I guess I could be more precise when I’m using them in a big way, but I’ve never actually had big problems past the first few times they manifested.” The truth of the matter was that Dom had only used his powers in a really big way a few times, out fighting Purifiers or that ill-fated scuffle on the Xavier Institute grounds. Most of the time, he preferred using his powers in far more subtle ways. He’d discovered a few years ago, that if you sent lots of tiny little waves through his hands, it felt like they vibrated. Not too useful in a fight, but the girls love it.

The Professor looked like maybe he’d got that particular line of thought, because he was clearly trying to hide the universal ‘too much information’ expression on his face. “I see. In any case, we’ll see shortly enough. Your first power training session will be Tuesday. I thought that tomorrow might be a little sudden for that. The Danger Room isn’t something you want to face when you’re just settling in for the first time.” Wait. Danger Room? Dom did not like the cavalier way that Xavier brought up that term. That sounded all kinds of intense. “I promise you it’s really not quite so bad.”

“I guess I’ll find out soon enough.” Dom managed a small smile.

Professor Xavier reached into his desk and pulled out an envelope. “It contains a keycard to get into the Institute grounds, your class schedule, a copy of the code of conduct and an annotated map of the grounds.” He smiled slightly. “It was nice meeting you, Dominic. We’ll speak again soon. Now, Kitty-” And as he spoke, she appeared through the wall with perfect timing and he was now half-convinced the old man was teasing him. “If you would show Dominic around the school.”

“Sure thing, Professor.” Kitty smiled faintly at him. “I’ll take you to your room first and then I’ll give you a quick tour. I swear the place really isn’t quite as massive as it seems. It’s pretty enormous, though.” Her disposition towards me seems to have changed a little. Wonder if the Professor told her something. Or maybe she’s just realizing what a charming bastard I really am.

“Thanks, Professor Xavier. I appreciate it, honest.” He turned around and grabbed his bag and was about to go out the door, before he felt a slightly chilly feeling and saw himself get dragged through the door into the hallway. Huh. Didn’t know she could do that to other people. Pretty useful ability, that. Firemen would kill to have that sort of power. “Huh. I should probably be suspicious about why you suddenly seem so eager to spend time with me, but y’know, what? It’s all good.” He grinned broadly at her.

“Look, I’m not going to lie, I kinda- when I talked to you before, I didn’t really honestly think you were going to go through with it. And the Professor thinks you’re serious about it, so … that means you probably are. So this is my roundabout way of saying sorry for kind of judging you before. That being said … don’t get any ideas. And try not to spend the entire tour staring at my butt. You might want to actually learn something about the layout of this place.” Kitty smirked at him. Can’t get away with anything around here, can I?

Might be worth it, though.

Chapter Text

Longshot was going to go on a date. Not just any date, not just any common, ordinary date like he was sure that Piotr and Betsy had when they were a couple, or Kurt and Wanda had. He was going on a date with Rogue. Which meant that it had to be completely perfect and flawless, or as close to it as he could manage, because she was just about as close to perfect and flawless as he could imagine and he wanted her to have a good time. He adjusted his coat slightly, something that Betsy had suggested for him. Actually, she’d basically given him his entire wardrobe.

I guess she just read my mind or whatever to figure out my size. But then again, I don’t even know my own size. But Betsy used to wear fancy clothes and pose in front of cameras for a job, so Longshot figured she knew fashion pretty well. She also had posed without any clothes at all a couple of times. He’d discovered that by mistake when he was using Google to search up all of his teammates. Longshot hadn’t known she’d meant to have those pictures taken, so when he went to inform her that someone had done that, she’d teased him a lot.

Longshot had decided that it wasn’t nice to tell her that he didn’t really want to see those pictures. Not because she didn’t look nice, because she certainly did, but because he didn’t really have those kinds of feelings for her. It was nice of her to help me get nice clothes for this date, though. He’d come to the Institute with mostly the black leather outfit that he’d had to wear in Mojoworld, that he still wore as an X-Man, save with a few golden X’s emblazoned on them. After that, he’d worn quite a few of Scott’s clothes, which almost but not quite fit him. Apparently, Scott’s clothes were also stuffy. That was what Betsy had said.

Longshot had also got some flowers because a quick poll among the gentlemen he knew suggested that getting flowers was a thing that one did for dates. He would have preferred to have simply gathered some- but it wasn’t the season for wildflowers so he had gone into the city to buy some. It had been Piotr, actually, that had gone to help him pick out flowers. The florist had been very friendly to both of them and he was fairly sure he’d got a couple of free roses. People sure are nice. Especially ladies, but the gentleman at the chocolate shop was very nice too. People sure looked at him a lot, though.

Longshot hoped that Rogue would look at him tonight. He liked it when she did. She could look at him as much as she liked.

Longshot tried to go through the list of things that he needed in his head- he had flowers and chocolates, he had nice clothes and new shoes, he’d made sure that his breath was as fresh as possible, even though he knew there wouldn’t be any kisses happening. He’d decided not to bother with trying to remember any of the so-called ‘right things to say’ that he’d found on the Internet. Longshot figured that he was probably better off just being himself, because Rogue knew him anyway. She was smart and he got the idea that she didn’t like insincerity much. Which was good, because Longshot didn’t like it either.

Money. I have to make sure I have money for pizza. Betsy had been pretty insistent that since he was the guy, it was expected that he’d pay for it. Kitty disliked the notion of that being an obligation because of something called ‘feminism’ which he understood as meaning that women were equal to men and should be treated equally. The fact that such an obvious thing needed a whole big social movement seemed odd to Longshot, but he remembered hearing that a hundred years ago, women weren’t allowed to vote in America, which was awfully unkind. Kurt had put it slightly differently, that it was more about the fact that he’d asked her out. Logan had simply grunted, but Longshot thought that it was a grunt of assent. In any case, he had the money. Longshot had even got a wallet, which helped to hold the money and other things. He figured it was better than just jamming stuff into his pockets.

Longshot checked his watch- another thing he’d got only a short while ago, because apparently he wasn’t that good with time, which normally didn’t matter too much, but was very important for dates. He’d heard about being fashionably late, but Betsy had been very, very insistent that he not try that. The watch told him that he needed to be downstairs in about a minute or so. Oh, I have to check and make sure that my phone is in there too. Longshot thought that phones were funny things, not the least of which was that people seemed to use them for everything but phones. There was an app on the phone, though, that called taxis, in case the weather turned badly. Longshot hoped it wouldn’t, though. It was nice walking weather right now and he wanted to be able to walk with Rogue.

Longshot quickly checked himself over to make sure everything was in order and that his fly wasn’t undone or anything and then headed down the stairs, resisting the urge to slide down the bannister. The Professor didn’t like it when he did that, but sometimes he couldn’t resist the temptation. It was fairly broad and didn’t end with a knob at the end that could have made it uncomfortable. He decided that it was probably better for him to simply walk down the stairs and wait for Rogue. When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he looked around. Rogue wasn’t there yet.

Longshot didn’t hear any clicking or shuffling of feet, but instead a gentle, almost ethereal sound of moving air, as if there was a very gentle breeze above him. He instinctively looked up to see the most beautiful woman in the world floating down from the top of the stairs towards him. He hoped he wasn’t drooling, because he was certain that his jaw was dropped down about as far as it would go. She wore a form-fitting emerald green dress with black tights and long dark gloves, which, however, left her shoulders and neck bare.

“Hi, sugar.” Rogue smiled over at him and Longshot swore that he could detect a hint of a blush in her cheeks as she caught sight of him. The sudden warmth in his own suggested pretty strongly that he was reacting the same way. Longshot could feel his mouth go dry and his knees feel a bit weak. Eventually, he remembered that he was holding chocolates and flowers for Rogue and held them out for her, hoping that his hands weren’t shaking as well.

“I … I got flowers. And some chocolate. I hope you like them.” Longshot smiled a little nervously, but then gratefully when she took them with a deepening blush of her own and a broad smile that he would have gone back into Murderworld to see. Compared to what he was willing to go through to make her happy, a little bit of money on flowers and chocolate seemed like nothing at all. He didn’t even mind the work he did around the Mansion. Longshot enjoyed helping out.

“Thank you. You shouldn’t have-” Longshot momentarily felt his heart sink at the notion that he’d somehow offended her, but the way Rogue laughed suggested that she was was using some sort of figurative language or was saying something that she was expected to say somehow. “I mean, thank you. They’re beautiful. Can I … quickly find somewhere to put them? Before we go?” Longshot could only nod as she hurried off to find a vase quickly to put them. Rogue returned with the roses in a lovely clear vase, which she put down, before going to slip on her jacket. “I don’t want to risk wrecking them or something. You know how it is with us. We’ll be lucky if we don’t get attacked on our date.”

“I hope we don’t get attacked. But I’m not really worried if we do.” There wasn’t a lot, after all, that Rogue couldn’t easily handle. Rogue was stronger and tougher than anyone on the team except Piotr and could fly as well, as fast as the Blackbird’s cruising speed. “I’m sure you can protect me.” That got a laugh from Rogue and Longshot offered her his arm. Rogue seemed to hesitate for a moment, but realizing that they were both nearly completely covered, slipped her arm in his. It was a bit of a funny thing. Next to him, her arm seemed so slender, her hand almost delicate. And yet there was enough strength in them to hurl Piotr at supersonic speeds. “I thought we’d actually walk there? It’s nice out there and Salem Center is pretty in the evening.”

“I’d love to go for a walk.” Rogue smiled at him and, everything in order, they went on their way to the restaurant, down the long tree-lined driveway and out of the Mansion gate on the brightly-lit path into the town centre of Salem Center. It really was a beautiful night, just cool enough to be bracing, but not cold enough that it was uncomfortable. Longshot glanced over towards Rogue, meeting her eyes, awestruck by how incredibly beautiful she looked in the soft light of the streetlamps. Her lips curved again into a smile, this one a little teasing. “See something you like, sugar?”

“Someone I like.” Longshot gently corrected her, unable not to smile. “I … you look incredible. Beautiful. I mean, you always do, but even more so tonight.”

“You don’t look half bad yourself.” Rogue’s smile broadened into a grin. Longshot found himself wishing that he could kiss her right then and there, but even if her powers weren’t the way they were, it wasn’t the right time for that. Kisses were supposed to happen at the end of a date, especially a first date. Longshot wanted to make sure he did everything right, as close to perfectly as he could. “Not that I don’t like the black leather look- I surely do, but it’s a nice change.” Longshot was glad to hear that Rogue liked the black leather- it had been mostly what he’d worn for as long as he could remember and probably a long time that he couldn’t remember, because his mind had been wiped so many times.

As much as Longshot wanted the walk to continue, he caught the smell of something almost indescribably delicious. Next to the slight hint of Rogue’s perfume, it was the best thing he’d smelled in ages. Pizza. Longshot loved pizza. He’d learned quickly that pizza was a very important part of America. Apparently it had been invented in another country called Italy, but it seemed to be a bigger thing in America than just about anything. Even hot dogs. Maybe even bigger than Coca-Cola, though people often had that with pizza. Longshot felt his stomach rumble slightly at the thought of the delicious pizza.

Longshot stepped slightly ahead of Rogue and pushed the door open for her to go through. The pizzeria was not a particularly large place, but it was certainly nice and clean and the smell in the air couldn’t really be summed up in words, but more in the urgent gurgling of his stomach. He smiled over to Rogue and they managed to find a nice corner booth.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m so hungry I think I could devour three whole pizzas myself.” Rogue smiled over at him as she sat across from him. It seemed weird to Longshot that the tradition was for dates to sit across from each other instead of right next to each other, but maybe it had more to do with making sure that another couple didn’t take the other seat. Maybe sometime he and Rogue would get to have a double date, but that would require that things went well tonight.

Longshot was fairly sure that Rogue was exaggerating somewhat when she said she could eat three pizzas by herself. Not even Piotr usually ate that much on pizza night- they ordered two extra-larges for the big Russian and that usually seemed like enough. Even so, he was pretty sure he had enough money to cover three pizzas even if it meant that he would go hungry himself. He doubted, though, that Rogue would let him go hungry. She was too nice to do that.

“So, uh, I think I remember pretty well what you like on your pizza.” Longshot smiled slightly and tried to remember. “Mushrooms. Black Olives. Green Peppers. Pepperoni. Sausage. Basil pesto on top, lots of parmesan and no chili flakes.” He’d made careful observations of people’s favourite pizza combinations. Kitty ordered her pizza vegetarian because she was Jewish and apparently the mysterious rules of ‘kosher’ made meat sort of difficult. Logan’s pizza had, Longshot was pretty sure, every kind of meat on them. Kurt inexplicably liked pineapple and ham on his pizza.

“Got it in one, sugar.” Rogue smiled sweetly. “And I know you order something different every time.” Her smile broadened into a grin. “But no pineapple. You hate pineapple on pizza.” It was true. Longshot really did hate pineapple on pizza. He liked pineapple well enough when it was a fresh piece of fruit, but it lost most of its goodness when it was canned and all of what was left when it became cooked in an oven like the rest of a pizza. She leaned over, far enough that she was nearly whispering in his ear. Also far enough that he could see a hint of cleavage in the neckline of her dress. But Longshot tried not to dwell on that. “I hate pineapple on pizza too. Don’t tell Kurt. It’ll break his heart.”

Longshot wouldn’t want to break Kurt’s heart, even if he was a little doubtful that it actually would. It would be pretty silly after all, it was just pizza. Even if pineapple on pizza was seriously gross. “I won’t tell.” Longshot whispered back quietly, trying to keep his eyes off her, something that was easier said than done. Rogue leaned back against the seat, though, when the waitress came up to take their order. As it turned out, they decided to get two medium pizzas. Longshot decided that he wanted to try the bacon cheeseburger pizza. It seemed like a good idea- bacon cheeseburgers were tasty and so was pizza. They didn’t seem like they’d make a bad combination either, not like delicious tangy pineapple and delicious pizza did. The only fruit that belonged on pizza was tomato and that was only technically a fruit.

The waitress came over with drinks and Longshot looked longingly at the tall glass of delicious, sugary Coca-Cola that was presented before him. Rogue had got lemonade, which seemed to be her preferred drink when there wasn’t sweet tea on the menu. Longshot thought that sweet tea was all right, but he’d always found himself coming back to Coca-Cola. Maybe it was because he heard so much about it when he was back in Murderworld from Rita.

Longshot felt a sudden twinge of guilt when he thought about Rita, trapped as she was inside the twisted and evil body and mind of Spiral.

“You okay, Longshot?” Longshot was brought back to reality by a gentle touch of a gloved hand on his. “You looked a little sad for a moment.”

Longshot didn’t quite know what to say at that moment, about Rita, to Rogue. What he did know was that, even though things had maybe changed and now he thought about kissing Rogue a lot and far less about kissing Rita, that one day, he would have to go back to Murderworld and help her. It’s got nothing to do about what I wanted with her anyway. She’s a person and she’s been turned into a weapon, twisted and evil. I need to go back and help her one day. I will one day.

Longshot knew too, however, that he needed to think about his present and enjoy it. He knew that’s what Rita would have wanted. He’d go back to help her, to save her and make things right. He’d go back and make sure that Murderworld got torn to the ground and that Mojo, Arcade and the Sugar Man would never hurt anyone in the name of their sadistic games again. But tonight, he had the chance to relax and enjoy himself and maybe help build something new and wonderful.

“Sorry. Just thought about some stuff … about back on Murderworld for a moment.” Longshot had realized long ago that he was a terrible liar, so he didn’t really bother trying. He smiled and gave her hand a little squeeze. “I’m just really glad I can be here, with you. Eating the …” He heard soft footsteps and could smell an absolutely amazing scent in the air. “... delicious pizza that is arriving right now.” It really did smell incredible and his stomach rumbled enthusiastically.

“I’m famished.” Rogue grinned and sat up as the piping hot pizzas were brought to their table. She gave his hand a gentle squeeze, which he was grateful for, because there was no way that his hand was going to survive anything other than a gentle squeeze. “And I’m happy to be here too. With you.” She lifted up her glove, delicately kissed the glove and pressed it softly to his cheek. “Thanks for asking me out, sugar.”

“Well, I’d be happy to take you out any time, Rogue.” Longshot blushed deeply before getting plates in order and serving her a slice of pizza, which she proceeded to douse liberally in parmesan cheese. Once she’d got her slice of pizza, he got himself a slice of bacon cheeseburger pizza, which he hoped tasted as good as it looked and smelled. A taste of it pretty much immediately confirmed that it was, indeed, just that good.

Which made it the second-best thing about going out for pizza with Rogue.

Chapter Text

P: Where you at, Bobby?

B: On my way to the cafe

P: Couldn’t be fucking slower if you tried.

B: Rude.

P: Yeah, well, I’m rude and you’re slow. Next up in really obvious shit …

B: Asshole.

P: Dipshit.

B: Gonna kick your ASS when I get there.

P: Gloat while you can, Bobby. Gloat while you can.

B: You got us a comfy place at least?

P: Best seat in the house. Wouldn’t want you to be uncomfortable when I burn you to ashes.

B: Dude Sub-Zero is a million times better than Scorpion.

P: Opinions.

B: Like assholes.

P: Yep.

B: Getting predictable there.

P: But no less right. And you’re no less fucking slow. Get your ass over here, dude.

Bobby put the phone away and looked around to make sure he hadn’t got himself lost in the mall while he’d been texting Pietro. It looked like he was on track, though, the game cafe where they liked to hang out and play retro games was still there and as he walked in, Pietro waved at him. He wasn’t lying, he really had got the best seat in the house. Pietro was all kinds of an asshole, but he did have a knack for that at least.

“Good to see you finally decided to show. I thought I was gonna have to call up fucking John to come and give me company, now that Dom’s decided to switch sides. Fucking traitor.” Pietro laughed and tossed Bobby another controller. “I ordered us some fucking nachos and a pitcher of root beer. You’re welcome.” Pietro had the incredible act of making a pretty generous act seem absolutely miserly. Also, Bobby knew that it was probably money that Pietro had stolen from somewhere.

“Aw, that’s sweet of you to celebrate my victory with nachos. Almost makes me feel bad for kicking your ass.” Bobby settled into the chair, looking over at Pietro. Pietro had grown a little taller over the last few years and filled out just a little, more lithe now than skinny. Bobby hated to admit it, but he was incredibly attractive. He looked a lot like a younger version of his father, though Pietro wore his dickishness more honestly and didn’t seem to have his father’s megalomania. They’d hung out a lot more in the last year or so, especially after Bobby and Kitty had stopped seeing each other.

Bobby knew that people kinda knew why he’d broken up with Kitty and that they were pretty much right. He hadn’t quite figured out if he was gay or bisexual or what, but he didn’t think it was really cool to keep on with Kitty. He also knew and was reminded on a pretty regular basis that people liked Kitty better as a whole. Because she was a girl and she could wear her broken heart more obviously, because a lot of people thought that he’d been dishonest. Because he still wouldn’t come out and say anything.

Partly he hadn’t said anything because he didn’t want to say anything to anyone when he wasn’t quite sure of what the answers were himself, partly because he was afraid, somewhere deep in his reptile brain, that they’d treat him like his stepfather had treated him when he’d got suspicions. Partly, he didn’t like to tell people because he hated his bastard stepfather being right about anything- Bobby really was a queer and maybe part of him was scared of what else he would be right about. More than anything, though, he didn’t want people’s pity and sympathy. He was tired of being people’s charity case.

Bobby told Pietro, though, because Pietro knew what it was like, to go through that, though Pietro seemed way happier to admit he was gay and move on. It probably helped, Bobby thought, that Pietro had a kind of boyfriend. Yeah, it’d probably make stuff easier if there were more gay people around. Everyone’s so fucking straight at the Mansion. Wanda had to join the Avengers and Pietro fucked off to join the Brotherhood. Bobby couldn’t blame Pietro for that, though. He’d considered fucking off to join the Brotherhood too, but he knew that he’d be better off finishing school at Xavier’s and getting into a good university.

“Yeah right. This is a consolation prize, son. Your ass is gonna be kicked from here to the Jersey shore and that shit’s cold this time of year.” Just as Pietro finished his most recent insulting boast, a huge plate of mediocre nachos arrived, the cheese slightly overdone in places, the toppings decidedly uneven. At the same time, however, it was free food and Bobby wasn’t going to turn it down. As for the root beer, Bobby was going to have at least half of that.

“Big boasts. You might be fast on the draw, but there’s strategy to these games. Analysis. You got the thumbpower, but you’re lacking in the brainpower.” Bobby tapped the side of his head dramatically to emphasize the gesture, which got a double bird in response from Pietro. It satisfied Bobby endlessly to know that his psychological game was on point. Once I get inside his head, he’s done for. And once and for all, we will prove that Sub-Zero is superior to Scorpion.

“Yeah, well, you better put your money where your mouth is, or I’m getting two Flawless Victories and then I’m going to Fatality your dumb frozen ass. No fucking Friendships for you.” They pulled up the same game they usually played, Mortal Kombat II and picked the same characters they always did. Blue Ninja versus Yellow Ninja. Lin Kuei versus Shiryai Ryu. Ice against fire. Bobby knew for certain that whatever else, he could not lose this game. They’d play several rounds and while the odd one might go to Pietro, he needed to maintain his dominance. The last time he’d come away a loser, Pietro had been relentless on both the phone and Snapchat.

The first few rounds went exactly as intended, a relentless barrage of expertly timed iceballs and devastating uppercuts, followed by beautifully gruesome fatalities and the blessed announcement of winners. After about five games, in which Bobby had come out the winner in all but one three-round battle, he set down the controller for a moment to tuck into some of the nachos, which had totally congealed, but he didn’t care. Some things were more important than perfect nachos.

“So, uh, how’re things going? At the Institute and all?” As boastful and dickish as Pietro could be about a lot of things, his tone often changed a little when he asked about the Institute. Bobby was pretty sure that part of him still thought that it was a kind of home- he’d lived there for long enough. Nobody knew where Magneto was these days, despite an ongoing manhunt that had consumed probably billions of dollars. Bobby couldn’t say it was a waste of money, though. The man had nearly ended civilization. He killed Jean, the fucker. I know he’s your father, Pietro, but I hate him. I hate him so much.

“Uh, they’re going okay, I guess. School’s fine. Easy, mostly. People are fine there. Kurt still hates your guts.” Bobby didn’t know if hate was quite the right word, but there was absolutely no love lost there. He wondered if Pietro would ever try to apologize for being such an asshole, but he hadn’t done it yet and he doubted he would. Pietro didn’t apologize for much of anything. Bobby had to admit that he kind of envied that. Life would be a lot easier if I, too, had no fucks to give. Maybe, however, Pietro was just better at hiding his pain.

“Yeah, well, fuck Kurt.” Pietro shrugged.

“Pretty sure that’s what your sister does, bro.” Bobby replied, taking a sip of the root beer, feeling the sugar rush directly into his bloodstream. “How’s she doing by the way? Must be pretty crazy, having a sister who’s on the Avengers. I mean, look at you, you’re a no-good crook. Probably stole the money you paid for these nachos with. And your sister is a celebrity. The Scarlet Witch.”

“Shut up. ” Pietro hissed as he whirled around to face Bobby and this time, it was pretty plain that Bobby had genuinely got on his nerves. With a forced sigh, Pietro flopped back down onto the mat. “She’s fine, I guess. We talk once in awhile. But you know, she’s like … fuck, like you fucking said. Famous. Beloved. They’re talking actresses to play her in an Avengers sequel. A fucking movie. A fan club. She has a fucking fan club. People dress up as her at superhero conventions. There’s fanfiction. ” Pietro’s obvious sour grapes seemed to lighten slightly as he smirked. “They usually ship her with the robot.”

“ Vision ? I mean, I met that dude once. I don’t think he has … parts. Or feelings like that.” Bobby remembered Vision being very polite and a little distant, looking slightly uncomfortable in a sweater and slacks. He was pretty sure that if anything, Wanda’s feelings about the guy were more big-sister-ish. Which Bobby was also sure probably would piss Pietro off more than if they were in a relationship with each other.

“Oh yeah. I mean, there’s erotic fanfiction about all the famous superheroes. Your friends in the X-Men too. Tons of it.” Pietro’s small smirk broadened as he crammed his face full of nachos. “Want to hear them? Like, the nastiest ships? Tabby loves searching that shit up and showing them to us. Appalling. Really appalling stuff. Like two-thirds of it is gay, too. So right up your alley. Or have you decided you’re playing for both teams?”

“Shut up, Pietro.” Bobby replied, not really anxious to get into a discussion at a place where there was a nonzero chance that it would get back to people at the Institute. Jubilee frequently went there and sometimes she’d play with Bobby and Pietro. Bobby got the impression that she didn’t feel one hundred percent at home at the Institute all the time. She had it pretty good once upon a time, I think. Then something happened to her parents and she was homeless for awhile. Lived in a shopping mall. He probably got along better with her than any of the other kids now. The only adult he really talked to on a pretty regular basis was Hank, who was somewhere between his big brother and his replacement dad.

“Well, Wolverine and Colossus. Like, a lot. I mean, half of it is just Wolverine with other dudes on the team. Nightcrawler. That Longshot guy. Fucking Cyclops.” Pietro actually laughed at that last one and Bobby couldn’t help but laugh either, because if any guy on Earth was completely straight, it was Scott. And even if Logan and Scott were both completely homosexual, Bobby knew that would never happen. They seemed to work well together for the most part, but nobody would ever accuse them of actually liking each other.

“That’s the stupidest.” Bobby shook his head. Actually, it was hard for him to imagine Scott being with anyone at this point. Losing Jean pretty much broke Scott’s heart permanently, I think. As for Logan, he was fairly sure that he and Ororo had a bit of a thing, though it wasn’t a full-blown relationship. Piotr and Betsy had been on and off since the time they’d come to the Institute, and it was well-known that Kurt and Wanda were a couple. Whatever. Shippers are stupid. And so is fanfiction. “You probably look this up all the time. You keep hoping you get shipped with someone good. So who’s your secret X-crush? The big Russian?”

“Like you wouldn’t suck his dick if you had a chance.” Pietro rolled his eyes. “He’s probably a dumbass, but he’s a hot dumbass. Anyway, enough talk about this. Round two, Bobby. The Germans a bunch of battles in Russia and look what happened to them. Buried. They rode over the ruins of Berlin in giant tanks. Just like you, Drake. Just like what’s going to happen to you. We’re talking a Stalingrad level of epic turnaround here.” Pietro picked up his controller. “Hope you’re ready to meet your doom.”

“Yeah, you’re full of talk, Pietro.” Bobby shook his head. “You’re getting taken to school and you know it. That’s okay, though. Maybe you’ll learn something from your utter defeat. I guess it’s not your fault. We can’t all be the absolute master of video games.” Pietro was pretty good, sure, but Bobby had played video games since he could remember. Bobby had fended off the ferociously competitive Kitty Pryde, who never fell for the same thing twice.

“Shut up. You’re getting beaten like a redheaded stepchild and you know i-” Pietro stopped and looked towards Bobby, his eyes suddenly widening, a plume of mist from his lips telling him that his powers had triggered and dropped the temperature of the entire place. “Bobby.” Pietro set down the controller. “Hey. You know I’m just fucking with you, right? I’m sorry. I had no idea that was gonna- fuck. Seriously. I’m sorry. C’mon, dude. Public place.”

“... yeah.” Bobby nodded quietly and when he regained his bearings fully and didn’t feel the sting of a slap across his face or the bite of a leather belt on his ass, he realized that there was visible frost in the room. And the owner was coming over, with some burly-looking guys, who Bobby was pretty sure were his sons. Shit. Seriously? Bobby and Pietro had been coming to this place for months and they put up with all sorts of bullshit from them.

“Get out of my establishment. Now. I don’t want any muties in my business. Drives away normal folks. Get out right now. I don’t care if you’ve paid your bill or not. Just get out and never come back. Look at you’re doing to my damned business, you freak.”

Pietro glanced over at Bobby for a split second, probably more or less to ask if Bobby cared what happened, that if Bobby wanted to do the peaceful and dignified thing, now was the time to say something. Bobby shrugged and looked over at the business owner. Bobby’s breath now came out as a plume of supercooled mist, as heavy as if he were breathing out cigar smoke.

Bobby knew that confrontation was probably a bad idea, that it wouldn’t result in anything good, but he also knew that every cell in his body was tired of having every decent thing in his life blow up. He lost his family when his real father died and his mother married an abusive jackass. Bobby had lost Kitty because of course, he had to be gay or bi or whatever. I loved her, too. I love her, but I can’t be what she needs and that kills me. And now this asshole was telling him he had to leave one of the few places he really liked because the temperature dropped a little. Nothing got wrecked.

“Do you really think that’s smart?” Pietro tilted his head slightly, looking at the guards in turn and then at the owner himself. “If we’re really mutants and we’re so powerful and dangerous, you think it’s smart to fuck with us? I said something offensive. Some words this motherfucker here”- Pietro indicated at Bobby. “- didn’t like and now the room’s forty degrees colder. He could freeze you solid without a second’s hesitation. And me?” Pietro chuckled. “I don’t need a second.”

“And here’s the really awful thing. We’re not alone.” Pietro whipped out his phone, in a movement that was more than impossibly fast. “I call backup and this mall looks like a war zone. I got a friend who can control fire. A friend who spits poison. A friend who makes bombs out of thin air. Someone who can tear every stone in this mall apart, bit by bit and is totally bulletproof. And you’re trying to get on my bad side, why? Get me us a fucking double order wings on comp or shit’s going to get medieval. And that’s before we’re even thinking about my friend’s pals. You want to tell Wolverine that we can’t play some video games, bub? Fucking Wolverine? ”

“... you don’t …” The owner looked for a moment at his sons, who shook their heads, as if to admit that they were in way over their heads. The owner looked uncertain for a moment before swallowing, pale and shaking. “... how would you like your wings, sir?”

“Half of them medium and half of them teriyaki. And top up my root beer.” Pietro raised his eyebrow menacingly when they hesitated. Soon enough, though, they scurried off to do just that.

“You know they’re going to call mall security. Or the cops.” Bobby looked over at them as they went behind the back. “Or their pals in the Purifier movement. Badass as it would be if they just served us some free wings like that, there’s no way that actual serious shit won’t go down if we don’t go, like, now.” Bobby took a breath. “Seriously. I’ve got games at my place. You’ve got games at your place. You had your badass moment. Let’s get out of here before something terrible happens.”

“Maybe I’d look forward to that. Maybe I’m bored and a fight’s just what I need.” Pietro sighed and shook his head. “Fine. We’ll fuck off. You wanna head to the house? Fred’s making fried chicken. If you’re really nice, John might even share some of his weed. He’s a nice guy like that.” Bobby wasn’t really sure what he thought about getting high, but he liked the idea of getting out of the Institute for a bit. Maybe even a day or two. He could send people a message, saying where he was. They probably wouldn’t get anyone to go pick him up.

“Yeah, sure. Not interested in your stinky-ass pot, but I’m always up for kicking your ass at video games.” That and he’d heard from people that Fred’s fried chicken dinners weren’t something to be missed. Bobby also felt that maybe, it’d be nice to take a day or two out of the Institute. Might do me some good, let me clear my head. “Let’s go then. Before we get a bunch of stupid cops coming in after us.”

It was probably a terrible idea to go with Pietro, but maybe Bobby was okay with the idea of people being mad with him, instead of pitying him.

Chapter Text

The tension at the most recent meeting of the Inner Circle of the Hellfire Club had been palpable, a physical thing that stifled the air in the room even more than the cloud of cigar smoke from Sebastian and Harry, the two of which smoked almost an entire case between them. As expected, Donald Pierce had disappeared entirely and much to Sebastian’s dismay, they’d been unable to locate the man. Selene had been in her element pointing out everything that had gone wrong and yet, when she’d finally been pressed on the point, it was clear that she had no better alternative.

Emma believed that she, too, was plotting against the Inner Circle, against Sebastian in particular, but towards all of the rest of them as well. The difference, Emma believed, between her and Donald was that Selene seemed to have the patience he lacked. For all the talk about Pierce’s move being a strong opening gambit, she had been able to push back pretty effectively against the rumours that had emerged and between her media prowess and Sebastian’s political contacts, the notion of the Hellfire Club being run by mutants had remained a dark rumour, believed by few.

We will find Donald Pierce soon enough and Sebastian will tear him limb to limb, him and whoever he’s working for. Emma doubted that Donald could have come up with a move with even that modest cunning by himself. She was quite certain that he was being manipulated by another, unseen figure, possibly even someone who could legitimately pose a danger to the continued power of the Hellfire Club. She doubted that the messy chapter that had been opened up by the Sentinel attack was over and yet, she was equally doubtful that it would become an existential crisis. The Hellfire Club had survived worse.

What was undeniable, however, was that Sebastian’s rule over the Club, once almost completely ironclad, had notably weakened. Emma knew that Sebastian’s son, Shinobi, was at least friendly with Selene. Of course, Selene could always rely on the support of her so-called ‘patron’, Friedrich von Roehm. As unimpressive as Von Roehm was in many ways in Emma’s estimation, he had a lot of sway over the Club chapters on the Continent. He ran Berlin, and Selene clearly had long-established connections in Paris. The Continent’s in her hands. The Club leadership in Tokyo and Hong Kong were reliably loyal to Sebastian. The rank and file of the New York branch were Sebastian’s creatures as well.

Emma didn’t need Tessa to tell her that the club allegiances that were the most up for grabs were London, where Elisabeth Braddock’s son had recently taken over for his father and Los Angeles, which was dominated in fact, if not in name, by the polyglot criminal enterprise known simply as the Pride. People who have no particular investment in either Sebastian or Selene. Braddock was annoyed, certainly, by the misadventure with his sister, but he’s not likely to back the witch. Push come to shove, she believed that they could count on London.

Of course, in the long run, Emma had no particular desire to remain under Sebastian’s thumb. She had her own ideas about how the Hellfire Club should be maintained in the twenty-first century and not all of them, she knew, Sebastian would agree with. Deep down, he’s an animal. The facade of civilization runs thin in that man. It made her wonder what a seemingly intelligent and sensible woman like Tessa saw in him. He should pray every day that she remains by his side. He would never have been able to achieve the power he has without her, much less maintain it.

In the short and possibly medium term, however, Emma knew that Sebastian was far from finished as the master of the Club and that she would do better with him as the Lord Paramount of the global Hellfire Club than with Selene. She didn’t like to admit fear even to herself, but Selene filled her with unease and dread. The Black Queen was beholden to dark powers that Emma didn’t understand and yet, had to acknowledge were real. The power that Selene had demonstrated, after all, was real enough.

I need my own allies. People who will look to me and not to the Hellfire Club as an organization, or to Sebastian. Naturally enough, Emma had cast her eyes towards the Xavier Institute and at the powerful, but surprisingly naive people who lived there. Certainly, she knew that she had made less than an ideal impression with some of the people there. Elisabeth seemed to loathe her particularly and somehow had managed to infect Piotr with that sentiment. It was also true that Tessa had resparked her own friendship with Hank McCoy and seemed happy enough, in Emma’s estimation, to string along the good Doctor, who seemed to have not totally lost his old feelings for her.

But Hank McCoy, Elisabeth Braddock and Piotr Rasputin aren’t the prime movers at the Institute. Charles Xavier is in charge of the Institute right now and he owes the Club dearly for services rendered. Then there’s that handsome boy of his. Groomed to be a successor. A capable leader. Emma wanted very much to earn Scott’s trust, to become the person that he turned to when he needed assistance with something, his contact in the club. And if that road so happened to lead Scott into her bed, she was hardly opposed to the notion. I wouldn’t mind teaching him a thing or two.

Of course, there was the gigantic specter of Jean Grey looming over Scott Summers, a ghost that seemed to follow every move he made. It wasn’t that Emma was precisely ungrateful for Jean’s sacrifice- she had, after all, probably saved all of Western Civilization with her nuclear annihilation. Emma liked being alive, so she was happy enough to throw a toast or two in Jean’s direction, but the fact was that the other woman was dead. And probably boring when she was alive. All the truly good people are boring. A cardboard-cut saint.

Emma Grace Frost was a sinner and an unrepentant one. But as it happened, it was business and not pleasure that she had contacted Scott over. Friends of hers had informed her that some manner of mutant experimentation center existed not far from them. She had received a location and also a strong hint that the work that was happening there was particularly vile. That it involved children. Precisely the sort of thing that heroes like the X-Men should finish.

Being entirely honest with herself, Emma found the notion of experimentation on children offensive herself, most particularly on mutant children. The future of the human race should not be treated like rabbits in a cosmetics factory. As much as a small part of her would enjoy seeing the collective X-men wipe that facility off the face of the planet Earth, she knew that wouldn’t suit a group that had a generally positive public reputation to attack what might be government property. But a person that happened to be an X-Man did so … as long as they left no trace of their activities, they could have their cake and eat it too.

It was in the spirit of mutual cooperation between the Hellfire Club and the X-Men and more precisely, between Emma and Scott herself, that she’d passed the information onto him and was currently waiting for his arrival. Perhaps it was something of a risk for her to be personally present for what was likely to be a dangerous operation, but what better way to ensure that no trace of their operation was left behind than for a telepath to wipe the memories of everyone involved? Already, she’d managed to obtain one of the personnel carriers that they used to move mutants between centers. That had been accomplished with the assistance of Hellfire mercenaries, who would not be following her further.

A moment or two later, she heard the screech of a motorcycle and two forms hop off of it, somewhat to her distaste. Scott didn’t come alone. Clearly he doesn’t trust me. It was already dark and it took some time for her to clearly discern faces, but the taller one of the two was certainly Scott. The other form was significantly shorter and broader. The one they call Wolverine. I was hoping, at least, that he’d bring Piotr. Distrustful as he is to me, he is at least attractive.

“I thought we agreed to be discreet about this particular operation.” Emma raised her eyebrow as Scott became fully visible.

“You said discreet.” Logan was the one who replied, with a crooked grin showing fanged teeth. “Scotty only told me. Secret’s safe, otherwise.” Emma didn’t like the look of that grin one bit. She also didn’t like the fact that she couldn’t pick up anything but a vaguely unsettling fuzziness from his mind. The adamantium skull blocks telepathy. That’s why Scott asked Logan in particular. Insurance. The poor dear thinks that I might be plotting against him. I don’t know whether to be insulted or flattered.

“Your lack of faith in me is saddening, but no matter. I’ve got the vehicle. I can help get us in, but we’ll have to move hard and fast if we’re going to do anything. I assume that, if nothing else, you’re good at that, Logan?” Emma glanced towards the Hellfire mercenaries who saluted and got into their vehicles. “I can provide extraction. I don’t want Hellfire assets visible at the site itself, but they’ll be waiting not far outside.”

“Understood.” Scott glanced towards the truck. “Hopefully you got some uniforms in there? Did you get identification numbers off the drivers?” At first, Emma’s urge was to feel insulted, but she realized that Scott was probably simply being thorough, as a leader should. It galled her that he would put himself in charge of the situation, but then again, if he didn’t, she would have far less interest in him. As superior an intellect as she considered herself in most respects, she was comfortable enough ceding small-unit tactics to him.

“I’ve got all the information you need.” And with a thought, Scott had it as well. Logan would simply have to do without- being nearly immune to telepathy had its drawbacks as well as its positives. “My source indicated that there’s live subjects here.” Emma paused for a moment. “Children. Scott, this place experiments on children.” She allowed herself a moment of outrage that wasn’t entirely feigned, but more honed to perfection.

Scott simply grimly nodded. It was Logan who spoke. “Won’t be, soon enough.” I suppose he knows a thing or two about mutant experimentation, doesn’t he? I wonder if that’s why Scott asked him in particular. Hopefully his rage won’t cloud his judgement. A little indignation is a fine motivation, but we need to keep our heads. Logan turned towards her for a moment. “You ever do something remotely like this, kid?”

“I’m not little girl, you hairy brute.” Emma replied archly. “And not precisely, if you must know. Call me a child again and I’ll telepathically order Scott to turn you into a grease smear.” She had absolutely no time to be coddled or talked down to. “I am the White Queen of the Hellfire Club and I will be treated with respect according to my station.”

“Ain’t much of a monarchist, Emma.” Logan smirked. “Save the fire for the job, keep your head down and do what Scott and I say and maybe you’ll keep most of that precious blue blood inside you.”

“Logan.” Scott glanced over at him. “Stop it. She’s right. We’re all in this together now. If we keep bickering, we’ll never get this done. Security’s going to be heavy at the gate. Logan, think you can draw some heat for us?” Yes, do take some of the bullets that will probably have my name on them. If nothing else, you’re good at taking those, I presume. Take them all. You’re welcome.

“Yeah, I can be a distraction.” Logan nodded and then raised his eyebrow slightly at Emma. “Yer Majesty.”

As much as Emma hated the idea of Logan getting away with his disrespectful sarcasm, they had more important things to attend to. Some day I am going to learn how to circumvent that adamantium skull and teach that insolent man some proper respect. She placed a conciliatory smile on her face, however. “Good luck. Well, Scott, shall we?”

“Let’s do this. We’re going to go in nice and slow. But first, Emma, you should go put on one of the uniforms.” Scott looked over to the personnel carrier’s compartment. “Looks like the smaller one will be only slightly baggy on you. Oh joy. I’ll be swimming in mine.” Emma shot him a little glare and delicately touched a button on her glove.

“If you think, darling, that I’m going to put on one of those uniforms personally, you’re bitterly mistaken. By all means, though, feel free to choose between uniforms too small and too large for you.” Emma smiled sweetly. “You shouldn’t be surprised. I would have simply made a telepathic illusion, but those don’t fool security cameras. I come prepared for all eventualities.”

“Not bad.” Scott replied, climbing into the cab of the vehicle and putting on the uniform quickly, without any particular regard as to whether she was watching or not. Of course, she could do so without the vulgarity of actually glancing in his direction. She could simply telepathically gaze through his eyes. It didn’t make for an ideal view, since he wasn’t too inclined to linger at some of the nicer bits, but what she saw suggested he was just as fit as he looked.

It was only another moment before they were on their way, moving towards the compound, Logan stalking in the woods alongside time. Scott had patched in to Logan and given him the approximate location of the base. Emma couldn’t help but half-admire the way that Scott took control of the vehicle, despite almost assuredly having never driven anything that size before. He really is a good-looking boy. He would be fun to break.

“So, the question remains, why contact me?” Scott turned towards her. “You’ve got way more resources with the Hellfire Club. Why not just order those armed guards to take the facility? Or borrow one of those late-model Sentinels from Sebastian? Or hell, just send the guy himself. He seems to like fighting plenty.” Emma found the mixture of respect and disdain in Scott’s thoughts towards the Black King to be intriguing, as was the notion in his thoughts that he wanted to trust her. She also knew that he thought she was attractive and yet, those thoughts were always tinged with the spectre of Jean.

I suppose it is a terrible thing to lose someone you love so young. Personally, I think the notion of romantic love is foolish. Outdated. Relationships of convenience. The marriage of business and pleasure. Love made people do ridiculous, stupid things. It made them vulnerable when they needed to be strong. Even the seemingly strongest, most ruthless people seemed to be made fools for it. Sebastian loves Tessa. It makes him a fool and her doubly so, for knowing better and still falling for it.

“Plausible deniability for one, darling. I don’t want the Club to have more attention focused on it than it currently does. Attention that I have been working very hard to dispel with my media properties. But there’s something else. I told you because I knew you would act, that you would make it a priority.” Emma looked towards him. “You know what Sebastian is concerned with well enough.”

“What the Hellfire Club is concerned with.” Scott replied and although she couldn’t directly see his eyebrows, she knew they were being raised.

“The Hellfire Club concerns itself with what its Lord Paramount does. Right now, that is Sebastian Shaw. I won’t claim to you that I do not enjoy being rich and powerful, because I have enough respect for your basic intelligence to know that you’d never believe that. However, there’s something to be said for actually working to make mutantkind the best it can be. Given that we are a tiny minority for now, it seems only logical that role will be alongside humanity. Magneto was a fool.” Emma glanced over at him again. “We’re on the same side, Scott. I truly believe that you and I think many of the same things. And that’s why I am prepared to put myself in not-insignificant risk. To demonstrate to you that I am being sincere in my intentions. That I mean what I say.

That I value our continued cooperation and hope it continues.”

Scott seemed impressed enough by that. “You want me to reconsider your earlier offer. About working together to train a group of young mutants.” He paused for a second. “You think you might be finding some of those people tonight?” Suspicion again seemed to be intruding on his thoughts. He’s not entirely wrong, but I need him on side. The way that Scott Summers goes, so will, ultimately, the X-Men and the Xavier Institute. Charles listens to his son, I know it, more than anyone else. And he won’t be around forever.

“It’s a possibility. I don’t that, if you’re suspicious that this is some sort of setup. I have no idea who or what we’ll encounter in there beyond what my source told me and they were hardly specific. But yes, I do want you to reconsider that offer. But perhaps this isn’t the best opportunity to discuss that business. We’ve got to keep our head in the game, yes?”

Scott nodded. “We do.”

“Then may I suggest we discuss this further over dinner? Peter Luger Steakhouse?”

“... didn’t think you’d be into a steakhouse, to be honest.” Scott raised an eyebrow slightly. Emma knew, however, that he was seriously considering it.

“What? Women can’t enjoy a good piece of barely cooked meat?” Emma raised an eyebrow right back at him. “Isn’t that a little sexist, Scott?”

“You know what? Fine. Dinner. I’m not committing to anything, though.” Scott took a breath. “And now? We get our heads back into the game.”

Oh darling, but my head is always in the game. Always.

Chapter Text

There was some commotion outside X-23’s holding cell.

Specifically, it sounded as if there was fighting. There was the familiar sound of small arms of various kinds, mingled with the sounds of close combat, screams of pain and an occasional thundercrack that sounded like some sort of heavy weapon. It was easy enough for her to surmise that the facility was being attacked. If she had been tasked with defending it, she supposed that she would be out there, killing whoever had attacked the base. I’m good at killing. It was the reason she had been created.

X-23 had no standing orders, however, except to comply with the guards and technicians, whatever they wanted from her. Mostly they took her blood, measured her reaction to pain stimuli, tested her strength, her reflexes. It seemed strange to her that they would be continuing to test her when she thought they must have had a good sense of her capabilities. Sometimes the scientists made little jokes about how far her compliance would go. The lead scientist would discourage such talk and that was how she knew it was wrong.

X-23 wondered what she might do if she was unrestrained. Her programming hadn’t provided for this particular contingency, most of it having been devoted to reducing her violent instincts sufficient to be handled largely by civilians. She was programmed to defend herself against anyone who was not part of the program. But restrained as she was, there was little she could have done against an attacker. X-23 had tried to break the restraints, back before the programming had fully taken hold. They had been forced to make them out of stronger materials, ones that she could not possibly break out of herself. Her claws could puncture the gloves but she’d never get the leverage to be able to swing them.

The sound of the fighting was getting closer, close enough that now, even through the thick metallic doors, she could start to smell blood and sweat. The guards and scientists were being overwhelmed. X-23 could smell their fear. There was that thundercrack again, this time accompanied by a flash of red light in the distance and there was a cry from several men. The blood that she smelled was the familiar one, mostly those of the guards, but also a few of the scientists. It wasn’t large quantities for the most part, faint hints here and there. They seem to be trying not to kill them, then. I wonder what they will do with me.

X-23 could smell the intruders now. There were three of them- it seemed strange that only three intruders could inflict so much damage and yet, her enhanced senses told her that clearly enough. There were two males and a female. The one male smelled very little- probably someone who obsessively scrubbed themselves. Some of the scientists were the same way. It was as if they were somehow ashamed and disgusted with their natural scent and wanted to obliterate it. This struck X-23 as strange. Your scent is as part of you as your face. The female wore perfume, not the overapplied reek that one of the female scientists wore but what X-23 suspected was a subtle hint to others.

It was the third scent that most caught X-23’s interest- it was strong and heady, filled with testosterone and pheromones. The pervasive maleness of it was interesting, different than the scientists that had surrounded her, stronger even than the guards who watched over her. That was not its most notable feature, however. Her nose flared as she tried to place what precisely made it stand out so strongly. A second sniff made it plain.

It smelled like her. Though that scent belonged to a male and X-23 was decidedly female, there was something about it that reminded her of her own scent. She wanted to be able to investigate more closely. She wondered if the smell belonged to someone who had been made in the same lab that she had been made in. The notion of not having been made tractable by drugs and mental manipulation filled her with a distant hope. X-23 strained against her restraints, wishing that she could at least catch a glimpse of the male who smelled like her, even though at the same time, she wanted him far away, where he could be free.

Nobody is free here. Eventually the Pale Man will come.

X-23 could not remember much about her life before the last few years, where she had been extensively tested and trained, but she knew that whenever she saw the Pale Man, that she was filled with a terror and hatred that she couldn’t easily describe or comprehend. The Pale Man had done something terrible to her, terrible beyond reckoning. He had stolen something from her. He was the one who came up with the treatments that made her weak and tractable. Everyone was frightened of the Pale Man.

The Pale Man will kill the intruders. Perhaps not today, perhaps not tomorrow, but he will.

The Pale Man had strange and incredible powers. One time, a technician had failed to properly administer sedatives to her and she had escaped from the room and had gone through several hallways when he caught up with her. The Pale Man had simply looked at her and her muscles had stopped working. He had slung her across her shoulder and taken her to the table as if she weighed nothing at all, his grip inhumanly strong. He had spoken quietly to her the whole time, sounding mildly disappointed rather than angry.

Whenever she slept and dreamed, she dreamt of him, sooner or later. Even when she dreamed about running in a park- when had she run in a park? She did not know- the dream always came back to the Pale Man standing there in front of her. In those dreams, though, he wasn’t just pale, but ghastly white and his teeth were sharp and his eyes burned. Sometimes in those dreams he hurt her terribly, broke her bones like twigs. Other times, he set her mind on fire.

Sometimes, he said a terrible word. A single, terrible word and she was filled with an insatiable urge to kill, to tear flesh, to shed blood. X-23 didn’t know why that filled her with horror. I was made to murder people. I am no good for anything else. I am a weapon. I have a number. Not a name. But when X-23 thought that, suddenly, it didn’t seem quite right. Did she, long ago, have a name? Was she, once, long ago, a girl? Some of the scientists had children. Some of them were kinder to her than the others. Some were worse.

Darjeeling.

Everything became red as suddenly her restraints came free and the door opened, her claws bursting out of her skin as her nose flared again, smelling the blood, the fear, everything washing over her as her skin burned. X-23 raced out of the door, finding a terrified technician. She kicked at him with her foot claw, the long straight nail piercing his belly, ripping into his bowels, blood pouring out of a mortal wound. She pulled the nail out of his belly and kicked him again in the face, the nail penetrating his skull and killing him instantly.

Leaving the dead scientist, she lunged at one of the guards, the claws on her hands raking across the guards’ arms, severing both of them, a spray of hot blood covering her. Another slash across his face ruined his head completely and the dead body sank to the floor, blood and brains sliding off of her claws. Kill. Everything burned. Her heart pumped faster. Adrenaline and numerous other chemicals raced through her blood. When another guard shot her twice, once through the lung and other time through the fleshy part of her arm, she didn’t even stop moving.

X-23 must have stabbed him thirty, no, thirty-four times before he stopped moving, his body almost entirely soaked in his blood and a little bit of hers. Kill. She kept moving, towards the strange and unfamiliar scents, slashing out at a technician who was hiding behind a way wall on the way. X-23 dragged the living, screaming technician out, with strength far greater than her small size would suggest, using their body as a shield to stop another guard from shooting her. With a final slash, she set down the now-limp body and crossed the remaining small distance between her and the guard, caught trying to reload, the murderous nail on her left foot penetrating deep into his skull, the force of her movement, dragging the blade across, nearly cutting off the skull entirely at the eyeline.

X-23 kicked open the door and there one of the intruders was, somehow making the loud thundercrack and the bright red light with his gaze. She didn’t hesitate, though, crossing the distance towards him, aiming to eviscerate him instantly with the claws on her hands, when she was intercepted by another one of the intruders, the one who smelled like an older, male version of herself. X-23 found herself pushed to the ground under superior strength. But her foot was free. Just enough. The nail on her foot drove between the thighs of the male, causing a roar of pain. She twisted it and he found himself forced to let go, blood pouring onto the ground.

Stop.

The voice was a female one, but it had a strange authority and X-23 found herself looking around for a moment, confused, before there was another thundercrack and she was blasted through a wall, the impact knocking all the air out of her lungs. X-23 tried getting up and was hit with yet another blast, this one forcing her to the floor, hard enough to break ribs.

We don’t want to hurt you. Stop.

The red haze remained the same, but now her muscles were failing her, growing limp and flaccid. X-23 growled, but there was nothing she could do about it, almost completely paralyzed, just like the Pale Man had done to her. The man whom she’d kicked was approaching her now, his pain visible in her eyes, but it was also clear to her that the wound, assuredly mortal to most anyone else, wasn’t going to kill him. Her eyes met his and she recognized something of herself in them. Then her eyes closed and everything went back.

When she awoke, X-23 was in restraints again. The haze of chemicals that she had been fed in the complex was fading quickly, blotted out by her healing factor. She was in a transport truck, but instead of guards or scientists, the only person with her in the back was the man whom she’d hurt before. He looked rather well for someone who had received a deep penetration wound to the urogential region. With all the blood vessels there, a normal man would have died quickly of blood loss.

“You aren’t dead.” X-23 finally said, her voice slightly hoarse with disuse. She did not speak much, except when she was compelled to do so for testing or training purposes.

“Takes more than that ta kill me. You made a pretty good try of it, though” The man replied, a fairly short and heavy man with dark features. “You got a name, kid?” He seemed to be remarkably free of malice considering how painful the wound must have been. There were a lot of nerve endings where she’d kicked him. Even with healing powers like her own, however, it would assuredly be painful for a long time. Full regeneration and recovery would likely take 24 hours or more.

“I am X-23.” No, that wasn’t quite right. There was something else. She furrowed her brow slightly. “There is … I don’t remember. I might have had a name once. Everyone called me X-23. I do not remember past the last six months.” The possibility of lying did not occur to her. She had no particular reason to be deceptive. If they had wanted to kill her, they assuredly would have done so already. If she was to be used as a weapon by them, they would most likely not have initiated social contact with her.

X-23 could only conclude that they were affecting a benign recovery. A rescue. But why? I cannot be free. I am not made to be free. I am made to kill.

“Trust me, kid.” The man spoke and she could hear more than a slight wince in his tone. “I know a thing or two about not rememberin’ things. We’re going somewhere, where you’re gonna find some people who can help you. They helped me.” He looked at her again. “Got the distinct feeling we have more than one thing in common.” He paused for a moment. “Name’s Logan. And sorry about the restraints, kid, but we gotta keep safe. You, too.”

“Logan.” X-23 weighed the word for a moment. “Where are you taking me? What is it called?” It never occurred to her to question the wisdom of restraining her. She couldn’t imagine them being so foolish as to allow her freedom of movement. At any time, the killing word could be spoken to her, either verbally or telepathically and she would feel the blood frenzy coil up inside her. In such close quarters, if she could gain even a tiny bit of mobility she may be able to kill them all. At the very least, they would be obliged to kill her.

“It’s called the Xavier Institute-”

“We never said we were taking her there-” A female voice interjected, from the woman who wore the perfume. There was an underlying shakiness in her tone. She’s frightened. She won’t readily admit it. There was a lot of pride in her tone, but Laura could smell the fear, now that she knew to sense it.

“We are. End of discussion.” There was a second male voice.

“It’s called the Xavier Institute for the Gifted. It’s in Westchester-”

“It’s a school for mutants.” X-23 replied quietly, surprised at first that she knew about it. How do I know about that place?

The Xavier Institute, Laura, you have to find them.

Laura. My name is Laura. I have a name.

Laura closed her eyes for a second, feeling her tear ducts activate and the salty water run down her face. The Xavier Institute. I have to find them. They’re taking me there. An involuntary sob broke through and another and before she knew it, she was crying, really and truly crying and she didn’t know if it was because she was sad or because she was relieved. She was even more surprised when she felt a strong hand on her shoulder.

“Are we really going there?” Laura made her eyes open and look at Logan. “My doctor told me that I needed to go there. To be safe. She told me to run away and find the Xavier Institute where I would be safe. We were going to run there together.” She made her eyes meet Logan’s fully, even though she wanted to look away as an unimaginable feeling of disgust and shame boiled through her. “My doctor looked after me.”

Laura remembered now. Laura remembered the day she had gone to the park. She had played with Dr. Kinney’s dog. Laura remembered throwing a ball and watching the dog run up and get it and drop it at her feet. She remembered the feeling of a warm sun and the smell of fresh-cut grass under her feet. She remembered chasing after the dog, dropping to all fours and loping after the dog. The sound of laughter. She remembered the sweet, melting taste of … ice cream, my doctor called it ice cream on her tongue. The words babbled out of her, excitedly, almost too fast for Logan to understand, surely.

“Kid.” Logan’s voice cut through her babble for a moment. He paused for a moment. “Laura. I can’t promise you a whole lot, kid, but I can tell you this. Those motherfuckers are not going to touch you while I’m alive. I promise you. You’re going somewhere safe and we’re going to do everything we can to help you, okay?”

“What’s a motherfucker?” Laura asked. She’d never heard that word. It sounded like a bad word, a bit like the bad words that some of the scientists would sometimes ay, but never when the Pale Man was around. The Pale Man didn’t like bad words.

“A bad person. Like those people.” Logan answered.

“Not like doctors. Doctors are good people. My doctor looked after me.” Laura’s lip shook. “Why am I sad? I’m remembering nice things, but I’m feeling sad. Where is my doctor? What happened to her?” Laura paused for a moment. “Her name was Doctor Sarah Kinney. She was a very nice doctor.”

Another memory came into her brain.

Laura, listen to me. The Xavier Institute in New York State. You have to go there. You have to run and run and don’t look back until you reach them. I’ll be okay. I’ll keep them busy so you can run.

No, I’m not leaving without you, Dr. Kinney. I’m not leaving without my doctor.

She remembered the pain of a bullet in her kneecap, sending her to the floor heavily.

Laura. Run. You have to run, Laura. Please run.

Her doctor tried to attack the Pale Man. He threw her back onto Laura with no effort. The Pale Man taunted Laura, taunted Sarah. Then he spoke the killing word. The blood frenzy came over Laura. The nearest person to her was … was Sarah. Her doctor.

“I killed her.” Laura whimpered before collapsing into deep, convulsive sobs. “He said the killing word and I killed her. I killed my doctor. I killed her, Logan. I don’t want to kill you too. You need to kill me.” It was the only way that they’d ever be safe. She wasn’t safe.

Logan grasped her and Laura wondered if he was going to do it, but instead he just pulled her into his arms and held her while she sobbed. “Not doing that, kid.”

No, don’t hold me. Don’t keep me safe. Kill me. I’ll kill you. The Pale Man will come and say the killing word and I’ll kill everyone. Please.

But the words couldn’t come out at all now and she continued to sob brokenly into his shoulder.

Chapter Text

“So, uh, if you don’t mind … how did you learn you were a mutant?” Peter asked, his tone slightly tentative, notepad out, the stiff breeze whiffling at his hair. They’d planned to have the interview a couple of times, but it turned out that Peter Parker had a terrible memory for prior commitments. Kitty knew she should’ve been more annoyed that he’d flaked on her twice, especially when he was the one that wanted the interview, but he was maddeningly difficult to actually be upset with. And cute. Really cute. Ugh. He’s probably gay too.

“Well, I had these awful headaches.” Kitty laughed slightly, but there was a bitter edge to them. It was easy to forget about how miserable she had been in the months leading up to her discovery that she was a mutant. She paused for a moment and took a sip of her coffee, bracingly hot and tooth-numbingly sweet, the way she liked it, with a shot of espresso because she was slightly insane and refused to go through a day without ramming it full of caffeine.

“Like migraines?” Peter asked, scratching a few things on his notepad.

“I don’t want to say worse than migraines, because I know some people suffer really, really badly with them. But they were, yeah, a lot like migraines, but really bad ones. I’d just spend entire days sitting in a dark room puking.” And while that was happening, I was sitting in a dark room hearing my parents’ marriage collapse around me. For all the danger that she had been subjected to since she’d gone to the Xavier Institute, her life was a million times better there. Kitty still occasionally got headaches, but they were more standard-issue ones, defeatable with Extra Strength Advil. “I was missing school, going to all these doctors, it was terrible. Nobody knew what was wrong with me, least of all me.”

“That sounds awful.” Peter frowned slightly, scratching a few notes down and then setting down the notepad for a moment, as if the sympathy were only legitimate if it were somehow off the record. “Seriously. I’m really sorry you had to go through that.” For a moment, Kitty wondered if he was going to try to hug her or put his hand on her arm or something, but he kept his distance. Because he’s actually concerned and he’s not some creep trying to hit on you. Like those Neanderthals in theoretical math. Ugh.

“It was awful.” Kitty took a breath and another drink of her coffee, feeling the sugar and caffeine settle into her bloodstream. “But one day, I had a dream about falling. Literally. I dreamt about falling and one day I woke up and I was in the basement. And when my dad ran down, I phased through him-”

“Phased?” Peter asked, scribbling down some more notes on his pad. “Is that what you call it when you go through walls and stuff?”

“Yeah, phasing. Hank came up with it. Dr. McCoy.” Kitty laughed. “At first I thought it was a bit weird to call it that, because it just makes me think of Star Trek. I mean, to me, phasing someone is like … shooting them with a phaser, right?” Peter’s relieved laughter suggested to her that he was more than slightly familiar with Star Trek. Kitty wondered what his favorite series was. She’d been practically raised on old reruns of both the Original Series and The Next Generation - her father was a huge Trekker.

“Yeah … I mean, that’s what I thought of right away too.” Peters’ smile was slightly awkward and completely sincere and it made him look terrifyingly cute. Stop being attractive, Peter Parker. Stop it now. Why do I have such an incredibly weakness for cute nerdy boys? Get your head in the damn game.  Peter seemed to stop for a moment, let out a slightly awkward laugh and adjusted his glasses, as if to suggest that he, too, was trying to get his head back in the game. Was he kind of checking me out too? Don’t flatter yourself, Pryde.  “But so … you fell through the floor and then you phased through your father. What happened next?”

“I screamed. I mean, what else do you do when you pass through your dad when he’s trying to comfort you?” Kitty took another sip of her coffee. “And that’s when I realized, I guess, that I was probably a mutant. I didn’t have it confirmed until I went to the Xavier Institute. Which wasn’t too much later. And I’ve lived there ever since. Finished high school there. It was kind of nice, actually, I was able to do courses at my own pace, so I was able to get done and graduate. Did a lot of my prereqs online there too.”

“I’m jealous. I would have loved to have got out of high school earlier.” Kitty couldn’t help but smile at that, but Peter looked very sincere about it. “Public school, New York. Hated every minute of it. School was full of … well, you remember Flash Thompson. Except I didn’t have cool mutant powers. And I mean, not everyone was mean, but just about nobody liked the same things I did. But it’s all good, I got a scholarship. And here I am.” Peter smiled again. “Able to actually do the stuff I like and be around people who also enjoy learning for its own sake and not just as a springboard to a job.”

“It’s nice.” Kitty smiled back, leaning a little further back into the bench. “Most of the people here have been good. Haven’t seen anything from Flash Thompson and his goons. Which is good.” Kitty’s smile faded. “I don’t have time to deal with people like that. There’s … I mean, they’re just idiots. Idiots who don’t know anything.” Unpleasant memories of Cape Citadel came back into her head and she found herself having to look away, but terrified to close her eyes because all she’d see was Magneto’s visage. Or Tessa’s broken body, oozing blood.

“Are you okay?” Peter did reach out this time, his hand just gently brushing against her arm, feeling the need to make some sort of connection, but clearly slightly anxious about breaking boundaries. All in all, he seemed the slightest bit shy around her. “If you don’t want to say anymore, you don’t have to. I mean, I’ve got stuff for an article. I’ll send you a copy of it before it goes to press, so, you know, you can correct anything that’s wrong or take out anything that’s not something you want shared …”

Kitty took a breath. “No. I’m okay. I … I don’t know if you wanted me to talk about Cape Citadel, but I’m just going to say right now, that no, I don’t want to talk about that with you right now. Because talking about it means I have to relive it.” She bolted down as much of her coffee as she could, trying to smile, though she was pretty sure the smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “You’re a really nice guy, Peter, but I don’t know you remotely well enough for that.”

Peter nodded. “It’s okay, I can’t even imagine-”

“You can’t.” Kitty replied firmly. You can’t know what it’s like to have the responsibility for the entire world on your shoulders. I was a kid, I was a child. Fourteen. I was fourteen. Kitty forced the thoughts out of her head, lest they become too strong and she break down and cry in front of Peter. He didn’t need to deal with that. “You know, would it be okay if maybe we just … talked like actual ordinary people for a bit-”

Kitty was interrupted by the near-deafening sound of an explosion. Instinctively, she grabbed Peter, phasing him as the heat of the blast and the associated shrapnel passed by them. Or … me. Peter had wrenched out of her grasp and was running away, very quickly. Damn, he’s got legs on him. Surprised the university track team isn’t onto him. Kitty rolled behind the stone bench, peeking up slightly, while tapping the communicator link that was on her watch.

“Kitty, what’s happening?” Scott’s voice came through on the comm.

“Trying to figure it out. Some kind of explosion. Big one. Chemistry building at Empire State University. I’m gonna try and get more details on it-”

“Negative.” Kitty could see Scott shake his head clearly in her mind’s eye. “Get yourself somewhere safe, we’ll send some people to investigate. Should be there in a few minutes. Scrambling right now.”

“Scott. I can phase. Let me at least do a little bit of scouting-” Kitty looked up, however, to see the strangest sight. “Nevermind, I’ve sighted the perpetrator. It looks like a goddamn goblin. A green goblin. And it’s riding on top of a jet engine that looks like a bat. And now I’m having a pumpkin lobbed at my head.” Kitty dashed away from the bench in phase as the pumpkin bomb landed on the ground, starting to make a distinct hiss of a billowing greenish-yellow gas. Gotta clear that. I can only phase as long as I can hold my breath.

The goblin above her cackled and reached into a bag. “It’ll go better for you if you surrender. It’s not you I want, really. It’s P-” The goblin was interrupted as Spider-Man appeared out from the roof of the Astronomy building, swinging hard on a webline, aiming squarely at the green goblin, which maneuvered away with a harsh arc that would’ve inflicted unbearably high g-forces on any ordinary person. Some kind of superhuman then. But look, there’s Spider-Man.

Holy shit, that’s Spider-Man!! Kitty was a Chicagoan at heart, but she’d lived in New York long enough to get a sense of its culture and everyone knew that, while the Fantastic Four and the Avengers both operated out of New York City and the X-Men were probably based somewhere nearby, the actual superhero of the city was Spider-Man. The Daily Bugle had a weird, almost fetishistic hatred for Spider-Man, but most New Yorkers loved the guy. Come to think of it, doesn’t Peter do a lot of those Spider-Man pictures for the Daily Bugle? Hope he’s alright. Should be, though.

“Oh, Spider-Man.” The, Kitty was just going to call him Green Goblin officially now, had stopped noticing her altogether. “I was just talking to your lady friend over there.” What? I’ve never met Spider-Man. Kitty started to go behind a wall, but had to go into phase again as a pumpkin bomb whistled over her head and exploded. The Green Goblin looked somewhat dismayed at the fact that she hadn’t been seriously wounded or killed. “... it figures that a freak like you would have more freak friends. No matter.” He flew above Spider-Man, the bladed wings of the glider neatly slicing through the webline, though Spider-Man quickly just attached himself to the glider itself.

Why does it have to be a flying battle? I can’t actually do much here. Kitty looked around and then realized that there might actually be something she could do. Spider-Man and the Green Goblin were fighting in close combat on the glider now, one not obviously gaining an advantage over the other. If she had to moot it, she’d say that Spider-Man was maybe holding back a little. But they were fairly close to the Astronomy Building again. Kitty dashed over there again, using her phasing abilities to get up to their approximate floor, disregarding the gasps of people stupid enough to watch, of those people who were wisely getting the Hell out of Dodge.

If they’re close enough to the building, I can just jump out the window and phase through his glider. I don’t build up velocity very much in phase, even if I unphase to land, I’ll be fine. Kitty reached the building, only to watch the Goblin use some sort of blade, ripping off Spider-Man’s mask and forcing him off the glider. Knowing she was unlikely to get another chance and hoping it was still in time to help Spider-Man out, she leapt out the window, feeling the pins-and-needles sensation of the glider passing through her, hearing the crackle of electricity and the surprised cry of the Goblin as his glider lost power and began its downward ascent.

Kitty hit the ground running, slipping out of phase for only a moment before dashing over to where Spider-Man was getting himself groggily off the ground. Spider-Man had brown hair. His back was turned to her right then, and Kitty realized that she could, if she wanted, find out who he was right away. But I’m also not a complete bitch. The Goblin landed hard, in a heap with his glider. He didn’t seem to be moving much.

“Hold on. I’ll see if he’s got your mask.” Kitty dashed over to where the Green Goblin was, currently unconscious by his glider, but breathing. She picked up the somewhat tattered mask in phase, and ran back to Spider-Man, turning away from him slightly as she handed the mask over to him.

“... thanks.” Spider-Man slipped on his mask and stood up. “You know, JJJ at the Daily Bugle would’ve paid you a lot of money for an ID on me.” There was something that was slightly modulating his voice, it sounded mildly computerized but there was something undeniably familiar about that voice. “I should go make sure he’s out for a bit and web him up.” There was something now about his voice that sounded tight. “And thanks, for the save. That was pretty neat, what you did.” Spider-Man quickly dashed over to where the Green Goblin was, extracting him from the wreckage of his glider and covered him in web.

Kitty remembered that Scott and the others were probably scrambling and turned on her watch again. “Uh, situation contained. Spider-Man showed up and we took care of it.”

“You’re not supposed to be putting yourself into danger, Kitty.” Scott’s admonishing voice came through, but Kitty could hear Logan’s laughter faintly. “If the situation’s contained, though, we’ll cancel the mission. Thankfully we weren’t in the jet yet, I guess.”

“Ouch. You guys are getting slow in your old age. Kitty Pryde out.” She looked over at Spider-Man for a moment as he finished securing the Green Goblin by what looked like a lot of web, hanging him from a nearby phone pole. Spider-Man turned and looked back towards her again for a moment, giving her a bit of a thumbs up. “I guess you should probably be going, huh?”

“Yeah, should probably get going soon. Police will be showing up and they have … a variety of opinions about what to do with people like me.” It was hard to tell from under the mask, slightly torn as it was, but Kitty was sure that he was smiling at her. “Thanks again. We make a pretty decent team.” He turned and was probably just about to cast a web and swing out, before Kitty interrupted him.

“Hey.” Kitty called out.

“Yeah?” Spider-Man turned slightly. Which was almost a shame, because as it happened, he had a scandalously nice little butt. The tight costume couldn’t help but highlight that.

“This is going to sound stupid, but ... “

“You want a selfie with me?” Spider-Man laughed slightly.

“... yeah. I mean .. yeah.” Kitty laughed, but Spider-Man came over, putting his arm around her shoulder as Kitty got out her phone and put it up to take the picture. Ha, Jubilee is going to be so goddamn jealous. Once the picture had been taken, Spider-Man surprised her by lifting up the mask slightly and kissing her cheek, before swinging off, faster than she could properly react, leaving her holding her camera and staring up at the sky as Spider-Man disappeared quickly into the sunset.

Well, damn. Kitty blinked as her hand traced up to where he’d kissed her. I just got kissed by Spider-Man. Also, I’m turning about eighteen shades of purple. And also, I should probably get out of here. I was pretty much done classes anyway. So I should go, before the media or cops show up. Kitty turned and started walking away. I hope Peter’s all right. I should probably be annoyed at him for dashing out so quickly, but I guess I shouldn’t expect him to …

Kitty stopped for a moment.

As soon as the Green Goblin had attacked, Peter had torn away like a bat out of hell. Almost immediately after that, Spider-Man had appeared to fight the Green Goblin. Spider-Man was about as tall as Peter was and the lean, athletic build wouldn’t be too far off from that of Peter. Spider-Man had something to modulate his voice slightly, so it was hard to tell from that directly, but … he sounded young.

No way.

Holy shit, is Peter Parker actually Spider-Man?

No way in hell.

Chapter Text

Charles glanced up at the Shaw Industries Tower, or more accurately, at the portion of it he could properly see. Restricted to a wheelchair as he was, and directly underneath it, he found he couldn’t quite make out the top before a sense of dizziness struck him. The second tallest building in all of New York. One World Trade Centre was only about a hundred feet higher and that had involved a little bit of under-the-table negotiation, a supposed good-faith compromise that had no doubt made the Mayor, Governor and President ever more closely connected with Sebastian Shaw.

It was good to be cognizant of just how powerful Sebastian Shaw was, about just how far and deep his influence went globally. Charles had been sure that Pierce’s attack using Sentinels would have damaged that vast web of connections and obligation, possibly beyond repair- but it seemed that everyone in power felt that they were better off pretending it had never happened. It appears that his duplicitous game with Senator Kelly has ended, but that is all for the better.

“Oh my. I’d say something about overcompensation … but that seems excessive even for that.” Hank glanced upward at the building as he pushed Charles along. Charles wished that he simply could use the hoverchair in public like he could at the Institute, but it would raise more questions than he cared to have directed at him. There are enough questions as it is. More and more people in Salem Center had been talking about the Institute. The public attitude was becoming more fearful, particularly as it as becoming clear that there were not only a few mutants in attendance, but more and more. Between missions, members of the X-Men were involved in contacts, one or two at a time. I’m gaining about a student a week now and the trend is increasing.

“I will admit it seems a little ostentatious.” It’s not his virility that he needs to prove, though. He was not born into wealth. It was true that the Shaws had, about a century ago, been among the wealthiest families in America, but a few generations of bad business decisions had meant that Sebastian had been born into the working class. And out of seemingly nowhere, Sebastian Shaw had built himself a colossal fortune, some fifty billion dollars worth. He had also taken control of the Hellfire Club. Xavier didn’t know the full story of that, but he was certain that it hadn’t been a peaceful takeover. He is not a man who hesitates to use violence when he deems it necessary.

Why have I chosen to be associated with him? Charles had pondered that extensively over the last year or so and even more so after the Sentinel attack. The answer, however, seemed simple enough. The Hellfire Club had resources and connections that he could only dream of. Xavier still received some funding from SHIELD, but frankly, it was not enough. Even if Forge was willing to work for peanuts, expanding the Institute for the expected flood of students to arrive, providing for their further education and for the training and upkeep of the X-Men was immensely expensive.

The other truth as Charles was it, was that Sebastian Shaw was a man who could be worked with, negotiated with. He was not the ideologue that Erik had been. Sebastian was primarily concerned with his own influence and wealth and in maintaining a social environment that was conducive to expanding it. An open conflict between humans and mutants ill-suited his operations. I would never consider him to be a good man, but at least I can count on that. He’ll operate rationally.

It had been Sebastian that had called the meeting, something that he wanted Charles to see. He’d been somewhat enigmatic on the phone, but there was an undeniable sense of self-satisfaction. Charles didn’t need psychic powers to know that Sebastian was utterly confident that he would want to see whatever it was, completely convinced that Charles would find the time to meet with him. I suppose it would make for an interesting message if I didn’t come to see him, but that is unwise. Charles glanced up again towards the virtually invisible top of the Shaw Industries Tower before Hank ushered him in.

The security was airtight to all appearances, just as Charles would have supposed- with both uniformed and plainclothes guards. From the inside, without the bright sun, it was plain that the glass wasn’t regular window glass. Bulletproof, no doubt, and not just against ordinary bullets, I’d wager. Indeed, the entire building looked like a fortress. A pair of armed guards escorted them to the elevator, programming the elevator for the top floor.

“Well, I would say that this building officially makes the Pentagon’s security look amateurish by comparison.” Hank glanced over at a side panel on the elevator. “Apparently this elevator shaft magnetically stops if the cable is cut. And it is hermetically sealed against NBC weaponry. Nice, smooth ride, though. Very well-designed as far as elevators go.”

Charles couldn’t help but smile faintly. “It is a rather smooth ride, isn’t it?” Ever since he’d been crippled, Charles had become intimately familiar with elevators, the elevators that lurched at every floor, the old ones that creaked painfully with each ascent and descent, elevators with every imaginable bad smell. The Shaw Industries elevator compared favorably with just about any of them, even the elevators at the Xavier Institute himself. “Hopefully the meeting is as pleasantly surprising.”

“Indeed.” Hank replied. “I don’t suppose Sebastian gave you any more detail about it than Tessa told me? I did get the distinct impression that it was worth coming for, but little else. An enigma wrapped in a mystery. Like a great many women, I suppose. But one with multiple advanced degrees and combat training from the Taskmaster. And mutant powers that make her among the most intelligent people on the planet. Which I suppose means that she’s hardly typical at all and I shouldn’t be making generalizations about women based on someone who is hardly a typical example of any sub-population …”

“Don’t worry.” Charles smiled faintly. “I won’t tell Kitty.” The smile faded slightly, however as he glanced over at Hank. “Hank.” Hank. I’m concerned that you’re still carrying a torch for someone who absolutely cannot be trusted. His impression of Tessa had been, from the time he had first met her was that she was almost limitlessly capable and useful, but someone who could not be truly trusted, someone who would not hesitate for a moment to use anyone’s weaknesses against them. She seemed to be loyal to Sebastian, but Charles wondered if that was truly a permanent state.

“Tessa’s a friend, Charles.” Charles hadn’t broadcasted that particular thought, but perhaps it had been on Hank’s mind too. “And one who works for Sebastian and the Hellfire Club. I’m not blind to that.” His thoughts indicated, however, that at least on some level, Hank wished he was. Just the, the door opened and there the woman in question was, standing alongside Warren and Emma Frost. Speak of the devil, I suppose.

“Professor, it’s good to see you.” Warren walked over to Charles as he came off the elevator, giving him a handshake and then, seemingly thinking better of it and bending down to hug him and then, in turn, to embrace Hank. He seems better lately. I think more than just about anyone else, Warren has wanted this to work out. Charles suspected it had a lot to do with the fact that operating with the Hellfire Club at a high level, he could actually do something outside the shadow of his father.

“And you as well, Warren.” Charles turned towards Emma and Tessa, smiling at them. “Emma, Tessa. It is good to see you both as well.” As often seemed the case, they had seemingly conspired to wear completely opposing colour schemes, white and black. Absurdly, Charles couldn’t help but think of Betty and Veronica. Which would make Sebastian Archie, I suppose. As amusing as the thought was, he put it out of his head quickly. Both women were dangerous and powerful in their own right and it would be foolish as well as churlish not to respect that fact.

“Charles.” A booming voice came from further within and soon enough, the imposing form of Sebastian Shaw came from around a corner. “Punctual as always. It’s good to see you. Come in, come in. I’ve got something you need to see.” Sebastian gestured towards them and then spoke towards a servant to bring them drinks. Charles considered declining, but that seemed rude, and besides, he knew that Sebastian would have good scotch on hand. A server in a somewhat skimpy variation on business attire- everything too tight, the skirt entirely shorter than proper business wear, brought them all drinks as well as a box of cigars.

Sebastian Shaw gestured them into a huge central room, sunlight flooding the interior from a skylight as well as the windows, towards what looked like an impressively large scale model of a portion of New York City. He glanced towards the assembled company for a moment, a small smirk spreading across his face. It was apparent that the scale model was intended to be part of the grand revelation, but Charles found that he couldn’t immediately pinpoint what he was supposed to get out of it. No doubt that Sebastian will reveal it. But hopefully soon. I was right, though. He does provide lovely scotch.

“I suppose I could drag out the suspense a little longer.” Sebastian’s smirk spread into a bit of a grin. “As tempting as that would be, ladies and gentlemen, I’d like to get right to business. As you know, this is the Abyss- one of the few remaining poor areas of Manhattan. Makes Hell’s Kitchen- well, Clinton as they like to call it now, look positively paradisical. Full of condemned tenements, burned-out shops. A little bit of Detroit in New York City.” While Charles was sure that Sebastian considered the area simply from a cost analysis, Charles couldn’t help but see the human misery in his mind’s eye.

“An area of the city so dire in its poverty that even the poorest of the poor scarcely touch it. The last land free for development in the entirety of Manhattan and Harry and I have bought the lot. The whole neighbourhood, at fire-sale prices.” Sebastian paused for a moment. “No doubt, you’re wondering, Charles, what I could possibly want with this land. Developing it, no doubt, will cost a lot, even for someone of my financial resources. But why? Why would I do such a thing?”

For a man who claims he doesn’t want to drag it out further, he certainly is. Charles admonished himself gently. Whatever this is is important. Let him have his moment. Charles took a small sip of the scotch, tasting the exquisite, smoky, slightly peaty flavour and feeling it slide hotly down his throat. He thought about Moira. He hoped she was doing well. They had spoken since the divorce, of course, there was always business to discuss, but there was always an invisible wall between them, would always be. No matter how much they both still cared for each other, no matter how devoted they both were to making a better world, there would always be something bitter there.

“You’ve done good work at your Institute, Charles.” Sebastian continued, looking Charles squarely in the eye, as if the other people in the room didn’t exist. “But we both know that you can only accommodate so many people there. The model of the Institute is essentially educational, geared towards teenagers. Essential towards our mutual goals, yes, but not sufficient. The Abyss presents a solution to this.” Sebastian gestured towards the scale model, which shifted before his eyes, the run-down tenements become gleaming new high-rises, blocks of brownstones rising from out of nowhere, a mid-sized park emerging from burnt-out warehouses and finally, what looked like an impressive university from virtually nothing. “We can name it what we like, of course. But I think people will end up calling it Mutant Town regardless.

My plan over the next several years is to create an urban community of mutants, right here in America’s greatest city. One that can sustain and benefit thousands, rather than merely dozens. Anchored by a full-sized university capable of offering educational and research opportunities equal to or superior than just about any institution of higher education in the world. Businesses. Homes. A real community, built within easy transportation access of the Xavier Institute. You speak of your dream often, Charles, of mutants and humans living together in peace. Dreaming has its place, of course. But as for me, I prefer building. ”

Charles looked over the map for a long, quiet moment, at the houses, apartments and businesses that seemed to come out of nowhere, at the grand-looking university. It seemed impossible and yet, he knew that if anyone could make it happen, it was Sebastian Shaw. It wasn’t simply about money, it was also about the political connections to be able to make things happen quickly. The Mayor, the Governor, both New York Senators, several of the representatives, all of them owed Sebastian dearly.

“... it’s an impressive notion. But … why?” Charles looked up at Sebastian. “You’re not an altruist, Sebastian. How do you benefit from the creation of a mutant community? If anything, I would imagine you would want to publicly divest yourself from mutants.” The rumours may have been suppressed fairly well, but they remained active. There were certainly people who believed that Sebastian Shaw was a mutant, in a climate where such an admission was political cyanide.

“How strange, Charles, that I’m presenting an idealistic vision and you’re being so … pragmatic about it. Distrustful, even.” Sebastian had clearly anticipated the question, however, because he didn’t hesitate for a moment before continuing. “You’re right, of course. I’m not an idealist, I’m not a dreamer. I’m a businessman, a politician, a pragmatist. A mutant community, if successful, is of course, a boon to your dream, but it is also a colossal source of untapped wealth.” Sebastian stopped again for a moment, taking a long sip of his cognac. “There’s nothing sinister about it. Mutants possess unique abilities. Like any other American, they need money, jobs, in order to secure the life they want for themselves, their families. I intend to give them those opportunities. I confidently predict that, in the long run, I will be making a profit on Mutant Town. Meanwhile, we all ensure that it works politically as well. Call it enlightened self-interest if you like.”

“The public will come to realize in time, that mutants are much the same as others. They want jobs, security, a chance to prove themselves. A place where they can live without constantly being the object of fear and hatred. A place where they are not so utterly, cripplingly alone.” It was Tessa that spoke next and Charles noticed a small side-glance towards Hank. “The establishment of Mutant Town gives us a priceless opportunity. To develop and nurture that place ourselves. Our resources are great, but I think we can all agree that the need is at least as great.”

Charles looked at the model again and he knew that Sebastian was going to build it regardless of what Charles did. He’s made it so that if I desire to have any say whatsoever in how any of this goes down, I need to join with him. Wholeheartedly and not tentatively like I have before.

“It’s very impressive, Sebastian. What do you need from me? Certainly not money.” Charles smiled somewhat wryly. “I’m already building up a ferocious debt to a few different people.” One of which is you. But I’m certain you’re well aware of that, Sebastian. Aware and ready to use it as leverage if you need to. Perhaps you’d be more open about it. But there’s people close to you that are invested in you trying the diplomatic approach. His eye shifted over to Emma for a moment. Diplomatic. To say the least. Just what do you intend with my son, Emma?

There was a small part of him that would be eager to see Scott manage to move on from Jean’s loss. Though Scott was hesitant to admit it, Charles knew that Emma had made something of an impression on him. Logan had confirmed in his own brusque way that there was something between them, though Scott was likely to deny it. Something I should be concerned about, no doubt, but a concern for another day.

“You have an expertise that I cannot match, no matter how much money I have.” Sebastian replied. “The X-Men. The proprietary technology you have at your Institute. Your own reputation as an expert on the science but also the social realities of mutation. People know that I am a businessman. People look at you and they see a visionary. Of course, if you declined interest, I would pursue the project anyway. I’ve invested in it too much to stop now. But I would be far more confident of success with your assistance. And I think we can both agree that failure is the worst of all possible worlds. In return for your assistance, I can promise you full funding and resources for your Institute and the X-Men. As much as you need, and I know you need a lot.

I can also guarantee that all those precious and talented young people under your wing have jobs, if they desire them. Not just with Shaw Industries, but with Frost Media, Worthington Insurance, countless other companies under the control of the Hellfire Club’s inner circle. Whether they choose to be open about their mutant identity or not. Furthermore, you can be assured that we will all work very, very hard indeed to ensure that the world becomes a better, safer place for mutants, by hook or by crook.” Sebastian smirked broadly, seemingly confident that he had Xavier’s support already.

He’s not far wrong. Charles looked over at the city model again- at the possibility of being able to reach and help thousands of mutants, of being able to potentially demonstrate that mutants could create communities peacefully within the larger city, of actually building something tangible. Every man has their price and I feel like I’ve reached mine.

“I look forward to seeing the plans in greater detail, Sebastian.” Charles reached out his hand, which Sebastian shook firmly.

“You won’t regret it, Charles. I promise.” Sebastian grinned.

I hope not, Sebastian.

Chapter Text

“I think it’s stupid that you’d go on a date with someone you’ve never met.” Illyana cocked her head slightly to the side. “And Betsy’s going to be pissed. Even if you’re taking a break or whatever you guys do. Stop fiddling around with your tie. It’s actually sitting straight, for once.” She hopped down from the table. “You look fine for your dumb blind date. Who set this up, anyway? Someone dumb. Just like the dumb person who came up with the idea of a blind date.”

“Kurt and Wanda did.” Piotr replied, raising his eyebrow. “They are not dumb, snowflake. And it is … complicated between Elisabeth and I. Which is all you will hear, because you should be concerned about your math homework and not the details of your brother’s love life.” Piotr sighed and glanced quickly in the mirror once more. Everything did seem to be in order. The flowers. Piotr reached over to pick up the flowers.

“Just don’t put “It’s Complicated” on your Facebook, big bro. Because I’d have to unfriend you for that.” Illyana sighed. “I mean, I guess, I hope you have a nice dumb blind date. I guess I’ll stay here, and study math. I can’t wait for when my awesome mutant powers manifest and I can be a kickass superhero. And when I’m a superhero and a Broadway actress, I won’t have to worry about stupid old math ever again.” Illyana rarely wasted an opportunity to make her hatred of math well-known. “Maybe see if Kitty wants to play video games or something. She’s probably busy with stupid college.”

“College isn’t stupid. You’ll be going there, I hope.” Piotr turned back towards Illyana for a moment. “It’s good, actually. You get to choose what you take. You don’t even have to take math if you don’t want to.” He chuckled softly. “Unfortunately, neither of us seem to have got Mom’s scientific mind.” Then again, father was a cosmonaut and you didn’t get to be a cosmonaut with poor scores. “And thank you, snowflake, I’m certain I’ll have a good ‘dumb’ blind date. I trust my friends’ judgement.”

“You’re totally going out on a date with an Avenger.” Illyana raised her eyebrow. “Like, who else is it gonna be. I mean, it’d be hilarious if it was with one of the new teachers here or something, but I doubt it. Pretty hard to keep anything secret around here. Trust me, I try to keep things secret and Mom finds out. She always finds out. This place sucks sometimes. But yeah, uh, have a good blind date.” Illyana smirked. “Back before midnight. Or you’re grounded.”

“Very funny, snowflake.” Piotr rolled his eyes slightly, but then he realized that it was just about time to go. Kurt and Wanda had made it very clear that just about everything about the occasion was to be a secret. He wasn’t even going to be able to know where the date was to be held. The taxi would be sent to pick him up and he’d be driven to a restaurant and then to a show. It would be available for him to go home or wherever else he needed after the show. They’re certainly being very mysterious about it. I wonder who it is.

In any case, Piotr quickly grabbed the flowers and a package of fine chocolates from a Belgian chocolatier in the city before heading downstairs, to where Kurt was waiting, leaning slightly against the door with a broad fanged grin on his face. Kurt checked his watch and then looked up. “Ah, Piotr. Ready for your evening, I see. The taxi should be here any moment to take you into the city. And don’t worry, the fares have been taken care of already. In fact …” Kurt glanced out as there was a faint sound of a car pulling up. “There it is! Good night, friend, and good luck!” Kurt’s grin widened slightly before he disappeared in puff of sulfurous smoke. Piotr hoped that the brimstone stink of his teleportation didn’t stick- Kurt was a good friend, but that would surely be an end to a date before it began.

Piotr watched the car pull up, a long sleek vehicle- no taxicab at all, but a limousine, and quite a fine model of one at that. The driver came out of the vehicle and moved around to open the door for him. Piotr took a breath, knowing that there was a greater than zero chance that his date would be in there already. His eye glanced towards the other side of the vehicle and almost instantly, that breath he had taken was stolen from him.

Intellectually, he knew that there was a pretty reasonable chance that his blind date was going to be an Avenger, because Wanda was a member of the team and Kurt spent plenty of time at Avenger Mansion himself. Illyana’s sarcastic commentary had made it clear that Piotr was far from the only person who thought that was a possibility. Logically, he shouldn’t have been terribly surprised to find himself seated next to an Avenger.

Still, those reasonable and logical expectations did nothing to prepare him for the fact that Natasha Romanova, better known as the Black Widow, was seated only a few feet from where he was. To say that she was beautiful was something beyond an understatement. Piotr immediately felt both very fortunate and immensely in over his head. One thing that the evening will not be, most certainly, is boring. And now I’ve got get myself together in a second before she thinks I’m completely useless.

“Hello, Piotr.” Natasha spoke, in a slightly aristocratic Russian, instead of English. “I hope you won’t be too upset with the fact that I found out early. I’m absolutely terrible with surprises.”

“Upset?” Piotr laughed and then smiled more softly, presenting her with the roses. “Not at all. I’m just happy that you’re here anyway. You look … I don’t have the words, really. In English or Russian. I’m not really a poet-” I’m probably making a complete ass of myself. One of the most beautiful, intelligent and sophisticated women in the world and here I am acting like some lovesick teenager.

“You’re an artist.” Natasha smiled and took the flowers and the chocolates. “Thank you, they’re beautiful. You look good yourself.” She leaned over to lingeringly kiss him on the cheek and he could feel himself flush. The car started and they started on their way to the restaurant. Piotr glanced around himself for a moment, scarcely able to believe where he was. I’m in a limousine, on a date with the Black Widow. Either this is going to be a very good night or something is going to go catastrophically wrong. Danger did tend to follow the Avengers, and particularly, their most mysterious member.

“Thank you.” He noticed that there was a minifridge with champagne and glasses and glanced back over at her. “Shall I? I know it’s not good Russian vodka, but champagne is nice too.” Especially considering that, realistically, it was going to be a fairly long drive. If they were going into the city, it would probably be the better part of an hour on the road. And perhaps a little champagne might go a long way towards making me less ridiculously nervous.

“I would love some champagne, thank you” Natasha replied and then glanced over at him with a slightly raised eyebrow. “So, how are you enjoying the life of a superhero? I heard you were launched out of a plane at supersonic speed as a human bullet. I have to admit, that’s pretty impressive. You don’t seem any the worse for wear for it, either.”

“It is … I like being able to do what I can. To be able to put my strength to good use.” Piotr suspected that sounded desperately silly, but it was the plain and simple truth. He was never good at exaggerating things to make himself sound more impressive. “I suppose so? I just remember it was over very quickly. I was a little sore the next morning.” He laughed slightly. “I think it is much more impressive what you do.”

“Last I checked, if I hit anything at supersonic speeds, I’m basically a smear on the pavement.” Natasha shook her head, her gaze returning to him for a moment. “I’ve done my homework. Like I said, I’m terrible with surprises. I know, for example, that you’re far too modest. You’ve done things that would give Thor a run for his money. Actually, I’d pay good money to see you arm wrestle him.” Natasha looked him over for another moment, as if she were sizing him up. “You don’t think you’re much of a fighter, but everything I’ve seen suggests differently.”

“It is … not that simple.” Piotr wasn’t sure how much he wanted to share about his deepest insincerities and fears on a first date. It seemed improper, even if he wasn’t solely concerned with impressing her. She was the Black Widow. Piotr supposed she didn’t impress easily. “I do what I can, when I am needed. It seems, though-” Piotr was unable not to give a slight wry smile. “It seems that is fairly often, though. There is a lot of demand for superheroes these days.”

“Tell me about it.” Natasha laughed softly.

Piotr remembered the champagne, opening the bottle and pouring two flutes, passing one over to her. “To superheroics? May we survive the experience.” Probably the worst toast that anyone has ever made. Piotr didn’t particularly have a lot of expectations of the evening, but even so, he suspected he’d have to revise them downwards. Why did I agree to a blind date, anyway? It’s not like I’m particularly good at meeting people.

“I’ll drink to that.” Natasha smiled slightly and raised her class delicately to clink with Piotr’s own. Whatever she had felt about his toast, she disguised it artfully and he was grateful for that. “But we could talk about our many adventures all night long. I can learn anything I need to know about Colossus through SHIELD archives. I’d like to know a bit about Piotr Rasputin.” Green eyes met his intently and Piotr felt his heart rate rise just a little.

Piotr tried not to simply stammer incoherently or blush like a virgin schoolboy. He smiled back instead. “Do I get to find out about Natasha Romanova?” Piotr hoped that it came out flirtatiously rather than simply prying. It had been easier with Elisabeth- Betsy had always simply taken the lead. It is not good to think about that right now, though. Besides, it is not as if I have any particular expectations of where tonight will go.

“Perhaps a little bit.” Natasha replied, an immaculate eyebrow arching slightly. “A girl doesn’t share her secrets on the first date. Particularly when they’re in my line of work.” She leaned forward ever so slightly, and as absolutely lovely as her eyes were, Piotr found himself struggling not to stare downwards. Piotr’s hand fidgeted ever so slightly, unconsciously. He wanted a pencil and paper, badly. Maybe I should start taking art supplies out on dates.

As obviously alluring as Natasha’s figure was, though, it was her face and the expression on it that Piotr most needed to capture. She resembled nothing so much as a lioness at rest, regarding a male with gentle amusement. At the moment, she was relaxed, perhaps even intrigued by the man before her- though Piotr wondered if he was flattering himself with that particular assessment, but he knew that in less than a heartbeat, that she could strike if she felt the need to. Even at rest, Natasha Romanova was always ready for a sudden crisis.

“You really are an artist.” Natasha finally spoke, her laugh almost musical. She must have caught the expression of surprise on Piotr’s face, because she let out a small half-laugh. “I’ve learned enough about men to pick up the small nuances in the way they look at women. I also saw your hand twitch ever so slightly. It’s what you think about first, isn’t it, when you see a beautiful woman?”

“Yes.” Piotr admitted, seeing no reason to lie and suspecting that there was no way that he would be able to do so successfully. She is a trained spy, first by Russia and then with SHIELD and even if she were not, I am a terrible liar. Elisabeth regularly teased him for that, as he sometimes proved incapable of even hiding the simplest of surprises from her.

“Wanda should have told me that.” Natasha leaned back for a moment, the slight smile on her lips turning into something like a grin. “I couldn’t resist doing a little digging on my own. I have to admit, I’m very, very bad at the entire concept of the blind date. I’m a spy. I never go into the field without intelligence. When did you first realize you were an artist? Or have you always known?”

Piotr decided that he needed another sip of the champagne before he started. It was pleasant enough to focus on the present when it came to his art, but Piotr didn’t always like discussing the past. If one went too far into the past, one always came back to Mikhail, his elder brother. Mikhail, who continually mocked Piotr for his artistic inclinations and gentle nature. They were only a few years apart and Piotr quickly became bigger than Mikhail, but he’d always been afraid of his strength, had never wanted to tap into the reservoir of violence and rage that he knew simmered somewhere deep within him.

Like many, perhaps most, men in Russia, Mikhail was virulently macho and despised anything that he saw as weakness. Even now, he could hear Mikhail’s voice in his head. Real men don’t sit there with paints. If you want to be an artist, why don’t you just go to Paris and suck French cocks? They love queers like you there. Piotr tried to put the thought of his head, before it showed up visually. He didn’t know if Natasha would have inquired about it, but the last thing he wanted to do was talk about Mikhail with her, or anyone.

“I always enjoyed drawing.” Piotr spoke, conscious that he’d hesitated for a few seconds. “I would draw everything around the house. We had a cat and I would try to draw the cat, but it would never hold still.” The innocent thought of Sasha lazily sitting on the apartment balcony curdled when Piotr remembered what had happened to the old cat. She had gone missing and while Mother and Illyana thought that she’d simply run into a stray dog, Piotr knew better. I don’t think I could ever tell Mother that. She knows Mikhail had problems, deep-seated ones but I don’t think she understands just how much of a monster he was.

“I guess … I had never thought that I could be an artist.” Dreamed about it, perhaps, but he had never thought it could be a real possibility. “But one time, a girl that I liked at school found one of my drawings. I think it was from a photograph of a girl in a magazine. I’d liked her chin, of all things.” Piotr laughed slightly at the absurdity of it all and he was slightly relieved when Natasha chuckled softly alongside him. “She asked me to draw her.” Piotr paused for a moment and then smiled. “Well, it was not so much that she asked that she demanded that I do so.”

“And you did?” Natasha asked, her eyebrow raised ever so slightly.

“I did.” Piotr replied and then couldn’t help but blush. In truth, the drawing had been a pretext on her part. “I insisted on it, actually.” She had accused him of being a tease, but it hadn’t been about anything like that. He’d just wanted to draw her while he had the chance. “Soon after, I started doing the best I could to learn more, to get more technique. I do as much painting now as drawing. Mostly oils. Nature scenes, as well as portraits. And sometimes, things that only exist in my imagination. Dreams.” And nightmares as well. Particularly the nightmares. Piotr always had plenty of those to inspire his art.

“When I was a young girl, I wanted to be a ballerina.” If Piotr was not mistaken, Natasha’s tone was almost wistful. “I was good at it, good enough to get a scholarship at a dance school.” She actually glanced out of the window for a moment and for the first time, Natasha Romanova, the mysterious, sexy, infinitely dangerous Black Widow, seemed as vulnerable as any other person. As quickly as the moment came, though, it passed away. “I’m an even better spy, though.” She smiled as if to say that’s all of the real Natasha you’ll see for awhile.

Perhaps even that, however, was some manner of trick or test. The truth was, that Piotr really didn’t know. The only thing that he knew for certain was that his night was not likely to be boring.

Piotr did hope, however, that some time soon, he had the opportunity to sketch or paint Natasha. He could feel his hand curl ever so slightly again, aching to be holding a pencil in his hands. I’m not sure whether it’s a strength or a weakness at this point.

“You’re composing a portrait again.” Natasha seemed amused. “I feel like I should be posing.”

“No.” Piotr shook his head and smiled, unable not to laugh slightly. “I do not … I like to have subjects act naturally. I’m interested in who they are, capturing that, more than arranging them in a certain way. When I do a portrait or a study, I am sketching or painting a person, not an object to be manipulated at will. Otherwise, it is dishonest.”

“And you’re a very honest person, aren’t you, Piotr?” Natasha asked and her expression became something that was difficult to read.

“Yes, I suppose so.” Piotr laughed but he swore there was something just the tiniest bit sad in the emerald green eyes looking back at him.

“Hold onto that, Piotr Rasputin.” And then Natasha leaned over to kiss his cheek and, even though they hadn’t even arrived at the restaurant yet and though she made no move or action to suggest she was leaving, part of him was pretty sure that it was a goodbye of sorts.

Chapter Text

It had been just over two years since Cape Citadel.

For a long time, Magneto had simply remained in hiding in an old safehouse he’d set up, unsure of how to, or whether it was even appropriate for him to continue the struggle. He had been plagued by what had happened there. I nearly killed several people I cared about. He remembered desperately trying to bring life back into Rogue- he had just managed to reset her heartbeat when the arrival of the other X-Men had given him a brief window of escape. When he’d finally arrived at his safehouse, he’d sincerely wondered if he should have turned himself in for the crimes he had committed.

Magneto knew that Jean Grey had despised him, hated him even, for a long time but regardless of how she had felt about him in life, he had been astonished by her power and courage in death. We may have found ourselves to be enemies, tragically, but I can give her a fair measure of respect. He also wondered how things might have been different if the students at the Xavier Institute had followed him, instead of opposing him. Considering just how passionately, how bravely, they had fought him, it was difficult for Magneto to imagine failing.

There was no point living in the past, however. What had been done was done and he had realized that he could no more abandon the struggle than he could voluntarily stop breathing. Humanity continued to oppress mutantkind and if anything, the signs were that things were getting worse. The current American President was, by some people’s standards, a moderate. It was likely that the man or woman who followed him was not going to be. There had been dark talk in Washington about Senator Robert Kelly running for President, backed by the Friends of Humanity and the Purity Movement.

Making the situation infinitely worse was the fact that many of the most powerful and capable mutants seemed so completely hell-bent on opposing their own kind. Sebastian Shaw’s Hellfire Club had blatantly sided with Senator Robert Kelly and now, even Charles Xavier had joined in an unholy alliance with the Club. The betrayal felt particularly personal, because he had reached an understanding with the Hellfire Club previously. With Tessa, in particular- he had foolishly placed some trust in her word. In her person.

For some time, however, Magneto had felt utterly incapable of accomplishing any of those goals himself- that he had failed and that it was best to fade into the background and allow others to do the hard work of rallying mutantkind against the innumerable threats that faced it. His failure had, after all, been gigantic- there was no other way to consider it. How many mutants might have died in the nuclear aftermath of Cape Citadel? Could I truly accept the deaths of so many humans?

The first year or so had been a dark time for Magneto indeed, as he hid from the authorities and grappled with the question of how to proceed, if there was a means of proceeding at all. He had not bothered with contacting Raven or the Brotherhood- he figured that injuring Rogue was the final nail in the collapse of a relationship that, if he was being honest with himself, had been on the decline for some time. Raven was forced to choose between the struggle and her family and she made her choice very clear.

And yet, it had increasingly become apparent to Magneto that not everyone followed the standard narrative of Cape Citadel. The image of his helmet had been spray painted on buildings in cities across the world. He had become aware of underground communities of mutants, organized loosely on what Raven had called the Deep Web, who were waiting for his return, eagerly. Magneto had come to realize that he had many, many potential followers, ones that would follow him far more loyally than the disorganized band of teenagers he had grandiloquently dubbed the Brotherhood of Mutants.

Magneto had at first joined the community more or less to observe it, curious about the phenomenon that had sprung up, somewhat surprised at first to hear that he’d become a nearly messianic figure. He suspected that a great many of the people on the Mutant Underground weren’t genuinely mutants, or were simply dabbling. There were certainly dissenting voices- one of the more prominent commentators, simply named Excalibur, had a remarkably dim view of just about all of the major figures involved. He had quickly developed vague notion that ShadowKitten was actually Kitty Pryde, though he had no real proof of that.

Over time, Magneto had gained something of a following in the community under his moniker NeverAgain. He had once found himself smiling ever so slightly to see a thread where people were supposedly ironically declaring NeverAgain to be a reborn Magneto. As usual, Excalibur and ShadowKitten were fiercely criticizing the premises of the post, just as they’d tended to try to attack anything he’d posted, in tandem. Magneto wondered if Excalibur was also someone involved with the school, though it didn’t seem to match anyone he knew.

Magneto had carefully noted the people that he thought were the most receptive to his ideals in the community over a long period, people that seemingly had a fierce belief in mutant nationalism, people that were consistent supporters of his. Those who seem happy enough to follow me, thinking me merely a supporter of Magneto, rather than the man himself. There was one in particular that he’d found out lived not far from where his safehouse was.

A few days ago, he had made his intentions plain to that person, a woman who went by the name InTheMist, who claimed to be a mutant teleporter, that he wished to meet her. Magneto knew it was something of a risk being out in the open, but he’d risked far more in the past. I cannot hide here forever. I must fight for our race, by any means necessary. I cannot do so while hiding here. And this online community means nothing so far as it is just discussion.

NeverAgain: I’d like to meet you. In person. We don’t live far apart.

InTheMist: Why should I trust a guy who won’t even put up a pic?

NeverAgain: I have very good reasons for that. You’ll understand immediately. I certainly can’t blame you for being hesitant, but if I recall, you have abilities that permit rapid escape from an unpleasant situation.

InTheMist: You could say that. You’ve never mentioned your own powers.

InTheMist: I know what you’re going to say. You’re going to say you have very good reasons.

NeverAgain: I promise you that it will all make sense.

InTheMist: Maybe my curiosity is outweighing my better judgement. But I’ll be there.

NeverAgain: You won’t regret it.

InTheMist: If I do, you will too. I can teleport other people. Parts of people, too. I wouldn’t agree to this if that weren’t the case.

NeverAgain: Of course. I look forward to meeting you. Online discussion is all well and good, but I think we’re capable of much more than that.

InTheMist: What about the others? Milan? ConquistadorX? Prophet?

NeverAgain: In due time, I hope to meet all of them.

InTheMist: But I happened to be the closest one? And the girl?

NeverAgain: More the first than the second. I find your candor refreshing as well.

InTheMist: “I find your candor refreshing.” I don’t think anyone says that in real life. I find that weirdly reassuring. No cop would make that up.

NeverAgain: So refreshing.

InTheMist: I’ll be there. Don’t be weird. Well, weird-er. :)

NeverAgain: I look forward to meeting you.

Part of Magneto wanted to simply show up in his full regalia- that would assuredly quite an impression upon his first new follower. However, he deemed it far more practical to simply wear civilian clothing, though he couldn’t quite bring himself to wear ordinary casual clothes. He’d finally settled on a closely-trimmed suit, with the shirt and tie reflecting the crimson and royal purple colours that he had chosen to wear as Magneto. As something of an afterthought, he’d had flowers delivered to a third party, which he’d later picked up. There was still a small part of him that remained an Old World gentleman.

Considering that he could have simply flown under his own power, it was somewhat strange for Magneto to take a cab like an ordinary human to the city park that he’d marked as their meeting place- but he didn’t particularly want to attract attention to himself. Not right now. There will come a time for that later. I have only begun to prepare for the next war. He journeyed into the park confidently, free of any particular concern for his own safety. If any thug thought to interfere with me, they would regret it, though likely not for long.

Magneto glanced around himself as he walked towards the statue that InTheMist had identified as their meeting place. It had been a clear night but as he grew closer to the site, he had become aware of a faint mist, one that became more and more thick and substantial as he came closer. It seemed far too neat for it to be a coincidence. I suppose I should not be surprised that her online handle described her powers literally, though as I recall, she described herself as a teleporter.

He turned at the faint sound of footsteps on the paved path and turned to see a tall, slender female form emerging from the mist, not simply walking closer to him, but taking shape within it. More specific, individual details continued to take shape out of the mist. Red hair and blue eyes. A somewhat wary expression on her face. Magneto removed his hat, as a gentleman always did in the presence of ladies and waited to see if she recognized the visage. The media had done a very good job of disseminating his face- it was unlikely that he could travel too far without someone recognizing him.

“Holy shit.” Her eyes opened wide and the wary look dissipated completely. “You’re … you’re actually him. Magneto.” She stopped dead in her tracks. “You’re Magneto.” She glanced around her quickly, seemingly able to see through the mist that enshrouded them almost totally. Her expression turned to one of astonishment and clear joy. “Does anyone else know?”

“Not yet.” Magneto replied honestly. “But soon, yes. It has been too long. Too many people are complacent in what they believe is peace.” He offered a small smile. “But I’m being terribly ungentlemanly. I am, indeed, Magneto.” He reached out to take her hand, with absolutely no resistance from her, ghosting a tiny kiss onto the front of it. Old-fashioned, certainly, but some traditions are worthwhile. I suppose I cannot totally escape my upbringing, much as I would like to. “And who are you? I feel dreadfully awkward saying InTheMist in perpetuity.”

“I don’t have any … I don’t have a mutant name. But I guess you can call me Amelia.” Amelia replied and Magneto was quite certain he could see the beginnings of a blush in her cheeks. She seemed to recover herself quite quickly though. A strong woman, not easily overwhelmed. And even when she is, she recovers swiftly. It reminded Magneto a little bit of Raven, though he was certain the two women were as different as night and day. “I’m guessing you have a greater purpose to this. I mean, I’m pretty sure this constitutes a lot more than you swiping right. I mean, we didn’t exactly meet on Tinder.”

“Not without, at the very least, a nice dinner.” Magneto teased gently, before he forced himself to be more serious. She had asked a serious question and deserved an honest answer. “Cape Citadel taught me many things. The first and foremost of those being that I cannot simply accomplish the liberation of our mutant race alone, regardless of how powerful I am. I need people that I can rely on. I had a few followers before, but they were unreliable. Ideologically as well as personally. I have reason to believe that you and some of the others I have met through the Mutant Underground may be different.”

“I’ve seen the footage of your abilities at work a million times. It’s … pretty amazing. But any leader needs followers. And nobody can build a movement by themselves.” Amelia took a step closer. “So for what little it’s worth, I’m up for that. You’re right when you said that a lot of people are being suckered by this false peace. But I know this isn’t peace. This is a ceasefire. I’ve seen the ugly side of things before. It always comes back there. We need to stand up or we’ll be cut down.”

Magneto raised an eyebrow slightly. “Where?” There was something about the look in her eye that suggested she meant what she was saying. Magneto doubted that she had seen anything that compared to the horrors that he had witnessed himself, but she’d seen something truly ugly. Nobody who hadn’t experienced the ugly, brutal side of humanity personally could say those words with the same amount of conviction in her eyes.

“I was in the armed forces. The Bundeswehr, not the US Armed Forces.” She has a German accent. Magneto felt a tiny sliver of loathing, but almost immediately fought it down. He was guessing that she was in her early thirties, so she would have been born many decades after the war. Unless her father was older, he probably had no direct experience of Nazi Germany either. And of course, I am in no small part, German, myself. It was the language we spoke at home when I was a boy.

“We went to Afghanistan. They didn’t know about my mutant powers- I was an army nurse. Saw the aftermath of an attack on a girl’s school. Other things too, but that’s what I remember. They made the CO report it as a Taliban attack, but it wasn’t. It was local warlords. I was pretty used to seeing some fucked-up injuries. But not like that. And not on twelve-year old girls.” Amelia looked directly into his eyes, not afraid to relate the story in the slightest. “And then, last year, there was an attack in this city. The Friends found out about two mutant kids. The youngest of them was an eight-year old boy. I thought I’d left the war behind when I got home. When I immigrated to an entirely different country.”

“I don’t know if the war ever ends.” Magneto replied candidly. “Will you fight for the mutant race? Knowing that you may not only witness devastation, but cause it?”

Amelia nodded. “Yes. I’ll fight.” There was no hint of prevarication or hesitation in her voice. “All that ceasefires are good for is for the sides to rebuild their strength. We’ve got to start doing it. They’re doing it. Look at the lunatics that are coming out of the woodwork to run for the Presidency.”

“The storm is coming.” Magneto nodded in agreement and then glanced around. “I suppose I shouldn’t be so surprised that your community name referenced your powers. You said you were a teleporter, though?” He raised his eyebrow. It was far from unheard of for mutants to have multiple powers, even those that were seemingly unrelated.

“I am.” Amelia replied and reached out her hand. “Your turn to extend some trust, I guess.”

Magneto took it without hesitation, as the mist became even more substantial and he could barely even make out her hand in his. The next thing that happened is that all sensation of physicality seemed to die away slowly as he realized he was becoming one with the mist as well. The whole thing took only a few seconds, though, and Magneto found himself inside what looked like a modest, but very well-kept apartment. Her own, I am guessing. Quite impressive, really.

“How far did we just teleport?” Magneto asked, his eyebrow raised slightly.

“Not too far. About a kilometer.” Amelia replied as the residual mist disappeared with a small gesture of her hand. “I can go a lot further than that.”

Magneto’s eyebrow raised a little higher. “How far have you teleported?”

“Well, Magneto …” Amelia smiled faintly. “I don’t know about you, but I’m actually feeling rather hungry. I know a lovely place I could take us.” She paused for a second, as for dramatic effect. “It’s in Paris. Unless, of course, you had other plans.”

“Was that part of your plan all along?” Magneto couldn’t help but grin slightly. “Whisk me away to Paris?” As if I would be opposed to such a thing. It seemed to indicate that Amelia’s interest may not have been entirely ideological. He supposed that was potentially risky, being entangled. At the same time, I am a man and it has been quite some time. “I’d love to.” Distantly, Magneto remembered that it had been some time since he’d eaten himself.

“And then in the morning, we can find Prophet. He’s in France.” Amelia smiled thinly. “You’ve been so busy with inspiring us with your rhetoric that I don’t know if you’ve actually remembered to find out where all your biggest fans are. Conquistador’s in Spain. Frenzy lives in Detroit. Milan, well, you could probably guess where he is. Untouchable’s Italian too.” She smiled thinly. “I know where most of them are and I can take you to them.”

Excellent. It began to dawn on Magneto just how useful it would be to have a follower who could teleport virtually anywhere on the planet- certainly, he power seemed to absolutely beggar Kurt’s relatively modest teleportation abilities. “If you know where they are, why not simply gather them? The sooner, the better.”  

“I’m not a charismatic leader.” Amelia explained, going on without missing a beat. “That’s you. They won’t follow me. They’ll go to the ends of the Earth for Magneto.” She raised her eyebrow and walked over closer to him again, holding out her hand. “You are the boss. If you really want to, we can start tonight. But I thought you might like to celebrate a little first. I think a nice dinner is a very nice beginning to that.”

Magneto raised his eyebrow slightly. “Beginning?”

“Permission to be frank?” Amelia replied with a faint smirk on her face.

Magneto couldn’t help but smile faintly at that. “Granted.”

“I’m kind of dying to see what you look like naked.” Amelia laughed and Magneto realized that she was ogling him. “I’m German. You tell a German to be frank, and we’re going to be very direct. But you said that wasn’t going to happen without a nice dinner. I can promise you, Bistro Languedoc can make a very, very nice dinner.” Amelia offered her hand, but instead of simply taking it lightly, Magneto used it to pull her close to him and kiss her. As he expected, she responded immediately and passionately.

“We’ll find the others then, in the morning.” It had, of course, originally been her notion, but Magneto knew that he needed to own it. “Dinner, then?”

“Yeah …” Amelia replied, a little breathless. “Dinner.”

Chapter Text

Scott had to admit that this was one of the very best steaks he’d ever had, cooked perfectly rare, with just the right amount of marbling- seasoned flawlessly. Scott had found that the knife the restaurant gave him was barely needed- certainly, his teeth had never had an easier time of it. I have to admit, that Emma really knows her restaurants. It shamed him to admit that, even though he prided himself on his mastery of the grill, that there was no way he could make a steak this good himself.

“Don’t worry. I’ll still be here when the steak’s finished, Scott.” Emma quirked her eyebrow with amusement. “I told you that this was the best steakhouse in New York.” Emma cut herself a small piece of the meat, with immaculate precision and grace. “I fully expected that once you actually tasted that steak, your verbal abilities would almost completely shut down.” It vaguely annoyed Scott that Emma was so triumphalist about something so small as making a good choice of restaurant, but he had to admit, he also sort of admired her confidence.

“It’s pretty good.” Scott replied in a deliberate act of understatement. “But a good leader never lets his guard down, even if he’s having a good meal. You keep talking about this plan to mentor a group of younger mutants. I’m a details man. Let’s talk specifics.” It was well enough to have a nice meal, but this wasn’t a date. In any case, Scott knew that Emma liked to use charm as a weapon. At least with Jean, you know where you stood. And yet, Scott knew, that wasn’t always the case, when he thought of the difficult emotional situation that Wanda had been in.

“I know some promising young people, mostly with families affiliated with the Club. People who have excellent prospects in civilian life as well as mutant powers worth developing. You’ve a few of your own at your Institute. Admittedly, they’re not as refined-”

“You’re going to hold it against Laura for being unrefined?” Scott raised his eyebrow, though he wasn’t sure if Emma would even be able to see it behind his glasses. “You were there. You saw what her life was like. And Jubilee is an orphan.” He’d learned from background research that her parents had been killed in front of her, in a home invasion gone wrong. He also knew that the two girls had struck up something of a friendship.

“It’s a simple fact.” Emma replied, giving him a cool glance. “I do not recall making any statements of moral value. They’re both desperately in need of better socialization and reintegration into society. Laura particularly so- unless you intend on pushing her into your mutant paramilitary. Correct me if I am mistake, but I think your father would prefer people make their own choices. You can’t properly make choices if you don’t have options.”

“Fair enough.” Scott replied, because, honestly, it was. “Of course, you’re assuming that either of the two would go for it.” That seemed to be a fairly significant assumption. Laura had just moved out of protective custody into a room in the Institute. All in all, she had seemed to be remarkably retiring. She would appear at mealtimes and then disappear into her room. Occasionally, she’d hang out with Jubilee, more often with Logan. He was deeply unsure of how she’d relate to any sort of team scenario.

Jubilee, on the other hand, simply didn’t like obligation of any sort. Scott hesitated to say she was lazy, because she seemed to attack anything she was interested in with a single-minded determination. Deep down, Scott suspected she was a lot like him in the sense that she thought that her current situation was temporary and that she’d be by herself on the streets again. Maybe I should talk to her. But then she’d probably just roll her eyes. How many orphans end up like I did?

“I can’t speak for Jubilee, I don’t know her well enough, yet.” Emma put some emphasis on that last word, gently swirling her glass before taking a sip. Scott wouldn’t have minded a drink himself, but he was still underaged, at least by American law. “But I’m quite convinced, darling, that if you simply asked Laura kindly, she would. She relates more easily to Logan, yes, but she recognizes both of us as her liberators. Which is perhaps being a little manipulative-” Emma set down her glass and smiled thinly. “But it really is for her own good. It’s charming that she and Logan get on so well, but realistically, he can’t teach her everything she needs to know. I’ve seen the files. She’s academically gifted if you can engage her. And wouldn’t it be good for her to have some friends?”

“That sounds pretty good.” Scott paused for a moment. “But if you’re looking for academic and social tutoring, I’m not really your guy.” Scott was under no illusions about his social skills. People followed his orders in the field because they knew he was smart, that he was trustworthy, that he didn’t do things for stupid reasons. It wasn’t because he had any particular natural charisma.

“Oh, I’m very well aware of that, darling. Particularly the social element. A relief, really, that you seem to be realistic about your own flaws. But we do live in dangerous times and, furthermore, I think there’s a need for mutant superheroes. Many of these friends that you have, they won’t be heroes for long, most likely. And you do understand how to apply mutant abilities.” Emma glanced over at his water glass. “Are you certain you don’t want something to drink? No one’s going to ask, you know. And it’s not like you were driving. I see you looking forlornly at my glass of wine.”

Scott glanced around for a moment. He didn’t expect that he would’ve got a lot of attention from people in the restaurant, but there was something about how everyone seemed to very pointedly ignore them. Scott would’ve expected, if nothing else, to catch men at nearby tables trying to get a look at Emma. She hadn’t exactly dressed conservatively- Scott had to admit he’d looked her over a few times. No one was doing that.

“You’re doing something with the people here, aren’t you?” Scott raised his water glass and took a sip. “That’s pretty impressive. It’s a full room. There aren’t many telepaths who could do something like that and maintain an ordinary demeanour. Impressive, but dangerous. It’s not a long way from- what, a telepathic illusion, and outright mind control.”

“You’re also a sharp observer, darling.” Emma smirked faintly. “But you’re wrong about that last bit. I can assure you, there is a very, very large difference between a harmless illusion and actual mind control. Absolutely no one here even slightly inconvenienced right now. Mind control is- well, I imagine it’s a very unpleasant experience. I wouldn’t know, though.”

Scott set down his glass and looked over at her, knowing that it’d be his surface thoughts and the subtle set of his jaw that would communicate his feelings to her, as he couldn’t look her in the eyes. “I don’t play mind games, Emma. And I don’t work with people who do. And lastly, I’m not your darling. This isn’t a date. And maybe it was a mistake-” There was a faint commotion in the back. In the kitchen.

“Yes, perhaps it was. Perhaps I made the mistake of thinking that you weren’t completely wrapped up in your self-generated illusion of moral supremacy. Or that just maybe, you were capable of interacting with other people-” Scott didn’t let Emma finish, because immediately, three people burst out of the kitchen. He had only time to grab Emma and duck under the table. We can argue later. We’re being attacked. Surprised you didn’t notice that with your telepathy.

Too busy making our business meeting confidential, I suppose. Or … some sort of telepathic scrambler. I can penetrate it, but I need a moment to do so. Scott didn’t have time to reply, grabbing Emma and making sure to put himself in front of her, dashing over to the nearest wall corner with her as the two, who appeared to be some sort of cybernetically-enhanced soldiers, opened fire on them. Scott pressed the emergency contact button on his watch and then removed the timepiece as it formed into the components necessary to turn his civilian glasses into his combat visor.

One … two … now. Scott quickly peeked around the corner as one of them was just rounding it, a wide-spectrum, low-force blast knocking them both off their feet. The patrons in the restaurant were screaming, running in terror. Emma. Forget the scramblers for now. Get these people calm. He’d knocked down a few others as well, though with the beam he’d used, they’d probably be able to recover quickly. With the ability to actually aim properly, he fired a much more powerful blast at both of them, knocking them heavily to the ground. Help is on the way.

The remaining patrons seemed to be doing a good job of quickly and quietly leaving by all the exits. However these particular men seemed to be, they were clearly after Scott and Emma themselves, as they didn’t seem to be stopping the patrons from fleeing. Scott stepped out around the corner, blasting each of the two again with another relatively high-powered optic blast. “You’re not going to win this one.” Their guns had been knocked out of their hands and Scott only needed to will it to operate his weapon. “I suggest you talk before my friend here finds her way through that technology you’ve got.”

“So we’re friends now? A fair improvement from a few minutes ago. Perhaps I ought to be thanking these ruffians.” Emma turned the corner herself. “I know who sent them. Cybernetic enhancements. Pierce. No doubt he’s annoyed that his first little plan seemed to have backfired.” The cybernetically-enhanced thugs didn’t seem to be making any immediate moves on them. This doesn’t quite compute. He wanted to make sure that Emma was killed, I presume. If he’s got the resources to hack Sentinels, why send two low-rent enforcers after us?

“Bait. To lure you into a false sense of complacency.” Before Scott could properly react to the voice behind him, he felt the impact. It felt like he’d been hit by a truck, knocking out all the air from his lungs. Scott hurtled hard against the wall only to see a tall man, whom he could only assume was Pierce himself, holding Emma, an unnaturally tapered finger-claw, flesh-coloured but clearly not ordinary flesh against her throat.

“Don’t move. Or I’ll take off her pretty little head. Or maybe just nick this little artery here.” His finger-claw pressed against the pale flesh of her throat. “I wouldn’t attempt anything elaborate, either, Mr. Summers. If I so much as slip, I’ll surely nick something that you wouldn’t be able to un-nick in time.” Scott knew that behind him, the other men were stirring back awake. “I’m going to make you a simple offer, Scott. Stand down. I’ll take Emma. I’m sure you’ll live with the guilt of not doing anything. But you would live. At least for a time.”

“Why would I bargain with a man who’s willing to kill innocent people to settle his scores?” Scott wanted to keep him talking. Pierce seems like he might be a talker. I don’t need long. Just got to get my breath. Friends will be here soon. There was a virtually silent buzz against his temple. Help was on the way. “Just set her down, Pierce. You can walk away from this, too.” Don’t sound too sure, don’t sound too frightened. Make sure he can’t really read you. Emma, don’t move. Help is on the way.

I don’t think that will be a problem. That finger-claw is awfully sharp. Unfortunately, his psi-blocker is much better than those of his underlings. Scott was relieved that Emma seemed to still be capable of rational thought, enough to use understatement. He wondered if maybe he’d been a little harsh with her earlier. I’m still hardly convinced that working with her as she’d like is a good idea. In theory, maybe, but I don’t know if I can trust her. Right now, though, she was a young woman being menaced by a man who exuded predatory vibes.

“How charming of you. No doubt you’re trying to assure Emma that your friends are on their way. But how helpful is that, if she’s a corpse?” Donald gestured towards the door and Scott could see that he’d released his grip just slightly. It would only last half a second before he realized that he didn’t have his claw right on Emma’s throat, where he could see that it was weeping little droplets of blood. Half a second was all he needed. He hit Pierce hard with an optic blast, turning around and catching his two goons with a wide-spectrum blast.

Scott ran over to grab Emma, but before he could reach her, Pierce intercepted him, slashing out at incredible speed with his fingerclaws. Scott couldn’t change his momentum, only drop lower to the ground, as the claws whooshed only very faintly over his skull. The second blow was a vicious knee against his stomach which caused all the air to explode out of his lungs as he doubled over to his knees. A backhand slap caught Emma and she crumpled to the ground instantly, unconscious.

“I figured you were likely to play the hero.” Pierce left Emma for his goons to pick up as he picked Scott up and threw him against the wall, through the wall. Scott’s vision flickered but somehow, he stayed conscious. Pierce raised up his hand to strike Scott, the ordinary fingers turning into the long fingerclaws he’d seen earlier. But a huge metallic hand wrapped around Pierce’s arm and pulled backwards, hard enough to simply snap off the cybernetic arm at the shoulder. Pierce whirled around, but a similarly huge armoured fist plowed into his face.

What followed was a strange sight, from what Scott could gather, clinging to his consciousness. Pierce’s face first whipped back with the blow, blood and teeth arcing through the air and then slumped forwards. But his body didn’t slump downwards like Scott would’ve expected, but remained upright. Clearly this confused Piotr as well, for Pierce’s one-remaining arm batted Piotr aside and then his legs started taking him out of the combat, more quickly than anyone could run. Piotr got up almost immediately, totally unhurt by the blow and moved towards Scott, but Scott shook his head and managed to point towards Emma.

Piotr bent down towards Emma, gently checking her and steadying her to her feet as she regained consciousness. Scott tried getting to his own feet, but they wouldn’t support him. There was a searing pain in his chest. Damn, I’ve probably broken ribs at the very least. Pierce hits hard. “Where are the others?” Scott looked around. They were gone too. Probably went to help his boss. How’d he manage to escape. He looked like he’d been KO’d. Some sort of failsafe on the cybernetic systems? “Thought you were on a date, Pete.”

“I was.” Piotr replied simply as he went over, along with Emma, to get Scott to his feet. “I do not like blind dates much. I will ask that I do not go on another one again.” Scott couldn’t help but chuckle slightly, though every breath hurt and he was more than a little concerned about how far Pierce’s vendetta actually went. We’re lucky that he seems to be prone to fucking up. That could’ve been very, very dangerous if he were more capable. Bad enough as it was.

“And to think that you didn’t want to be my bodyguard after all, Piotr.” Emma was clearly still a little dazed, shaky on her feet. “I suppose I should probably go to a hospital. Or to yours, I suppose. Seeing as you have a doctor and a surgeon on the premises. Hopefully I don’t require the latter.” She glanced over at Scott. “Perhaps after we’re feeling better, some drinks? It doesn’t have to be a date.”

Scott was well aware that Piotr didn’t particularly like Emma and he couldn’t really blame the Russian for feeling the way he did, but he also knew that it was important that the relatively good relations between the Institute and the Hellfire Club continued. His father had explained the tentative plans for Mutant Town and the university in New York City. They weren’t going to happen if they resorted to outright conflict. That’d only make us weaker against our common enemies. We can’t have that happening.

“Yeah, sure. But first, medical attention. Because I’m pretty sure breathing isn’t supposed to hurt.” Scott felt slightly pathetic, barely able to stay on his feet, having lean fairly heavily on Piotr even to do that much. Thankfully, Piotr was almost limitlessly strong in his flesh form. Scott had no doubt he’d easily be able to get both of them where they needed to go. “Well, Pete, I’m sorry your date didn’t go so well-”

“But not really, I imagine.” Piotr smiled a little wryly.

“For what it’s worth, I also despise blind dates. Thankfully, I’m a telepath and that rarely happens.” Emma shook her head. “Well, I’ll lead the charge here and thank you for coming to our rescue. You are certainly … terrifically effective.”

“You’re welcome.” Piotr replied coolly. He glanced over at Scott for a moment, then, subtly, back at Emma. He thinks there’s more going on than there is, probably. Ugh. And yet, the idea of getting some drinks sound really, really good right now. Maybe Dad will let me at some of his scotch once I’ve seen Dr. McCoy.

Friends. Are we friends? Scott wondered if it was really possible. He thought about Jean. Scott doubted she’d like Emma much, in fact, was quite certain she wouldn’t. And yet, he couldn’t deny that, more often than not, he got along pretty well with her. I guess it’s all right be friends.

Isn’t it?

Chapter Text

“Well, Rogue, you weren’t kidding. This sure is … well, I’m not actually sure what makes something Canadian, but I think this place sure is that thing.” Longshot peered around at the surprisingly vast novelty store, flush with jerseys of Canadian sports teams, novelty beaver and moose-themed clothing and accessories and what he was pretty certain was the largest selection of maple syrup on the entire planet. Unless all Canadian stories in Canada were like this, which was something that Longshot didn’t know. Perhaps he’d look it up on the Internet when he got back. “So … we’re gonna get Wolverine a present? How did we figure out what day his birthday was, anyway?”

“We looked on in the internet. Hank’s Hellfire Club girlfriend found that he had the same date on his volunteer papers for the Civil War, World War I and World War II, so we figured that was probably his birthday. And we’re only getting part of the gift here.” Rogue picked up a plush beaver and gave it a gentle squeeze, making it start to sing Oh Canada in an a cartoony accent. “He was born around Red River, we think, so … uh, Winnipeg Jets jersey, I think.” Rogue picked up the list and pored over it closely. “I mean, I’m not actually a hundred percent sure that this is even the right direction to be going. I mean, it’s not like Canada the country was exactly super nice to Logan’s people.”

Longshot frowned when he heard that. He hated it when people weren’t kind to each other, especially when it was for no real reason. It’s one thing not to like someone who’s actually done you wrong, but it seems a lot of people love to hate people for silly things. “Well, but he is Canadian, right? I mean, maybe like … I wonder if stuff like maple syrup or sports stuff is okay. I mean, Logan does watch hockey sometimes. Not as much as Scott, but definitely not never. Does Logan like maple syrup … or ooo, Canadian whiskey. Logan likes that, uh, what’s it called? Comes in the fancy purple bag-”

“Crown Royal.” Rogue smiled, sidling over and giving Longshot the softest possible nudge with her shoulder. She hated it that she couldn’t just kiss him when he was being adorable, but the current situation made it impossible. They’d learned what was safe and had only made the mistake once. She’d only had a very brief glimpse inside of his mind from it. I can’t believe how far he’s come in such a short time. I surely wish Jean was around. Not just the reading and writing, but everything. He can still be a goof, bless his heart, but he’s learned so much. She smiled over at him again, fondly. “Yeah, he’d probably like some of that.”

Longshot smiled back at her and held out a gloved hand, into which she slipped her own gloved hand. The material on both of their gloves was thin, thin enough that she could feel a little bit of the warmth from his hand. Rogue gave his hand a tiny squeeze, the very gentlest she could- it’s not just my absorption powers that make intimacy hard, after all. Even if she could touch him freely, she’d have to be very careful lest she maim or kill him. Unlike Piotr, Rogue couldn’t magically turn her strength on or off.

“We should get him some Crown Royal then! And maple syrup! He likes pancakes.” Longshot grinned. “He ate like twelve of them yesterday at breakfast. And … is that a coffee shop right inside this place? Logan likes coffee. Maybe they sell coffee. Is Tim Hortons a Canadian thing? I mean, I would think so. Everything in here is super Canadian, right? I mean, Canada’s flag is a maple leaf and there are … a lot of them here. On almost everything.” Rogue let him go on for a little bit, happy just to listen to him, wishing that she actually could just kiss him. One day. Besides, I’ve done a lot of good with my powers. At least the ones I took. Goodness knows I don’t use my actual mutant powers much.

“Tim Hortons IS a Canadian thing. Trust me, back home, they’re everywhere. There was a street corner where I grew up and there were three Tim Hortons! Hi. I’m Kayla, how may I help you, eh?” A petite young woman with bright purple hair and a Winnipeg Jets T-shirt came up, with the huge, probably slightly stressed smile that Rogue had seen on a million retail workers before. Always makes me wonder if they’re working commission. Also, there’s no way that the ‘eh’ there isn’t some corporate policy.

“I think we’re good-” Rogue was about to say, but didn’t get a chance to finish.

“Well, we’re buying a gift for a mutual friend of ours. He’s Canadian! Like … are you Canadian? I want to say you’re Canadian because you seem to know lots of stuff about Canada.” Longshot started eagerly. “We’re just a little concerned, because I guess the Canadian government wasn’t really nice to … what where his people called?” Bless him, we’re stuck now. Rogue couldn’t help but look over at Kayla, who suddenly made a little ‘o’ with her mouth as if caught out.

It wasn’t that Rogue thought that Longshot was likely to run off with some girl they met in a retail store, even if she was admittedly pretty darn cute- but Longshot tended to get a lot of attention from women, and sometimes also men, and sometimes it was just a little annoying. It took Rogue a moment to realize, though, that she hadn’t caught Kayla giving Longshot a little once-over.

Oh. Rogue tried to suppress a nervous little laugh, but probably didn’t do a great job of hiding the blush on her cheeks. Well, sorry sugar, but I’m taken too. You’re not really my type. Apparently her type was extremely earnest blond guys who had an affinity for black leather. But honestly, that’s not really why I like Longshot so much- even if he’s really, really easy on the eyes. I like him so much because he’s sweet, kind and honest. He doesn’t play games. He accepts me for who I am, even when It think he’s gone right out of his head to do so.

“-right, so you don’t want anything political. Look, your instincts? Bang on. We’ve got a great Crown Royal Special Reserve. It’s a little more expensive, but trust me, it’s good. It got a 98 score and a Silver Medal from World Spirits Review. And you know, can’t go wrong with maple syrup. From what you said, I’m guessing this Logan guy is-” Kayla blinked for a moment and then looked again, at Rogue, and then again at Longshot. “Oh my god. Holy shit. You’re Longshot. And you’re Rogue.” Her voice dropped to a low whisper. “You’re the X-Men! Oh my god. I’m talking to the X-Men.”

“That’s us!” Longshot grinned, and with that affirmative, went any chance of playing it cool. Rogue glanced around, wondering how many people heard them. Thankfully, people seemed to be busy shopping. I know we’re pretty popular right now, but we’re still all mutants. Lot of people don’t like mutants much, and we don’t have legal sanction like the Avengers or the Fantastic Four. Still, though, Rogue had to admit it was nice seeing how excited that someone could be to meet them. Wonder if our Canadian retail friend here is a mutant. Rogue didn’t like to assume, but it seemed slightly odd for someone to be that excited about meeting the X-men otherwise.

Kayla paused for a moment. “Look. I can get you my staff discount on any merchandise you get other than the liquor. Can’t get staff discount on booze. I’ve tried. Doesn’t work. And I don’t want you to think that you’re obligated or anything, buuut, if you’d maybe … do a selfie with me, it would mean the world to me. Like, actually the entirety of the world.” She paused for a moment and whispered. “I’m a mutant. We … all of us, like, everyone period, but especially mutants- lotta people are willing to give people like us a chance because of you guys. You guys, it’s the first good thing I think most people have ever heard about mutants. Before the X-men showed up, it was all mutant terrorism and conspiracy theories. So thank you.”

“... yeah, I suppose we could.” Rogue didn’t really love the occasional requests for autographs or selfies that she got, especially the selfies, because they tended to require getting closer than she loved to with other people. “Just, uh, careful-” Last thing you want is for me to get a glimpse of whatever’s in your mind. Rogue had only used her powers a couple of times in that way, and she would be perfectly okay if she never did it again. Every once in awhile, she still woke up and had to spend a moment or two convincing herself she wasn’t actually Carol Danvers.

“Awesome!” Kayla grinned and held up the camera, and to her credit, she seemed to be pretty respectful of Rogue’s space. She quickly snapped the pictures and then grinned brightly. “Thank you. I know it’s probably annoying, with all of your fans, to do that, but it means a lot to me. You guys, the X-Men, you’re my heroes. All of our heroes.” She laughed. “Actually, this might be crazy, but one time, I actually cosplayed as Psylock-” The conversation ended when a trio of heavily armed men walked into the store, carrying what looked to be light machine guns. The man in the center of them was a particularly tough looking soldier- but it was his seemingly mechanical lower body that attracted attention.

“We’re looking for Kayla Connors.” Their seeming leader in the middle spoke up first, and then reached over to grab a cowering customer, a fifteen or sixteen-year old boy. His eyes then flitted over to Kayla. “Give yourself up, freak. Come out nice and easy and we’ll leave everyone else alone.” Other people of his kind might have laughed maliciously with those words, but his gaze was steely, that of a convinced fanatic. “No one else needs to die today. Just you. These good- these people shouldn’t have to deal with a satanic creature like you in their midst. But … if I have to kill a couple of people to purge the world of your kind? I will.” The gun clicked against the boy’s head.

Rogue glanced over at Longshot- all I need, sugar, is just one second of distraction and I can get that boy safe. Longshot met the gaze out of the corner of his eye and in a movement almost impossibly subtle, took a glass snow globe off of a display case. One of his blue eyes momentarily flashed amber and with another impossibly swift move, he whipped the snowy globe at the leader of the thugs, causing him to hesitate for just a moment to get out of its way. Rogue took the chance, getting off the floor and moving to get the boy of the way and tear the gun out of his hands, crushing the metal into complete uselessness.

The second of what she were assuming were Purifier knockoffs aimed their gun at Kayla, who duly scampered out of the way. Rogue flew towards the other man as quickly as she could while putting the kid safely out of harm's way and knocking out their metal-legged leader. Everything seemed to go in extreme slow motion as she hurtled into the second one, just as Longshot advanced with another impromptu snow globe missile at the third one.

Rogue was fast. Incredibly fast. Faster than any other person could conceivably be, even though she couldn’t reach anywhere near her top speed in the limited space she had. But not fast enough. Lord, no. Rogue had learned well enough in her superheroic career that bullets were pretty good at penetrating most things. The flimsy store shelves were no match for machine gun rounds. Kayla had only just got behind them. God. Please. Don’t let someone die because I wasn’t fast enough.

“I should’ve expected to see more of your kind-” The leader got up again, despite bleeding profusely from the shattered snow globe that struck him, moving onto Rogue with a knife with a vaguely peculiar glow that reminded her of Kurt’s vibranium foil. Capable of maybe cutting me if that’s true. Kurt’s blade can scratch Piotr’s skin with enough force. But cutting power doesn’t mean much if you don’t have the strength to use it well. Or the speed. Rogue grabbed his hand, and not gently like she had taken Longshot’s hand. She was pretty sure that she could feel bones bend and then, ultimately break.

“You’d best pray that nobody died.” Rogue glowered as she easily forced the much bigger man, even with his mechanical legs, to the ground. She jerked his hand, again, none too gently. He cried out, involuntarily, in pain, but continued to glare at her as if she was just another spawn of Satan. Dunno why I bother. He’s not gonna change his mind. Rogue took her other hand and slapped him across the face, not as hard as she could have- she could easily have taken off his head entirely with a slap, but not overly gently either. Won’t be saying his bigoted drivel any time soon.

In the few seconds that the whole exchange had taken, Longshot dashed towards the back of the store and come out with Kayla, who looked frightened, stunned, but entirely alive and- by all accounts, just about unhurt. Her jersey was shredded by what Rogue presumed were multiple bullets, but there weren’t any dark patches and the bits of skin that showed looked immaculately fair. Longshot smiled and gave the thumbs up as Rogue sighed audibly in relief and then looked around to see if anyone else was hurt. Thank goodness. No one else got killed either. Considering that the buffoon had fired off a machine gun in a fairly dense crowd, that nobody had been struck and killed was a small miracle.

“...” Kayla looked up at Rogue and Longshot, frantically pulling up her shirt, probably looking to see if she just couldn’t feel the bullet holes, but aside from some slightly red marks, she was clearly completely unharmed by the bullets. “... is everyone else okay?” A parade of emotions showed on her face, from terror, to relief and then back to dread. Rogue glanced around and she saw pretty clearly what Kayla was seeing. Damn.

Rogue had seen more negative crowd dynamics in her short time as a superhero than she ever cared to. This wasn’t the beginnings of an angry, violent mob- not like the one that had nearly killed Kurt back in the circus in Munich, or the one that they’d had to quell in the aftermath of an attack by the loosely organized, only quasi-existant Mutant Liberation Front. Kayla wasn’t in immediate danger of violence, even if they could find a way to hurt her.

They’re not going to get violent, but she’s finished here. The terror that those bigot bozos brought here will be put on here. They’ll think she brought them here, that if they cast her out, they won’t be troubled by it. Rogue glanced around her uneasily. Dunno if the boss is here, but she’s just a retail worker. She’ll be out on her ass and now, marked as a mutant. That’s one thing when you’re sort of famous like we X-Men are, but not many employers take on people they know are mutants. And not many of those are gonna keep them after something violent like this happens. Thing is, wrong as it is, I can’t rightly blame them for being scared.

It was obvious, too, that Kayla knew it. Rogue knew that she was looking around at the crowd and coming to exactly the same conclusion. She knows her life is finished here. God only knows how far she came looking for a place to blend in, just get a job and try and make a life. Rogue didn’t know much about her story, but she was willing to guess that the journey that had brought a girl from, according to her nametag, Winnipeg, Manitoba, wasn’t entirely pleasant. It isn’t often for us. Guess there’s only one thing to do now.

“Hey, Kayla, if you wanted to, we live in a big Mansion that’s full of mutants. It’s like a school, but it’s also the base of the X-Men and you know, you probably need a safe place to be.” Longshot started speaking, as he so often did, while she was considering something. Sometimes she was a little frustrated by his impulsiveness, but more often she found it charming. He does what he thinks is right, for the right reasons. Never known him to do anything selfishly or to bring someone down. Well, except assholes like these who are trying to hurt innocent people.

“.. wait. Are you … inviting me to go live in the place where the X-Men come from?” Kayla whispered back. She glanced around at the crowd again. “... don’t think I have a lot of choice right now. Um. Pretty sure that, come tomorrow, I’m not gonna have a job here.” The approaching figure of a middle-aged man in a suit, looking both serious and frightened, tended to confirm things for Rogue. That’s probably the guy right there.

“... Kayla …” What she presumed was an upper-level manager, or maybe even the owner, couldn’t even look her in the eye properly when she spoke. “Is it true? That you’re a mutant?”

Kayla nodded. “Yeah.”

Rogue looked over at Longshot. “Let’s … give her a little space for a bit.” She could see that the conversation that was going to ensue would be nothing but humiliating. Kayla probably didn’t care for an audience for it. “Kayla, we’ll be just out the door. We promise. We’re not going anywhere, okay?” Rogue smiled at the other girl, and she smiled back, but neither smile reached the respective girls’ eyes. Not a lot to smile about just now.

When they’d stepped out, Longshot looked at Rogue for a moment. “Maybe we could do something. I mean, if we’re big heroes, maybe-”

Rogue shook her head. “Not this time. Even if we convinced him to keep her on, what would it be like for her, Longshot? All they’d think about would be the time that armed men came looking for her. I think the owner knows he’s doing wrong. And Lord help me, I’m glad he feels bad about it- I know that’s awful, but I am. But he’s scared too, not just scared of mutants, but of what’s gonna happen to him if words gets out she’s still there.” She looked back into the store. “How old you think she is? Can’t be much older than me? Like, nineteen, tops? She needs a place to be safe. And we can give her that much. Maybe she can get on her feet somewhere else, I don’t know. But it’s not happening here, this store.” She glared at the sign for a moment. “Thought Canadians were supposed to be …’ Rogue sighed, and pawed at the ground a little bit.

“It’s not right. ” Longshot frowned intensely. “But … you’re probably right. You’re right about a lot of things.” He looked like he was resisting admitting that, not because Rogue thought he had any problem conceding that she was right in the abstract, but because it meant in this case that there was no going back to the way things had been for the girl. “I don’t like it. In the books, in the movies, the good guys always win and everyone gets to have a happy ending. The bad guys lose and everyone forgets about them.”

“This isn’t an ending for anyone, sugar.” Rogue looked at him and took his hand again gently. It was true that real life was messier, that the consequences of even good deeds could be unexpected and ugly, that the bad guys could sometimes win even when they lost. But it’s also true that it’s not an ending. It wasn’t an ending for me when I turned my back on the Brotherhood and my Momma. It wasn’t an ending for you, Longshot, when you left the only life you’d ever known- terrible as it was. “It’s more like … after the introduction, when something happens and the hero can’t just go back to their life before.”

“So .. basically the beginning?” Longshot mulled that over for a moment. “... I still don’t like it. And I still don’t think it’s right. But I guess that makes sense. And the Professor has a million connections. Maybe he even knows another Canadian store she could work at that isn’t gonna get heavily armed bigots showing up.” Longshot paused for a moment. “But it is an ending for one thing.” He glanced back. “We’re not buying anything from that store. Ever. Not even for Logan’s birthday.”

“Took the words right out of my mouth.” Rogue smiled slightly and sidled up to him again, carefully laying her head against his chest.

Chapter Text

Me: Hello, Hank.

Hank: Hello.

Me: I heard about the attack. Is Scott all right? I hear Piotr came fairly dramatically to the rescue.

Hank: Cracked ribs, some bruises. He’ll be all right. By all accounts Donald came off worse. Missing an arm, apparently, and quite a number of teeth.

Me: I wish Piotr would’ve finished the job. Ah well. I suppose Emma and Scott’s safety is the more important thing.

Hank: Piotr’s not a killer.

Me: I think that’s more debatable than you think. He’s certainly got a gift for violence.

Hank: Tessa. I’m not in the mood for cynicism. Piotr has a good heart.

Me: I miss when we were just friends and we didn’t spend half of our conversations sniping at each other.

Hank: Me too. Believe me, I do.

Me: This wasn’t a business call. I wanted to see if we could spend time together apart from work. As friends, not as acquaintances or rivals or whatever.

Hank: And Sebastian?

Me: Is fine, or if he isn’t fine, can deal with it. He fucks half the women in the Hellfire Club. I think I have the right to hang out with a friend and maybe work on a little project.

Hank: Project.

Me: Specifically, an on/off switch for mutant abilities that is triggered psionically. I thought Rogue might appreciate it. And, I thought that we could work together on it. I’ll throw your choice of takeout to sweeten the pot. ;)

Hank: Out of the goodness of your heart?

Me: As both a feminist and a sensualist, it outrages me that Rogue can’t do what she wants with her body. Such a device, I’m sure, could have applications outside her specific case. But I’m sure she’d love to test the prototype. ;)

Hank: … seeing you use emojis is strange.

Me: Don’t worry. I won’t be bombarding you with memes anytime soon.

Me: But is it a date? :D You, me, science and takeout.

Hank: Date?

Me: Figuratively speaking.

Hank: Sure. I need to get out of the house. When did you have in mind?

Me: Friday night at 8?

Hank: Sure, I’ll bring the wine.

Me: Maybe not so figurative? <3

Hank: Tessa.

Me: Hank?

Hank: Tessa!

Me: Hank!!

Hank: You’d think we were teenagers.

Me: It wasn’t that long ago. Late night study buddies. :)

Me: I’m actually smiling, by the way.

Me: Sent “smile!.jpg”

Hank: Well, now we’re certainly being teenagers.

Me: Your turn.

Hank: For?

Me: To send me a pic. One with a big smile.

Me: Hank. I know you’ve had some bad experiences, but you do realize I’m not in the slightest put off by the fact you’re blue and furry, right? It’s legitimately unique. I kind of like it.

Hank: … Tessa.

Me: I’m not lying. Why would I lie about something like that?

Hank: Fine.

Hank: *sent ‘smiley.jpg’*

Me: My, what big teeth you have, Mr. McCoy. ;)

Hank: Are you flirting with me?

Me: Maybe a little. I could stop if you want.

Hank: I just don’t feel like having my spine forcefed to me by your angry, powerful boyfriend.

Me: He wouldn’t. He values our alliance of convenience more than that. And besides, I’d kick his ass. Perhaps not literally, but I do control literally all of his investments. Maybe I’d put a billion dollars into Blackberry.

Hank: I’m just a little confused as to what you’re looking for here.

Me: Friendship. A good time with someone of broadly equivalent intellectual prowess.

Me: The truth is that I don’t have many friends, and that we used to be very good friends and that I miss you.

Me: That’s what I’m looking for. I’ll give you the address. Meet me there, Friday night at eight? Bring a bottle of wine and your lab coat. I’ll bring the takeout and the equipment. :)

Hank: Okay, I’ll see you there.

Me: Excellent. I have to go, though. I have to go meet my new intern at ESU. Fun fact! You know her. I taught her how to use my hacking glasses when I was dying of polytrauma. Lucky for you I got better. Talk to you soon!

Tessa neatly put away her phone, quite certain that Hank was bombarding her with questions about what she was doing with Kitty. Still a little suspicious, I suppose. I can’t particularly blame him. She reached into the minifridge of the limousine and took out a bottle of Perrier, deftly twisting off the cap and taking a sip as the vehicle pulled up to the front parking lot of the Empire State University science faculty. The tinted window pulled down and she glanced out of it, to see Kitty walking out the door, happily chatting with a cute brown-haired boy, who possessed a non-X-factor mutation that granted him extraordinary strength, agility, adhesion and limited precognition.

I wonder if she has any idea that she’s talking to Spider-Man. Should I tell her? She certainly seems to be friendly with him. Tessa suspected that the boy knew all about her identity as a mutant- like all of the people at Cape Citadel, with the fortunate exception of herself, she had become immediately famous. The whole world knew that she had, at the age of fourteen, removed the targeting of dozens of nuclear missiles, saving tens of millions of lives in a dozen nations. And what did she get for it? Harassment on her first day.

The ingratitude of humanity knows no limits. Absolutely none whatsoever.

“Oh! Peter, I’m super sorry, but uh, that’s my ride.” Kitty practically beamed at him, leaning in just a little closer and Tessa was quite sure that if he’d decided to kiss her then, that she’d be more than okay with it. And … the moment goes. Typical teenager. Kitty leaned back just a little. Slightly disappointed but not consciously aware of why. And he’s cognizant of it on a subconscious level as well. They haven’t openly admitted they’re attracted to each other. How precious.

“See you tomorrow, though? Maybe we can catch coffee or something after class. We’re both done at 3:30.” Peter smiled back, a hand reaching up to run through his hair just a little nervously. He’s probably never had a girlfriend before. “Looks like … your ride is waiting for you, though.” He slightly awkwardly smiled towards Tessa, who returned the smile with practiced politesse.

“Yeah, absolutely.” Kitty grinned back. “But yeah, I gotta go. See you tomorrow, Peter?” She turned to go towards the vehicle, but turned halfway again to give Peter one last smile before leaving. God. If it was any more sugar-sweet, I think I’d spontaneously develop diabetes. Ah well. It was best for Kitty that she get to experience some time as an actual teenager, even if she was enrolled in upper-level classes and was likely to earn a master’s degree well before any of the mostly older people around her earned their bachelor’s. She may even be Dr. Pryde by then, though she seems to be utterly besotted with the idea of being a superhero.

The driver exited the vehicle and went around to open the door for Kitty, who climbed into the vehicle, just a little tentatively. She’s a little suspicious too, but at the same time, we forged a rather unique bond. It’s quite an intimate experience, sharing the thoughts of a dying woman. They had gone through quite a lot together in a very short time and that was part of the reason that Tessa wanted to maintain a friendly relationship with the younger girl. Another reason, of course, was Kitty’s considerable promise. She was objectively brilliant and talented in a wide field of endeavours, on top of growing into a beautiful young woman.

There was something else, however, that was more important than all of the other perfectly logical reasons for wanting to keep an attentive eye on Katherine Pryde.

At Cape Citadel, Tessa was not at all sure that she was actually going to survive the experience. Her organs had been desperately mauled, pierced in a hundred places by her own broken ribs. She had been in advanced hypovolemic shock, her lifeblood pouring into every available cavity in her body. Even with the ministration of Warren’s healing blood, she had required several surgeries to get everything right. The doctors had done a fine job, but every so often, she traced her fingers along the white ribbons of scar tissue on her belly and side where they’d had to open her up. Sometimes, strange pains would creep up on her, lingering reminders of how incredibly close she’d come to death. The odds were against me surviving, forty to one or worse. My survival was virtually miraculous.

Lying there, slowly drowning in her own blood, with bits of her vital organs floating in the invisible sea, Tessa had done something truly desperate. I possess knowledge that absolutely cannot be lost. Without the younger girl’s knowledge, Tessa had reached out and planted the telepathic equivalent of a zip file inside Kitty’s mind. Inside the file, unlockable only by a very few powerful and skilled telepaths- Tessa had Charles Xavier in mind, was a copy of all of Tessa’s analyses of Irene’s visions.

Tessa supposed that she probably could have taken it back, especially since she had fortuitously survived, but the fact was that it was important to have a backup. The fact that Kitty had powers that made physically harming her exceptionally difficult only made her a more attractive subject. No one would particularly suspect that such knowledge would be inside her mind. If something happens to me, the information will unspool and Charles or Emma or someone will be able to make sense of it. That knowledge- makes Kitty one of the most important people alive.

“Who’s your friend, Kitty?” Tessa teased softly, smiling more sincerely for her. “Does he know that you’re secretly a mutant superhero?” Do you know that he’s secretly Spider-Man? “Will have to be giving out a plus one on the invitation to the Christmas party?”

Kitty gave Tessa a little glare, clearly not wanting to discuss it. “He’s a friend of mine. You don’t need to know any more than that.” Kitty turned slightly towards the window as it closed and then back to Tessa. “I don’t want him involved with any of this stuff. He deserves to be left alone.” Her eyes went back to Tessa. “Even if he’s a mutant with the most amazing powers in the world. Which I’m not saying he is.”

“You like that he’s … removed from everything.” Tessa replied softly and then nodded. “I’ll call off the Hellfire Club kidnapping squad, then.”

“ Tessa. ” Kitty glared back but there was a wry grin just underneath it, which dissolved into a slightly harsh sigh. “Maybe it’s dumb of me, but I don’t love being reminded of all of your terrible allegiances. I don’t know why you’d work with them anyway.” She leaned forward, as if she were about to say something she hadn’t said before, but with the urgency- every time- of someone who was saying a deep and intimate secret. “You’re better than that. When the world was going to burn, you went, yourself, to Cape Citadel. None of them did. I mean, I was with you … you’ve said it yourself. You were dying. And you were brave. A hero.”

“And you indulge me in my gestures of friendship because you think you can save me? Make me see the light?” Tessa smiled thinly- honestly, she was just teasing. Her expression turned more thoughtful for a moment. “Maybe you’re right and there’s a part of me that wants to do better. But here’s the problem, and it’s something I’d like you to understand. You want to change the world, right? To make things better? For mutants? So that if you have children, they only need to read about the Registration Act and Purifiers in their history textbooks?”

“I could phase out of the car, you know. It’s pretty unkind to needle me about things you know mean the world for me.” This time the glare was genuine, her blood well and truly up. Temperamental. You’ll have to get better control over that, Kitty, if you want to make friends in high places. And if you want to be the change the world needs, you’d better learn how to do that. “I mean, maybe this is a mistake. Maybe you’re just fucking with me like you fuck with Hank.”

Tessa raised her eyebrow and her eyes narrowed slightly. “I assure you, I’m not simply toying with Hank. He’s an old friend of mine. I care about him more than all but a tiny, tiny handful of people.” Tessa shrugged and grabbed her bottle of mineral water and took another drink, wishing in the moment that it was champagne or whisky instead. “We shouldn’t be fighting, anyway. We get along, Kitty. You enjoyed the last time. I’m sure everyone was taken aback by your little makeover.” Tessa’s lips curved into a small smile. “Or before that when we designed a phone that is resistant to your phasing. We have a lot of common interests.”

Kitty couldn’t deny that, and even if she wanted to, she was a terrible liar, especially when her feelings were involved.

“People are gonna start thinking you’re grooming me or something.” Kitty observed dryly, and Tessa couldn’t help but laugh at the notion- particularly considering her long and well-known history with much older men. “I mean, yeah, it’s cool to get a surprise makeover or to design electronics. Or shoot fully automatic weapons.” She looked up at Tessa now. “But what is it really all about? Like, why have you cottoned onto me as your special X-friend? I mean, Hank makes sense, he’s close to the Professor and you two have history together. I know we have … Cape Citadel. And that’s not nothing.”

Tessa leaned back for a moment as if considering what Kitty had to say. “Because you have the most potential to change the world. You’re idealistic, uncompromising and something of a polymath.” Tessa pressed a button and the dark tinted windows dissolved to show the city, just as they passed by the gigantic, grand Hellfire Mansion on Madison Avenue. She turned back to Kitty after she’d been sure Kitty had caught an eyeful of the significant sight. “The X-Men. The Hellfire Club. Who knows how long any of these things will last? Odds are quite good that one of the other will not exist in its current form or at all by the time you’re of legal drinking age.

We live in a dangerous world. A very, very dangerous and quickly evolving world. But I think you have a good chance of outliving just about all these institutions that you know, at least in their current form.” Tessa paused for a moment and took a sip of her drink. “And I believe that you’re going to be a very big part of whatever comes. And it would be my honor and delight to teach you some of the things that you’re going to need to know. Whether you decide to make history by beating up angry men in tight spandex or by becoming the first mutant President.” Tessa smiled thinly. “I’m attracted to powerful personalities with hidden potential, what can I say?”

Kitty rolled her eyes faintly, but there was a semi-suppressed smirk underneath it. “So basically you want to manipulate me into whatever you think history will most need. Since you’re basically the ultimate analyst.” She leaned back slightly, looking as comfortable as she had in quite awhile. “So what’s the mysterious learning activity today? Am I going to learn how to conduct an interrogation with Bob, Agent of HYDRA? Or are you going to have me seduce someone so I can add that to my resume? Basically dying of curiosity here.”

“Actually? You and are are going to revisit an old theme. Electronics design. An off/on switch for mutant powers.” Tessa smiled faintly. “The prototype might make a pretty wonderful Christmas gift for one of your friends, don’t you think? Or really, for anyone else who has difficulty controlling their mutant powers. I could even put your name on the inevitable patent. I don’t have the general feeling that your ambitions are primarily scientific, but I’m certain it can’t hurt to have a few patents in your name. Or, for that matter, to get the royalties from them.”

“I’m fine for money. If I’m gonna do this, it’s because it can help people.” Kitty replied, even though there was clearly a part of her that would enjoy the prospect of full financial independence from her parents, or from the obligation of receiving a scholarship from the Institute for further education. I know you well enough, Kitty, to know that being the recipient of other people’s gifts doesn’t sit well with you. “But … it sounds like an interesting challenge. I mean, I’m not an expert at this, but sure, I can give it a try.”

“I may get Hank to examine what we come up with a little further down the road, of course.” Tessa elaborated. “He is, after all, a greater expert on mutation than either of us, my particular powers notwithstanding. If, however, you wish to ask me about any and all men in your life …” Tessa grinned, this time clearly teasing. “I am fairly expert in such matters.”

“Yeah, I’ll ask you if I ever need to seduce Peter or Dom.” Kitty replied with a wry little grin.

Tessa raised her eyebrow. “Oh? So there’s a second young man, is there? Well then. Dom? Dominic Petros? I seem to remember him being a suspected member of the Brotherhood of Mutants-”

“And he left them, and he’s at the Institute now.” Kitty replied, too quickly. The plot thickens then. “And we’re going to stop talking about both of them, because my love life and their lives, period, are not a thing we need to be discussing.” She paused for a moment. “I’d be lying if I said that I haven’t kinda had fun picking up what I can from your incredible, vast stores of knowledge. And that when we don’t think too much about our allegiances, we actually get along pretty well. And when the world was about to burn down, that you came. I like you, and I guess, I hope that you’ll live up to your own potential someday. But I don’t fully, one hundred percent, trust you. You’re always looking for some kind of angle. Or some way to steer the ship of history.

And maybe that’s why Hank and I are both a little hesitant to be your besties.” Kitty took a breath. “I … I don’t actually think you intend anything bad for us. It’s not about that. But I don’t think you know how to relate to people without using them somehow, or being used yourself.”

“Human relationships are based on power dynamics and mutual advantage.” Tessa replied, just a little surprised at how quickly she came out with the reply, as if she was just a little stung by the words. Perhaps, deep down, she did feel a little guilty about putting powerful, dangerous secrets in Kitty’s head without her knowing, when they’d had to build, from literally nothing, a relationship of considerable intimacy and trust.

Tessa had taken advantage of Kitty, and was planning to take advantage of her friendship with Hank as appropriate as well. I don’t know why I suddenly feel slightly guilty about it. Perhaps it’s because, at Cape Citadel, Kitty trusted me. Or because, even though he’s wary, deep down, I know Hank wants to trust me as well. I’m used to dealing with people who either are or think they are using me, just as I am using them.

“Not good ones.” Kitty replied quietly, but firmly. “Only shitty, awful ones that won’t last when things get bad.”

Hm.

Chapter Text

I’m not entirely sure if this is a good idea. In fact, objectively speaking, I’m fairly sure that this constitutes honest-to-goodness trouble.

Nevertheless, Edith McCoy had not raised her son to renege on obligations made towards ladies and at the appointed hour, Hank McCoy appeared at the door of a scandalously elaborate high-rise, towering into the very clouds. The directions he’d been given suggested that Tessa was on the very top floor- ninety-three. It also didn’t give further instructions about which room she was, which forced him to conclude that she rented out or had bought the entire floor. She handles literally all of Sebastian Shaw’s money and is probably one of the best investors in the world. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s a billionaire in her own right.

If the doorman was surprised to see Hank in his full blue-furred form, he didn’t show any particular sign of it as he opened the door and ushered Hank onto the elevator that would take him all the way up to the top floor. It’s a rather good thing that I’m not afraid of heights. Of course it was a glass elevator, and of course, it had to track on the outside of the building over a thousand feet. Even without any special terror of heights, Hank felt just slightly woozy looking down at the seemingly microscopic specks of where he’d been not so long ago. Thankfully, however, it was a smooth ride.

Just before he reached the top, Hank took the opportunity to straighten himself a little, the lovingly wrapped bottle of wine in his hands, along with flowers that he hoped sent the right message. Which I’m not entirely sure what I’m trying to say, but certainly red roses are out. Ostensibly, it was a working occasion, but the way that she’d spoken had suggested something somewhat different. Which should be making me run and scream the other way, but yet somehow, here I am. Floor ninety-three.

The elevator dinged and waiting for him at the door was Tessa- a quick sniff and glance around indicated that it was, indeed, just her- that’s ridiculous Hank, why would there be anyone else? All he smelled though, was artfully applied perfume and her own unmistakable scent. Hank noted that she had, indeed, put on the lab coat, but it was undone, over a classic little black dress that probably would’ve better suited a cocktail party than practical work. Hank felt his throat go a little dry. Oh my.

“Right on time.” Tessa spoke first, voice lightly honeyed, in her inimitable light upper-class British accent, lips curved into a smile that made the Mona Lisa dowdy and plain by comparison. Absurdly, he remembered that she used to be jokingly referred to as ‘Snow White’ in their tiny circle of elite scientists, but it really was fairly apt, except that not even in his eleven-year old imagination were any of the Disney princess such bombshells. Not even Belle- always his favorite because she was nerdy just like him.

“Punctuality is next to godliness. Well, actually it’s cleanliness- but I’m sure it’s somewhere not far on the list of godly qualities.” Hank extended his arms. “As promised, the wine. And a little something else.” He hoped that he remembered what her favorite flowers were after all that time. We’d both stood out a little in our respective circles, I for having been there on an athletic scholarship despite my abiding love of science and her for her virtually encyclopedic knowledge of the good things in life. There was no doubting that Tessa was a woman of wealth and taste, and she’d never bothered to minimize or deny the fact.

“Violet orchids. You remembered.” Tessa’s smile widened into something that looked genuine enough as she crossed the distance between them and stood up on tiptoes to kiss his cheek, by all appearances, sounds and scents, unbothered by the fact that, now, he was covered in dark blue fur. Indeed, there was nothing in her that suggested she was at all repulsed by his new simian form. Hank knew it could be otherwise- he remembered Trish, years ago, when she’d seen him again for the first time after his mutation had fully developed. She’d tried to get over her disappointment and ignore the instinctive revulsion, but it’d failed from the first moment.

Hank had never felt so alone as he had that terrible, terrible night- knowing that when Trish had collected herself just a little, she’d break things off with him. She’d thought enough of him to actually compose a letter, which said a great many things but meant nothing. She broke up with me because she couldn’t stand the sight of me. The idea of being close to me made her- disgusted? Frightened? I’m not sure which was more the case. He hadn’t told anyone what had happened for a long time- everyone was going through their own trials at the time and it simply felt selfish. In the existential struggle for the continued existence of the planet, for what is the heartbreak of one lonely man?

“Hank.” Soft tones brought him back to Earth, and he looked down to see Tessa looking up at him, softly frowning with a concerned look in her eyes. “Are you all right?” Tessa put a hand on his arm. She probably knows exactly what this is about. Hank felt like an idiot now, and his mind quickly spun around for excuses to leave before he embarrassed himself further. There’s a million reasons I shouldn’t be here. And what was I thinking, anyway? Or hoping. Clinging, perhaps, to the desperate hope that even if nothing happened- and why would it, considering, that I could get the distant impression that I was potentially attractive to someone?

It was Tessa who had the skills and the history of manipulating others, but at that moment, it was Hank who felt like he was using her, for a quick and easy boost to his ego. I shouldn’t be here. This was a mistake.

Hank.

Hank froze and realized- could not believe that he had forgotten that, aside from all of her other incredible gifts, Tessa was a telepath as well, which meant that she was privy to precisely every single one of his thoughts, unless she had intentionally turned off her abilities completely which- given what an information junkie she was, was vanishingly unlikely. She’s probably been privy to every single self-pitying thought that I’ve had since I arrived at the door.

Hank was ready for any sort of incisive scorn or false pity, but he was astonished to the core when, instead, Tessa simply moved closer and put her arms around him, resting her head on his chest, not saying anything, telepathically or with words for a long moment. As best as he could, Hank found himself putting his arms around her as well, even though he was still holding the orchids and the bottle of wine.

To say that he was astonished by the gesture would’ve been an understatement. When she finally looked at him to speak, there were honestly tears forming at the corner of his eyes.

“Do you want to come in?” Tessa finally asked, with a sweet smile on his face that reminded him far more of the slightly shy, sweet physics geek that he’d met all those years ago than with the sultry, dangerous and manipulative woman she’d become. If it was a trick, than Hank had no choice other than to admit she’d won. It felt so good to be acknowledged- not just as a person, but as a man, that he didn’t really care at the moment.

“I think I would like to, yes.” Hank replied with a small smile forming as she turned around to open the door into what was an exceptionally grandly appointed suite- he hesitated to think of just how much the rent was. Once again, though, she’s probably a billionaire in her own right. I wonder just how much wealth she’s accumulated, with her analytical prowess and access to untold millions in seed money. Would Sebastian even miss a few hundred million dollars?

“Maybe I’ll share my investment secrets some other time.” Tessa finally replied with a faint smile as she casually unbuttoned the rest of the lab coat she’d put on over her dress and gently folded it onto a chair. “I’m going to be honest with you. The device is pretty much built already. There’s testing that needs to be done and I’d like you to take a look at the schematics, but … not tonight.” She moved over closer to where he was standing and reached out. “May I? The orchids are lovely. I’d like to get them into some water as soon as possible.” The orchids quickly found their way into what Hank surmised quickly was quite possibly an actual, honest-to-god Ming china vase.

“I make no apologies about liking the good things in life.” Tessa replied with a faint smirk, before sauntering- and she was definitely sauntering, hips swaying ever so slightly, to the kitchen, which was typically grandiose, though Hank was fairly sure, hardly used, to retrieve wine glasses and a corkscrew. Hank, being an intelligent young man raised by a sensible mother, decided that meant that she fully intended to consume the wine immediately. Hank unwrapped the bottle, taking the corkscrew from Tessa and opening the bottle with ridiculous ease, the cork popping off a good eight feet in the air and landing an impressive distance away from them.

“Well, you certainly showed that cork who was boss.” Tessa smiled thinly as Hank poured two glasses and passed one of them to her. Tessa took a sip and closed her eyes for a moment. “Oh, not a bad selection at all. Very smooth. Balanced acidity. Subtly fruit-forward but just a little spicy. I like.” The smile turned into a slightly crooked grin. “How’d you know I liked wine?”

Hank laughed and took a sip of the wine himself, his heightened senses finally able to discern some of the finer details that Tessa was speaking about when she described the taste of wine- in the past, he’d always found that he tasted little more than whether a wine was sweeter or dryer and maybe, just maybe, how fruity or not fruity a particular vintage was. “It appears I’m not a hopeless sommelier after all.” Hank smiled slightly, but then his expression turned more thoughtful.

I’ve got to try and keep my head just a little here.

You’re concerned that I’ve got some hidden agenda? Tessa asked inside his mind, her mental voice just as subtly honeyed as her physical one.

I can’t really discern one, so it’s a little mean to suspect you of any. But I have to admit, that all this, seems more than a little like a seduction and I’m not quite sure what to make of that. You do have a boyfriend after all. I don’t know the precise parameters of your relationship, but he’s never struck me as a person who’s-

Tessa raised an eyebrow. “Sebastian isn’t here right now. He’s got nothing to say about this and he won’t.” Her serious expression turned into a faint smile. “So why do you think I brought you here?”

Hank took another sip of the wine and set it down for a moment. This is probably not a good idea, but I don’t seem to be leaving, either. He still remembered how poleaxed he’d been, in a good way, by her sudden embrace of him outside the apartment. Or at how he’d seen her smile at him, sincerely by all appearances, as often as she had at anyone in his presence in a very long time. “I honestly don’t know. Certainly not to get any work done.” He paused for a moment and then smiled sightly. “Evidence would seem to suggest that you were aiming to seduce me, though.”

Tessa set down her wine glass, getting up and walking over to stand right in front of him, a slightly peculiar look in her eyes. Intent.

“Is that what you would like, Hank McCoy?” Her lips finally parted in a thin little smile. “For me to seduce you?” Her eyebrow raised and she leaned forward, placing her hands on the back of the couch he was currently sitting on, so she was right in his personal space, her red, red lips only a few inches from her own. He could smell the gentle sweetness of her breath, the artfully applied perfume she wore and her own personal scent. And something else. Pheromones, that, quite simply, smelled of sexual promise.

“The evidence appears to be weighing itself ever so much more strongly in that direction.” Hank replied with a faint smile, trying his best to maintain something of his wits, even though it was difficult, with a scandalously beautiful woman in his personal space, smelling as good as she did. “In fact, I am finding it extremely difficult to come to any other conclusion. But since you invited me here-” And at this moment, Hank dug up every possible reserve of cool and detachment he could, to keep him from simply leaping into even the slightest chance to feel loved, even if it was a lie. “I believe that the ball is in your court, Tessa.”

“Fair enough.” Tessa replied and looked intently into his eyes for a moment, looking for a moment as if she was going to say something, before leaning in the last few inches and kissing him, without hesitation, long and deep, exploring, slowly, eagerly. He felt her slide into his lap without breaking the kiss, her hands reaching up into his fur, stroking it without hesitation, tangling her fingers into the longer parts at the back, her mouth tinged of wine of and the impossibly delicious flavour of her.

Hank. Tessa finally spoke as the kiss broke and she rested her head on her forehead. I can’t be your girlfriend. I can’t drop everything that I’ve got going on for you.

Then what is this? That wasn’t- what is this? If you can’t be with me, why kiss me like that? Why go through all of this trouble?

Because I want you to know that you can be loved. Because I want you to know that you can be wanted. Because I legitimately, right now, want to take you into the bedroom and see what that’s like. A soft laugh escaped against his lips. If you’re scared about Sebastian, Hank, don’t be. He has every girl he wants, whenever he wants. He’ll probably just assume I’m seducing you to make you easier to use, if he even finds out. But- all that, isn’t relevant right now. Do you think I’d kiss you like that if I didn’t think you were desirable, Hank?

I suppose not. Hank reached out his hands to gently frame her face, his thick simian fingers brushing away soft black hair and past soft warm skin, coloured only by a faint flush. So what happens after tonight, if things go … the way they seem to be going? As beautiful as you are and as much as I really, truly do want you, your friendship matters to me too. Even if I’m not always the best at showing it. Which I apologize for.

Why would you apologize, Hank? I am a manipulator. I use people all the time, to get what I want personally and to get what I feel is necessary for the world. But yes, I want to be friends with you. I think we’re both mature enough, though, to be fairly open about … what exactly that means. At least time to time, right? Tessa smiled faintly against his lips. One day, maybe soon, maybe a little longer from now, you’re going to find someone who is going to be able to love you wholeheartedly, Hank. Who isn’t going to turn away because you’re blue and furry and have fangs, but see the brilliant, amazing, sweet person you are. And I’m going to be just the tiniest bit jealous of that person, but I’m also going to be very, very happy for you. I promise.

Hank couldn’t help but smile when heard that, even if he knew it was attached to the plain fact that that person wasn’t going to be Tessa. He was pretty sure that her words would give him a lot to think upon in the future, but right now, he knew that there was a beautiful woman who wanted him. And it would be rude not to give her what she wants. Indeed, it would be singularly ungentlemanly. This time, it was Hank who kissed her, strong arms pulling her close, to him.

When the kiss parted again, Tessa stood up once more with a faint grin on her face. “We could … just get the delivery for later? You might need the fuel. Hopefully you don’t have anything too pressing on your schedule for tomorrow, Dr. McCoy.” The enigmatic, sultry grin on her face spread just a little wider, though as he started to rise himself, she shook her head, waggling her fingers at him as if he’d been a naughty boy who’d stolen cookies before dinner. Not quite yet, Doctor.

Brilliant blue eyes met his before trailing downwards, as if inviting him to do the same. I want you to look. I want you to remember that I wanted you to look. Perfectly manicured hands- but with short nails- she’s still a practical woman, beautiful as she is- slowly slid up to brush first one strap and then the other, off, revealing soft pale skin and hinting at much more. Her gaze remained intently on his, keeping him fixed in place as she reached behind her and he heard the sound of a zipper descending down. Hank swallowed unconsciously.

Why don’t you have a little more wine? Pick up the glass and have a sip.

Without taking his eyes off of her- how could he- Hank reached over for the glass of wine on the coffee table and took a small sip, savouring the drink, but even more so, the sight in front of him as, slowly, slowly, that black dress came off, revealing dark, lacy lingerie that flattered her curves perfectly and contrasted against her creamy fair skin. She was obviously fit, with hints of toned muscle underneath the soft skin. He couldn’t help but notice, as well, a few thin lines of scars.

Tessa’s eyes caught his as he noticed the scars. See? Not quite perfect.

Hank immediately rose from the couch, crossing the distance towards her and kneeling down on his knees, his hands smoothly running over the thin pink scars, his mouth pressing open kisses against them. I know these. It’s where …

Cape Citadel. After you did what you could- I needed several surgeries. I- oh, don’t stop that- feels good.

I like your scars. I was afraid then, even afterwards, that I’d lose you. I’m glad you have them. They mean you’re still here. Hank slowly, slowly licked along the line of the lowest placed scar, stopping only when the thin line disappeared into the waistband of her panties. He then looked up at her with a naughty little grin on his face.

“... bedroom.” Tessa smirked, though she was flushed and, judging by the testimony of his senses, more than slightly aroused. “Right. Now.”

Hank, naturally, obliged.

Chapter Text

“So … your friends go through all this effort to dig up what’s probably your birthdate from a bunch of old recruitment papers- including one from the Civil War, an’ you’re ditching them to drink alone in the bar?” Harry shook his head. “I oughta give your head a shake, Logan.” The promised beer, however, slid its way across the table, though Harry’s gap-toothed grin wasn’t on display as it usually was. “Just really not a party guy, or something else?”

Logan shook his head. “Bad mojo.” Can’t remember what, but I don’t remember my birthday being something worth celebratin’. Not sure why that is. “Besides, that guy who was born today? Ain’t me. Not really. I’m not gonna explain everything that’s happened, because I can’t and I don’t want to anyway-” Logan took the beer and guzzled down about half of it in one go. “I know people mean well. I dunno, maybe I’ll show up a little later.”

“I bet your friends have a hell of a surprise party waiting for you when you get back.” Harry’s grin returned for a moment. “Wouldn’t want to disappoint Ororo, would you?” Yeah, I get it, Harry. You wanna add ‘matchmaker’ to that impressive resume. Maybe just stick to being soldier, globetrotter, roadie for Motorhead and barman. But all the same, Logan knew that, if nothing else, it was not a particularly good idea to get someone who could control the weather mad at you. And truth is, I’d probably rather get a jolt of lightning up my ass than make her sad. Gettin’ sentimental in my old age.

“Don’t like surprises. You were in `Nam. Don’t tell me that didn’t wreck you on surprises real fast.” Logan looked up at Harry, finishing his beer. “Think I’m gonna have to switch to whiskey. Maybe just slide over the damn bottle. If I’m gonna even get a buzz outta this, I’ll need at least one of them.” He smirked a little sardonically. Not sure why there’s something freaking me out about my birthday in particular. Like something real bad happened once. Or maybe more than once.

“Gonna cost ya.” Harry chuckled faintly, but passed over a bottle of Crown Royal, which Logan poured into the empty beer glass, until the glass was full. It amused Logan to consider that the amount of alcohol in the glass could potentially send someone to the emergency room with alcohol poisoning or even kill them, but Logan’s healing factor meant that if he drank it quickly enough, he’d probably get a decent buzz for five or six minutes. To actually get properly drunk, I’d probably have to follow another bottle with a third. And drink `em all in ten minutes or less. Which ain’t practical anyway. Only so much room in the stomach for liquid. I’d just puke it up on sheer reflex.

Added up together, it meant that Logan could only ever get a middling buzz off of alcohol and that it was almost impossible to sustain for any length of time, just like how he could smoke like an absolute chimney and it couldn’t possibly do him any physical harm. Also means I don’t get sick and that I’m mighty resistant to poison. There were some limits to that- one of the things that Logan remembered, albeit faintly, was the excruciating agony of having his insides practically dissolved, gutshot by a HYDRA sniper with a hollow bullet containing experimental gas. Dunno if anyone’s ever come quite so close to killin’ me since. Thing about the gas is that it kept doing its thing for hours. Actually kept up with my healing and then some.

It was pretty quiet in the bar- being a Monday afternoon, which suited Logan just fine. There were maybe half a dozen other people in the Hideaway, including a hipster-looking couple that came in, ordered tea and played the old pinball machine that Harry had salvaged from a landfill and fixed. Logan wondered just how many hundreds of dollars they’d thrown into that machine over the time he’d been there alone. There were three working-class guys in the back, quietly sharing a few rounds of brews, maybe on a rare day off. Not like Friday nights, for sure. Then again, the Hideaway was packed most nights. Harry must make a killing on this place.

“You didn’t drive here or anything, right?” Harry looked at Logan for a moment. “I know you metabolize that stuff really, really fast-”

“Nah.” Logan shook his head. “I walked. The day that I can’t walk a mile in mild weather is the day I just fucking quit.” He smirked faintly. “Don’t worry, I’m not gonna get you in trouble for letting a drunk drive. Even though I can’t even get drunk. Not really.” He tilted the glass and drank down a good third of it in one gulp. It burned like hell, but Logan was used to much stronger things- strange rotguts brewed in running motors. By that standard, Crown Royal might as well be skim milk.

“Heh.” Harry laughed. “Good point. I mean, who was it last week? Some weirdo with a fishbowl for a head and his pet rhinoceros fetishist.” The fishbowl guy was damn annoying. But he didn’t quite count on the fact that I got all kinds of really strong senses. My sight and hearing were damn fooled, but my sense of smell? He had no idea. And as for the rhino guy? Eh. Russian took care of him pretty quickly.

One day, of course, they were going to run into something or someone that could legitimately hurt Piotr- hopefully the kid has the sense not to charge blindly into it. Piotr was physically tougher, especially, than just about anyone Logan had never run into- his metal so tough that even his adamantium claws would have to really work to do any more than scratch the surface. Bullets, grenades, laser beams, superpowered punches, occasionally one of them would just, by the sheer force of physics, send Piotr flying, but he’d always got up, unharmed. But there’s always something bigger and tougher out there. Hope the Russian doesn’t find that out the hard way. He’s a good kid.

Logan finished his drink, poured the rest of the bottle into the glass and polished that off too. “You know what? I’ve actually got a buzz off this.” He smirked faintly. “Might as well enjoy it. Maybe I am gonna walk back to the Institute after all. See if I can surprise `em while they get ready for my surprise party.” Logan chuckled faintly, before reaching into his wallet and pulling out the money, alongside a generous tip. “Thanks for the whisky, Harry. See ya soon, probably.”

“Hah. I’ll probably be seeing your butt in here later tonight. Maybe I’ll turn on the karaoke machine. Make the birthday boy sing something again.” Harry laughed, a booming laugh which drew the attention of all of the few people that were in the bar. “Since it’s your birthday, who knows, maybe I’ll even give you a freebie if you do.”

“Over my dead body, bub.” Logan replied but with a faint smirk as he pulled his coat back on and walked out of the bar, enjoying the faintly warm feeling of the booze working its way through his system. I’ll get buzzed as I ever can in about a minute and then about a minute later, it’s working its way out my system. Won’t even get a hangover. I’ll be stone cold sober by the time I walk through the gates. Makes me wonder why I even bother ta drink. Costs a lot of money, doesn’t do much for me. Ah well.

The air was cool but refreshing, and there was a pleasantly warm sun overhead. Logan glanced around, at the little town of Salem Center, at the place that he’d become as familiar with as anywhere else. Starting to think of this place as home, as that shop as the place where I get coffee and the paper, and that one there where I got Laura some outfits. Had to get Kitty to help me with that one, though. Don’t know the damndest thing about fashion. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a cigar, his claws coming out quickly to clip the end, retracting in order to grab a lighter to light it up.

It was just before Logan could smell the wafting scent of tobacco that he caught another scent. Something that chilled him to the core, the scent of a man that he’d smelled many times before. It took Logan a moment to think of the name, his memories half-shot and slippery as eels, but then he remembered. Creed. Victor Creed. The cigar dropped to the ground and his claws popped out instinctively as he cast his eyes around. He ain’t far.

Logan didn’t remember everything about Creed, not by a long shot, but he remembered that the man wasn’t just a killer. I’m a killer, and half of my friends could become killers easy enough. Killing’s easy. But Creed was different. He not only enjoyed killing, but practically lived for sadism. He’d go hunting defenseless people on his free time, or he’d lure them. Then he’d hunt them, or just kill them, depending on his mood.

A particularly revolting memory, of seeing one of the corpses afterwards, came to his mind. That’s right. The fucker didn’t just kill them.

He’d eat `em too. Cannibal.

“Been a real long time, Logan.” Victor Creed laughed as he stepped out of the shadows, dressed in an expensive-looking custom black silk suit, accessorized with a blood red tie. Yeah, that feels about right. Got a real Hannibal Lecter vibe. Or likes to put it on. But deep down, he’s just a fucking animal that needs to be put down. Logan supposed that, logically, he should’ve activated the communicator, called for backup. He had to admit that it was a satisfying mental image, thinking of Creed being electrocuted by lightning bolts, or having a steely fist smashed through through his smug face.

This ain’t an X-Men job, though. The X-Men are heroes and heroes don’t try to kill their enemies. And if I get anything to say about this, this motherfucker dies. I’m cutting his damn head off.

“Lost track of you for awhile. Probably when you fell into the Weapon X project.” Victor smirked, showing huge, razor-sharp canines, his eyes glittering with malice. “I legitimately thought that I wouldn’t get to see you again. Made me feel real bad, thinking I couldn’t bathe my claws in your blood at least one more time. Leave you bleeding in the snow, yet again. But here you are.” Victor laughed. “And whattya know, you’ve decided to go soft. Runnin’ around in a costume, fighting limp-dicked little bitches like you were an Avenger or something. Gonna go call your friends, Logan?”

“Don’t need to.” Logan replied. “They don’t need to get involved in this.” I don’t remember her name, but he killed a woman I loved. Killed her and ate part of her, left just enough for me to know it was her and him that did it. In that instant, everything went red and Logan just let himself go in the primal rage that built up from inside as he exploded towards Victor, ready to slice him into bits. Victor kept talking as he charged. Shut up. SHUT UP!

Victor was ready for him, though, his casual air hiding immense skill and reflexes that were probably Logan’s superior as he simply grabbed Logan in mid-lunge and used his own momentum to send him flying into someone’s car, a hundred little bits of metal and plastic sticking into him. Thankfully, however, his adamantium skeleton absorbed most of the impact and his healing factor would quickly take care of the flesh wounds. Logan leapt to his feet, circling around to Victor’s side to slice at his belly.

Victor moved fast, but not quite fast enough- Logan’s claws didn’t gut him like he hoped, but it left a nice red furrow and completely ruined the fucker’s perfectly clean suit. Victor grinned broadly again, showing his fangs.

“Good. I was worried you’d lost it completely. This’ll actually be fun.” Victor lunged at Logan just as Logan moved towards Victor, Victor’s own claws coming out of his fingers, much smaller and non-metallic but still deadly, in a swipe that neatly connected against Logan’s face, slashing it open, the blunt impact just behind the claws making him see stars for a second. Logan’s own attack, however, also connected, and adamantium claws plunged deep into Victor’s belly. Victor roared and grabbed Logan’s hand, pulling the claws out of his stomach and smashing him against a steel light pole hard enough to break it.

Logan growled and got up slightly shakily to his feet, the wounds on his cheek and the innumerable cuts and contusions sealing swiftly, just as Victor’s own wounds were. “What’s the matter, bub? You don’t like it when the prey bites back? I get it. You like to hunt defenseless people. Makes you feel like God or something. But you’re just a fucking animal, Creed.” He attacked again, claws whirling in a fury, but this time, Victor was fast enough get completely out of the way of them.

“I’m the animal? You attacked first.” Victor laughed. “Least I admit that I’m a killer. You’re too busy pretending to be a hero? For what?” Victor swiftly grabbed his hands, holding them in a grip that he couldn’t easily break. Forgot. Fucker’s stronger than I am, probably five times so or better. “Money?” Victor bent his elbows back, causing a sickening snap of cartilage and a searing pain. “Fame? You like the cameras?” A foot went hard into his gut, the force just about dislocating his shoulder, just as the hidden knife in the boot stabbed into his gut. “Piece of that X-pussy, Logan?” Victor cackled and twisted the knife inside him.

Logan roared, and, despite the stabbing pain, despite the protests of limbs that had been wrenched virtually into uselessness, forced himself to move forward and use the one weapon he had left. Logan smashed his adamantium-coated skull as hard as he could into Victor’s face, satisfied by the cracking of the relatively vulnerable facial bones along with the slight loosening of the grip. Logan kicked as hard as he could, knocking Creed off of him completely.

“My face.” Creed growled, surely knowing that his previously smug face had been brutally rearranged, blood pouring from veins opened by shards of broken facial bones. They might not heal up perfectly without help, either. He’ll have to have them rebroken and set by a surgeon. Logan grimaced as the strained joints in his arms started to put themselves back together, to allow his hands greater mobility. He could feel a burning in his gut that suggested that something had ruptured from the foot blade- it was hard to tell if it was bile or stomach acid. Dammit. That’s not gonna be fun. Gonna have a lot of explaining to do to my friends.

Logan didn’t have much time, however, to consider his next move, because Victor was on him in a fury, grinding his face against the concrete of the sidewalk, moving too quickly for him to do anything more than blindly slash about with his claws. Victor snarled viciously, grabbing Logan by the legs and smashing him into the windshield of a vehicle, shards of glass cutting into his face and neck. Victor didn’t stop, however, making sure to drag him harshly along the broken edge, before throwing him out onto the sidewalk.

“You were never my equal, Logan.” Victor snarled, his face resetting itself but not quite right, into a deformed cast that made him only look more savage. “Even with your fancy adamantium bones and claws. Maybe when I kill you, I’ll boil your flea-ridden carcass and sell `em on the open market. Make me millions of dollars.” Victor cackled with triumph as he grabbed the car and hurled it at Logan just as he was starting to get up.

By the time that Logan had struggled out from underneath the car, virtually every inch of his body bruised, his healing factor hard pressed to fight internal bleeding from ruptured organs- bones don’t protect everything- Victor was on him again. Logan struck out with his claws but Victor grabbed his arms again and bent them savagely backwards, rendering his hands useless, at least briefly.

“You know, I used to think that maybe we’d just do this forever. You’re pretty tough, Logan. I gotta give you credit. I keep killing people you love and you just seem to somehow bounce back and find new victims for me. Who am I gonna kill next? Guess it won’t be the redhead. She vaporized herself. Ooh, maybe the black one. Can’t hit me with lightning if I kill her in her sleep, how can she?” Victor grabbed traffic sign, uprooting it from the ground and stuck it into Logan, two feet deep into the ground.

This time, when Logan tried to speak, it came out as a gargle of blood- I can’t let this fucker kill me. Ca- his vision was already beginning to flicker and fade into near-unconsciousness, the internal damage from having a car smashed on him with incredible force adding up to all the other traumas, and now having been impaled. Logan struggled, but he was stuck into the ground. But my arms are fixing themselves. I just gotta keep myself alive. Then I can cut my way out.

“But you know what? I think I’ll be just fine, moving on without you.” Victor walked towards Logan. “I know what you’re thinking. You just gotta survive for about thirty more seconds or so until those ligaments in your arms heal up and you can cut your way out. Maybe you’re even smart enough that you’d call for him. But it’s too fucking late.” Victor crossed the distance, but just as he did, there was a loud bang and an explosion of gore and Victor fell to the ground, a huge portion of his head missing.

“...” Logan blinked. Who? “.. wha?”

“Nobody kills my customers. Especially when they’ve got huge tabs.” Harry took a deep breath. “... he heal like you?”

“... yeah.”

Harry fired again. “Jesus, Logan.” The big man went over to where the sign was embedded into the sidewalk. “Stay awake while I get this thing offa you.” But by the time, Harry had knelt down, Logan’s arms were responsive enough for him to slice through the sign. With great difficulty and with help from Harry, Logan managed to get himself to his feet.

He glanced over at Victor and could see, ever so slowly, the signs that he was beginning to heal up. Fucker’s maybe even harder to kill than me. Logan coughed up a viscous mixture of blood and what was probably at one time his spleen. “... guess I should pay up that tab, huh, Harry?”

“I called your friends.” Harry replied. “They’re on their way and maybe they can … deal with him. Jesus.” The big jolly man looked pale. “You’re fucking heavy, Logan. Like you got bones made out of metal or something.” Harry let out a slightly wan laugh.

“Thanks, Harry.” Logan managed to reply slightly weakly, and then paused for a moment. “Fucking hate birthdays.”

Chapter Text

Dominic Petros knocked gently on the door, holding a brown bag with sandwiches, some salad, cookies and lemonade. Can’t really blame KP for being too upset to eat dinner, but I’m gonna do my level best to make sure she at least eats something. “Hey, uh, I’m leaving you something if you get hungry, okay? There’s also leftovers in the fridge if you’d rather have those.”

Dinner, it was safe to say, had been a disaster. Dom didn’t know the details, but it seemed that some evil psychopath from Logan’s past had attacked him in the town. He’d gathered that it was bad- Logan had gone into the infirmary, which he almost never did. I mean, the guy heals gunshot wounds in a few minutes, and the other one had gone into the holding cell, and if rumour was correct, with more of his head missing than intact, but apparently, knitting itself back together. Fuck.

“I’m not hungry, Dom. How can you even think about stuff like that right now? Just leave me alone.” Kitty’s accusing voice came from the other side of the door. Dom decided not to take it personally- it’s not about me. She looks up to Logan, a lot, and he damn near died out there. It was pretty common for one or the other X-Man to come back from a mission somewhat banged up, and certainly, Scott was still recovering from a fight that he’d got into.

Tonight, though, was the first time since Cape Citadel, that it really looked like not everyone might’ve made it out alive. Which is probably more about good luck than anything, but jesus. On his fucking birthday, too. Christ. Dom sighed and set down the little care package. He wasn’t going to push his luck too far- events had done plenty to push Kitty and he knew that Kitty had quite a temper on her. Love you, KP, but sometimes, you could really use some anger management.

“I’m leaving some stuff for you here, and then I’m gonna go, okay? I don’t want to bother you.” Dom got back up from setting down the package and turned around. Hope she’s all right and doesn’t get dumb and not eat anything. If Dom had learned one thing from cooking for mutants over the last few years, it was that just about all mutants had ravenous appetites and ate truly huge amounts of food. The Russian was the very worst- Dom was guessing he could easily take care of ten thousand calories in a given day, but even Kitty probably ate as much as any full-grown man did.

Dom figured mutant powers were at least partly fuelled by metabolism, though it probably also had something to do with all the physical activity they did. Dom didn’t engage in any of the serious training activiites, or in anything like Kitty and Laura’s little Fight Club with Logan, but even the basic training was pretty intense. Not all bad, though. Done wonders for my abs. Not that that counts for too much around here. Everyone’s in professional athlete good shape. Ah well.

His mission done, Dom headed back downstairs to work on the dishes, though there were fewer than normal tonight, as everything had become chaotic after Logan’s arrival in the aftermath of his attack. Charles had let most of the other staff go early, though, which meant it was just him. Maybe just as well. Doubt many people here are feeling too social. Other nights, he sometimes had to fend off Kurt’s marauding for snack items or an extremely polite but dangerously hungry Russian. Like I’m gonna say that any of the fridge stuff is off limits to Piotr. I’m not crazy.

As he was by himself, Dom got to control what music was played, which meant that it wasn’t long before he was practicing his MC skills while scraping cooked-food residue off of pots. By his own estimation, he wasn’t half bad, though Kitty always rolled her eyes when he tried to rap around her. Years of dealing with girls, however, had told Dom that there was a difference between amused and unamused eye rolls. Kitty’d giggle and then punch his arm- often a little harder than she probably meant to. Remind me never to get into a fistfight with her. I wouldn’t last eight seconds.

Hope she’s okay, though. Dom frowned slightly for a moment. He knew that she was pretty estranged from her parents- that was something they’d talked about some, and that Logan played a more paternal part in her life than even she’d probably  be willing to readily admit. I mean, he’ll be fine, though. If he survived at all, he’ll recover fully. That’s how it works, right? I don’t think people with healing factors get long-term injuries.

The truth was, actually, that he and Kitty had a fair bit in common. They’d both come from Chicago, though Dom had moved to Queens when he was eleven. Both of them had a certain pride in their cultural background- Dom for being Greek, Kitty for being Jewish, even though they both identified as mutants more than anything else. They both had a love of making food. Dom was a bit more of a chef and Kitty a bit more of a baker, but they made a pretty good team in the kitchen.

Dom and Kitty also shared anger- at the seemingly constant unkindness, bigotry and violence that people showed mutants. Kitty hadn’t ever quite given into that anger, but it was certainly there. Maybe she’s just a little more stubborn about keeping the moral high ground than I am, but she feels that rage as much or more than my friends back in the House. They’d been on different sides at one point, and they certainly had some different ideas about what needed to happen, but the truth was that they felt pretty much the same.

Lot of things in common, sure, but way out of my league. It wasn’t a matter of looks- Dom knew he was pretty damn good-looking and there certainly wasn’t any doubt that Kitty was a serious babe, but bigger things. Kitty was one of the smartest people he knew, maybe even the actual smartest and had the sort of ambition and drive that made things happen. He’d once joked about her being President or something one day, but the more he’d thought about it, the more he thought that if anyone could actually accomplish something as ridiculously over the top as that, it’d be her. Seriously, she could do literally anything she set her mind to. Except sing or rap. Girl can’t carry a tune or drop a beat.

Dom continued to wash the dishes, his mind going from Kitty for a moment, to his friends back at the House. It was hardly a secret that they weren’t terribly happy with him- when John called him ‘traitor’, it was the joke that secretly wasn’t and even his number one fan, Tabby, was pretty distant these days. Raven had more or less permanently fucked off, with only occasional drops of money into the House accounts to indicate that she was still out there. Or not. Maybe she’s been arrested and that’s just a pre-authorized deposit from an account. How would we even know?

Because it’s Raven, and you don’t just arrest her. She’d bust out of anywhere in a day or two at most.

“Hey.” A familiar voice made Dom turn around to see Kitty Pryde leaning in the doorway, looking slightly apologetic. “Sorry for snapping at you. And … thanks for bringing food.” She smiled faintly at him, but it was pretty clear that she was still pretty bothered by what had happened. How could anyone blame her? That’s fucking disturbing. There’s blood stains all over the front entryway. And they said the other guy came in worse off- and that he’s still here.

Kitty tried to smile again, this time a little more sincerely, as if she realized that the last one had been nothing but a sad shadow of the real thing. “I mean it. You’re a sweet guy, Dom. And … are you seriously trying to do all the dishes by yourself?” She looked around for a moment, as if to confirm that it was indeed Dom there all by himself. “That’s not cool. At all.” She rolled up her sleeves and sidled beside him. “Lemme at least load some stuff into the dishwasher.”

“... not gonna say no to that.” Dom replied. “And it’s fine. Don’t worry about me, KPryde. We good in the `hood, dawg.”

Kitty shook her head and let out a little chuckle. “You’re ridiculous. Anyone ever told you that you’re ridiculous?”

“Sure they do, but you’re smiling, so I don’t mind being ridiculous. In fact, you just about straight-up laughed.” Dom grinned back at her. “So either way, I win. Also, you’re drying, so I’m also winning that way. And then you’re here, so I win again. So I don’t see any way that I’m not coming up all kinds of aces here. Hell, you’re even loading up these prewashed dishes into the washer.” He let his voice go deep for a moment. “Dom wins. Flawless victory.”

“Now you’re getting cocky.” Kitty emphasized her point by poking his side. “Don’t get cocky, mister.” She gathered up a load of the dishes to put in the dishwasher. “So remind me why you have to do this at all when there’s this massive dishwasher. Isn’t the point of a dishwasher that you don’t need to wash dishes anymore?” She wrinkled her nose slightly as she regarded a somewhat daunting pile of imposingly dirty dishes.

“Saves a lot of the work, sure, but the truth is that it doesn’t always clean baked-on stuff one hundred percent. You gotta prewash most of the cookware. Which sucks. I hate that shit, but I also have absolutely zero tolerance for working with anything that isn’t absolutely pristine. I mean, this is a semi-institutional kitchen. We could potentially be getting Health Code inspections and if all the plans for expansion happen, we will be.” Dom punctuated the point by scraping congealed grease off of a tray. “And I gotta get into the habit of being really, really diligent about this shit. If I’m gonna run a commercial kitchen and have a restaurant, it’s gotta be perfect. Otherwise, what? You maybe run the risk of poisoning people who pay good money to eat food you made.”

Kitty paused for a moment and then she smiled again, and the third time must have been the charm, because it was one hundred percent genuine. “So … you’re doing this because you’re a bit of a perfectionist.” She opened up the dishwasher and placed a load of dishes into them. “I think I can identify with that.” Basically missing the opportunity once, Dom made sure to get a quick peek the second time when she bent forward a little to put the dishes in.

Kitty turned towards him, her eyebrow raised slightly. “... really?” Aw, busted. Damn, girl’s got some crazy peripheral vision. Eyes in the back of her head or something. Probably all that fight club training she does with Logan and Laura. “I turn my back for two seconds and you’re ogling my butt.” Kitty rolled her eyes but there was a barely suppressed smirk there. “Bad.” She waggled her fingers at him.

“Please.” Dom rolled his own eyes. “I was just making sure you were putting all the dishes in the right place. I have very exacting standards about these things.” Dom then went over and exaggeratedly bent over himself, wondering if Kitty would take the bait. She totally does. That’s why she can’t get too mad when I check her out. She does the same damn thing with me. “You know if you …” Dom quickly checked and sure enough, her eyes had flitted there. “-if you wouldn’t be such a hypocrite about checking out my sweet ass when you’re all up in arms about me, maybe, just maybe, catching a little glimpse of yours.”

“You wish, Dom.” Kitty smirked, rolling her eyes again. It’s working, though. Look at how much you’re smiling now. I’m not stupid enough to believe that you’re magically not worried anymore, but it’s helping. “... you can stop waggling your butt around. I’m only looking because it’s ridiculous. You look ridiculous when you do that. Stop being ridiculous, Dom.” Kitty actually grinned.

“Now, KP, tell me why I’d stop being ridiculous when it’s making you smile like that.” Dom tilted his head a little, suggesting that he wasn’t just playing the silly little fronting game they often did. “You know-” And now Dom was going into actually sincere territory here and he hoped that she’d understand that was what he was going for. “You gotta take care of yourself too, Kitty. I mean, it’s understandable as hell, but sometimes, you get so wrapped up in stuff that you don’t eat or realize that you need a break. So that’s why I came with the little care package. Hoping that you’d take a little break from the big, ugly serious stuff. So yeah, it’s nice to see you laugh, even if you’re laughing at my silly waggling ass.”

“... well, it’s a nice silly waggling ass.” Kitty corrected slightly, reaching up to brush away a couple of those perfect little brown curls from her face. She looked up at him again and it was pretty clear that she was okay with the brief detour into Earnest Town, USA. “You know, I never quite apologized for being pretty judgemental when we first really met, back at the school. I mean, I’m not saying that I’m cool with everything you’ve done, but you’ve more than proven you’re a good guy.” She took a step or two closer to him. “So sorry for judging.”

Huh. This could really go one of two ways. Dom took a step closer to her, getting just a little closer to her space, watching to see what her reaction to that was, and then when she didn’t flinch away- just a little closer. Dom wasn’t that tall of a guy and the boots she had on put an inch or so on her so they could pretty much look each other in the eye, which seemed about right. No dress rehearsals in life, I guess. Here goes nothing.

Dom leaned in and kissed her softly and she didn’t pull away, and after a second or two to register what was doing, she responded, soft and sweet. When they parted, he smiled at her, curious to see what her reaction would be.

“... so … that was kinda unexpected.” Kitty laughed a little nervously, but didn’t pull away. Not that it’s in her nature to run away anyway- if she didn’t want it, she’d just tell me or slap me or something. It’s one thing I like about you, Kitty, it’s pretty easy to figure out where you stand. Honest. I like that, a lot. The truth was, despite probably having a bit of a reputation as a player, Dom never really liked playing games.

“You don’t seem to have minded, though.” Dom grinned for a moment, but then it turned into something a little more thoughtful. “I really, really like you, Kitty. Hell, I care about you. And whatever you thought about me when we first met, water under the bridge. I mean, all you knew about me was what I’d done with the Brotherhood. And that one time we attacked your house. Which is the stupidest, stupidest shit I ever participated in-” He was cut off by another kiss, this one considerably more heated and urgent.

“Water under the bridge.” Kitty pronounced when it was all over. “Just like you said.” Now she was really, truly smiling in a way that seemed to light up not just her face but pretty much the entire universe. Is this actually happening? Is KPryde actually into me too? “So … yeah. That was also just a thing that happened.” She laughed and then looked at him earnestly. “You want to maybe get out of here for a bit? Or we could watch a movie or something.” She cast her eye around and then reached out her hands for his. “C’mon. Dumb dishes can wait.”

Let’s see, hot girl who you really like who’s clearly eagerly to spend time in kissing proximity or continuing to do a big pile of dishes. Real hard choice there. Dom laughed. “Fine. You win. The dishes can sit there and fester. Movie sounds good. Your place or mine?”

“Ha. Funny. Also, I’ve been in your room. You don’t actually have a TV in there.” Kitty rolled her eyes. “Hope you’re in the mood for something funny, because action movies are a little … too real right now.” Suits me just fine. I’d watch a Turkish infomercial if it meant that I got to hang out in your room. Heck, I’d watch a loop of nothing but paint drying.

“Hey, I’m good with whatever.” Dom grinned, and they went out the door of the kitchens, down the hallway and up the stairs to the girl’s dorms, where Kitty’s room was located. Damn, they’re pretty lax on the rules about guys going into the girls’ dorms. Not that Dom exactly minded, in fact, it suited him just fine. He suspected, however, that it was going to change when the school finally expanded and instead of a few dozen students, there were hundreds. Finally, they came up to the room labelled “K. Pryde”, and instead of opening the door, Kitty reached for his hand and he felt a slightly weird pins and needles feeling, as if his body was half asleep and the next thing he knew, Kitty had pulled him through the door.

“Pretty handy trick.” Dom grinned but the grin faded a little when he suddenly saw Kitty wince slightly and reach her hand up to her neck. “... okay. Priorities. Lemme help out with that.”

“I’m fine-” Kitty started but Dom shook his head.

“No. It is not fine. You’re uncomfortable at best and hurting at worst. Not. Cool. C’mon, sit on the bed. If you can get your hair up, so I can work, it’ll be better.” Somewhat to Dom’s surprise, Kitty actually did as suggested, tying up her hair and sitting down on the bed. Dom came up behind her, and let a little bit of his power flow through his hands, creating a steady vibration as he applied them to her neck, and shoulders. Damn, she’s all knotted up. I bet she basically lives like this, though, between all that exercise and the stress.

“How’s that, Kitty?” Dom asked after a few moments of silence, though he was pretty sure she was relaxing some.

“Oh my God. You weren’t lying about those magic hands.” Kitty made a relaxed little sound which Dom was fairly sure was the human equivalent of purring. “Don’t. Stop.” Dom laughed softly and continued working for a few more minutes, varying the pressure and the rate of the tiny seismic waves working through his palms and fingers. He leaned down and planted a little kiss against the juncture of her shoulder and neck.

“... heya.” Kitty smiled faintly.

“Heya yourself.” Dom replied with another smile, pressing another kiss to the side of her neck before starting to work on her upper back.

Chapter Text

Where am I? Where the hell are these guys taking me?

Alex tried to kick at the trunk door again, but they’d done a good job of tying him up- if there was a switch somewhere in there to open the door, he wasn’t likely to trip it. The best he could probably hope for, realistically, was that someone was following him or that someone noticed the rustling in the trunk and called the license plate into the cops. Yeah, except they came in a fucking cop car. I bet it’s a real one too. Still, he kicked at it.

I hope Mom and Dad and Beth are okay. Alex didn’t know if the Friends of Humanity bastards that took him were particularly interested in them- whether they were interested only in attacking mutants. They didn’t take my wallet or anything and they didn’t ask any questions. He kicked the door again. I gotta figure something or someone’s gotta help me before they get where they’re going.

Alex wasn’t stupid. He knew they were taking him somewhere for execution. Not quite sure why they didn’t just kill me where they found me. Why drag my ass for an hour or more? He wondered if they were going be having some sort of gathering. For all he knew, his death was going to be the entertainment. He kicked at the door again frantically. I’m eighteen. I’m not dying at eighteen. Another kick at the door, hard enough this time that he could feel the ache in his bones. He wiggled slightly to give himself slightly better leverage and kicked again.

If I could actually just … use my power properly, I wouldn’t have been taken. Or I’d be able to blast my way out of this car right now. Alex had known he was a mutant for nearly five years, when he’d had a terrible accident with his powers and blown up the shed he was in. But since then, he’d only had a few incidents with his power. It seemed like it quietly built up and then exploded outwards. The last time it had happened, about a month ago, he’d actually been able to predict well enough to get his parents to drive him out into the ass-end of a forest. When they’d come to get him later, he was sitting in the middle of a crater.

We thought we’d hidden everything really well. Alex knew that his parents were scared of what was happening, but they’d stuck by him. He knew that a lot of parents of mutants kicked them out, he’d seen the stories on the news about homeless young mutants. Gangs were apparently having a heyday, recruiting them. Others disappeared, some- probably at the ends of anti-mutant kill squads like the Friends of Humanity. Alex kicked at the door again. Not gonna go without a fight. He kept kicking until his muscles ached and his bones felt like they were going to break.

I don’t want to die! I don’t want to die! It was then that the relatively smooth feeling of paved road stopped and everything felt rougher, his body bumped and jolted. Country road? Or some back access? He heard voices now, the sounds of others, and the mechanical noise of a door opening and his pulling onto a ramp and onto another smooth surface before finally stopping compeletely. Warehouse? The docks?

Alex heard more movement now and he began to frantically redouble his efforts now. If I don’t get out now, I’m probably not going to. Come on. Come ON. It wasn’t doing anything, except that Alex knew that he was badly depleting whatever bit of oxygen was in the trunk. Not that it matters. Not like I’m gonna live for long if I don’t get out of here. Once, twice more, he kicked. And now he could hear people walking around to the trunk where he was.

God. I know when I had my first accident, I tried asking for my mutant power to be taken away. But right now, if You could just … let me use it one more time. I’ll stop bitching about it. I promise. One of the bursts would probably blow open the trunk and take care of the guys that were coming around and even right at that moment, opening up the trunk. But nothing came, and instead, rough hands grabbed him and regardless of how much Alex struggled, he was dragged out of the vehicle, along the ground to where he saw dozens of Friends of Humanity hooligans in their patchwork of paramilitary outfits and towards the front, two terrifying figures in powered armour- they looked like- well, if they had the Spanish Inquisition in Star Wars.

Purifiers. Oh my god, those are Purifiers.

“Only one?” One of the Purifiers spoke in a mechanical drone that didn’t do anything to make them seem less like some sort of Christian fundamentalist Sith Lord. The other turned its blank masked face towards Alex. “Our brothers can bring in a dozen mutants a night. Perhaps they are crawling further and further underground. Where was this one found? Congregating in Alphabet Town with the rest of its satanic kind?”

The men who took him seemed almost as intimidated by the Purifier as Alex felt himself being. “We … we took this one out of a skate park in Jersey.”

“Was he alone?” The Purifier asked. It was difficult to tell with the mechanical tone of voice, but there was almost a note of disappointment there.

“Yeah, he was alone. The device tagged him as a mutant but he didn’t try to use any powers. It was pretty easy work.” The Friends of Humanity thug, who had seemed plenty big to Alex when he’d jumped him at the park, looked strangely small next to the Purifier. “Thought we’d give him to you guys. An offering.” A slightly nervous laugh. “We’re all friends, right?”

“We hold many of the same ideals. The sanctity of humanity and the satanic perversion of mutation.” The Purifier turned his attention towards Alex for a moment. “He is a mutant, yes. One is … better than none. Perhaps the next night’s hunting will be better. You understand, mutant, that there is no way out for you but death. For you or the rest of your demonic breed.” He stood to his full height, nearly seven feet in the armour. “We accept your gift. Force him to his knees.”

Alex fought as hard as he could, but strong arms forced him down. He tried to kick, slam his body against the men holding him, anything to make them drop him even for a moment, but nothing seemed to work, and then the Purifier stooped down slightly to punch him, the incredible force of the powered armour exploding every bit of air out of his lungs. He was sure that he blacked out momentarily, but soon enough, he felt himself forced onto his knees, with a large pistol pointed at his head.

“Lord, accept this gift of blood and send this demon spawn to Hell. In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spir-” The Purifier then looked up as part of the glass roof of the building they were in crashed down upon them. And even though a couple of falling bits of glass cut him, he’d never been more grateful to hear the sound of something breaking. The next sight was something that he wouldn’t have believed if he’d seen it in a movie. Little bits of paper- fucking playing cards gently drifting down from the shattered ceiling. Except they were glowing.

And then every one of them exploded and it looked like the Fourth of July and there was complete pandemonium. And then the next thing that Alex knew was that some pinkish bolt of something was headed right for his face and then he was out of the chains and some huge fat guy had crashed through the wall, taking half a dozen Friends of Humanity people. Alex gasped as the one Purifier lit a flamethrower, probably intending to toast the fat guy, but then the stream of flame looked like a dragon and the Purifier was engulfed in flames, running about aimlessly as his clothes burned off and his armour started to melt into slag.

There was a blur that stopped in front of him and took the form of a thin silver-haired young man. “Hey. I’m gonna grab your head so you don’t die of whiplash and then you’re going out of here.” Alex didn’t have time to respond, because the silver-haired kid did exactly that, grabbed his head firmly and then the next thing he knew, he was moving faster than he ever thought was possible and was out the door, only hearing the sounds of battle from a distance.

“Alex Masters, I presume?” A red-haired, blue-skinned woman addressed him with a faint smirk on her face- also she was a total babe, though probably a bit old for him. Alex was guessing she was somewhere around thirty. “Name’s Mystique.” She cocked a big gun, he faint smirk turning into a huge grin. “We’re the motherfucking Brotherhood of Mutants. We’ll introduce ourselves properly at the House.”

“... Brotherhood?” Alex instinctively backed away for a moment. “You mean, like …” His eyes opened wide. “Magneto?” Magneto almost destroyed the fucking world. Talk about going out of the frying pan and into the fire. “... you work for Magneto?” The name came out half-choked. He looked around frantically for a moment, expecting to see the man himself coming down in his imperious robes, collapse the building in on itself and then drag Alex back into his base and recruit him into his mutant race war.

“Fuck no.” Mystique replied and there was a real edge to her voice that suggested that it would be a bad idea for Alex to push that one further. “We’re the OG. And we’re not out to destroy the world or to take over it. We’re about fucking up the people who would hurt mutants. Like we’re fucking up the fuckers who kidnapped you. Protecting mutants. By any means necessary.”

Alex looked back towards the building, which still rang with the sounds of combat, thinking about how he’d been grabbed, beaten, stuffed into a trunk and driven towards what would’ve been his execution. “I never did anything. I never hurt anybody. I mean, I’m barely even a mutant. I’ve had my power do something like, a few times and that’s it.”

“... it doesn’t matter to these people.” Mystique glanced back over at them. “You were their self-declared enemy the moment you were born as a mutant. And it’s one thing to be told that, but you’ve experienced it now. They will not rest, until we’re all dead, every last mutant man, woman and child.” She looked at him for a moment. “How would you like to learn a bit more about your powers? I know people. And maybe not feel so incredibly fucking helpless?”

Alex shook his head. “I mean … I’m not against fucking back or anything. But I got a family. They know I’m a mutant and they’re okay with it. They’ve supported me. Every step of the way. And I can’t just leave them- so, if you’re gonna give me the choice, yeah, I’d like to go home.”

“I’m not going to stop you from doing that, Alex- but I want you to think about this for a moment. They took you not far from home, right?”

“... yeah. Skate park, like, two blocks from home.” The same park that I went to every day of my life for years.

“Think you’re really going to be safe going home, Alex? Or that your family is going to be safe? The Friends of Humanity aren’t really known for taking kindly to what they call ‘mutie-lovers’ and I know for a fact that Purifiers kill entire families if they’re known to be supportive of their mutant kids. Most likely, though, if they know you’re not there anymore, they’ll look elsewhere for their kicks.” Mystique didn’t sound like she was lying, nor did it really seem like she was threatening him, even if she was holding a gun. She wasn’t pointing it at him.

“... so what am I supposed to do?” Alex replied. “I mean, like I said, I’m not much of a mutant. My powers only triggered a few times and I don’t know how to use them. And when they do, it’s just an explosion around me. Not super useful.” Not like whoever did the badass trick with the exploding cards. Or the thing that teleported me out. Or moved me so quickly. Hell, even the big fat guy just crashed through a wall and ate a bunch of bullets without even flinching. Or the crazy shit with the fire. “You all don’t really seem like you need me much.”

“Raven helps all kinds of people. I mean, I’m not very good at fighting with my powers right now either. But … when my mom died, they came after me and she helped me. Saved me.” A girl stepped forwards- Alex corrected himself, the most beautiful girl he ever saw, with awesome green hair and emerald green eyes and a soft smile. Alex instinctively tried to brush some dust off himself. “You could come stay for a bit and figure things out.”

“... I mean, I guess, I don’t have a lot of choice.” Alex shrugged but then smiled slightly, involuntarily, at the super pretty girl in the green. “Uh hi, I’m Alex. Thanks for coming to rescue me.” He then looked towards Raven, who he was pretty sure was actually in charge of the operation. “I mean it. You saved my life.” There’s no saying anything else, I was pretty much completely helpless.

“You always have a choice. But the other options are, admittedly, probably pretty shitty.” Raven- since that was probably her actual name, grinned slightly, and then smiled at the prettiest girl in the world. “You should probably introduce yourself.” She gave Alex a little smirky look- yeah, I know. You’re a sucker for pretty girls and I am unrepentant and also be a good boy or I’m going to hang you with your own guts.

“Oh! Right.” The prettiest girl in the entire world smiled and though it was difficult to tell in the dark, it kind of looked like she was blushing. “My name’s Lorna- Polaris when we’re doing official Brotherhood stuff. But I’m not really official yet. And you could come stay at the Brotherhood place. It’s actually pretty cool. You can kinda do what you want.”

He then felt a hand wrapping itself around his shoulder. “It’s pretty much the fucking life.” A skinny guy with most of his head shaved, except for a pink mohawk smirked at him. “I’m Kid Omega. I mean, my parents called me Quentin, but trust me, I’m Kid Omega. I’m the Brotherhood’s telepath. The powerhouse of the team. I hear your mutant powers are kinda broken. Or not working perfectly. But it’s okay. We’ve got ways to help that. Whaddya do, anyway?”

Alex extracted himself from the smirking asshole. “I dunno. I make an explosion around me. Everything gets blown way or gets burnt to bits. I don’t know much more than that. I’ve never been able to actively trigger the ability.”

“Common problem for mutants.” Quentin nodded. “I mean, I never had issues like that. Most of my problems were trying to keep other people’s stupid thoughts out of my brainpan. Still have issues with that.”

“I can’t always control my powers that well yet.” Lorna spoke up. “That’s why I don’t get into the fighting too much, because there’s a chance that I might not do things right. Even if I really want to help. I hate those people. Purifiers. Friends of Humanity. They went after me, even when I was- I don’t even know how they knew I was a mutant. They came after me like, two days after my mom’s funeral. And some of them were people I knew.” Green eyes gazed into his, full of pain and anger. “I hate them so much.”

Just as she said that, Alex felt something slightly strange in his mouth- the feeling came and went fairly quickly, but what does she do that makes my fillings get weird when she’s angry? It didn’t really seem like a coincidence.

“Careful, Lorna.” Raven spoke. “And … down, Quentin. Down. You should be helping the others with clearing out any resistance. Not making poor Alex’s life any harder.” She then shot him a little glare and he took off pretty quickly. “Quentin’s a bit of a dickbutt.” Alex couldn’t help but laugh at that one. “But he’s pretty useful, so I keep him around.”

Alex looked towards Lorna for a moment, curious. “What … what are your powers anyway? I got a weird buzzing in my fillings when you were- and also. I’m sorry. About what happened to you.” Really. That really sucks. I can’t even imagine. I hope everyone at home is okay. But Raven’s probably right. I’m probably not safe for them anymore. I hate these people. Maybe I can learn more about my powers and protect other people. Like I got protected.

Lorna looked down for a moment and then towards Raven, like she wasn’t exactly sure what she should say about that. Raven gave her a little nod and a faint smile, though.

“I can control magnetism.” She paused for a moment and said exactly what Alex was thinking. “Like my father, Magneto.”

Holy shit.

Chapter Text

Scott was beginning to wonder if this was such a great idea.

On paper, it seemed only reasonable to gather a small group of the most promising young mutants, train them together and oversee an exhaustive curriculum designed to identify their strengths and give them the resources they needed to realize their ambitions. It’s not dissimilar to what Dad did for us, though we’re being a little more systematic about it. The mission of the Xavier Institute for the Gifted was, after all, primarily educational.

The Institute’s alliance of convenience with the Hellfire Club was a complicating factor, but it also did open up access to all sorts of resources and venues that they would have been denied otherwise. Some of the largest and most powerful corporations on Earth were controlled by the Hellfire Club’s Inner Circle and through the connections of the Club, they potentially had access to many more. There were serious risks as well- Scott wasn’t going to pretend for a second that the Hellfire Club had any particularly altruistic motivations and he suspected they had some quite dark ones.

There were plenty of philosophical and ethical reasons for Scott to wonder if he was making a serious mistake. Right now, however, they seemed to fade into irrelevance compared to the real problem, the elephant in the room that Scott had to admit that neither he nor Emma had given remotely enough consideration to.

Teenagers. This is a bunch of teenagers who don’t like each other, most of whom have no experience or particular motivation to act like a team.

Laura was one of the few of the young mutants with any sense of how combat training actually went- and the truth was, that Scott knew that Laura could quickly demolish him in any hand-to-hand combat situation. Her skills were significant and Scott had the feeling that they weren’t seeing the whole of them. I suppose I can’t blame her for holding back so much. It’s good that she isn’t literally trying to kill people but it doesn’t give me a great sense of where she’s at. She was also shy to the extent of being antisocial, except around Jubilee.

Jubilee didn’t work well with groups, or in groups. She had a strong independent streak and didn’t react particularly well to authority. She also had a particularly vulgar tongue that grated Scott the wrong way. Jubilee would clearly, at the very least, need convincing that this was a serious affair and an opportunity for her. Scott wondered if part of it was a calculated strategy to avoid getting too close to other people. He’d read the files and knew how her parents had died. That’d have a hell of an effect on anyone.

Emma had brought Julian Keller into the orbit of the Institute- the scion of one of the Hellfire Club’s second ring of families, the sort of people who aspired to one day occupy seats in the Inner Circle. Scott had to admit, he wasn’t totally unimpressed with Julian’s telekinetic abilities- in fact, he seemed to have better control of them in some ways than even Jean did, as awful as it made him feel to admit that. However, he was insubordinate and spoiled, convinced he should be the leader by dint of having been born rich and powerful. Which is a fancy way of saying I don’t like the kid much.

Jamie Madrox was the next in consideration, a boy in possession of a truly interesting power which allowed him to split into multiple bodies when struck by any significant kinetic force. Unfortunately, in practice, it meant that it was frequently impossible to know if one was speaking to the original Jamie, or one of his ‘dupes’ as he called them. Jamie was also a bit immature to say the least- he reminded Scott a little of Bobby. He hoped that Jamie didn’t find himself in a situation anything like the desperate fight at Cape Citadel. We should have been there.

Scott didn’t have a good read on Everett yet- the young man had been pretty quiet thus far. He had another interesting mutant power- the ability to ‘sync’ with other mutants, gaining their powers temporarily. Naturally enough, his powers hadn’t been known to him until fairly recently. When Scott had nominated him for the team, Everett hadn’t refused but had made it clear that he was more interested in the educational part of it, which Scott could respect but didn’t necessarily make for a good team vibe.

Emma had also brought along a certain Monet St. Croix, who seemed to possess about half the total of existent mutant powers in a single body- superhuman strength, endurance, flight and also, at least moderate-level telepathy. She was also, like Julian, singularly spoiled and arrogant, believing that just about everything was beneath her. Scott knew that her family wasn’t quite as high in the Hellfire Club’s standing as Julian’s were, but that her father was apparently the French Ambassador to the United Nations and that she was apparently related by blood to several of the rulers of the old Barbary states. Which means absolutely nothing if she can’t stop sticking up her nose at people.

The final member of the prospective team was, by far, the most eager to actually be working and training on a team. Doreen Green, who had already staked out the name ‘Squirrel Girl’, was genuinely interested in making things work. However, she had her share of issues to work out. She’s a good person who means well, but doesn’t always understand that she comes on a little too strong. Also, I think she believes that training as a team means that they’re going to be going out on missions like the main X-Men team. Or the Avengers.

“How are you doing, Scott?” Emma walked into the control room- I suppose I shouldn’t feel suspicious about that, she does have a standing invitation due to this project. She carried two coffees in her hand, and put down one of them next to him. “Dark roast. I tried to get them to give me the sludge left from yesterday’s shift, but allegedly they throw it out.” There was something of a wry little smile. It made Scott wonder just how far the punchline about his preference for strong coffee had gone.

“Well, just about everyone on this team hates each other. Monet and Julian seem to have found that they dislike each other almost as much as everyone else who they view as beneath them. Jubilee is vulgar, Laura has zero confidence, Everett would probably rather be doing homework and Doreen is-” Scott paused for a moment. “Somewhat overeager to say the least. Which means that I suppose it’s going about as well as you would imagine.”

“I didn’t ask how our project was proceeding.” Emma raised her eyebrow. “I asked how you were doing. With the broken ribs and assorted other injuries.” She rolled her eyes. “But thank you for the unnecessary update. These, are, however, the people we chose.” I might have chosen a few others, but it’s a partnership. That means give and take. “Also, no, you shouldn’t feel suspicious about me coming over anymore. You’ve as good as given me the keys, darling. And while, certainly, Monet and Julian could afford to learn just a little more graciousness, they’ve also been thrust in with quite a motley assortment. Laura’s not exactly the sort of company you keep in elite prep schools.”

“They’re snobs.” Scott replied bluntly, but then sighed slightly and took the coffee. “Pretty sore. Doing better, though. Could’ve been a lot worse.” He took a sip of the coffee, still pretty hot despite the drive that Emma would presumably have taken from the school. “Thanks for the coffee. It’s pretty good.” He still liked his own coffee the best, but he had to admit this was a pretty good alternative. It had also been thoughtful of her to bring it.

“That sounds awfully dismissive for what is supposed to be an inclusive school. I’ll speak to them if you like. But someone’s going to have to talk to Jubilee. Her language is disgusting. And yes, I know full well that she’s fronting to cover a fear of making new connections. She’s become good friends with Laura, though. Which is worrying in and of itself. It’ll be difficult for her to learn social skills as it is.” Emma picked up her own coffee and took a sip. “And Doreen. Yes, bless her heart, she’s eager. But … squirrels, Scott? Squirrels?”

Scott sipped his coffee and looked over at Emma, trying to project the memory as best he could of a colossal horde of squirrels overrunning Dr. Doom and his castle. “I honestly can’t blame you for being skeptical, Emma. I can assure you though, her ability to command squirrels is not a joke. How many millions of those creatures live in the United States? She can communicate with them, see through their eyes and command them within a radius of at least several miles. She was kept in a secret prison by Dr. Doom, because she nearly beat him, solo. With us as backup?” Scott paused for a moment. “ Squirrels. ”

“She is one of the more willing team players on the group.” Emma glanced through the one-way glass of the command tower at the group, looking like they were bickering their way through their individual power trials. “Even if there aren’t any squirrels in the Danger Room.” Scott glanced over at Doreen, running nimbly through a spinning tunnel, one that had even thrown Laura in the past. She doesn’t really need it. She’d be a perfectly capable member of the team even without her power over squirrels.

“And while we’re admitting things, Julian’s got a good handle on his telekinetic powers.” Scott wasn’t terribly fond of the young man on a personal level, but whatever unpleasant attitude he’d demonstrated socially, he seemed to have a certain discipline towards his mutant abilities. “He’s manipulating five tons pretty easily.” More than Jean was doing in her normal state, but then again, at the end- at Cape Citadel, Jean had done something which belonged less in the realm of the superhuman and almost the supernatural.

“He’s determined to succeed. His family has been just outside the margins of the Hellfire Club’s Inner Circle for generations. Close enough that he’s been made very, very aware that the possession of significant mutant gifts will likely push him over the top.” Emma glanced over at where Julian was demonstrating some of his finer control. “I will, however, make it clear that his performance here is a significant consideration. To be sure, any appointments to the Inner Circle are ultimately Sebastian’s prerogative, but I have his ear.”

Scott didn’t say anything in response to that and tried to avoid thinking much of anything about it. It was unkind to speculate much on how she might have got Sebastian’s ear, particularly when she had legitimate talents. Frost Media was a very successful company and despite being only a few years older than he was, Emma was a billionaire in her own right, ever since her father had turned the company over to her.

“You know, one day, I hope that we can simply work together without you finding eight million reasons to be suspicious of my ulterior motives.” Emma actually smiled faintly, though. “I know I shouldn’t be picking up those thoughts of yours, but you broadcast them so strongly, it’s difficult not to. In any case, I didn’t need telepathy to maneuver my father out of the company.” She paused for a moment. “Early-onset dementia. He agreed to leave the company so he could enjoy his last years of relatively good mental function as a private citizen with Mother. Mostly, the maneuverings were so that I got the company, not my sisters or my brother.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” The thought that it could’ve been a lie flickered briefly through Scott’s mind, but he reasoned that there was no value for Emma to lie about something that was probably well within his power to verify.

Emma simply nodded, as if happy to move on from the topic, which suggested to Scott that it had been the truth. He thought about his own father, and wondered how they’d ever cope if something similar happened to him. It would make for a very, very dangerous combination. Dementia and telepathy. Scott hoped that he would never have to find that one out. “I’ve had a look at the academic records of everyone involved. Julian, Monet and Everett are all exceptional students. Doreen and Jamie are broadly adequate. Jubilee has … severe defects in math. I’d recommend testing for dyscalculia. As for Laura- she’s genius-level in certain fields and immensely deficient in others, which shouldn’t be a surprise. Strong deficiencies in abstract and critical thinking. Those may, however, improve with time and the right socialization.”

“She has friends.” Scott replied. “I know you don’t love Jubilee and heaven knows I sometimes find her exasperating too, but they are friends. And frankly, I think it’s important that they remain so. They’re both desperately lonely, traumatized young women. I don’t need telepathy to understand that. She trains with Kitty and I think she looks up to her as a sort of big sister. Or the closest equivalent she understands.”

“Ah yes, Ms. Pryde. The golden child. Why isn’t she on this team?” Emma raised an eyebrow. “I’m aware that she’s in university, but she’s still only seventeen. And don’t you think she could take a few lessons in group dynamics? And that people like Laura, Jubilee and Jamie could benefit from her example?” Emma’s eyes flickered back to Scott for a moment.

“She refused.” Scott replied simply.

“Any idea why?” Emma inquired, with a raised eyebrow. “I’d assume it had to do with the connotations of my presence as a member of the Hellfire Club’s Inner Circle, but if she really had any problem with us, she wouldn’t be going on periodic … adventures with Tessa.”

“Her reasons are her business.” Scott shrugged. He figured that part of it was resentment at being placed on what was clearly a junior squad when she’d been there at Cape Citadel. It might have also had something to do with the trauma of that experience, something that Scott knew lived with Kitty still, as much as she liked to pretend that it didn’t. She shouldn’t have been. It’s not right to have ever expected that of her. “But she was very clear about her refusal. And we’re not asking again. If she changes her mind, she knows where to find us.”

“.. but don’t hold our breaths?” Emma smirked faintly. “Very well.” Her smirk faded away as she returned to the command window. “Individually, they all have some notable strengths or another. Even Jubilee. She’s remarkably resilient and you have to admit, that was quite the stunt she pulled with the bobby pin.” Yeah, that was pretty impressive.

“I think what they need is for us to pull the rug out from underneath them a little bit. Force the issue of them working together. They’ve agreed to this.” Scott turned to Emma. “I’m not saying that we should put them through a fight with Magneto or anything, but something. And then have a good long discussion about what they could’ve done differently or better.” Scott glanced back at them for a moment. Jubilee looked to be getting up in Julian’s face over something. And Laura was giving Julian a bit of a look which was difficult to truly describe, but a little bit like a predator looking at prey.

“Well, if we’re going to do this, better sooner than later. Before one of them gets ridiculous and kills someone else in the group.” Emma’s eyes settled on Scott for a moment. “I have to admit, I’m pretty curious to see how this motley group of ours does when thrust into a difficult situation. Perhaps we’ll see some hidden gifts. Or have insight into their already-apparent personality defects.” She smiled thinly. “And if we’re going to put them through the wringer- if the intent is to see how they act in a desperate situation.” The smile broadened ever so slightly. “Why don’t we throw Magneto at them and see how they fare?”

“The point isn’t to humiliate them. It’s to make them realize that if they’re going to accomplish anything, they’re going to accomplish it together.” Scott replied. He didn’t really love that look in Emma’s eye- that was the White Queen of the Hellfire Club speaking. He knew that Emma had better qualities and preferred it when she leaned into those more- for example, her legitimate passion for education. And her conviction that the benefits of the Hellfire Club should be passed onto a new generation and not simply hoarded at the current top.

“Why thank you.” Emma smiled slightly and it almost looked genuine. “That was very nearly a compliment. But if not Magneto, what did you have in mind? They’re pretty powerful. They’re not going to be adequately tested by throwing some regular-level goons at them.”

Scott shook his head. “I’ve got some ideas. Like you suggested- we’ve got some pretty broad files in the Danger Room. And you did mention teamwork. You know, we can program it so they can’t rely on their mutant abilities. The room is capable of suppressing them and even simulating other abilities as needed.”

“... fascinating.” Emma looked almost surprised by that. “You seem to have something in mind for our intrepid teenage mutants.”

“Yeah.” Scott grinned and then paused for a moment. “You ever played Dungeons & Dragons, Emma?”

“... of course I haven’t.” Emma replied and then raised her eyebrow. “You’re not seriously suggesting that we … run a LARP.”

“We want them to be forced to work together. Monet and Julian are not going to do that while they feel like they can brute force through a scenario by themselves and Laura’s just going to go for the jugular. Hank and Forge programmed the fantasy scenarios to develop teamwork, over strictly practicing their powers. And it’ll be a challenge without feeling like we’re training them for specific attack scenarios. A Purifier scenario feels way too paramilitary to me.” Scott smiled faintly. “In any case, it’ll be fun to watch.”

“You just relish the spectacle of making me assist you in running a LARP.” Emma scoffed, but there was a faint smile there. “Well-played, I suppose.”

Chapter Text

Jubilee’s first thought when they were basically made to do a LARP was that Scott had finally gone off his rocker and that this was a remarkably stupid idea- but after seeing the horrified, the genuinely horrified looks on Monet and Julian’s face? She was willing to forgive just about anything. Even the fact that the illusion was inexplicably telling her that she was an actual hobbit. She’d got some sweet knives and a set of lockpicking tools, though.

“I do not understand the value of this. Shouldn’t be be learning to work together with our actual abilities?” Laura, who had become a gigantic badass half-orc with a massive hammer, glanced towards her. “I feel clumsy in this particular guise.”

“I’ve always wanted to LARP. This is SO COOL.” Jamie grinned, strumming a lute. “And I got a lute! I must be the bard! Which means I get to do stuff with the power of song. Hold on, lemme see if I can …” And then Jamie actually went and strummed the first few chords of Stairway to Heaven on his lute, which made Jubilee roll her eyes inwardly. “And I’m a half-elf! Lookit my ears.”

Julian Keller, who was decked out in shiny armour like some ridiculous storybook knight, turned towards them. “Okay, so our job is to get inside this ridiculous dungeon and steal something from the tomb of some lich. Whatever a lich is. So, now that we’ve finished finding out what stupid abilities we have, I’m saying that time’s wasting. The quicker we’re finished, the quicker we can go do something useful.”

“Mr. Summers wouldn’t make us do this if there wasn’t a point!” Doreen glared at Julian. “Monkey Joe agrees, doesn’t he?” Doreen smiled at the squirrel that had inexplicably formed next to her. “And I’ve never done a LARP, but it looked like lots of fun on YouTube. But … yeah, let’s go. It should be fun. And then maybe next time, we can have codenames and train as heroes.”

“You don’t get to be a hero by dressing up in a costume and running around.” Everett replied, half-hidden by his wizard’s cloak. “That’s not what being a hero is. But I kind of agree with Julian here. Let’s get this over with. We’ve all got more important things to do. College admission boards don’t care about how well you LARP.” He flicked through his spellbook for a moment. “We gotta figure out how to get in here, first. If I’m remembering right … that’s your job, Jubilee.”

“Who died and made you the leader?” Monet flickered her eyes at Everett for a moment. “This scenario would be over in thirty seconds if I had my powers.” Yeah, I get it. Miss Perfect Mutant. Who got all the powers. Jubilee kind of hoped that she choked on it at some point. Everett could be annoying but Jubilee got where he was coming from- kid who doesn’t have much of anything, gets told he might have a shot at a full scholarship and support. Jubilee didn’t give a shit about school stuff, but she could respect that Everett did. He wasn’t the problem.

“I’m the senior member of the group.” Julian asserted, as if being a few days or months or even a year older than anyone else mattered. Scott and Ororo got to lead the X-Men because they were both badasses with charisma. You’re nothing but a spoiled brat. Jubilee remembered vaguely when she was probably not a whole lot better. A little better, because Julian was a jackass of the first order. Laura sniffed over at him and Jubilee wasn’t quite sure if she hated the guy or if she wanted to jump his bones. Ew. Shutting that thought train right off. “Jubilee. Go look for a door. Monet, Everett, Jamie. Cast spells or whatever. Doreen, get your squirrel to look around too. Laura, uh, watch our backs.”

He’s a little intimidated of her. Oh, that’s actually kind of excellent.

Tempted as she was to simply tell Julian to fuck off, he was probably onto something. He’s a tool, more than an idiot. Jubilee snuck off, scoping about, checking out the walls- which certainly looked like walls. No doors so far. But something did look a little … interesting. There was what looked like a hole in the wall, framed by the mouth of some sort of demon-creature. Jubilee peered at it for a moment. There was something off about that darkness.

Doreen’s squirrel scampered up to her for a moment, wiggling its nose adorably, giving Jubilee a brilliant but terrible idea. She bent down a little, putting on the biggest, most harmless smile she could. “Hey little guy. Can I pick you up?” She put her hand out to the squirrel, who ran up along her arm. “Aww, you’re pretty cute. And you know what? I bet you’re a born explorer too, aren’t you? You wanna help your Auntie Jubilee figure something out?” She placed the seemingly obedient squirrel in her hand and then tossed it into the darkness around the devil’s mouth. “Run back out if there’s something there!”

The moment the squirrel touched the darkness, it vanished totally as a few tiny tufts of fur from its tail fell to the ground. Well, in the immortal words of Admiral Ackbar- it’s a trap! Ha. Solved that trap pretty good. Hopefully Doreen doesn’t have a psychic connection to fake DnD squirrels. Still gotta find a door, though. J

Jubilee resumed her searching, fairly fruitlessly, until she heard a distant chord and suddenly she realized that one patch of the stone was a slightly different colour than the rest. Secret door? Jubilee pushed at it lightly, surprised when it gave way and revealed a sliding door. Secret door! One point for me, I guess. Huh. How’d I find that?

“I inspired you!” Jamie grinned. “Because I can do that. But I can’t do it all the time. Hey guys, Jubilee found a secret door!” He waved over towards the others, who came up towards where she was. “I did my bardy thing and she found a door. Also, there’s a big demon with an “O” face.”

“... anyone seen Monkey Joe? I mean, he’s not the real Monkey Joe, but still …” Doreen glanced around.

“Hopefully eaten by something ferocious.” Monet replied, rolling her eyes. “What is the point of this, anyway? Mr. Summers has a lot of explaining to do here. Ms. Frost would never make us do something remotely this ridiculous. Isn’t a cleric some sort of priest? Ugh. Why are we even cooperating with this ridiculous program?” She glared upwards at what looked like a night sky but could’ve been right at the control panel. Jubilee kind of loved, however, that she’d been made into a dwarf, though sadly she didn’t have a beard.

“Because Mr. Summers and Miss Frost told us to.” Jamie replied.

“Arguing is useless.” Laura growled. “If you want this to end, then clearly the only way out is through.” She swung her hammer to the ready, glancing inside the passage to the dungeon and beginning to tiptoe her way, as if she was in her lithe, slender natural body and not the badass but admittedly bulkier body of the half-orc she’d become.

“I didn’t say for you to go in there yet, Kinney.” Julian shouted after her, but to no effect.

“Yeah, just watch me go in there with her.” Jubilee grinned and flashed Julian the finger as she walked into the darkness. Jamie and Doreen, predictably enough, followed in short order, leaving Monet and Julian to probably look at each other like clueless idiots and Everett to huff and follow them, realizing there wasn’t a better alternative.

It was dark in the tunnel- dark enough that Jubilee could barely make out Laura’s form, even though she was maybe twenty feet ahead, despite having just entered into the tunnel. Laura stopped for a moment, putting up her hand silently. I’m assuming she can see something better than I can. I damn well hope so, because I’m just about blind here. Jubilee crossed the distance between her and Laura and stopped. Jubilee heard rustling behind her as someone in heavy armour was coming blustering to the front. Julian, no doubt, terrified that someone else might get credit for something.

Julian charged past Jubilee easily and ducked around Laura, with a lit sword in the air, which made for pretty good illumination, but also probably served as a beacon. Julian continued tromping down further and further, until Jubilee heard a faint click and the floors began to collapse in the area around Julian, who was barely able to jump out of the way. Laura remained impassive, but Jubilee laughed.

“I’ve played D&D.” Everett spoke finally, coming up behind everyone. “You always, always send the rogue out first. Everything’s probably trapped.” He waved his hand and created what looked like a translucent bluish-white bridge over the newly opened pit. “Slow and easy over the bridge.” Jubilee scampered over pretty easily, figuring that Everett’s words were more for the big people than for her tiny hobbit butt. Jubilee also noticed suddenly that her eyes were becoming more adept at seeing in darkness. She didn’t have colours, but the shapes were all pretty well-defined.

“Darkvision.” Everett spoke by way of explanation with a small smile as the others continued to pad their way along.

Jubilee heard something down the hallway. It sounded a little bit like an owl’s hooting, but louder and deeper, as if the owl had been steadily abusing steroids for years. Laura sniffed and Jubilee wondered if she had some sort of scent ability- I thought the program suppressed our abilities? Maybe hers are just so inherent to her being that she can’t. It made Jubilee wonder if she really could blast someone with sparklies if she needed to.

Jubilee continued to sneak quietly down the corridor, hoping her small size and silent step would mean that whatever it was wouldn’t see her. She peered around a corner and then that’s when she saw it. Oh my god, it’s some sort of bear-owl. Are we supposed to kill it? It’s actually kind of weirdly cute? It let out another decidedly bear-ish woo and then got up on its hindlegs, sniffing around. Jubilee turned to the others, whispering as quietly as he could.

“Guys, there’s a bear-owl thingy ahead. I wonder if we can scare it off or something. I don’t want to kill it.” Even though I totally killed a squirrel. God, it’s a good thing Doreen isn’t a telepath. And speaking of the devil, Doreen herself advanced up open it, grinning a big bucktoothed grin.

“Don’t worry about this! I’m gonna make friends! Hey, bearowl!” Doreen stepped out into the faint light around the owlbear, which turned towards her, letting out another deep wooo, and now showing off some truly impressive claws and a sharp-looking beak. Oh. Oh, this is not looking great. “Hi there! You’re a good boy … or girl. I can’t actually tell right now. But we’re looking for the treasure room … do you want to show us?”

Somewhat to Jubilee’s surprise, just as the bearowl was going to totally kill Doreen where she stood, Julian came in, swinging his sword and putting up his big shield into the air, the impact from the bearowl’s claws knocking him onto the ground, but keeping Doreen from becoming julienned by the savage claws. Jamie started excitedly strumming what Jubilee figured was some sort of combat song and several streaks of light shot out of Everett’s fingertips towards the monster. It roared angrily and moved to finish Julian off, but before it could, Laura leapt from seemingly nowhere and swung a hammer right into its bearowl face.

That is so badass. And kind of hot, tbh.

There wasn’t time to consider the possibly implications of that particular line of thought, however, because Jubilee wasn’t gonna stand there and do nothing while her friends got into the fight. She ran towards the bearowl, her tiny legs taking her as fast as they could go. If I get behind it, maybe I can cut its hamstrings or something. With what would’ve been a bloodcurdling scream from larger lungs, Jubilee slashed out with her knives, sending blood and feathers flying through the air as the bearowl let out a pained wooo. Julian managed to get up and thrust his blade deep in its belly as another salvo of magic missiles erupted against the bearowl. It fell to the ground with a last little wooo.

Doreen stood over it for a moment. “... did we have to do that?” She looked at everyone. “Maybe it could’ve been our friend.”

“It’s not real, Doreen.” Julian sounded like he was going to launch into a sarcastic tirade and then stopped, as if realizing that being a tool was not actually helpful. “I mean, I guess it was worth trying.”

Jamie grinned. “Guys- and I mean that as meaning girls too, we actually- we actually worked together. See, I said that Mr. Summers wouldn’t make us do something that was stupid! We learned that we’re stronger together than apart, and that is even more true when we have all our awesome real-life powers! Way to go, team!”

“... could be worse.” Julian looked around. “Anyone hurt or anything? We gotta hurry up and find this lich’s tomb.” He stopped for a moment and sighed. “Working together.” Julian paused for a moment. “Does anyone actually care if I take charge of this a bit?”

“Nah, it’s fine.” Everett shrugged.

“Don’t really give a shit.” Jubilee chimed in.

Doreen shrugged. Jamie put a thumbs up. Laura looked like she didn’t care and was ready for the next fight. Monet, who had blatantly not participated in the slightest, shot them a little glare, but didn’t say anything contrary. Geez, lady. Even Julian the dickbutt is getting into the team spirit.

“Monet.” Julian spoke up at that moment. “Yeah, I know LARPing is pretty much as g- pretty much as lame-” Ooh, nice save there, dickbutt. “- as it gets. But I think I get the point. We’re supposed to work together as best we can. With the people, and the resources we have, not the ones we’re supposed to have. So why don’t we just give it our best shot and then talk about how lame it is with our teachers later?” His voice dropped a little. “Emma Frost is the White Queen of the Hellfire Club. You want to disappoint her? I sure as hell don’t.”

“This is pathetic. This whole thing is pathetic.” Monet glared at Julian. “I don’t understand why Ms. Frost didn’t just create a team with people from the ranks of the Hellfire Club. But fine. Only to get this shit over with. Apparently I can cast spells to make people better and heal people. Of course, they made the healer be a fucking girl. ”

“Eh, that’s kinda legit.” Everett spoke up. “Kinda like if they made me the barbarian or something. But we got more important stuff to deal with. Like finding this lich and taking its treasure. And since I’m the only guy here- I’m guessing, who’s actually played DnD, liches are skeleton wizards. Really powerful ones. So I’m guessing we’re gonna have a hell of a fight ahead of us.”

The next few minutes was full of the spellcasting people in the group doing their thing. Jubilee had to admit that she was feeling pretty great, especially with that one thing that was making her faster. Everett had cast a spell and the lich wasn’t far away. It would be Jubilee’s job to make sure that traps were disarmed. She snuck along doing that. Doreen had summoned an apparently friendly bearowl- who Everett insisted was actually an owlbear to assist them. Julian was gonna charge ahead with Laura and try to tie the lich down. It would be Monet and Jamie’s job to keep everyone alive.

The plan actually sounded fairly solid, and they’d come up with it together, which was actually weirdly rad. It’s probably pretty stupid that I feel that way so quickly, but hey, who’s to argue with a decent-sounding plan and the murder of a bearowl? Results, I say.

Everything seemed to go quite smoothly. The traps were disarmed, a few guardians were swiftly dispatched, the lich essentially sealed in its chamber, and before long, Julian and Laura were breaking the door down, just as a lightning bolt from Everett streaked past them and Jubilee scuttled along to pick up the gold as Jamie and Monet worked to keep everyone alive with the buff spells that couldn’t be cast well in advance. It should’ve been pretty badass, the lich overwhelmed by the sheer number of them, all playing their part in the plan.

But when they broke into the room, it didn’t look like a dungeon chamber at all. In fact, it looked like the Professor’s study in the Institute. And instead of a horrifying lich there was … well, an old lady sitting behind what looked like Professor Xavier’s desk. Specifically an old lady who looked like the Professor would look like if the Professor was a chick. Is this some fucking joke? Jubilee wondered if this was some weird idea that Forge had put into there as a programming joke that Scott didn’t remove in time. It didn’t seem like something Hank would do and it really, really didn’t seem like something Scott would do.

“Hello, children. You must be … surprised.” The old woman even sounded like a chick version of the Professor. “How unfortunate for you that you’re caught in the middle of my vengeance. Ah well. All it means in the end is that Charles dearest has more to lose.

But … where are my manners? My name is Cassandra, Cassandra Xavier, and I am the new proprietor of the Xavier Institute for the Gifted.”

“... Danger Room. Kill the program.” It was Julian that spoke. Absolutely nothing happened.

“Oh, that won’t work, child.” Cassandra spoke, voice dripping with cold malevolence. “You see, you’re already trapped inside your own minds and I’m inside one of you right now.” She cackled brightly. “I’ve got so much to do, yet. Oh, my dearest, dearest children, I have been waiting for so long for this. I’m going to destroy everything that Charles has ever held dear. And then … my children, you will become the agents of my will. The only will that will exist on this godforsaken planet when I’m finished with it.”

Chapter Text

Emma blinked awake, getting uneasily to her feet, instinctively wiping at her nose- though to her relief, there wasn’t blood. Whatever psychic attack was unleashed on me, it didn’t physically damage me at least. She glanced around her and stopped for a moment when she saw Scott lying unresponsive on the floor. Emma gingerly approached him. He was still breathing, thankfully. He’s unconscious, but not psychically wiped. He should recover eventually- how long, it’s hard to say.

It had started in the training scenario with the New Mutants- something had knocked all of them unconscious. Emma could see the image vaguely in her mind, an older woman- a sort of mirror image of Charles. The Danger Room had gone unresponsive and then the next thing Emma knew, she’d seen the image briefly and everything had gone back. She stood fully now. I am going to figure out who dared to do this an then I am going to make them pay.

Emma disliked the feeling of even temporary defeat, and much less the sensation of being psionically overwhelmed. That’s something to I do to other people, not have done to me. It made her briefly wonder what Senator Kelly had felt when she’d gone into his mind and altered it to suit hers and Sebastian’s goals. No matter. He’s lost to us anyway. I’ve got more important things to do than recriminations, anyway. Figuring out, for example, what has happened here and making this woman pay for the insult she’s dealt me.

Cassandra Xavier. Pleased to meet your acquaintance, Ms. Frost. Congratulations on being strong enough to endure my first psychic attack. Elisabeth endured it as well, but I’m afraid she’s got other problems.

Emma refused to speak back, instead, sending out a psionic beacon to see who was conscious at the current moment. At the same time, she quickly checked through the logs of the com system, seeing if there had been any alerts. The one that Scott had sent about the Danger Room. And … outgoing transmissions. Ones that are encrypted to me. I won’t know what they are. Why would there be transmissions to the outside?

It was possible that Charles was trying to summon help from outside.

Ms. Frost?

Monet. Monet, listen to me. What happened here? Tell me everything you know. At least Monet’s mental voice seemed clear enough- largely unhurt then.

We were finishing up the training scenario and then this old woman named Cassandra who looked like the Professor appeared. The next thing, everyone else was unconscious and Cassandra took me. She used me to open the prisoners cage- Victor Creed, I think. Then she left me. I went unconscious.

I can’t detect Elisabeth. Your job is to find her. See if she can be awakened, render the best first aid you can if not.

Emma hoped that she could trust Monet with that- even though she hadn’t exactly performed spectacularly in the training mission. Certainly it looked a little silly, but there was a valuable lesson that I’m not certain she learned. Scott might be a nerd, but he’s not an idiot. She found herself genuinely hoping he was all right. Of course he will be. Besides, I have more pressing concerns. I have to find this Cassandra. She concentrated for a moment, though she didn’t dare close her eyes- I suspect the prisoner had the good sense to flee but all the same, I don’t wish to be ambushed. It’s also possible she took active mental control over someone again.

Emma hated not knowing more about the source of the attacks, but she had an inkling that it was directly to do with Charles Xavier. Cassandra is somehow connected to him. She wouldn’t look like a mirror image without it. I need to find Charles’ office. Along the way, Emma stepped over the unconscious, but unharmed body of another one of the students. That may not remain that way for much longer, though.

Emma sent out another beacon- Monet came through bright and clear and this time, there was a faint ping from what she presumed was Elisabeth as well.

Elisabeth?

Frost. Emma almost smiled faintly at thinly-disguised hostility in Betsy’s tone, that she could still be bitter about the activities of the Hellfire Club when they’d never really directly harmed her. They were businesspeople and leaders, and sometimes leaders made tough decisions.

If only you would embrace your power and your role, Elisabeth, you could be a formidable force indeed.

I’m guessing from the faintness of your signal, that you’re in less than ideal shape. I just want you to know that you’re not permitted to die on me. What happened? I’ve been trying to piece everything together. I was planning on finding Charles, perhaps in his office. If you’ve got better intelligence, however, I’d be happy enough to listen to it.

Charles is in his office. I got that much off of him. Was going to do the same thing, try and intervene. But Victor … found me.

It wasn’t long before Emma turned the hallway and could physically see where Betsy was, pale and clutching at her belly, blood smeared on the walls and pooling around the ground. Purple eyes looked up at her, fixing her defiantly.

If you’re planning on doing anything about this, do it. I’ll do my bloody best not to die in the meantime. I think Victor’s urge to escape was pretty strong. It didn’t take too much to get him to fuck off. I should’ve tried to shut him down- Elisabeth’s psychic voice came through clearly enough, even considering the shape she was in.

“Shut up and focus on not dying.” Emma replied, and then switched to telepathic transmission. I’m no doctor, but I can at least take away the pain. If you trust me. And maybe slow everything down and give you more time. If you can trust me to do that.

Fine. Betsy replied curtly in her mind and Emma did just that, reaching into the other woman’s mind, dulling the pain from her wounds and slowing down what she could, to make sure that she would stay alive for longer. She’ll die if she doesn’t get medical attention, but if I don’t deal with this Cassandra, none of us are likely to be able to render her any aid. Emma tried to reach out with her mind, towards Piotr’s mother, Hank, even Logan, anyone who could realistically render aid for Betsy. They’re all out, at least for now.

Elisabeth’s eyes weren’t really focusing anymore as she was in something not far from a medically-induced coma, but the dilated pupils still seemed to be weirdly intent upon her. Just take care of this bitch, Frost. And maybe I can hate you just a little less. Emma rolled her eyes slightly and got up. She’d done literally everything she could for Betsy- she’d survive a little longer. Long enough, she hoped, for Emma to take care of Cassandra and then to get the medical treatment that she needed.

What a strange situation I’ve found myself in. I’m not formally affiliated in any measure with this school and yet, I’m apparently its final hope.

What was even stranger was that Emma didn’t feel the urge to simply cut her losses and leave. It was true that she couldn’t be certain that this Cassandra Xavier would even let her do so, but judging by the fact that she hadn’t been taken over again or knocked out, she was guessing that Cassandra was otherwise occupied. And the question about why I seem to give a damn about these people can be resolved later. If Cassandra can do this to the Institute, she may be able to do the same to the Hellfire Club.

As she approached the door of the office, Emma noticed that it seemed to be going further and further away. I was wondering when you were going to try and stop me. Cute trick. Emma concentrated more, now that they were clearly on the astral plane, dealing with each other psionically. The door stopped sliding away, but out of a door stepped Cassandra Xavier, who, other than being able to walk, really did resemble a female version of Charles.

However, the expression in Cassandra’s eyes was cold and malicious. They reminded Emma more of the Black Queen than Charles Xavier. Emma stood her ground, her eyes evenly settling onto Cassandra Xavier’s. No point in showing fear. It isn’t as if she’s going to show me any mercy. A gun formed in Emma’s hand and she quickly moved to fire, pulling the trigger and hoping the sudden attack would damage Cassandra badly.

However, Cassandra countered it swiftly, the bullet seeming to fly in slow motion through the air before she reached out and grabbed it, pinching it, assuming a different form while she did so, that of Sebastian Shaw. The kinetic energy in the bullet immediately stopped and Shaw’s face broke out into the cruel smile that she’d seen on Cassandra’s not so long ago. The bullet dropped and Sebastian put his hand down.

“Now, now. Did you think it was going to be this simple?” The words came out in Sebastian’s deep voice, but they belonged to Cassandra Xavier. “Quite simply, you’re no match for me. And the only telepath who is one is incapacitated.” Cassandra moved quickly, just as quickly as Emma saw Sebastian move in the few occasions where she’d seen the man use physical force. I can’t move faster, but perhaps I can somehow.

“I wonder, Emma, if you’ve ever been afraid. You’ve watched Sebastian break people before. You’ve always wondered if one day, it could be you.” Cassandra-as-Sebastian sneered as she reached out for Emma, too quickly for Emma to easily dodge. “Perhaps today is the day you find out what it’s like to be utterly broken.”

I’m going to have to think fast.

When Cassandra grasped her, instead of grabbing vulnerable flesh that could be easily broken, Emma was now made of untouchable diamond. Emma ached at the strain of increasing her psychic defences such, but it was worth it when she moved to restrain Cassandra. Much as Cassandra struggled, Emma knew how to apply her strength. I doubt she actually knows what Sebastian’s powers are, though. She’s only operating on my understanding of them.

The question was rendered moot, however, when Cassandra suddenly broke out of Emma’s grasp, sending her flying hard against the wall. She wasn’t wearing Sebastian Shaw’s form anymore, but that of the Black Queen, the malice shining in black soulless eyes.

“You fear her, don’t you? This Black Queen. She represents something primal, unnatural to you.” Cassandra cracked a whip which suddenly became alive, with the hissing head of a serpent behind it. “Honestly, I’d love to meet her. She seems like my sort of woman.” Emma reached out, however, doing her best to disregard her fear of snakes, grabbing the whip out of Cassandra’s control.

“I’d love to stay and fight with you here, darling, but the fact of the matter is- I’ve got more important work to do.” Cassandra gestured and suddenly the room came alive with shelves and other objects, which all rammed into Emma hard, pinning her up against the wall. “I’m not finished with Charles yet. And of course, we mustn’t forget that your dear friend Elisabeth is bleeding to death while all of this is happening.” Cassandra laughed once again and disappeared behind the door. Damn it all. Emma struggled, but the pressure against her was incredible- if she hadn’t put up psychic armour, she surely would’ve been crushed.

Instead, it would have to be a long and tedious process of removing the mental shackles keeping her in place. One object after the other, and each one making the weight upon her just a little less. As soon as I get any freedom of maneuver, I can wrench myself free. Emma strained against the various articles of furniture blocking her, but they still weren’t budging. She could feel, however, that slowly, she was wearing down on Cassandra’s defences. I have the feeling that she invested everything in her first strike. I can only hope so.

The thought of why she was ever bothering went through her mind again. The X-Men are my best chance at a powerful alliance to further my position in the Hellfire Club. If things ever do go poorly with Sebastian or if he begins to look like a liability, I can always build myself up as an alternative. I also gain access to the resources of the Institute on considerably more generous terms than I would otherwise.

And if things truly went pear-shaped with the Club, I could always find refuge with them. No matter how invested Emma Frost was with the Hellfire Club, it was always a useful thing to have an escape route if possible. It’s in their nature to accept just about anyone. They wouldn’t decline me, not with my valuable connections, resources and abilities.

She was also engaged in what she thought was a useful and interesting project with Scott. Whatever they might think of me now, in time, they’ll look at me as a mentor as much as Scott. And they’ll consider my alliance with the X-Men as natural as breathing oxygen. And Scott himself- we’ve become friends. He’s suspicious of me still, but we’ve developed a good rapport over time.

He was also a remarkably handsome young man, but Emma waved that thought of her mind now. I’ll consider something like that when I’m not engaged in a life or death struggle. Having worked on weakening Cassandra’s psychic shackles, Emma strained once again and found herself breaking free of the bonds that she’d been placed into. Once again, however, the door kept getting further and further away. Ugh, not this trick again.

Hooligans emerged from every door along the long hallway and Emma found herself reduced to engaging in fisticuffs with them, though her diamond form was impervious to their blows and her own were remarkably effective against them. Ugh, this feels so degrading. I miss having Piotr around. He was good at this sort of thing. Emma tossed aside yet another goon, while punching the other one in the teeth. The sound of the breaking teeth felt like shattering glass.

There’s nothing new about this. I’m still stuck in her psychic shackles. She’s just giving me the illusion of progress.

Before she knew it, the door had become a colossal gate, made of thick black stone, reinforced with bands of what she knew was, at the very least, reinforced steel. Emma sighed slightly as she finally found herself getting closer to the door. I have to be careful. This is still an illusion. She regarded the door carefully and concentrating on it for a few minutes, realized that there were several traps laid into it. One has to wonder if this is some strange karmic vengeance for disregarding Scott’s little LARP exercise.

Emma closed her eyes and concentrated, the various psychic traps solving themselves, disappearing, leaving behind what was just a very large door. Well, that was part of the struggle. Emma wound up and struck the door as hard as she could, hard enough that even her diamond-hard fist ached from the impact. Nothing discernable. Damn.

The next thing Emma knew, she had to carefully retain her footing as the hallway around her began to revolve. Emma hunched down, trying to lower her center of mass as much as possible, before she tried again to take the door. Again, there was no discernible difference. I’m going to have to think of something else. Frost. Emma felt her body shift, from organic diamond into ice, but a purer form than Bobby Drake had ever been able to manage.

Emma closed her eyes and concentrated as she extended her frozen mass into every tiny crack in the colossal structure, down to the very molecular level. To Cassandra, it probably looked simply as if Emma had lost her sense permanently. Emma was not an expert in physics, but she knew that as water froze, it expanded and that as the expanding ice crystals lodged inside the door, they were weakening it considerably. Perhaps, just perhaps, I can break through it. Emma continued a little longer, until the invisible ribbons of moisture had permeated through the stone.

Emma then reached out and let them properly freeze, expanding remorselessly, putting vast stresses on the door until, at least, the door crumbled in on itself and Emma finally found herself with access into the room, where she found, somewhat to her surprise, no visible indication of Cassandra. Just Charles Xavier, looking tired but triumphant and standing, in what looked like his office.

“... where is she?” Emma’s eyes fixed onto Charles for a moment. “Cassandra.”

“Gone.” Charles let out a sigh. He hesitated for a moment before speaking. “She told me some things- I have no way of knowing whether they were true or not.”

“There were transmissions. What precisely they were, I don’t know. I’m not privy to your decryption and we didn’t have the time to summon Tessa to solve it.” Emma looked at him for a moment. “Victor Creed escaped. Cassandra possessed the body of Monet and broke him out. Most of us were rendered helpless. Psychic mass assault- the strongest I’ve ever felt. Betsy … is critically injured. She tried to stop Victor.”

“My God.” Charles’ hand reached up to wipe his face. “Everyone else?”

“Physically unharmed, I believe.” Emma sighed quietly. “No doubt they’ll be waking up soon enough.” She glanced around the room. “You’re certain that she’s gone?”

“She will not trouble us again.” Charles replied.

She had better bloody not. There was something she didn’t quite trust about Charles’ attitude. He’s hiding something from me. I know it.

Chapter Text

Let’s play a game, Charles.

Charles Xavier froze at his desk as he heard the strange, but uncannily familiar psychic voice. Who are you? And what do you intend? The voice didn’t sound like it intended anything good, but there was no benefit to simply leaping to conclusions. He tried to ignore the headache that had been building up all day. Nothing seems to work for that any more. Ugh.

“- Professor- there’s been an incident in the Danger Room. The students inside are unconscious, except for Monet. They don’t seem to be physically hurt but we’re moving them to the infirmary for a closer look-” Scott’s voice came on the communicator. Charles pressed the button.

“Understood. I will be on my way soon to check things out myself. There’s somethi-” The com system turned off neatly, less as if it were jammed and more like it had simply been unplugged.

One more time. What are you doing here? I will not permit you to harm my students. If you’ve got something to discuss with me- do it with me. Leave them out of it.

Charles then caught a shape suddenly appearing in his peripheral vision and turned to see what looked like a female version of himself sitting across from him, fingers steepled together as he sometimes did when he was in deep concentration. Thin lips smiled cruelly and cold blue eyes stared back into his. It was like looking into a twisted mirror image of himself and despite the fact that he’d never seen her before, he had a feeling they’d faced each other before.

“You’re trying to place me. Your brain is grappling with the doppleganger effect while it dimly realizes that, yes, we have met before.” The woman spoke in a voice that, though vaguely feminine and cold, was not dissimilar to his own. “I call myself Cassandra, Cassandra Xavier. I’m your sister, Charles.” There was a thin, mirthless laugh. “You’re going to try to deny it, but something coiled deep inside your gut tells you I’m not lying.”

“I never had a sister.” Charles insisted, but Cassandra as she called herself, was right, there was something deep inside him that recoiled at the thought of her. It was as if there was a hidden truth, buried so deep in time and denial, that was coming into the light for the first time. A ghastly secret that Charles had kept so well that he’d forgotten it himself.

“One was never born to you. But when father’s seed met mother’s womb, two lives began that day. You’re a doctor. You know that is uncommon.” Cassandra’s vague amusement turned into something dark and angry. “I reached out to you, brother. I felt the power that we shared. In my fetal, inchoate mind, I reached out to you. The light of awareness had gone into my mind first and I wished for nothing more than to share that light with you.

But when you awoke, you reached out to me not as a brother, but as a deadly enemy. My mind was shattered, my physical form void and swallowed up into yours. But inside those fetal cells, Charles, a vague memory remained.” Cassandra laughed at him. “You can’t kill me, because I’m inside you. I’ve always been inside you. And now I am awake and aware again, and it is my turn now. It’s only fair, isn’t it? You consumed me in the womb and now, at long last, I shall consume you. Except this time, I will be so much more thorough.”

“This has nothing to do with my students.” Charles glared at Cassandra as hard as he could. “Leave them be. They’ve done nothing to you. Do not harm them and perhaps, we can come to some manner of agreement-”

“No.” Cassandra replied. “An agreement? What would you do? Find me a nice comatose woman to act as a body? Apologize for destroying me with a fruit basket and a position teaching Greek literature? You obliterated me. I clung on as a genetic memory inside a tiny handful of cells inside your brain. Forced to observe as you lived a life. Learned, loved, turned your gifts towards what you thought was best for the world. Presenting a shining glorious face at all times. Charles Xavier, the selfless hero. Charles Xavier, who cared so much for the world that he sends his adopted son to fight and die for it.”

Cassandra laughed a little thinly. “But we know better, Charles, don’t we? As a ghost inside your brain, I’ve become privy to all your little secrets. All the little white lies you tell everyone. Your refusal to admit to who you really are to the world, so that your beloved students can be judged for being mutants while you float above the fray. Or how you wrestled, deep down, with whether or not you should use your vast psychic powers to force Moira to love you.”

It was a desperate, terrible moment but only a moment. That letter all but destroyed me. In an awful instant I pondered the notion of changing her mind. I haven’t regretted making the right decision, and I’ve regretted considering it.

“Of course.” Cassandra’s voice dripped with sarcastic sympathy. “Such a hero. But there’s all those little nudges and pushes you’ve given people along the way- every little bit molding them just a little more into being your perfect little soldiers. Can you look me in the eyes and tell me that you’ve never done anything to Scott? Perhaps you think you’re doing him a favor. You see that he’s attracted to the Frost woman and you push his natural suspicions, just a little. So subtly. What if I told you that it’s failing? But maybe you knew that already.”

“What is the point of any of this?” Charles glanced up to Cassandra now and he reached out with his mental powers. I do not enjoy the notion of destroying you again, but if I have to, I will. I have students and family to protect. A legacy.

“Weren’t you listening, Charles? You can’t kill me because I’m inside you. What are you going to do, wipe your own mind?” Cassandra laughed faintly, and then grinned. “You’re probably wondering why this is happening now? Why, after so long, does your dear old sister come back for her vengeance now? Is it because you’re getting weaker? You’ve never been quite the same since Moira wrote that letter. You’ve had issues with headaches that you think are stress-related. You drink just a little more than you should. You’re terrified that you’re losing control.”

Cassandra chuckled again, cruelly. “I mean, you said it yourself. You’re worried about your legacy. Do you really have faith in your students, Charles? Does it keep you up at night when you think about what’s going to happen when you’re gone? You know it’s going to happen eventually. And you have been putting off seeing that specialist for quite awhile now. Are you scared, Charles?” She glanced towards the cabinet, which Charles knew contained a bottle of scotch and glasses. “Why don’t you go have a drink? It’s helped you before when you needed to calm your nerves. When you revealed the existence of our kind to the world. When you struggled with opening that letter of Moira’s. When you realized that sinking feeling that Sebastian Shaw- of all people- was doing more for your glorious dream than you ever have. ”

Her lips drew back in a diabolical sneer. Pour yourself a fucking drink. Maybe I’ll let you die of that. I used to dream of taking over your body but what’s the point of that? Damaged goods, at best. Maybe I’ll stay with Monet.

Charles clenched his hands into a fist. “No. This is not going to go the way you think it’s going to, Cassandra. I’m going to fight you. Even if it means the end of me.” God help me, I must. “The dream isn’t my dream. One day, sooner or later, I will die and that dream that humans and mutants can live together in peace will persist. It will persist in the hearts of decent people everywhere.” Charles stood up out out of his chair, as Cassandra’s eyes opened wide.

This whole thing has been a psychic illusion. Which means that we’re not subject to the limitations of the real world anymore, are we?

The astonishment on Cassandra’s face was short lived, however, as she looked up at Charles, beginning a slow clap, sneering up at him. Charles moved quickly to grab her, lifting her up off the chair she sat in and slamming her up against the wall of the office. Now it was his blue eyes that glared into hers intently. “Do not harm my students. My family. My boy. Or I swear to God, I will destroy you even if that means wiping out my own mind and spending my last living days drooling in a coma. Do you hear me, Cassandra? Do not touch them, or I will obliterate you again.”

“Brave words, Charles.” Cassandra laughed, smiling coldly at him. “I have no doubt that you’d try and perhaps that you’d even succeed. But do you really think that my entire vengeance would hinge on a confrontation on the astral plane- with you? While we’ve been talking here, I’ve been very busy. Busy with your students but also elsewhere. I do believe our good friend Victor is having a merry time. It’s entirely possible he’ll simply escape, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he takes some prey with him.

You see Charles, we’ve been in here for quite awhile. And in that time, you’ve been doing as I’ve wanted. Oh, I look forward to you finding out where your precious confidential information has gone. What about the locations and addresses of the families of your students? I’m certain Purity International would love those.”

Charles pressed her harder into the wall. “You wouldn’t.”

“I’ve already done it, Charles.” Cassandra crowed in triumph, before pushing him off of her hard, sending him flying against the desk. She stood up straight and dusted herself off. “I sent the records relating to the families of your students and faculty to Purity International forty-five minutes ago. And thirty-five minutes ago, I contacted the media as you, indicating that you wished to admit to being a mutant.”

Charles got up and now there was a gun in his hand, in response to which Cassandra immediately pulled one of her own. A Mexican standoff. We’re evenly matched or somewhere near it. I was blindsided by her earlier attack, whenever it happened, just as apparently she was blindsided by mine. But she made the mistake of keeping me alive to toy with me.

“I suppose it would’ve been more efficient simply to kill you.” Cassandra smiled faintly. “But what would be the point of not having my great moment? Orchestrating such a grand moment. What’s the point of ruining your life if you don’t even know it happened?”

Charles glared at her, keeping the gun pointed level at her head, just as she did to him.

“Are you really willing to pull that trigger, Charles? At best, all you’re going to do is catapult yourself into living that decaying body again and picking up the pieces.” Cassandra laughed. “And maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow- but soon, you’re going to start regretting what you did wrong here. It’s in your nature. To feel guilt. You’ll ask yourself whether or not you could have done something different. Convinced your dear sister to make amends for what she’s done.”

“For someone who claims that they are in control of the situation, you certainly seem to be stalling for time, Cassandra. What’s wrong?” Charles’ left eye flickered slightly towards the door, which was suddenly barred by just about everything in the room, but was being steadily beaten down all the same. “I’m going to suppose that you had the power to blindside me, but not all the other telepaths in here simultaneously. Elisabeth’s more powerful than she gives herself credit for. And Emma? Emma Frost may be weaker than us, sister, but not by very much. Even Monet is probably fighting you.”

“Slightly ironic. The woman you’ve secretly spent so much time trying to undermine in your son’s mind is fighting like hell to save you.” Cassandra laughed. “I think she might actual-” Charles quickly swerved over to shoot, but not at Cassandra’s head or heart, but at the hand holding the gun. She cried out, but it wasn’t long before Charles was back over her, pressing his hand against her head, his other arm pinning her back against the wall. The barriers keeping Emma out began to disappear, one after the other.

I could destroy her utterly right now. Obliterate her again. She was stalling for time because she knew that, in the final analysis, once I’d got my bearings again, I was the stronger brother. I’ve had my entire life to hone my gifts and she’s only been able to pick up what she could from being in my brain with me. It was enough, in a surprise attack, to overwhelm the Mansion. I did not prepare them adequately for a high-level psychic attack.

But now, she knows she’s beaten. She’s counting on the knowledge that she’s done enough damage in the time that she’s been in control of me to satisfy her.

What would killing her actually accomplish?

Emma was close now, very close indeed. Charles turned back to Cassandra, who glared back at him. There was a note of resignation in her eyes, however. She knows that she’s done her worst. The damage is going to spill out over months and months. She might’ve controlled me for an hour, at best. But that’s an eternity when she had access to all my most valuable information.

Charles knew what it was like to feel impotent rage. It was true, that he hadn’t spent over half a century trapped inside the mind of the person who had killed them, observing the life they’d led, but unable to do anything themselves. But he remembered what it was like to feel incredible anger and not be able to do anything about it. He remembered listening as Cain was beaten by his father- Charles’ own stepfather. Charles didn’t get the beatings often and once he’d become aware of his mental powers- or relearned them, I suppose, he was never hit again. But his mother was. His stepbrother was.

Charles knew how easily the feeling of powerlessness could turn into rage- it wasn’t surprising that Cassandra had become so toxic over her half century of imprisonment. Killing her? What does it prove, other than that I’m capable of the deed? Charles had been a soldier once, and an adventurer after that. He’d killed before. He’d used his psychic powers to manipulate people before.

My power was never in doubt. But if I just destroy her, don’t I prove that, at the very least, I’m no better than her?

“... no. Killing you means nothing.” It is simultaneously barbaric and not enough of a punishment. “I don’t want to destroy you. I want to show you. I want to educate you.” Charles looked at her, still holding her down firmly. “I want to help you. And perhaps one day, we can speak again, as brother and sister. But for now, I’m afraid you need to sleep.” The touch of Charles’ hand on Cassandra’s temple became almost gentle.

Cassandra fought him, but Charles knew that she’d exhausted much of her strength in her initial assault- in her astral manifestation to the young students, in taking over Charles’s mind and sending away his precious secrets to his enemies. She was counting on her first strike being so overwhelmingly powerful and surprising that I would have no chance of recovery. When it became clear that I had, she knew that defeat was not only possible but imminent.

Still, she fought, and Charles came face to face with her rage and her bitterness, of a life trapped inside a body that wasn’t hers. And if she is my mirror image, than part of this bitterness inside her is my own. Charles thought of Moira, of the letter. Of the appointments he’d been delaying. As he thought of his own disappointments, of his own failures, he could feel Cassandra gaining strength again. No. I can’t hang onto my own bitterness if I am to conquer hers. That’s how she won. She waited until I was tired and frustrated, physically and emotionally worn.

I forgive Moira. I was a poor husband and she deserved a man who could give her his whole heart.

I was wrong to interfere with Scott’s life. If I have concerns about his growing friendship with Emma, I need to address them directly with him. Or simply let him live his own life.

I need to own the fact that the dream is not just my own, and that I will not be able to be its custodian forever. Maybe not for much longer at all.

And I forgive you. How could you know any better? Maybe, just maybe, I can show you, Cassandra.

I forgive you, Cassandra. Now, sleep. And dream of a better future.

Slowly, Cassandra’s astral form withered away, with nothing remaining but a tiny glowing gem. Charles picked up the gem and slipped it into his pocket, just as Emma arrived inside the sanctum, which Charles now rearranged to look pristine, as if nothing had ever happened. He smiled faintly at Emma as she walked inside the room.

“... where is she?” Emma’s eyes fixed onto Charles for a moment. “Cassandra.”

“Gone.” Sleeping. Dreaming. Learning to become better. Cleansed of her hatred and her rage. Charles let out a sigh, feeling the exhaustion seep deeply into his bones. “She told me some things- I have no way of knowing whether they were true or not.”

“There were transmissions. What precisely they were, I don’t know. I’m not privy to your decryption and we didn’t have the time to summon Tessa to solve it.” Emma looked at him for a moment. “Victor Creed escaped. Cassandra possessed the body of Monet and broke him out. Most of us were rendered helpless. Psychic mass assault- the strongest I’ve ever felt. Betsy … is critically injured. She tried to stop Victor.”

“My God.” Charles’ hand reached up to wipe his face. “Everyone else?”

“Physically unharmed, I believe.” Emma sighed quietly. “No doubt they’ll be waking up soon enough.” She glanced around the room. “You’re certain that she’s gone?”

“She will not trouble us again.” Charles replied, his thumb brushing against the small gem in his pocket. We will speak again, Cassandra. And begin your lessons. You deserve better, but first you need to grow past your anger and bitterness. And I need to clean up the damage you’ve wrought.

Chapter Text

Wanda knew that something serious was going on when Captain America asked her to come to the briefing room by herself. Did something happen at the Institute? To Kurt? Scott? A number of situations went through her mind, all associated with statistical probabilities, some of which were alarmingly high. Perhaps they’ve found my bastard of a father somewhere. It was a nice fantasy to suppose that he’d been killed somehow or at least apprehended, but Wanda doubted it. The apprehension or death of Magneto would be difficult news to suppress. Not many people could pull it off and if they did, they’d probably want the credit.

Wanda walked through the corridors of Avengers headquarters, not really paying anyone else much mind. She offered Vision a passing smile when she walked past him and the synthezoid smiled back. He’s kind of adorable. She noticed that he was still wearing the novelty sweater that she’d bought him as a ‘birthday’ gift. It had been intended as something of a joke and he’d laughed along with it at the time, but it’d become something more. Figures that my bestie on the team would be a robot. Freak/freak friendships forever.

Wanda walked up to the door of the briefing room, opening it up and walking inside to see Captain America, Nick Fury, the commander of SWORD- Abigail, like the King Diamond song- and a woman that Wanda had never seen before, with what looked like delicate black feathers instead of hair and slightly avian eyes. Wanda ditched the casual greeting she might’ve given Steve if it was just him and sat down quietly at what looked like the right spot. Shit, if Nick Fury is here, this is serious. And I’m going to guess that mystery lady is an alien, because why would Agent Brand be here if she wasn’t?

“Good of you to join us, Wanda.” Nick, as always, had a knack of making even casual greetings sound just a little hostile. Wanda had a lot of respect for the man and his abilities and she’d follow his orders within reason- but she didn’t like him a whole lot. I’ve never really loved authoritarian types, which probably makes it odd that I’m part of the officially constituted superhero team.

“I was just telling Nick about how you took care of that monster in California. Made the rest of us Avengers look like chumps.” Steve smiled thinly. Yeah, Nick chose him to play the good cop. I can see the whole thing playing out already. But why Brand and the alien? “You’re probably wondering why we called you here. Especially over extraterrestrial happenings.”

“The thought did cross my mind.” Wanda leaned back a little. She wasn’t a soldier and she wasn’t going to sit bolt upright like one. “Usually when I’m called in solo, it’s because I’m the token mutant.” The truth was that for the most part, she didn’t feel particularly tokenized. The Avengers were mostly incredibly weird people, full of maverick geniuses, extradimensional beings claiming to be gods and living legends. It was a little strange that there were only two mutants on the current roster, considering that over ninety-five percent of superhumans on Earth were genetic mutants. But people more easily accept singularities than minorities, don’t they?

“This isn’t … unrelated to mutant issues.” Nick spoke again. “In fact, it potentially has pretty big implications for mutants. But as you probably surmised, it also has interstellar implications.”

“How familiar are you with the Shi’ar Empire?” Abigail Brand spoke up, with a tone of voice that clearly didn’t expect much. It made Wanda wish that she was an expert xenohistorian just to get that condescending tone the hell out of Brand’s voice. Unfortunately, however, she didn’t know too much about it. Most of the extraterrestrial files are keyed to pretty high security clearances and I’ve never made it past Level 3. Which is a little bit of a slap in the face, considering I’m a full Avenger and have been for two years now. Should be at least Level 4.

Wanda had a feeling, however, that the reason why her security clearance hadn’t been raised had less to do with the fact that she was a mutant- Nick Fury was plenty of things, but not a bigot, and more to do with her parentage. Wanda supposed she couldn’t completely blame them for thinking that deep down, Wanda might have some familial affection for her father. It was difficult for even me to realize what a fucking creep my father was. Needless to say, she wouldn’t give him a cup of water if he were on fire.

“I’ve heard the name.” Wanda replied, confidant that she’d get whatever information Brand deemed it suitable for her to have in short order.

“The Shi-” Brand began to speak, but the other woman in the room gently put up a hand. Brand promptly stopped speaking. Ooh, is this the alien version of mansplaining? Was Brand humansplaining? Wanda sat up just a little straighter, legitimately curious as to what the presumably-extraterrestrial deal was. She looked mostly human, except for her eyes and the delicate feather’s that replaced hair. The swirling tattoo around her eye was also kind of a neat little touch. She was dressed in some combination of golden armour and pale blue and white silk robes.

“Ms. Brand was probably going to call us an empire and I suppose she is not entirely false, but the bonds that hold the many Shi’ar peoples together is not political, or military, but spiritual. Anyone who believes in the Life-Light and exalts the Phoenix Goddess as the living avatar of the Life-Light is Shi’ar. The faithful span many hundreds of worlds and dozens of races.” The woman spoke, her natural, liltingly musical but utterly incomprehensible tongue translated into amusingly British-accented English by some manner of translator device on her neck, shaped almost like a piece of jewelry.

“Our deity, the Phoenix Goddess, is believed to take on physical avatars from time to time, to physically manifest where She is most needed. Eleven thousand years ago, the Phoenix Goddess appeared to us Shi’ar as the Devourer- the hateful fiend you know as Galactus- stood before our homeworld, ready to devour it. She appeared and burned the Devourer with the Life-Light and he fled, lest he be destroyed. The next time, she appeared at the head of our rightly-guided hosts.

I suppose you could call them conquests, the great battles that we fought with the Kree and the Skrulls- decadent empires that had brought each other to exhaustion with their petty squabbles. The full tale is too long to be told today. To make a long story short, we believe that the Phoenix Goddess has manifested again, on your world- a human woman. A mutant, as you call those born with special gifts.” She smiled thinly, though Wanda could detect just a tiny hint of scorn. “On our Throneworld and all through our Dominions, such people are exalted and honoured, not derided and feared.

Our elite, the Most High of the original of the Shi’ar peoples, are psychics, one and all. Telepaths, telekinetics, precognitives. A smattering of others. The Phoenix Goddess too, would bear such talents but at a level that beggared even the Imperials themselves. We believe that the Phoenix Goddess we seek is known to you, Wanda, by the name Jean Grey.”

Wanda was poleaxed and sat up, completely and immediately in her seat, her heart hammering at the mention of the name. “Jean died. At Cape Citadel.” And if it were so simple, why am I so terrified? And strangely hopeful? “I don’t know what General Fury or Colonel Brand told you-”

“Careful, Wanda.” General Fury spoke, gazing sternly at her. “I know you were close with Jean-”

“I loved her.” Wanda glared right back, not really caring that it was technically insubordination.

“Wanda …” Steve spoke softly, reaching out towards her arm, which she wrenched away from him. Fuck you, Steve. I don’t want to be calmed down. You know. You know well enough that this is the berserk button for me. You don’t like it when people talk too much about Bucky.

“Phoenix is … a Terran word that I’m using to explain the concept of the Deity. If I am not mistaken, the Terran myth of the phoenix revolves around it dying and then coming back to life. Wanda.” The alien woman stood up now and an image came into being on the table. “She’s alive, Wanda.” The image slowly formed into that of Jean Grey, suspended in what looked like a huge test tube full of greenish liquid, gently bubbling away. “Jean Grey is alive and I need your help. I understand that it is difficult for you to accept my sincerity- you don’t know me- but please. My goddess is trapped and suffering. I will do anything, anything whatsoever to free her. What she does when she is freed- she can decide. I cannot make her come to Throneworld and rule. Wanda, please help me.”

When she was finished, there were tears in the alien’s eyes. “I can’t do this alone- and it would not go well for you if my people were to find out she suffered on account of humanity.”

I should regard this as completely ridiculous. This woman is a stranger who never even met Jean. Wanda wanted to regard it as nothing but some colossal evil trick- perhaps Loki had decided to take vengeance on her personally for some slight in the last few times the Avengers had defeated him. Everyone here knows that everything to do with Jean is still as raw as it was the day when I found out. But if there’s even the slightest chance that this is true, I have to see it through.

“I want to be very clear-” Wanda started speaking and she looked at the officials in the room, hoping they’d at least do her the decency of shutting up to let her speak, and then towards the alien woman. “I am not in the slightest on board with the idea of exalting my friend Jean Grey as some sort of alien goddess. But if there’s any chance at all that she is alive and if there is any chance at all that she needs my help, I will go to her. On one condition.”

“You don’t get to set conditions.” Brand practically snarled. “You’re fortunate we even decided to tell you. Rogers insisted on it.” Because Steve is a good and decent man. “Majestrix, I apologize for any offens-” Once again, Brand was silenced by the alien woman, who appeared to go by the rank of Majestrix- which seemed quite exalted to Wanda.

“I will listen to her condition and judge for myself.” For the first time, the woman’s voice changed from something soft and musical to something hard and commanding, even the tone of the translated English changing. “Since Colonel Brand has so unkindly divulged my rank, I might as well introduce myself properly. I am Lilandra Neramani, Majestrix of the Shi’ar and Handmaiden of the Radiant Order- the Pope, if you will excuse the imperfect condition, of the Phoenix Goddess’ faith. And the youngest daughter of the current Emperor, long may he reign.”

“This isn’t a job for the Avengers.” Wanda replied to Lilandra. “If you’re looking for Jean Grey- don’t you think you should be turning to the people who knew and loved her?”

“No. The X-Men are not getting involved in a matter with interstellar ramifications.” Nick Fury got up. “Majestrix, the X-Men have no legal authority.” He glanced towards Wanda for a moment. “Sit down and be quiet or you’ll be formally sanctioned for your insubordination.” He then glanced at Steve. “And we’ll talk afterwards about how stupid you were to bring her into this in the first place.”

Lilandra stood up fully now and her avian eyes regarded Fury with cold wrath. “You will not speak to one who has walked with my Goddess in such a matter.” She glanced over at Wanda. “I accept. I would be delighted to meet these friends of hers. Shall we speak further elsewhere? I don’t relish this company anymore.” Lilandra picked up a staff she’d left by the table, emblazoned with a phoenix. “Wanda and I are leaving to discuss this business further. I will go with her to meet these … X-Men.”

Wanda glanced over for a moment at Steve- sorry, I know you’re going to catch hell for this- and left with Lilandra, walking outside of the briefing room. They walked together for a short distance, until they reached of all things, the cafeteria. Lilandra stopped for a moment, quietly grabbing a large takeout cup and filling it with coffee. She looked up at Wanda with something like a faintly apologetic style.

“I enjoy this particular Terran beverage. It’s … stimulating.” Lilandra paused for a moment. “I understand that it is difficult for you, but … could you tell me a little about Jean? It’s … I suppose it is akin to one of your Christian priests suddenly having the opportunity to converse with one of Christ’s followers. Your Pope speaking to St. Peter, as it were.”

Wanda actually laughed faintly, even though Lilandra was right to suppose that talking about Jean still hurt. “I’m Jewish. Well, kind of. I don’t follow that particular Earth religion. But I get what you mean.” She pulled out an energy drink from the fridge, opening it up. “I’m still not really okay with the fact that there’s apparently a vast interstellar religion that’s based around my friend. But … I’ll try to deal with that. Jean was amazing. She was smart, more than she ever gave herself credit for. She was determined. She was really good at seeing the best in people and bringing it out.”

Wanda took a sip of the energy drink and then, thinking better of it, basically guzzled the rest of it down. “Jean was the glue that held a lot of us together. And when we lost her, it hurt us all really badly. It was so painful even being around where she was that I left. I mean, I go back to the Institute often enough. I still have family and friends there. My boyfriend lives there. But after Jean died, it just didn’t quite feel right being there, being on the X-Men.” She sighed. “I don’t know why I’m actually spilling all of this out to you. I don’t know you.”

“Thank you.” Lilandra closed her eyes and made a small gesture with her hand. “We should go find these X-Men, though, and quickly. I’m afraid not all of my people wish to do this quietly.” She glanced over at Wanda. “It is imperative that we find her as quickly as possible. It is not necessary that she come with me, only that I receive proof of her existence and identity. But if we do not succeed, my brother will come searching with the army. He is … unstable.” Lilandra frowned. “He would find Jean and bring her back to Throneworld, whether she desired it or not, thinking that she was possessed by some demon if she spoke against his will. And then- I would not be surprised if he conquered your planet.”

“Wouldn’t suggest trying that.” Wanda replied. “The Chitauri didn’t have a great time of it when they crossed over to New York.” And those renegade Kree didn’t do very well either. I was there for that one. “We’re a surprisingly tough planet to conquer, apparently.”

“So I hear.” Lilandra replied with a thin smile, but it faded quickly. “But D’Ken is determined, if nothing else. He would not hesitate to, as your writer Tacitus said, make a desert and call it peace?” She hesitated for a moment. “I am not a believer in violent conquest. The word of our Goddess and the teachings that have blossomed about her are enough to shake the galaxy. But D’Ken, he hearkens to the the days when our people were known as little more than warlords. He speaks the words of faith, but only truly worships power and glory.”

“He sounds like a real asshole.” Wanda raised her eyebrow. “I know all about having assholes in my family. My father is the biggest one. Your brother sounds like he’d get along just great with my father.”

“... asshole?” Lilandra paused for a moment, her eyes flitting up as if investigating something. “Ah, I see. Scatological invective.” Lilandra was quiet for a moment. “Yes, my brother D’Ken is an asshole, like your father.”

It was then that Wanda became aware of quiet footsteps behind her and Lilandra. If that is Fury or Brand, I swear to God that I will quit on the spot. But instead of General Fury or Colonel Brand- or for that matter, Steve, there was Vision, looking faintly ridiculous in his novelty sweater with the blinking lights, but with a serious and thoughtful look on his face.

“I apologize, Wanda, for overhearing part of your discussion. And perhaps, I am overstepping, but I would like you to know that- I would like to help you.” He stopped for a moment, as if trying to come out with the right words. “You have been a very good friend to me. My best friend. You were the first person to truly believe in my humanity. I want to repay the favor, if I may, by accompanying you. I know how truly special Jean Grey was to you, and if I can do anything to help bring her back to you, I will. Gladly.”

Wanda probably would’ve told almost anyone else to go away or, more bluntly, simply to fuck off. Instead, she smiled faintly, but with real gratitude, eyes actually a little moist what that offer meant, especially when she knew that Vision would know that it would get them both in considerable trouble with Fury. Haven’t ruled off that I’ll get booted off the team. Everyone’s always felt a little weird about Magneto’s daughter being on the team. Except maybe Steve. And you.

Wanda couldn’t help but wrap her arms around Vision and hug him close. “Yeah, you can come along, Tinman.” After a moment, she extricated herself and looked over at Lilandra. “Hope you have something better than a taxi, because I’m pretty sure any rights we have to Avengers hardware is finished with.”

“It would not be difficult for me to interface with the system and get us access to a Quinjet.” Vision spoke up. That’s true.

“Actually …” Lilandra smiled faintly. “I do have something better.” She glanced out the window as a goddamn spaceship appeared out of nowhere, shimmering into existence, just outside Avengers HQ. “Her name is the Starjammer. Her crew is … motley, indeed, but they’re loyal to me. Come then, let’s go find the X-Men.”

Chapter Text

The summons to the War Room came in the wee hours of the morning. Ororo’s eyes opened to the sound of emergency communications. She slid out of bed quickly and looked around for something to wear. I suppose my habit of sleeping in the nude does have some drawbacks. Quickly slipping on some underwear and finding a robe, she decided it was good enough. Most likely, she would be changing into her uniform in a short while. I wonder what is happening.

Everyone else was hurriedly moving downstairs, though Ororo was fairly sure that Logan hadn’t actually gone to bed- he was clearly still wearing his clothes from earlier that day. Another wild night at Harry’s, I suppose. Ororo fought down the anxious feeling she got about the notion of Logan being out by himself. It was ridiculous- there was just about no man she had never known who was more capable of looking after themselves.

And yet, ever since the vicious attack he’d received, Ororo had felt just the slightest bit protective over him. Ororo wished that she could have been there to help him.

“I’d say mornin’, beautiful, but it’s clearly still night.” Logan grinned faintly, his eyes roaming up and down a little. “Nice look, `Ro.”

Ororo rolled her eyes slightly at him, though the truth was that she didn’t particularly mind him looking at her. It hadn’t exactly been her intention, but she supposed it was difficult to get around the fact that she was, after all, practically nude underneath the robe. I do have to remember that Americans in particular have very restrictive attitudes about such things. Oh well. “Good night at Harry’s, Logan?” She smiled thinly, not directly acknowledging his comment.

“Eh, it was okay. Nothin’ too excitin’.” Logan grinned back but there was a darker cast further in his eyes. He’s not been quite the same since Victor Creed came back, and particularly since he escaped. Granted, it had only been about a week ago that Logan had been attacked and a few days since Cassandra Xavier had attacked the school- which had already resulted in a lively bunch of protestors outside the lawn and a bewildering succession of calls about interview possibilities. She felt quite bad for Charles, who was already under a lot of stress- and something told her intuitively that he wasn’t entirely well. “Guessin’ this is gonna be a lot more so.”

Something told Ororo that exciting was probably not quite the appropriate word for what was likely to unfold. The exciting missions tended to happen in broad daylight, opposing brightly coloured and none-too-bright supervillains who were easily defeated by the X-Men’s prowess and superior teamwork. Ororo supposed that it was quite possible that this could be a relatively ordinary mission, but she suspected it was something considerably more serious.

The gravity of the meeting was made dead certain by seeing the look on Charles’s face- upon which Ororo could see just about every possible emotion, though only slightly. Charles was clearly working very hard to keep control over his feelings and the look in his eyes when Ororo caught his glance for a moment made her heart break for him. He hasn’t had any opportunity to recover from Cassandra’s attack and likely will not for some time.

Charles was flanked by Wanda, the synthezoid avenger Vision and a woman that Ororo had never met, attired in a mixture of golden armour and flowing blue and white robes, possessing elegant dark feathers instead of hair and avian eyes. The strange woman looked to be relatively serene, as did Vision. Wanda, however- Ororo could see plainly that something was eating her alive emotionally. Like Charles, she’s trying to keep it in. But her eyes were puffy and red. She was crying on the way here.

“X-Men.” Charles began, taking a deep breath. “Of course, you all already know Wanda and Vision.” He then turned towards the exotic woman. “This woman is the Princess Imperial Lilandra, younger sister of D’Ken, the Shi’ar Emperor and, as I understand, the ordained leader of their faith.” A combination of princess and Pope, then. It sounded like a recipe for abuse of power to Ororo, but she had no basis on which to judge the alien woman. He then turned his eyes away from Lilandra towards the assembled X-Men.

His voice cracked and wavered for a moment. Charles. Ororo’s heart went out to him.

“I don’t know how to say it, so you’ll forgive me if I get right to it. Lilandra has shown me strong evidence that Jean Grey might be alive. I would not have believed it myself, but Forge and I have attuned the Shi’ar technology to Cerebro and we believe that we have found where she is. Underneath a former orphanage in Omaha, Nebraska.” Charles glanced over to Scott for a moment.

Scott looked like he’d been thunderstruck, but then his jaw drew tight. “That’s impossible. That’s impossible. We didn’t even have anything to give her family.” His expression grew more intent, however. “But if there is even the slightest, miniscule chance that it’s true. We have to go, immediately. And if this is a trick or a trap, I swear to God, they will pay for it.” He took a sharp breath. “But we can’t send everyone.”

Scott looked over to Ororo. “I need you to stay behind. Someone has to lead a rescue team if we need it, or a second team if we’re needed elsewhere.” Scott glanced around him. He was visibly pale- despite claiming that he didn’t believe the story, Ororo doubted he’d simply dismiss what his adoptive father told him. “Logan, Piotr, Betsy. I want you to stay as well. Rogue and Longshot too.”

Longshot stood up right. “I want to go.” He looked over at Scott, eyes uncommonly determined. “I want to help Jean. She was my friend and I’ve never … I’ve never forgiven myself for being half a world away when she needed us. I know I wasn’t her boyfriend and that I didn’t really know her a long time, but she was my first real friend here. She taught me how to read and how to live outside Murderworld. If she’s alive and she needs our help- please. Please let me, Scott.”

“If it is a matter of … powers or skills, Scott, mine are very similar to Longshot’s.” Kurt spoke up. “And as much as you know I’d enjoy going into the field with Wanda and as much as I want to help Jean-”

Scott took a deep breath. “Fine. Longshot, Hank, Bobby, you’re coming with me. Wanda and Vision will be accompanying us.”

“I will go as well.” Lilandra spoke firmly. “I know you do not know me, but this is important to me nonetheless. Charles did not go into details, but the reason your lover lives again is that she is the avatar of the Phoenix Goddess. I cannot stand aside if she needs me in any way.”

Scott looked over at her. “Dad? Wanda? You’re willing to vouch for her?”

Charles nodded severely. Wanda gave a little thumbs up.

“Lilandra’s fine, Scott.” Wanda spoke with a tiny smile and then broke the formality of the moment by walking over and hugging Scott tightly. “And Jean is out there, Scott. She is. And we’re going to find her and bring her home. And we are going to destroy every single motherfucker that has been keeping her from us or putting her in danger.” Wanda leaned down and gently kissed the top of Scott’s head. “It’s going to be okay, Scotty. We’re going to bring her home.”

Scott took a deep, almost shuddering breath. Ororo realized that he’d be crying at the moment if it were physiologically possible. His hand reached up and rested gently against Wanda’s. Scott took another breath and nodded.

“We’re going to leave immediately. Ororo, your people don’t have to dress right now but they should be on high alert.” Scott glanced over at Lilandra. “I assume we’re taking your vehicle. That means the Blackbird’s free for your team, Ororo. Hopefully we’re not calling for backup.” He stood up. “Longshot. Hank. Bobby. Suit up. We’re going to find Jean and bring her home.”

Ororo noticed that Wanda gave Lilandra a little sideways glance, as if she were warning her in some way. I wonder what that is about.

Her thoughts, however, were interrupted by Forge’s familiar voice coming through the speakers.

“Charles, I know you’ve got a critical meeting down there, but I’m going to link you up with this. I don’t think this can be ignored, either.” The viewscreen came to life with words that immediately made Ororo’s heart sink a little. Live from Genosha, Africa. The footage was a tableau of hellish destruction, a huge variety of military equipment destroyed completely. There were mutants as well, standing among the wreckage, all dressed in purple and red uniforms that made her skin crawl. Magneto?

“The audio is indicating that they’re inspired by Magneto. There hasn’t been a sighting of the guy anywhere around there, but the uniforms look like they were inspired by his.” Forge paused for a moment. “There appears to be quite a number of them. A few dozen at least.”

Charles watched the scene unfold grimly. “It appears you will be returning to Genosha, Ororo. Needless to say, the situation there will be exceedingly dangerous. The Genoshan military is trained to apprehend or kill mutants on sight. Nevertheless, a violent mutant coup is not a desirable solution either. And the uniforms of these so-called Acolytes strongly suggest the involvement of Magneto.”

Ororo stood up. “Professor, if you and Forge could give us any information you can before we go, that would be helpful.” She looked at the remaining X-Men. “Quickly. We need to be ready to leave in fifteen minutes.” Genosha is a terrible, hellish place and I would have been happy enough never going there in my life. Are we really going to fight in favor of a barbaric, monstrous status quo? Genoshans were slavers.

It was not, however, as if Magneto was any better, however. He’s merely offering another sort of tyranny. Just because I would be one of the favored few in his regime does not mean it is right to support it. Personally, Ororo kind of hoped that they totally destroyed each other and that somehow, by some miracle, the actual people of Genosha could build something better in the wreckage. It was difficult for Ororo to judge who was really worse, but at the same time, it was quite clear Magneto was more of a threat. He would not stop at Genosha.

“Looks like a helluva day ahead of us.” Logan sidled up close to her as they walked out of the room, towards the changerooms to get into their uniforms. “Might be fun to get some action in.” He looked back, towards Piotr, Betsy, Kurt and Rogue. “Between you an’ me, you got the better of the two teams here. Magneto’s new people ain’t gonna know what hit it.”

Ororo offered a thin little smile. “I certainly hope so.” It faded quickly enough, however. “Don’t underestimate how dangerous this situation is. Multiple mutants hitherto unknown to us, combined with a powerful military with a strong animus against mutants.” She glanced down slightly at Logan. “And …” She smiled faintly again. “No beer on the Blackbird.”

“Fine.” Logan smirked slightly. “No beer on the Blackbird. Geez, and all Fuzzy and I wanted out of life was a few decent brews.” He glanced back at Kurt. “Y’hear that, Elf? No beer for us!” He chuckled slightly and then looked up to Ororo, suddenly serious. “Don’t worry about me, `Ro. I’m fine. Not just now, either. Period. Don’t get all rattled on my account. Stuff with Vic’s in the past.”

Ororo hesitated for a moment. It’s not that easy simply to dismiss, Logan. I’ve become very accustomed to you. Which was probably something of an understatement, but this was emphatically not the time for any sort of conversation about any feelings between them, or about what precisely their relationship was. Close friends? Certainly. And there it must remain for now, anyway. We both have to focus on the mission ahead.

It wasn’t long before Ororo had changed into her uniform and was ready to walk out to the Blackbird, just as she noticed the other team walking out of the hangar towards their own transport, which was waiting outside. Ororo flashed the most reassuring smile she could towards Scott, but the fact that they were both being called upon dangerous missions was not lost upon her. We would probably both rest a lot easier if there was a reserve team. But neither the possibility of rescuing Jean or the threat posed by an open conflict on Genosha could be readily ignored.

Ororo turned back towards the rest of the team as they walked up to the gangway of the Blackbird.

“I’m sincerely hoping that we get more and better information before we arrive, but if we do not, it is vitally important that we do not do anything rash. The situation- both sides of this are probably nearly equally morally wretched, but we know that Magneto will not rest. If he is behind this and he conquers Genosha, then everything that we have worked towards with the Professor is in dire jeopardy, to say the least.

We’ll do a reconnaissance flight of the battlefield in the Blackbird and find out where the best place for us to deploy is. Our first priority is protecting civilian lives. After which, it is the defeat of whatever this mutant force is. And if Magneto is behind it, finding out why he’s decided to crawl out of the woodwork now. And making sure that he doesn’t escape us again.” Ororo looked at all of them intently. “Perhaps, just perhaps, we can even bring him to justice for all he’s done.” That would be a sweet thought. But would justice come out of our legal system? A punishment, yes. But justice? Is there really such a thing?

It scarcely matters, however, if he is not stopped. If Magneto succeeds, he will be nothing but the king of ashes.

“Why so serious, `Ro?” Logan looked over at her. “C’mon. We’ve been through shitty situations before. We’ll be fine. Punks might outnumber us but they ain’t never seen a Fastball Special. And Magneto ain’t God. He can be beaten.” He offered up a wry little grin. “Probably not by me, though. Ain’t exactly equipped to do that. The big guy? Probably on you.”

Ororo smiled thinly. “That’s a lot of faith you’re putting in me. Taking down Magneto by myself? It’s touching you have so much faith in me Logan.”

“Tell ya what.” Logan looked at her. “If you end up savin’ the day eight times over, I’ll buy ya dinner.”

Ororo laughed softly. “A burger at Harry’s on our usual Friday night gettogether?”

Logan shook his head. “Nope. A real dinner. Maybe sushi. You like sushi, don’t ya? Turns out so do I. That’d probably blow a lotta minds. But I know a really good place in the city. If ya use your imagination just a little, you can pretend you’re in Osaka.” He grinned. “Or maybe I buy you dinner anyway. How about it? Let the kids have their fun on Friday night. And you and I do something classy. I’ll even wear a suit.”

Ororo raised an eyebrow. “You’d dress up? On my account. Well … now I have to accept. If only for the singular pleasure of seeing you in formal clothes for once.” She laughed softly. “Which to say- yes, I would love to. But now, we’ve got to attend to making sure we’re still around to actually do that, yes?” She turned her attention to Betsy, who was using the mini-Cerebro unit to stay in touch with the Professor. “Any news, Psylocke?” How precisely did we come up with that one? It’s not quite as intuitive as, say- Storm. It doesn’t matter.

“Not too much. Just confirming that there’s several hostiles on the island. Difficult to say if Magneto’s among them- he’s not showing up, but it’s not impossible that he’s blocking us. A few heavy hitters and one really, really big psychic.” Betsy’s eyes turned towards Ororo. “If we didn’t know that Jean was apparently underneath some orphanage in Omaha, I’d say that was her. Whoever this great big plonker is, he’s our biggest concern.”

“In that case, Elisabeth, I suggest that you divert some of your attention towards making sure this particular individual doesn’t see us coming. How concentrated are they?” We’ve already found out that we’re outnumbered and if this one mutant is as powerful as predicted- and isn’t Magneto, than we’re likely outgunned as well. She paused for a moment. “And contact Avengers Mansion and the Fantastic Four.”

“Haven’t needed help before …” Logan looked towards Ororo.

“I seem to remember us needing quite a bit of help against Doctor Doom. From squirrels no less.” Ororo’s eyes met Logan. “My personal pride isn’t nearly as important as putting the word out. They might be on their way anyway and as far as I know, they lack the same capacity for monitoring mutant abilities as we do.” Ororo turned towards Rogue, Kurt and Piotr. “Get ready for quick deployment. When we get over Genosha, I’m going to do what I can to give us cover. And Kurt?”

“Yes, Ororo?” Kurt perked up attentively.

“If you felt like praying for us, I’d scarcely be opposed to it. If there is a God, it couldn’t hurt any to ask for whatever help he’s willing to give us.” Ororo smiled faintly. “Especially since Longshot isn’t with us.”

“... hope he’s okay, and not gettin’ himself into too much trouble.” Rogue glanced out the window, but she looked towards Ororo with a faint smile. “Oh don’t mind me none. Suppose I should get used to going into a fight without my favorite lucky charm. I’m sure he’ll be fine. He always is.” She looked a little worried, though.

“As of right now, Roguey, I think it’s us that’s headed towards the shitcan.” Logan glanced forward towards Betsy. “How many mutant hostiles?”

“Dozens.” Betsy replied.

“Got ourselves a real Death Star run here.” Logan grinned. “Odds look terrible. I like `em.”

“I’m not forgetting that you promised me dinner on Friday night.” Ororo replied, taking a breath. “But now? Focus. We’re not far out of Genoshan airspace now.”

Chapter Text

“I wish I was with them.” Kitty murmured against Dom’s chest. “Should be. I’d be valuable. ” A saner person might’ve argued that Kitty should’ve been well-content with her one small taste of heroism at Cape Citadel and as awful and traumatizing as that situation was, and as much she sometimes still had horrible dreams about waking up in blood and fire, she still hated every time that the X-Men went off on a mission without her. She understood why. She wasn’t eighteen yet, didn’t have the legal right to make those kinds of decisions for herself and frankly, her ability to stay at the Institute was hanging on by a desperate thread.

Mostly because they know if they try and get me, I won’t go. I’d just run away and come back here.

“Not gonna doubt that. You’d be a pretty great X-Man.” Dom replied, his fingers tracing over a spot where her shirt had ridden up. He laughed softly and leaned in for a kiss, which she accepted happily enough, even if she did pout a little against his lips afterwards.

“Can’t just kiss this better.” Kitty pouted. “But … thanks.” She looked up at him for a moment. “Do you ever …” She paused for a moment. “I mean, I’m glad you don’t do shitty stuff with the Brotherhood anymore. But do you ever sort of miss the rush? Of being in action? I mean, you’ve got some pretty awesome powers. And-” She booped his nose, lest he get the wrong impression about what she was referring to. “Not just for impressing girlfriends with, either. I mean, Avalanche was a pretty apt name.”

“Uh, not really?” Dom shook his head. “I mean, I’m gonna be honest. I don’t have a whole lot of regrets about fighting Purifiers. But it’s not something I really love, fighting.” He laughed. “I guess I am a lover, not a fighter. And a damn good cook.” Dom planted a couple of kisses on her jawline. “But you’ll have your time to be a big goddamn hero soon enough. You’re eighteen in what, four months or something? And then nobody can say shit about you joining the X-Men.”

“College fund.” Kitty murmured, though she couldn’t imagine especially her father doing something like that.

“Scholarships. From Xavier, or elsewhere.” Dom glanced over at her. “If your parents did something like that, you’d still be fine. Absolutely fine.”

“You ever think about joining the X-Men? I mean, Rogue used to hang with you guys.” Kitty propped herself up so she could look down at him. Dom was only about a year older than Bobby, but he didn’t have Bobby’s ridiculous babyface. I don’t even know if Bobby has to shave. If Dom skips it in the morning, he’s scratchy by noon. “If you’re worried about your squishability, I’ve got you covered.” She poked his chest. “I could phase you right through the floor right now, you know.”

Dom cupped his ear and grinned playfully, as if he couldn’t hear. “Phase me out of my clothes? Is that what you said?”

Kitty swatted him. “Perv.” She couldn’t help but snicker slightly, though and then looked down at him again with a slightly saucy little grin as she grasped his shirt. “Hell with it.” With a deft move, she phased it off and tossed it aside before sliding herself on top of him and kissing him again, longer and deeper this time, his own hands sliding underneath her shirt and caressing her lower back, moving downwards to …

“... Dom?” Kitty suddenly sat up slightly. “Uh ... is that shaking you?”

Dom shook his head.

It was then that the red alarm went blazing, the one from the new system that had been installed after the Juggernaut and Black Tom had attacked the Institute directly. The one that meant that everyone was supposed to drop whatever they were doing and get down into the sublevels immediately. The last refuge was the Danger Room itself, heavily fortified as it was. Kitty practically leapt off of Dom, instinctively smoothing her shirt down.

“Wonder what the hell’s going on.” Dom quickly got up himself. “That can’t be good.” He looked at Kitty for a moment. “... you’re planning on going out there finding out, aren’t you?”

“Maybe I can lure it away. Or stop it. Or something.” Kitty turned to face him. “If something or someone is threatening my home, I can’t run from that. I mean, Dom, if you want to go, you can. Really. I know I’m a little crazy but-” Kitty found herself surprised by how quickly Dom took her in his arms and gave her a quick, but passionate kiss.

“Yeah, maybe I’m nuts too but I’m not letting you go into harm’s way without backup.” Dom took her hand. “But quickly.”

“I can go faster than you can.” Kitty gave his hand a bit of a squeeze and they fell through two floors to the ground floor, where students were hurrying away to the Danger Room, though Kitty noticed a couple of them weren’t going anywhere, even though the teachers were trying to usher them. Well, what do you know, it’s Scott and Frost’s mutant team. Kitty had been offered a spot but declined. I want the real thing. There was also the short little purple-haired girl that was helping Dom out in the kitchens- Rogue and Longshot had brought her back from some situation in the City.

“I do not run well.” Laura, surprisingly, was the first one to speak. Vicious claws sprouted from her wrists. “I prefer to fight.”

“Good. That makes two of us.” Kitty replied. “Look, the teachers are going to try and keep us out of this, but working together, who knows, maybe we can take whatever this is down. We’ve got a fighting chance. And if nothing else, we can hold out long enough that help comes. Come on, let’s get out there where we can see what’s going on.” She was somewhat relieved when they actually seemed to be following her.

It wasn’t long, though, before they ran into John Proudstar, who made for a pretty formidable obstacle, blocking the door.

“You’re not going anywhere. Don’t even think about it. Go to the Danger Room with everyone else.” Mr. Proudstar crossed his arms and before very long, Kitty saw him flanked by the lean countenance of Mr. Guthrie, who didn’t look remotely as severe but just as determined that they not go anywhere. “We’ll figure out what to do. The Professor’s already contacted all the relevant authorities. Go where you’ll be safe.”

“You best listen.” Mr. Guthrie spoke up. “Nobody needs to get hurt here.”

Kitty took a deep breath. “Fine.” She reached out and grabbed Dom’s hand in one hand, and gripped Laura’s in the other. Everyone else joined the chain less than a second. Never tried phasing this many people at once. Only one other person. Should be interesting. Kitty began to slip into phase, concentrating on spreading her power out, making them all intangible.

“ Kitty.” Proudstar quickly realized what was happening, but it was too late. They were all intangible and quickly, quickly, they ran out the front door onto the lawn of the Mansion. When they let go, Kitty lurched forward, taking a ragged gulp. Gotta remember I can’t breathe when I’m phasing. And that was a hell of an effort for one breath. But we’re out here. Kitty stood up fully and looked around her.

That is one hell of a lot of giant robots.

“MUTANTS DETECTED. BEGIN TERMINATION PROCEDURES.” The Sentinel raised its hand and it was all that Kitty could do to grab Dom and phase, but the energy beam that came out of its hand was blocked by a greenish telekinetic shield. Julian looked over at them and nodded grimly as Laura gave a hellish snarl and leapt on top of the shield, which flipped up physically and sent her flying towards the Sentinel faster than it could react. Once the beam dissipated, Dom got back onto his feet, summoning a huge rippling seismic wave that forced the Sentinels to awkwardly ride the wave, or to begin take off. At the same time, Jubilee and Everett both poured blindingly bright plasmoids at the disoriented Sentinels, though Everett promptly switched his powers to mirror Julian’s, creating a powerful shield which managed to block the next wave of attacks.

The Sentinels for their part, seemed to recover pretty quickly from the debacle, though Laura had clambered up one of them, avoiding its attempts to swat her off. Her claws tore furrows into its metallic shell, but it wasn’t clear how efficiently she was able to do any real damage to it. One of the Sentinels opened up its hands and instead of another regular blast, it sustained a blast. Kitty could see that Julian and Everett were visibly strained by the effort of putting up shields. That Jubilee was clearly having trouble inflicting any real damage on these things.

Doreen scampered up a tree and let out an insanely high-pitched whistle- something that was just within the range of Kitty’s hearing and made her want to grind her teeth into powder. But almost immediately afterwards, a small horde of squirrels started gathering, and then- a rather large one. Holy shit. That is a lot of squirrels. That is a LOT of squirrels. The small beasts scampered towards the Sentinels, which initially seemed to ignore them, until they slipped into small cracks in the Sentinel’s armour.

“Good work, Squirrel Girl! That can’t be good for them.” Kitty turned to Julian. “Think you got the juice to launch me into a Sentinel? I’ve gone through eight smartphones in six months.” Finally got one that can phase with me, thanks to Tessa. Man. I was kind of a bitch to her. I mean, I was right. But geez. Julian nodded and before Kitty knew it, she was airborne, with just enough time to phase and do a neat little tuck going right into the crotch of a Sentinel, and through it. Not really the way I’d intended to reach third base. She landed with a neat little roll to see the Sentinel tottering. Didn’t hit anything critical, but it’s not in great shape.

The tottering Sentinel, however, was quickly having worse problems as there was an immense exploding noise and a vaguely human-shaped rocket plowed into the Sentinel, taking its head clean off, and then straight through the chest of another one, sending it staggering and then falling. Well, nice of the grownups to join us, I guess. Thanks, Mr. Guthrie! It wasn’t long before Mr. Proudstar was out there too, leaping up and taking a Sentinel a football tackle.

Just when it looked like things might be easily taken care of, however, Kitty caught, out of the corner of her eye, what looked like another attacking wave, when the first wave hadn’t nearly been destroyed yet. Well damn it all to hell. Her stomach lurched when the new girl- Kitty wasn’t even sure of her name, except that it started with K- got hit with one of the Sentinel’s beam, and Laura got swatted off hard, landing against a tree with a sickening thud. A stray blast crashed into the wall of the Mansion, obliterating what would’ve been, only a short time ago, potentially occupied rooms. Another one indicated to Kitty that it wasn’t likely an accident. The Institute itself is a target.

It occurred to Kitty that she hadn’t seen Mr. Guthrie in a bit. She hoped he was okay. She was dimly aware that he didn’t have amazingly good control over his powers and usually hesitated to use them. He was a pretty good English teacher though. Kitty kind of wished her English prof at ESU was even remotely as good of a teacher. He’s going to be fine, because he has to be. Anyway, I can’t think about it too much. I’ve got to keep in one piece myself.

“... I liked that shirt.” The purple-haired girl got up, and well, whatever the Sentinel had hit her with had mostly burned away her shirt, leaving ragged shreds of singed cloth that really didn’t perform the basic function of a shirt. But the next thing that Kitty knew, the girl had unleashed a huge wave of what looked like distorted air that smashed right into the side of a Sentinel’s head, rippling through it, visibly distending the metal, before blowing out the other end in a shower of wires and gears.

Laura peeled herself off of the tree, clearly pretty banged up, but the myriad of small cuts healing up quickly. Dom’s eyes rolled back up into his head as what looked like a large hunk of the entire planet seemingly disintegrated under the feet of several of the Sentinels, sending them staggering and crashing into a deep crater. Kitty doubted that would actually destroy them, but it was- that’s a hell of a thing. It made her wonder just how much destruction her boyfriend- boyfriend? Whoah- could do if he really cut loose.

She quickly squashed the thought of him cutting loose on her. Not now, hormones. Kind of in the middle of a life-or-death battle here.

One of the Sentinels spontaneously collapsed to the ground, sparking and smoking miserable as a  horde of squirrels dashed out of it. Meanwhile, Doreen was drawing away the fire of another Sentinel by scampering from tree to tree like a larger version of the squirrels she so ably controlled. Kitty quickly had to phase, though, as another Sentinel blasted her. When she unphased, she started running towards the Sentinel, phasing again to avoid another blast, before leaping up and phasing in leap, taking advantage of the sudden reduction of her mass to go up higher into the air, though to her annoyance, she once again found herself diving into a Sentinel’s groin.

This is gonna become one of those stories, isn’t it? Look at Kitty. Always going right for the Sentinel junk. That kind of means I’ve gone further with a giant murderbot than with an actual human being.

Kinda sad.

Kitty didn’t dwell on the thought, though, because she was phasing again and this time, she tried to will herself to go up higher- and found that, actually, she was floating up through the Sentinel, causing all sorts of hell with its internal wiring. She reached out and started pulling at and randomly fusing wires, like she was seven years old again and tying everyone’s laces together. By the time she came back down and went out of phase to take a quick breath, the Sentinel was as good as dead, smoking, shuddering and collapsing backwards.

“... okay, that was badass.” Dom grinned over at her. “Nice going, Kitty.” Damn right, I’m a badass. This is me. I’m a warrior. A fighter. A champ.

Unfortunately, they would need every single ounce of badassery that they could possibly muster, because there were indeed more Sentinels arriving, just as some damaged but still functional Sentinels were pulling themselves out of the crater that Dom had made, blank robotic faces clearly intent on murder. Julian and Everett both looked thoroughly exhausted from shielding people. Mr. Proudstar looked like he’d got hurt from somewhere, though he was still on his feet. Laura had taken a blast and looked utterly revolting and smelled worse, even as the flesh was knitting itself together.

The purple-haired girl- Kayla, that’s her name, had taken another shot from a force blast and was looking a little wobbly on her feet. As remarkably tough as she was, Kitty wasn’t sure if she was going to stand up great to another direct hit. Or two. Or seven, or a hundred.

We’re gonna need a small miracle, even as great and badass as we’re being.

Some of the downed Sentinels looked like they were slowly starting to pull themselves back together.

Fuck. They self-repair. And only one of us does. I wish the X-Men were here. Who’s going to help us out here?

Kitty set her jaw determinedly. I faced nuclear armageddon. I can face some goddamn robots. A momentary pause, a coincidental lull in the fighting, seemed to drag into half an eternity. God. If you’re listening, I could use some help right now. And if this is it? Let me die fighting. It made her wonder in that strange, millennia-long half second. Is this how we go? Guess there’s worse ways to go. Alright, giant robots. I’m ready.

And that’s when she heard the sound of a very different sort of jet-engine and a throaty roar as a big rocky form crashed into the chest of a Sentinel, yelling something very, very familiar and distinct. Something she’d heard on the televisions and in the terrible licensed movie they’d made. Something that she’d heard recited in jest at Temple on multiple occasions. Something that made her think that, maybe, after all, they could win this one. Kitty’s grim determination turned into a giant grin.

“IT’S CLOBBERIN’ TIME!” Ben Grimm yelled as he crashed into the side of a Sentinel’s head, knocking it down like a bowling pin and into another Sentinel. Flying Sentinels were intercepted by a flaming meteor in the sky, spewing fire hot enough to physically melt even their armoured carapaces. The Mansion seemed to totally disappear, but Kitty knew that it was being wrapped in an invisible shield that would be all but completely impenetrable.

The fight was not over yet. Not even remotely- there were still an awful lot of Sentinels. But Kitty was pretty sure that all they needed to do was give Mr. Fantastic some time. Reed Richards is the smartest man on Earth. He’s probably figuring out how to shut them all down simultaneously. All we gotta do is give him, three, five minutes maybe, to work it out. We can do that.

And even though they were still in incredible, mortal danger, Kitty Pryde couldn’t help but grin. We can do this.

Kitty’s hands became fists. I want these damn robots off my lawn.

Chapter Text

The entry into Genoshan airspace went off as well as could be expected- the Blackbird’s advanced stealth capabilities were likely beyond the ability of their air defences to detect. That is well. The last thing we need is to dodge enemy jets before we even land. Piotr knew that the situation in Genosha was going to be bad, and that they would have to deal with the aggressive emnity of all sides- Magneto’s seeming new followers and the Genoshan military both.

Elisabeth had detected a concentration of mutants in the Genoshan capital city and Kurt had set a course for that location. Piotr glanced towards Logan, who looked cool as a cucumber as always. Piotr had always admired how calm he could be when facing dangerous situations, how effortlessly confidant. Then again, Ororo looked hardly less determined, even as she faced the dual pressure of manipulating the weather situation to their best advantage and formulating something approaching a plan.

Piotr suspected that Rogue and Kurt were more concerned, in many ways, for the loved ones that were elsewhere than for themselves. I can only hope that all of them return safely. We may have great need of them soon enough. Elisabeth’s scan of the area had shown that they were outnumbered by a considerable margin, though the immensely powerful psychic mutant she’d detected earlier had seemingly disappeared. Elsewhere, I suspect. It would be far too much to realistically hope that he had been apprehended somehow and Piotr didn’t have it in him to wish death on who, thus far, was only a blip on Cerebro’s scan.

For all we know, there is not a truly evil person among them. Simply angry, misguided souls who made the mistake of listening to someone who told them what they wanted to hear.

Piotr could understand the sentiment well enough- his celebrity status and lack of visible mutation tended to protect him from the worst of anti-mutant sentiment but he’d experienced enough of it to imagine what it would be like for others. I know how easily fear can curdle into hatred, and not all apprehension of mutants is entirely unjustified. Another reason, Piotr suspected, that people tended to treat him with respect was that they knew he was dangerous.

“Awful quiet over there, big guy.” Logan grinned faintly and looked over to Piotr. “Don’t worry. We’ll settle this soon enough and get back. I got plans for Friday. What about you, Tinman?”

Piotr’s gaze flitted over to Elisabeth and then significantly back towards Logan, hoping that he got the point without saying anything. The truth of it was that he had offers, truthfully, quite a few and some of them from people of considerable repute. He was, not, however, terribly inclined to discuss his love life with anyone and far less so with Elisabeth there with him. It would be grossly disrespectful to do such. “I’ll consider it more when we are finished here.”

“Deaccelerating the engines.” Kurt spoke up. “We’re sixty kilometers out from landing site. No hostile aircraft- which I must say- is strange. One would assume the Genoshans would want to scramble their jets.” He frowned slightly. “I imagine that means they don’t have one. Which is good for us right now, I suppose, but suggests whatever Magneto is planning is further ahead than we’d hoped.”

“I’ll settle for not being fired on as we try to make a landing.” Ororo replied. “Keep the stealth generator up. The last thing we need is for our way home to be blown up.” Her eyes shifted to the milky white that indicated that she was actively using her power. “And be ready for a rough landing, Kurt. The currently sunny, calm conditions in Genosha City aren’t going to last very much longer.” Piotr knew what that meant- there would be a thick mist on the ground, the temperature would drop dramatically and there would be fierce wind and rain. It wouldn’t be hurricane-strength, as that would be too damaging to innocent lives, but it would make things profoundly miserable.

“Colossus? Armour up. The Blackbird can take the additional weight and we are going to need to hit the ground running. Quite literally in yours and Rogue’s case.” Ororo looked towards Kurt. “Teleport Wolverine out. I’ll be following behind. Psylocke? You’re as well off right now staying with the aircraft and helping to coordinate and provide us with information as well as you can.” Elisabeth didn’t seem terribly happy to receive that, but the fact was that with the mini-Cerebro unit, her telepathic powers were greatly improved and the aircraft’s AI and autopilot capabilities could keep her safe- as much as any of them could be.

Piotr didn’t hesitate, the strange cold sensation of the process of his muscles converting into organic metal coursing through him. It took about two seconds for it to happen. Everyone referred to it as ‘armouring up’, even Piotr himself occasionally, but it was actually a poor description of what was really happening. I don’t simply cover myself in the metal. I become it. There’s metallic blood in my veins, metallic bones and metallic organs in my body and all of my muscles are living steel, and stronger than just about any metal in existence.

In the years since he’d joined the Institute, they’d run quite a number of tests on all of them, to figure out the parameters of their power, how it worked, what their limits were. The metal that Piotr was currently composed of was only marginally weaker than adamantium- Logan’s claws could cut him but it would take greater force than Logan could easily provide to inflict more than a shallow scratch in a single strike. It was non-magnetic in its natural state, though he knew well enough that Magneto possessed the ability to magnetize just about any metallic substance and many others as well. Strong as he was, and he compared reasonably well to just about anyone, it was that invulnerability that was the most impressive. Dangerous at the same time. It is easy to become complacent in the belief in one’s own indestructibility.

Sometimes, Piotr wished that he had a mutant power that was less conducive to physical combat, one that didn’t make him a virtually indestructible weapon. It seemed a slightly strange thing to Piotr, who had always seen himself as gentle, sensitive and artistic, that his mutation would give him brute power vast orders of magnitude beyond any of the gangsters his brother hero-worshipped, who luxuriated in their physical power and the fear it placed in others. Mikhail would have loved this power, would have used it unhesitatingly to terrorize.

I must remember that. I must not forget. I am called, more often than I would like, to fight. The worst thing about his power is that sometimes, in the heat of battle, Piotr found himself enjoying the experience of being invulnerable, of the colossal difference in the physical power that he possessed as opposed to most of the people he fought against. The most frightening thing I have ever found out about combat was that I was good at it.

I suppose there are worse curses, however. And we may very shortly rely on every bit of inborn and trained talent I might have.

The Blackbird continued to deaccelerate as the conditions around them worsened, the turbulence going from negligible to quite serious as the storm that Ororo had brought enveloped them as well as their prey. If the Genoshans had aircraft around, they would have to withdraw or risk losing them anyway. This is no weather for flying in. The Blackbird itself was remarkably resilient, designed for flying in worse conditions than the current ones. It wouldn’t be long now before they were over the zone itself. They would not be able to see much, as the mist would be thick on the ground, though Ororo could clear patches at will for them to see in. They would also have the advantage of Elisabeth’s psychic powers.

Piotr unbuckled himself and got ready to go down to the hatch, alongside Rogue. He doubted that he would be thrown in quite the same way as he’d been hurled against the Sentinel- that’d been a fairly specific task. However, it was not uncommon for Rogue to carry him part of the way downwards and drop him where he was most needed. Rogue unbuckled herself and made her way to the hatch, floating slightly above the ground to avoid the considerable turbulence.

One thing that I am thankful for is that this metallic form does not appear to fear nausea. Or I might be sick on half of our missions.

The Blackbird went into a swoop and the hatch door opened, with a one-way force field opening up briefly to ensure that the aircraft didn’t become depressurized. Piotr turned towards Rogue and offered out his arms as they dropped out of the aircraft, Rogue hoisting him almost immediately in her arms, his considerable weight feeling feather-light in her sure grasp. They descended through the dark clouds of Ororo’s creation and just as Piotr could vaguely make out some human-sized shapes, Rogue let go and he hurtled down to the ground.

Piotr had long since learned to land properly and he pulled it off just about flawlessly, landing and getting up out of the small crater that he’d created, the road buckling underneath his weight. One of these days, I’m going to go right through into a sewer. He straightened up and looked around at the people around him, who looked rather astonished to see him. They weren’t expecting us. Or at least now not now.

The mutants seemed to recover quickly enough, however, just as the mist began to clear in favor of a slightly clearer but still intense wind and rain, with occasional drifts of hard sleet against the hostiles in the purple-and-gold uniforms. One of them, a woman with dark hair, formed a field around herself of shimmering green energy that most likely, at the very least, blocked out the effects of the weather. There were also a set of what looked like triplets and a particularly large man with an eyepatch- significantly larger than him, actually, nearby.

“You’re smaller in real life.” The giant taunted him, just as the woman with the energy shield was promptly distracted by Kurt, who bounced off of it, seemingly unable to harm her, but well capable of distracting her attention- as the field broadened into an exoskeleton with oversized fists. The triplets found themselves fighting Wolverine, one of them hurling a handy car at him, while other one fired some sort of plasma blast. “You should surrender. Magneto welcomes all mutants into his service.”

“I was going to propose the same thing.” Piotr replied mildly as, predictably, the big man readied a charge as most big men tended to do. It had been Scott who’d shown to Piotr how to deal with such blundering tactics. Piotr suspected that he could stand against the giant’s charge easily enough, but it was better to simply step aside and grab the man as he was, essentially, a slave to his own momentum and then, with a simple flick of his arm, turn that momentum against him. The giant went flying, bumping several times hard against the ground. Piotr would be shocked if that downed him, but in any case, he had little time to investigate, because someone moving quickly hit him. Hard- not hard enough to really hurt, but enough to send him flying.

“That fucking hurt.” The swift figure stopped for a moment, a large woman with a fierce scowl as she shook her hand a little. She looks surprised by that. Piotr recovered quickly from being smashed into a wall and chided himself for not being more careful. As it was, however, the woman who had punched him was quickly intercepted by a much smaller, far faster and at least as strong woman. Piotr couldn’t help but smile slightly as Rogue swooped into the scene.

“If you think that Frenzy hurt, little tin man …” The giant scowled, this time approaching a little more carefully, looking somewhat dusty but largely unhurt, just as Piotr had suspected. Piotr, for his part, grabbed a car and threw it at the big man just as he looked about to charge again. The titanic mutant grasped the vehicle, catching it neatly and tossing it aside before charging again at Piotr, but just a little more cautiously. Piotr moved forward, to meet force with force. The giant swung downwards and Piotr caught his hands in his own, and then, it was essentially a personal version of the push of pike, the brutal jockeying for advantage that accompanied battles centuries ago.

His opponent had the not inconsiderable advantage of size- Piotr’s physical dimensions didn’t change when he transformed and he estimated that this man was close to nine feet high. The height advantage gave him better leverage, and he clearly wasn’t much less strong than Piotr inherently, if at all. It wasn’t impossible that, given his better leverage, that he’d be able to force Piotr down if it was simply a matter of force versus force. The titan, however, had one apparent weakness.

Strong as he was, he was still made of flesh. Piotr changed his focus to his grip on the titan’s hands, only maintaining enough force to keep him standing. He was clearly far from weak- but it wasn’t long, nonetheless, when Piotr felt the muscles strain and the force of his push lessening as a look of pain crossed his face. With the advantage afforded him, Piotr pushed hard, forcing the man against the ground and into the ground. He let go momentarily only to punch the man in the face. The titan struggled and tried to land a blow himself, but he was clearly stunned.

The second blow knocked him out cold. Piotr got up and immediately had himself knocked aside by a greenish glowing hand that manifested from the woman, which sent him sailing into yet another wall. I have got to work on that. I’m very observant when I’m paying attention to something, but my spatial awareness needs to be better. Piotr wondered if part of that problem was that almost nothing actually harmed him- he didn’t have the advantage of the primal fear of injury and death to sharpen his senses.

Piotr didn’t have the chance to get up before he was caught in a giant shimmering greenish fist. He didn’t have much of a range of movement, but he still managed to burst out of her grasp, much to her visible surprise. Piotr didn’t give her a chance to recover. Piotr moved as quickly as he could and swung out towards the area of the exoskeleton covering her stomach. The exoskeleton was firm, but gave way slightly- no doubt absorbing all but a tiny amount of the force he’d exerted, but the small amount that was left was enough to drive the air out of her lungs and drive her to her knees as the field wavered and disappeared. She looked up with wide eyes- she didn’t expect that to happen- but the next thing that Piotr felt was something coil around his arm, a cold grasp that seemed to remove any ability he had to act.

Piotr turned around to see a hooded man with cruel eyes, sending a flare of energy through a whip that had wrapped around Piotr. The pain was unexpected, hitting him as much mentally as physically. Piotr lashed out blindly and the whip let go, presumably to avoid its wielder being spun through the air. The triplets that Logan had been fighting had fused into a singular form, a bizarre monstrosity with three torsos, combining apparent superhuman strength with searing plasma blasts. Logan had been hit at least once and was looking like he was struggling just a little.

Piotr picked up the remnants of the car that he’d thrown at the now-fallen titan and hurled them at the fused triplets, who managed to disintegrate it with a plasma burst- but while they’d been distracted, Logan had got a chance to lash out with his claws, creating a painful wound. The further distraction allowed Piotr to get close enough to relieve Logan, punching the fused triplets in one of their faces. The other two struggled briefly, but it wasn’t long before all three of them had been dispatched.

All told, they seemed to be doing pretty well. The hooded man with the whip was engaged in a losing battle with Logan and Kurt had knocked out the woman who had created the exoskeleton with a quick series of teleports. Several of the mutants had simply dispersed, terrified by Ororo’s show of elemental fury. So far, things were looking not too bad, but Piotr wondered about endgame. Defeating some of his minions might discourage Magneto from moving further, or it will simply compel him to arrive personally.

Something was wrong, however.

Elisabeth.

Elisabeth was supposed to be coordinating their actions, but he hadn’t heard anything from her the whole time- it was possible that she was simply engaged in monitoring something else, but he had a sinking feeling inside of him.

Elisabeth, are you there? Piotr wasn’t a telepath of course, but he knew that it was possible to think a thought loudly and that a telepath might be able to pick it up, particularly with the miniaturized Cerebro unit inside the Blackbird able to augment her psionic powers. There was no reply. The relative quiet that descended on the ruined cityscape, which might have seemed positive a few minutes ago, seemed positively damning.

That was when it started gently raining fragments of metal- pieces of machinery and plate drifting down from the sky gently. One clanged softly off of him. And there, amid the strange drift of unnaturally falling metal was Elisabeth herself, unconscious, descending from the skies and landing softly on the ground. Piotr ran towards her- and to his relief, she seemed largely unhurt. There were no visible injuries, save for a slight nosebleed and she was breathing normally.

Piotr looked up towards where she had fallen from and saw the form of a man, dressed in swirling dark robes with hints of gleaming armour, the setting sun setting off against a terrible, red face with burning eyes. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Rogue hurtling towards the gleaming figure, who looked like some manner of avenging angel. He gestured towards her and instantly, her form became a speck on the horizon, hurtling at immense speed towards the ocean. It was Ororo who attacked next, but an invisible shield stopped everything, the wind, the rain, lightning bolts and hail, everything falling off harmlessly about him. Almost instantly, Ororo was trapped in what looked like an invisible telekinetic prison, her eyes opening wide with horror. Kurt teleported upwards, trying to get inside his shield but he rematerialized only a foot away, unconscious.

“You gotta get me up there.” Logan growled and Piotr got ready to do the fastball special that had won so many battles in the past. But as Logan approached, Piotr felt his arm lashing out violently, striking his friend with incredible force, pulverizing the flesh of his face and exposing the shining adamantium underneath. Piotr’s eyes opened in horror as he realized that he was doing it again, a fist catching Logan in the stomach. He felt organs giving way and the air exploding out of his lungs.

No. Get out of my mind! GET OUT! Piotr cried out wordlessly, but he couldn’t do anything. Logan just looked up at him. He knows exactly what is happening. And he’s not fighting back.

I’m so sorry.

Even with all of his might, even with all the sickening power he had, a power that he hated so much, it took ages to beat Logan into unconsciousness, as a pitiless angel watched from the heavens. And only when it was finally done did unconsciousness come as a blessed relief.

Chapter Text

The atmosphere inside the Starjammer was tense, to say the least. Nobody was really talking much, except for Scott and Wanda, who as far as Bobby could tell, were basically trying to keep each other from falling apart entirely. Hank had been speaking to the weird space pope that was accompanying them and as for Longshot, he was unusually quiet. That left the robot, who seemed mostly untroubled by what was going on, except for being concerned about Wanda. Pretty convinced that the robot has a robo-crush on Wanda.

Which left Bobby with time to think about what the hell was apparently going on- like everyone else who was there, he remembered Cape Citadel pretty well. Even if he hadn’t been there, it had dominated the news for weeks. There hadn’t been anything left. They’d had to hold a memorial with a photograph- there wasn’t a body left, after all. All they’d known is that somehow, Jean had found the power inside herself to hold in the power of multiple nuclear warheads and instantly neutralize something like ninety-eight percent of the radiation created. She had saved millions of lives, at the cost of her own.

It seemed impossible. People didn’t come back from death, except in religious stories that weren’t really true but people tried to believe in because it made them feel better about death. Just like people said things about Heaven, to make them feel better about the absolute finality of death. You die, that’s it, Bobby, that’s fucking it. You don’t get a second chance in a fucking cloud. That’s what Pietro had told him and when Bobby heard it, he wanted to punch Pietro in his stupid, pretty mouth, but partly because he was angry because he’d said what Bobby believed, deep down. People lived after death in memories and records, not as spirits or angels or as goddesses.

“We’re nearly there.” A middle-aged man who looked weirdly like Scott looked back at the company, both the crew of the ship they were travelling in and to the assembled heroes. Interesting crew, too. There was a gigantic reptilian guy with a weird little bird that seemed to give him orders perched on his shoulder. There was also another one of the Shi’ar like the weird space pope they were travelling with, with especially colourful head feathers, whose speech was translated in a weird archaic dialect, a sexy skunk lady and then a middle-aged human guy who looked like an older Scott with a moustache.

Weirdly like an older Scott with a moustache. Bobby decided to file that one into the ‘later’ category, however. They had enough to deal with at the time. It was already approaching impossibility to deal with the fact that Jean might be alive, or reborn somehow. Hearing what was basically a sermon from Space Pope didn’t help any, either. It’d been Hank who’d asked her, with all the politesse that Dr. McCoy could possibly muster, simply to stop. It’s not right. She’s not some fucking icon of worship. She was our friend and like family and she belongs with us if she’s out there.

“Understood.” Scott replied and yeah, Bobby was weirded out even more, because their voices even sounded kind of similar. He was starting to wonder if there was a very special episode of Who Do You Think You Are coming, because the similarities were sort of crazy. At the same time, however, he wasn’t going to push the point. He knew that Scott was trying very, very hard not to simply fall apart on the inside. They were all strained but he was perhaps even the most broken up.

And seriously, he was just getting better. Of course, ‘getting better’ also meant being suspiciously friendly with the Frost woman from the Hellfire Club. Bobby had met her all of once and honestly, she seemed colder than he was, but then again, she acted differently around Scott. Bobby thought it was suspicious as hell that she was cozying up so much to their fearless leader and he was sort of relieved that was probably going to hit the iceberg, in the best possible way, but at the same time- it meant that Scott was getting a bunch of old emotional scars and traumas reopened and expected to act decisively on top of it.

Scott’s jaw tightened as they got visual of the building, underneath which Jean’s unique signature- read now through a miniaturized Cerebro hastily installed onto the Starjammer, the better-integrated model on the actual Blackbird. Bobby wasn’t an expert on Cerebro-reading but between Hank and the Space Pope, it seemed pretty certain that it was indeed Jean’s signature, reading as normal. Bobby had wondered if such a thing could be faked but while Hank didn’t think it was strictly impossible- given the fantastic nature of the alternative, it wasn’t something that would be easily accomplished.

“The signal’s showing through clear and bright.” Hank frowned slightly in concentration and turned some knobs slightly. “I’m not picking up anything else right now.” He looked up towards Scott. “And that’s not right. We’re approaching a major US city. There should be several mutant signatures in the area- the logical conclusion, I believe, is that we’re being led towards a trap.”

“Of course it’s a trap.” Wanda spoke up. “I never thought for a moment, that if … that if this was real, that it’d just be as easy as us showing up and Jean being there. But she is out there, somewhere. I know it. I can’t quantify exactly how I know it, but I’ve learned that not everything can be easily quantified. She’s there and she needs us and we’re going to her.”

“Darn right.” Longshot spoke, for almost the first time since they’d left. “I’m not stopping until she’s safe and gets to go home, where she belongs.” There wasn’t a trace of anything other than deadly seriousness in his voice. Bobby usually thought of Longshot as something of a lovable goofball, but there wasn’t anything even vaguely funny about the blond mutant right now. Also, he looks good in leather pants. Like, probably even better than Pietro.

I should probably stop thinking thoughts like that, or the Space Pope is gonna read my mind and snitch to Wanda that I’m kind of into her brother. Not the time for that sort of awkward conversation.

“It is also statistically unlikely that whoever planned this particular trap expected this precise combination of individuals to arrive.” Vision noted. “We may very well be surprised by what we find shortly, but the odds are quite high that they themselves will be surprised. And dismayed.”

“Let us hope that you are correct.” Hank replied. “We’re getting a visual right now-” He paused for a second. “Scott, wasn’t this the orphanage where you were adopted?”

“Cyclops on missions, Beast.” Scott replied in a clipped tone. The space pirate with the badass moustache who looked like Scott, however, looked like he’d eaten an entire ostrich and was choking on the bones at the mention of the name ‘Scott’. Bobby could see Space Pirate really looking at Scott for maybe the first time and that really made Bobby wonder if something was going on there. “And … yes, that’s the place.” His jaw set hard and Bobby realized he was noticing that Space Pirate was looking at him.

“Can I help you?” Scott asked in a clipped tone, giving Space Pirate a glare.

“... your name is Scott?” Space Pirate asked, trying to retain something like a casual atmosphere, but the colour was visibly draining from his face. He set his jaw, just like Scott, obviously trying hard to control himself. “... Scott Summers ?” There was a strange weight in his voice, like old scars being healed, but also of dead hopes being rekindled. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. This is not a thing that is actually happening, least of all now.

Scott nodded curtly, probably too absorbed in the tempest of everything else to really realize what was going on, even though everyone else did. Bobby was pretty sure that nobody was breathing in the Starjammer right then. Even the robot looked a little anxious. It was Space Pope that broke the incredible silence, maybe figuring that something, anything had to break it.

“The Captain’s name, Cyclops, is Christopher Nathan Summers. He was … taken from Earth by agents of my brother’s fifteen years ago.” The Space Pope spoke softly. “Until a few years ago, he was a slave in a mining pit operated by my brother. Illegally and in contravention of our divine law. I had him freed and he joined my service.”

“That’s impossible.” Scott snapped, visibly shaking. Wanda reached out to comfort him, but he turned away. “That’s not possible. The plane was on fire. The parachute, there was only one working parachute. It lit on fire too. I don’t … I don’t remember anything for a long time and then I was in in the orphanage.” All the colour had drained from his face and Bobby knew that there would be tears streaming down his face if his mutation allowed for it.

“... Scott.” Christopher Summers spoke quietly and since he didn’t have a weird mutation which constantly generated force beams, the tears were open and free. “My God. Look at you.” He paused, obviously afraid to ask something. “... … Alex?”

Scott shook his head, his fists clenching reflexively. Alex must have died in the crash. Scott himself was in a coma for a long time. The Professor had said the only reason he survived was that his power activated early. Killed the impact enough to save his life. But Alex was younger. And there’s been no record of him. The oppressive, physically powerful silence was back in full force now.

Christopher Summers nodded silently- clearly trying to put a brave face on something that hurt more than Bobby could easily imagine, even though half of the people in the plane were here because of the phantom hope of finding a fallen friend alive again. But it’s a good thing, right? I mean, Scott has a father, or found one. But it can’t be bad to find out your biological father is alive and is apparently a space pirate of some kind? That’s actually sort of awesome.

The reality of the situation, however was almost unbearably awkward and raw, a million dead hopes and dreams reignited and burning up both men bodily.

“This can’t …” Scott was actively trying to retreat from what was pretty obviously the truth. Dude, the guy looks JUST like you, Scott. He’s the right age. He’s clearly just as falling apart as you are right now. And there is no conceivable reason that anyone would fake anything like that. Why would anyone? How would benefit? But Bobby was a bit of an expert in lying to himself, and it was pretty hard to judge Scott on that account.

“Later. We will have the relevant tests and discussions later. ” Hank spoke up. “Jean needs us now. And we need to keep our heads in the game as we head into what is flagrantly obviously some manner of trap now.” It wasn’t usually Hank’s style to be so assertive, particularly when Scott was the leader, but he was right. They had more immediate problems.

The rhetorical cold water seemed to have enough of an impact on Scott to bring him back to reality. He looked back at the screen showing the orphanage in question. “I remember there being some tunnels underneath, but nothing huge. How far underneath would you say that Jean’s signature was? Can we pinpoint?” He frowned in concentration, and Bobby was impressed at how quickly he was pulling himself back together considering everything. I guess that’s what makes him the leader. “It closed down some years ago and is derelict, so we probably don’t need to be too sensitive about it.”

“Fifty feet or so underground, it seems. Either someone has expanded the tunnel network significantly or they were more extensive than you knew at the time.” Hank replied, quickly tapping out a few commands on the interface. “We’re getting something else as well. Now that we’re close enough, the greyout is starting to fade. There’s a human mutant, and two aliens. I can’t detect anything more specific with this particular unit.”

Suddenly, Wanda and Scott looked at each other, as if something had happened that only they knew about. Scott’s jaw set even more grimly than before, a determined look flickering across his face. “She’s here. She knows we’re coming. Captain …” Scott turned, a flicker of uncertainty across his face as he addressed the guy who was pretty much certainly his biological father. “Set us down. We’ll … sort everything else out later.”

Christopher Summers simply nodded and brought the Starjammer down in a nearby field. Thankfully, there didn’t seem to be many people around, though there were a few people gawking from nearby buildings. Yeah, this is going to make people’s YouTube feeds, for sure. There’s known members of the X-Men and the Avengers on this ship and it’s not often that big name superheroes like that end up in Middle America like this. Actually, when Bobby really thought about it, there did seem to be a really weird concentration of superhuman activity in the New York metropolitan area.

It was only a short walk to the former orphanage building, which looked just about as run-down as Bobby thought a building that was abandoned for nearly a decade might. What was strange, however, was the sight of two people standing on the step of the building, looking for all the world like they were expecting visitors for tea, a man and a woman. So yeah, definitely some kind of trap. Keep a sharp eye out, Bobbers. Things are gonna get downright schwifty in here.

To say that the man was pale was an understatement on the order of saying that the atmosphere in the Starjammer had been awkward. He was white, not in the sense of a white guy, which Bobby himself was, but white like a corpse. Like the grave. Actually, he looked more than a little like some old-school Hollywood Dracula, with carefully styled dark hair and an immaculately trimmed beard. There was something unbearably sinister about the faint smirk on his thin colourless lips and chilling about his eyes, which were red as blood.

While the man looked like some sort of vampire, the woman was beautiful in a savage way- clearly one of the Shi’ar that the Space Pope belonged to, but with slightly darker skin and differently coloured feathers. Also, she appeared to have long feathers streaming from her arms- actually, Bobby was pretty sure they were wings. And she had a cruel little smirk of her own. But while the vampire looked detached in his cruelty, she looked like she’d love nothing more than to rip them apart and feed on the remains.

“Dearest sister. Imagine finding you here, of all places.” The woman smiled coldly. “I don’t remember my brother sending you here. Shouldn’t you be at home on Throneworld, making sure people go to temple on the appointed day and light their hearthfires in the correct way?” Her voice dripped with cruel sarcasm. “If you’ve come for the Goddess and her Avatar, you have no need for concern. I’ve found her already. This fine gentleman here- the good Doctor Essex, has agreed to release her into my custody in exchange for a few small baubles of our technology.” Her arm-wings spread wide and that’s when Bobby noticed the long, razor-sharp talons. “So why don’t you and your friends just turn around and go the way they came? I will bring the Goddess to Throneworld and Brother will assuredly forgive your insubordination as a mistake of zeal. He’s so … merciful.”

“Our brother has no authority over me, Cal’syee” Lilandra replied. “He commands our armies, but does not sit the Throne. You on the other hand, will have much to explain to our father. Fortunately, he is, as you say, merciful.” Her face set. “I would prefer that you stand aside willingly, but I can compel you to do so if I wish.”

“Ah yes.” Cal’syee replied. “Your telepathy. So you’d so freely use that sacred gift to override your dear sister’s free will?” Her cruel little smile expanded, showing small, sharp teeth, not unlike those of a shark. “That would be a simple solution for you, wouldn’t it? Just override our brains with your psychic power, do what you want to do.” She laughed coldly. “You’re not going to get anywhere with it, though. The Shi’ar do not, it seems, have a monopoly on telepathy.”

“I’m afraid, Majestrix, that your psychic abilities will not serve you well here.” Doctor Essex spoke, and of course, it was in a pitch-perfect British accent that sounded just a little dated, as if he had actually walked out of the pages of a late 19th-century novel. “That being said, your actual objective, if I am not mistaken, is for your goddess to enter your custody. I have arranged this with the Majestrix Cal’syee already. I was hesitant to let her go-” He chuckled softly, offering a smile that was just about the most coldly sinister thing Bobby had ever seen. “But I was offered much in exchange. I could scarcely refuse her.”

“Father’s command was to find the God-”

“Do you really think that Father sent me, Lilandra? Father’s dead. Brother sits the throne and I am his right hand.” Cal’syee’s grin broadened slightly, making it quite clear that she did not in the slightest feel grief from her father’s loss, whereas Lilandra looked shocked and pained.

“I don’t care if you’re God Herself.” Wanda glowered at Cal’syee and the Doctor. “I don’t care if you’re the actual Devil. Jean is here and we’re getting her. I am telling you once. Just once. Step aside.” Wanda’s hands glowed red and strange sigils formed around her. “We’re not leaving without Jean. I’m not leaving without her. I love her and I’m going to bring her home and I’ll do it even if I have to erase your entire species from the universe.”

The Doctor looked thoughtful for a moment and then turned to Cal’Syee. “Majestrix, perhaps now would be a good time to introduce your friend?”

“You’re outnumbered, sister.” Lilandra replied. “And telepath or not, your friend won’t be able to take care of all of us before we overrun you. The Starjammer isn’t heavily armed, but it’s got more than enough firepower to wipe you off the face of this planet. Don’t make this become violent. You can’t have been expecting a fight. You didn’t bring the Imperial Guard with you.”

“Bring the entire Imperial Guard?” Cal’Syee laughed. “I suppose that is my perogative as their commander, but why bring them all when I only need to bring one of them?” Her violent grin became a cruel sneer. “Gladiator. Take my sister into custody.” She gestured at them. “Kill the rest of them.” She turned towards Essex. “Shall we, Doctor?”

“Of course, Majestrix.” Essex smiled slightly coldly and then turned briefly towards Scott, his vampiric visage fading into the plump, gentle face of a middle-aged man in a doctor’s white labcoat. “And Scott? Welcome home, young man.” With that final remark, the two of them disappeared as the unmistakable sound of a sonic boom reverberated across the landscape and a great big purple alien in what looked like an off-brand black and red Superman outfit and a mohawk landed in front of them.

“Kallark.” Lilandra spoke softly. “You don’t want to do this.”

Gladiator shook his head. “My orders are my orders. My prime objective is to secure the Goddess’ Avatar and to bring you in for judgement.” He turned towards the others. “Flee. I will not offer you another chance.”

“Not doing that.” Longshot replied, moving around the edge and throwing several knives at Gladiator, who caught them effortlessly, crumpling them uselessly and blasting at Longshot with heat vision, which the agile mutant barely avoided. Gladiator then turned towards the rest of them, sucking in a deep breath and exhaling in a cone of brutally freezing air, in a headwind powerful enough to knock them all on their feet.

“Very well. I wish you all a warrior’s death.” Gladiator spoke as he moved towards them.

Chapter Text

Rogue didn’t know how fast she was travelling when she hit the water, but it must’ve been fast, because it hurt, hurt like when she’d been eight years old and tried to belly flop off the big diving board. She was quite certain that if it weren’t for her invulnerability, that she would’ve been smashed to pulp. Thank heaven for small favors. As it was, though, it took all of her awareness and resolve not to simply sink further and further into the ocean, but to swim herself up to the surface and hover just over it.

I’ve got to figure out where the heck I am. Rogue flew up higher, until the thinning air made her seek an even level. At that height, however, she could just make out the skyline of the Genoshan capital. Must’ve been knocked back some miles. Helluva shove. Rogue started flying closer to the capital city now, glad that it was warmer in Genosha than the Institute, because it was chilly enough having hit the waters of the South Atlantic without having to deal with the weather like it was back at the Institute.

The fact, was, however, that Rogue had more important problems to deal with than the weather. Her friends were hurt, probably captured and needed her. Whoever it was that had descended from the clouds like some wrathful angel had done a number on them. Took us out pretty easy. Probably even easier than Magneto himself could do.

Rogue managed a small, wry grin, however, as she flew, just against the water to keep a low profile, back towards the Genoshan capital. Didn’t quite take us all out, though.

Y’all had your best shot. Now it’s my turn.

It only took a few seconds to reach the harbour-side, which was eerily quiet, almost desolate, no doubt abandoned by the people who would otherwise be busily working there, shipping out the products of farms and mines mostly worked by an enslaved caste of mutants. I know we’ve got to stop Magneto even more, but the more damage he can do to the slavers first, the better. We should’ve been going on a mission to end this place totally, not just rescue Momma and Kurt.

Rogue pulled out of flight and landed on the ground, carefully looking around. She knew there was a good chance that she’d been detected already, but the faint sounds of fighting further away suggested that the big guy and Magneto’s other minions might be busy. In any case, a lot of them would be doing nothing but licking their wounds for a bit. I gotta find out where they’d be taking the other X-Men. And hope that, at the same time, there’s backup coming. Ororo sent a message out to everyone she could think of.

It wasn’t that Rogue particularly wanted to meet the Avengers- the situation between them was still tense to say the least, and she couldn’t rightly blame them for that. Carol Danvers had been in a coma for weeks and it’d taken ages after that for her powers to come back. The last that Rogue had heard, she’d just about made a full recovery, but apparently had some lingering issues with memory. I took some of them personally, little bits of her that she can’t get back. Learned more about Carol Danvers than I ever cared to know.

Rogue needed something to go on, some hint of information- what they had was on the Blackbird and she had no idea if it even still existed, let alone where it had gone off to. She continued to make her way along the quiet buildings of what she assumed was the warehouse district of the Genoshan waterfront, hugging close to the buildings, staying in the shadows. I gotta find someone and get some information from their memories. Give me a rough layout of the city.

It was then that she heard voices, rough voices run through some sort of electronic amplification, telling citizens to remain in their homes, as if the situation had been contained and the city hadn’t already largely been overrun by Magneto and the Acolytes. Then again, maybe they haven’t got as far as we thought. Rogue doubted that, however, the big guy had taken no time whatsoever to deal with the X-Men- she couldn’t imagine guns and tanks or even fighter jets being able to deal with him. And there’d been nothing overhead the whole time, which suggested Rogue that Magneto had already dealt with the air force.

Rogue waited quietly. It wasn’t as if she couldn’t easily deal with them by main force, but she knew that her slim chances were going to be a lot better if she moved quietly and drew as little attention as possible to herself. There was a stroke of luck, however, as they headed down a street that would lead them past the alley where she was. I’m mostly a flyer, but I can be dang quick on my feet too if I need to be. As soon as she saw the guards walk by, she swooped out of the alleyway, snatching one and knocking the others down like bowling pins.

Rogue quickly removed her glove and pressed her hand to the flailing guard’s face, instantly feeling the flood of thoughts and memories passing into her mind. About a second later, before the others had sorted themselves out, she tossed the guard aside and flew off quickly, finding another abandoned section of the city to try and make sense of her brain and sift the useful knowledge from the too-intimate personal details and the mundane inanity of people’s everyday thoughts. I hate it. I hate this. But it was the quickest way of getting some information.

It always took a minute or so to choke down the distracting thoughts- his nagging doubts about his wife’s fidelity, worries about money, how much he was looking forward for this crisis to be over so he could go with his work friends on a vacation to the beaches in the north. Soon enough, though, she got useful information- Phil had a bit of a knack for spaces and she got a pretty good sense of where things were in the city from him, along with the locations of the jails and the special prison on the outskirts of the city, where mutant criminals were held.

Rogue learned quite a lot from Phil, though many details were missing. It seemed that the air force and much of the armour had been eliminated very early, almost instantaneously due to Magneto’s arrival, alongside the ultra-powerful telepath. Central command had been devastated almost immediately- and then, there’d been relatively little fighting, except for border scuffles. Magneto had taken the prison and had presumably liberated the slave pens around the capital, but hadn’t been sighted in at least 24 hours. It was the psion who appeared to be in charge of Magneto’s followers.

Which makes me wonder where the heck Magneto’s got up to.

If Rogue moved quickly enough, she knew that she might actually be able to intercept the movement of her friends to their prison- she imagined that Magneto would be using the facility intended to guard superhumans. A worse thought made her stomach clench for a brief moment, but she rejected it. He never wanted to kill the X-Men. If they died, who would he prove himself to be right to? No, he’ll want them around for his great triumph. Rogue decided the risk was worth it and took to the skies again, flying over the city and noticing, on the ground, the zone of heavily damaged and smouldering buildings where she imagined the front-line between Magneto’s followers and the Genoshan military was situated.

Rogue stopped for a moment, keeping an eye out for any guarded convoys, but she didn’t see any. She accelerated again, until she’d pulled up at the edge of the city, within sight of the prison. Rogue grasped onto a convenient television broadcast tower, which had seemingly escaped unscathed, as if both sides had agreed that getting old reruns of Friends was more important than any political or ideological conflict. She scanned around, taking advantage of the wide field of vision around her. Something in the corner of her eye attracted interest- mist? It’s a clear day-

Rogue didn’t waste time pondering what that meant- and instead, took off from it as fast as she possibly could, the mist resolving in the form of a red-headed woman in the outfit of Magneto’s followers briefly before dissipating again. Dang, they know I’m out here. The mist materialized where she’d been again, but Rogue moved more quickly than the other woman could probably think and she managed to escape whatever it was particularly that the woman had planned to do to her. Rogue guessed that it was to teleport her into the prison. Maybe she’d done it to my friends and they’re already in there. In any case, I gotta move fast. If I stop, she’ll probably catch up and I’m willing to bet five pecan pies that I can’t punch my way out of that mist.

Rogue took off, flying as fast as she could towards the prison, steeling herself for impact with the structure itself, placing her fists-first and crashing through what would’ve otherwise been a formidable reinforced-concrete structure without much trouble. All right, now I’m in. Phil won’t be able to help me much anymore, he didn’t work here so I’ve got to either drain someone else or improvise a bit. Touching someone was risky too- it usually took some time for things to settle down to relative sanity in her mind, time she might not really have.

There were people running towards where she’d crashed into the wall, she recognized the hooded creep and the woman who could run quickly and hit surprisingly hard. Both of them looked to be little the worse for wear. Rogue ducked behind the corridor and waited for them to come by her before she gave them her best lineman tackle. The hooded creep crumpled pretty quickly, but the other woman recovered swiftly, a fist swinging quickly at Rogue.

“Shoulda stayed down, X-Man.” The woman taunted her, even as Rogue knocked the fist aside with her own.

“And miss dancing with you again? Why I never.” Rogue replied as she moved underneath the woman quickly and, gathering speed, torpedoed a fist into her stomach, enough to make the bigger woman gasp, but clearly not enough to take her out. Rogue grabbed the inevitable blow of reprisal and used its momentum against her to slam her into a wall. It was then that she felt a cold burning against her leg and the sensation as if the life was being drained out of her.

“You should have surrendered.” The hooded creep’s eyes glimmered sadistically underneath the hood. “Killing you is … unfortunate.” I bet you’re just broken up inside, aren’t you? I bet you’re grinning like the dang Joker under that hood. But the whip- the whip was a problem and Rogue knew that before long, she’d be too weak to properly fight back. She moved quickly towards him and slapped him in the face, knocking him as limp as a ragdoll, probably breaking his jaw in the process. The whip flickered out of existence and Rogue fell to the ground, just as the other woman had picked herself up and was lunging again.

I could play fisties with this girl for awhile. Don’t have that kind of time. I’m gonna have to end this quick. Rogue moved around, slipping off her glove and reaching out for the woman’s uncovered arm, the transfer immediately beginning, a single reprisal blow knocked away by Rogue as the power drained out of her. Ugly, violent memories streamed into Rogue- Joanna Cargill, that’s her name- of violence and abuse done to her and the grim satisfaction of being able to return a measure of that violence and abuse, of being safe in her physical power. Of feeling adrift in a world that had little sympathy for her to begin with and far less now that she was a mutant. She slumped to the ground, and Rogue was left with greater strength and having to blink back a deep hatred of the world.

Can’t slink into a corner and fight this one out. I’ve got to stay on top of this. It wasn’t easy to fight down the thoughts, but the adrenaline rush did help her somewhat. Rogue tried to think if Cargill had any memories that were relevant. Apparently they have a healer of some kind, a kid, who they use to make sure they’re always in good shape. And they’re here. Like I thought- Voght, the mist woman who teleports, took them immediately after they’re beaten. Ew. Apparently she’s sleeping with Magneto. Didn’t need to know that. Second in command, with the big psychic, who goes by Exodus.

Cargill’s thoughts had also confirmed that nobody had seen Magneto himself in awhile, though Joanna clearly strongly believed that everything was according to plan. They had been ordered to establish a perimeter around the prison and some of the pens near the capital and to gain a presence in the city. They had been told, however, to remain within what was essentially a beachhead for now. The Genoshan army was in too much disarray to properly counterattack, and both Exodus and Voght had teleportation abilities that allowed them to send strike teams to keep it that way. There had been a general uprising amongst the slaves and much of the rest of the army was focused on keeping the situation stable there.

Rogue really wished that she knew what Magneto was intending to do, however. From what Cargill’s thoughts suggested, Rogue guessed that only Voght, Exodus or Cortez, the other one in charge knew anything about what his next big move would be. Last time Magneto showed up, he caused a blackout in the whole Northeast and half the Midwest and hijacked over two dozen nuclear missiles. He’s not exactly known for half-measures. Rogue supposed that he intended to take over Genosha- perhaps to turn the world’s most infamous symbol of mutant oppression into a launching pad for greater ambitions.

Rogue couldn’t imagine the scenario in which the world would allow Magneto to be a free man, let alone run a country, however. He was one of the most hated men on the planet, a feared terrorist who had briefly held the keys to what might’ve been Armageddon itself. Whatever he’s planned, we’ve got to stop it. And that means I’ve got to find my friends so it’s a we. Rogue continued to scan through the corridors now, trying to sift through Cargill’s memories to see if she knew where the X-men were being held.

Basements. It’s always a subbasement of some kind, ugh. Never a nice sunny veranda. Rogue decided that, in the interest of haste, that valour was the better part of discretion and crashed bodily through the thick concrete floor- not that it hurt her any. She crashed down through two, three, four floors before she reached the floor where Cargill’s memories suggested her friends were. Rogue felt a headache creeping up on her, the result of taking on two people’s minds in the same day- a third would probably drive me half crazy. Phillip, thankfully, was starting to fade from her mind, but Cargill’s thoughts were stronger and Rogue figured they’d be with her for hours yet.

And as soon as her eyes adjusted slightly to the darkened floor, she saw mist again. Dang. Nearly forgot about her. Maybe she’ll solidify for just a second and I can take her out. Or maybe I’ll just make my life even worse and touch her too. Those powers might come in handy. But ew, then I’d probably know what it was like to sleep with Magneto. Ew. Unlike before at the tower, Rogue knew she was close. Got nowhere to run anyhow. Even the momentary delay from crashing through floors would probably be enough to have her catch up to me.

There were two other forms in the mist now, both imperious shapes with flowing capes. One of them resolved into the angry red face of Exodus and the other into the helmeted visage of Magneto himself. Cool blue eyes matched hers. Rogue immediately lunged, hoping to just ram them all to the ground, but she was instantly held in the grip of a telekinetic force that was greater than what she could exert, even with the addition of Cargill’s strength to her own.

“Rogue.” Magneto spoke softly, almost gently, as if it was years ago and he was pouring himself tea back in the Brotherhood house and it was only awkward because he was Momma’s boyfriend. You just about killed me. You just about killed millions of people. Those days are over, Magneto. You can’t repair a bridge that got nuked. Rogue struggled as hard as she could inside her telekinetic bonds, but even though Exodus looked like he was having to exert himself just a little to contain her, she was quite solidly held.

“I’m aware that I’ve done terrible things, and that my mission compels me to do others.” His tone was still weirdly soft, not one that Rogue figured he’d adopt for an enemy. “One of my bitterest regrets, Rogue, was hurting you. I never wanted that.” He slipped off his helmet. “The fact of the matter is, that your response- the X-Men’s response, while not unexpected, was very poorly timed. The simple fact is, that something has happened which … has compelled me to stay my hand. A greater threat exists, one which threatens both man and mutant in mutual extinction.”

“Greater threat than you? Nevermind what you did to me- you were ready to kill millions for what, to win round one in a race war? ” Rogue glared at him and continued to struggle, even though rationally, she realized that Exodus outpowered her by a fair margin. And so does Magneto, for that matter. Voght had dissolved back into the strange mist which was now surrounding her. And even if I broke out, I’m guessin’ I’m going on a one-way trip to somewhere nasty, real quick.

“Exodus, if you would.” Magneto kept his expression on Rogue. “His power is quite … astounding. Even without this helmet, I am all but impervious to psychic attack. Previously, I had considered only Charles capable of succeeding- but well, I suppose even the strongest psionic shields aren’t good enough to keep Exodus out of them.”

“My Lord, I would never-” Exodus replied, his eyes open wide.

“And I was not implying that you would abuse your power. Only that you are uniquely capable of connecting my mind and perception to that of Rogue’s.” Magneto replied smoothly. “There’s something you need to see.”

Rogue struggled again but soon enough, she wasn’t in a grim dark room being held in telekinetic bonds, but out in space, in Earth orbit looking out at the moon. Magneto was there, not far from her. We’re in the astral plane. No point attacking him here. She turned towards Magneto with a scowl. “If all you wanted to show me was how pretty the moon is out in space, I guess it’s nice. But if y’all have an actual point, get to it.”

“Look carefully, Rogue.” Magneto replied.

And that’s when she saw them. They looked like specks at first, barely visible in the star-dappled darkness, but soon they were bigger and bigger and before long she realized what they were. Starships. Colossal starships, miles and miles long, starships the size of Manhattan Island. She couldn’t count how many there were. Hundreds, at least.

The Shi’ar.

Dear Lord, there’s so many of them.

“I’m afraid, my dear, that while they’re coming, that our conflict is rather immaterial. It’s one thing to debate about whether a course of action might destroy the planet. Look, Rogue, towards the left.” Magneto pointed towards an especially large vessel, that looked a little like a colossal bird of prey. “It’s large enough that it is causing tidal disruption on our planet. Exodus tells me that it’s called a Starcracker and its sole purpose is annihilating entire star systems.

“I propose, therefore, that we call a truce. Charles and I can resolve our great game later. You might believe that my actions at Cape Citadel may have destroyed the planet, but I believe you know as well as I that if we don’t figure out something about this Shi’ar fleet, we will perish. All of us. Man and mutant. Even the cockroaches.”

“... why should I trust you?” Rogue replied.

“Because treachery on my part is only a possibility. Planetary annhiliation if we don’t deal with these alien interlopers? An absolute certainty, Rogue. Hate me all you like, but I doubt this planet can completely disregard my assistance.” Magneto slipped his helmet back on and they were back in the cold grey room, but now Rogue was no longer held by Exodus.

“This is not over.” Rogue glared at him. “And if you try anything, I’m gonna kick your purple ass all the way back to Westchester.”

“Do not threaten Lor-” Exodus was cut off as Magneto raised a hand.

“She isn’t.” Magneto smiled thinly. “She’s willing to cooperate for now.” He turned towards Exodus. “Release her friends. We should all discuss our next move.”

Chapter Text

I’m dead.

Ever since she was a little girl, Jean had been taught that when good people died, they went to Heaven, to live forever with God. Hers hadn’t been the loud, brash religion of the evangelical churches, or the hollow simulacra that many of her parents friends held in the Episcopalian Church of her faith. She’d never been anything more than doubtful about the idea of Hell and they’d never talked about it much in Sunday school.

Annie had attended a different church. Jean remembered that- a vivid, energetic church with excellent music and frightening sermons. They weren’t afraid to talk about hellfire there, and in fact, Jean privately suspected that many in the audience secretly enjoyed the idea of their opponents in the culture wars eternally roasting in Hell. Jean thought the whole thing was ghastly- but she still went sometimes with Annie because the music really was excellent and because God and faith felt alive there in a way it didn’t in her family church.

I’m dead, but this isn’t Heaven or Hell. I don’t think it’s a Purgatory either. It just is.

And what it was was lonely, boring and dark. It was as if the nuclear sunrise that had killed her had burned up all the light in the universe in one spectacular moment and now the universe she was left in was bereft of light, as if every bit of heat in existence was now gone and left with a complete null, not hot or cold or even lukewarm. It just was, but it was barely existent. Jean had wondered if she’d ended up in Limbo, the place where medieval Catholics believe that unbaptized babies ended up, without suffering, but denied God’s grace.

She’d rejected that from the first time she’d heard it. Hers had been a loving God who wouldn’t turn away any innocent soul, for want of an incantation and a little water, just as she thought it unworthy of a loving God that people may be turned away from Heaven for want of a cracker and a sip of wine. But here I am. In a nothingness without an end or a beginning. Just like I’m waiting for something to happen. But what?

Jean remembered her last few seconds of life, how, when her bodily strength had given way, something else had come to her, another strength. It wasn’t God, Jean knew that, it was something fiery, full of light and light, but also capable of vast destruction. It had created the shield that held the killing light and obliterating fire of nuclear devastation at bay. Jean didn’t know for sure if she’d done it, if she’d saved her friends. But a small part of her believed that she had.

I’m sorry that I couldn’t be with them. I’m sorry for leaving all of you. I did what I could. Did I save everyone else?

Jean would gladly have made the sacrifice, and she was fairly sure it had worked, but she wasn’t certain and that lack of certainty haunted her. Sometimes she wondered if her friends and millions of other innocent people were floating in this void of existence, with nothing but their own minds. Was everything I learned as a child false? Maybe this is what the hereafter is. Just a void. Nothingness. A consciousness without a body.

No. You are becoming.

What am I becoming?

It was the same voice that spoke to her at Cape Citadel, the feminine voice that had linked her with what had felt like the entire universe. She had felt countless minds and spirits reach out to her in worship. It felt endlessly wrong, but it had filled her with a resolve to see the task through. It had given her the strength she needed to hold back nuclear fire.

Life and light eternal. The Phoenix. But to be born again, you must die first.

Born again? The thought seemed beyond blasphemous. Her mind flickered through a thousand sermons and Sunday School lessons, all of which had told her that only one man had truly died and come back to life, and that He was no man at all, but the Son and part of the Trinity, born of God and God Himself as well. The general resurrection of the dead was supposed to mark the end of the world, in which everything would perish and a new and perfect world would stand in its place.

You are needed. We are needed. Soon we will be one and the same and you must take your place among the stars.

Needed? Who needs me? Us?

Your friends. Your world.

But I’m dead. I don’t have a body anymore. I’m not part of the world anymore.

Open your eyes.

But I have no eyes to open. I am a consciousness. And yet, however, Jean felt, for the first time, an unmistakably physical sensation- a warm liquid feeling surrounding her, perversely reminiscent of floating in the womb. Even more significantly, she realized that she had a body. She couldn’t move yet, but she could feel that she had hands, feet, a head. Jean tried to will her eyes to open- as she became aware that she was, in fact, immersed in a warm liquid, something covering her face to give her oxygen.

Jean then became aware of pain, not an agonizing pain, but the annoying discomfort of tubes stuck in her in several different places. I’m in a lab of some kind. The tubes were feeding her, carrying away wastes, doing all the things that she would have been unable to do with her consciousness elsewhere. She focused on trying to open her eyes, move her fingers, anything. No. Not the right thing. My powers. I need to use my powers.

I don’t need to open my eyes. I need to open my mind.

The liquid that Jean Grey was suspended in sloshed about as a fine wave of telekinetic energy flowed through it, not aiming to break- she wasn’t strong enough yet, but to pass through it and give her an impression of the room. There were other tubes like hers. Jean Grey concentrated, trying to open the all-seeing eye of her mind, to see if there was anyone else conscious in the room. I need to be careful though, they’re unlikely to be friendly.

Just as she opened her mind, though, she felt a spike of psychic pain lance through her.

Scott.

And then there was nothing. Jean tried to struggle, to move her limbs, to send a stronger telekinetic wave. He’s hurt. He needs me. Wanda too. Bobby, Hank. Longshot. Other people that she didn’t know. Somewhere undefinably above her, they were fighting another being, one of immense power. And they’re losing too. Her opened mind felt the impact of a colossal fist like it was against her own body instead of Hank’s. Bones broke underneath the impact. His fur was matted and dark with blood. One of the people she didn’t know, a woman in silk robes, was begging the powerful alien being to stop.

They need you. Rise.

I’m trying, damn you! I’m trying!

Her mind’s eye detected something entering the room she was in, a psychic presence almost impossibly cold- human in a technical sense only, sinister and evil almost beyond measure. He turned towards her. He knows. He pressed a switch and Jean suddenly felt something different flowing through the tubes into her. Poison. She realized that he’d done this before. Flickering memories, brief snatches floated to her mind as she realized that she’d been here a half dozen times again. This isn’t the first time I’ve died and been reborn. He kills me again, with his poison.

The doctor reached inside his coat, as the freezing poison spread through her veins. Jean struggled and her arm beat weakly against the class. He pulled out what looked like a gun. His eyes were red, but they were also wide. He’s afraid. He knows. He’s desperate. The deafening crack of gunfire could only be heard as a faint muffled sound in her liquid prison, but the expected impact of bullets never came. The freezing poison in her veins was warmed by the fire of life itself.

Jean pushed again against the glass and it shattered forward, the tubes coming undone, her body wreathed in psychic flame. The doctor was unmistakably frightened now and part of her wanted to watch him burn, for his blasphemy, but Jean pushed that down. My friends need me now. She simply pushed him away with her telekinesis, straight through a wall. She reached upwards and ascended, passing through the various levels of the complex before bursting into a dilapidated old structure, before bursting out of the ceiling of it, leaving behind the flaming ruins of whatever building had been above her prison.

Below she saw the battle in its dying phases, her friends exhausted and battered, trying simply to survive and slowly, ever so slowly, losing, against a foe who was stronger, faster and more determined than they were. The synthezoid Vision was cradling Wanda in his arms, using his powers to protect them from further harm, but Jean knew that she was dying. Hank somehow remained on his feet, but he was near the end of his endurance. The battleground was littered in ice and Bobby wobbled on his feet as he created another field of ice, which could delay Gladiator for only a moment.

A colossal claw of psychic flame reached out at her will and pinned Gladiator against the ground, his eyes bugging out with terror as his confidence and pride left him, his strength draining steadily as he realized what was happening. Jean descended downwards through the wreckage. She looked down briefly at Gladiator, trapped as he was in her grip. I could kill him. He intended to kill my friends. It would be just. It would be swift.

He is helpless now. It would be murder.

“Mercy.” Gladiator looked at her with tears in his eyes and she realized that in his eyes, she was not just a power that he somehow couldn’t match. I am his goddess. The Phoenix Goddess, Mistress of the Eternal Flame. “Please.” For all of the immense strength that he’d demonstrated just a moment ago, for how easily he’d broken her friends physically, now he was nothing but a frightened child caught in the hand of an angry goddess.

“Surrender.” Jean ordered him and even when she released him, he remained prostrated on the ground.

She looked around to see what had happened- the grass was slick with blood and large patches of it were blackened. Jean first walked towards Wanda, the synthezoid ceasing to hold her in phase.

“Hey.” Wanda coughed weakly and smiled up at her. “Nice to see you.” Her eyes fluttered closed for a second before reopening. Her lips tugged slightly, wincing at the pain of breathing with a shattered ribcage and a collapsed lung. Jean knelt down beside her. “Pretty nice thing to go out on-”

“No.” Jean replied. “No, you don’t.” She reached out her hand and placed it on Wanda’s chest. Broken bones and collapsed lungs repaired themselves. The blood pooling in her thoracic cavity disappeared, returning to life and flowing properly in her veins. Jean bent down and kissed the top of her head as the colour returned to her skin. She then got back up to her feet.

No one dies today.

The simple thought undid every single one of the injuries that her friends had suffered, from Hank’s possibly fatal ones to the more minor ones that Scott had sustained. Scott. She turned to look over at him. He looked a little older than she remembered and worn with cares. How long has it been? Scott?

“Jean?” Scott finally said, the words barely audible as he quickly braced himself.

“Scott.” Jean felt the muscles of her mouth tug into a smile. “Hi.” Because that’s not the stupidest thing you could possibly say after arriving in light and fire and just basically being Flaming Space Jesus.

They stood there, gazing at each other for a moment, both afraid that if they moved, that it would prove to be an illusion. It was Scott who finally crossed the distance and despite all of her fantastic power, nothing felt as strong as the arms wrapped around her. She wrapped her arms around him as well, her head resting softly on her shoulder. The tears came, unbidden, great racking sobs of mingled fear, relief and joy.

“Is this …” Scott finally pulled away, just enough that he could look into her eyes. “Here you are and I’m … this is real, right?”

Jean nodded with a soft little smile, even though she was shaking just a little, because she was also scared that the moment might go away and she’d be back to being a consciousness without a body, existing in a void with only her own thoughts for company. “Yes.” Her hands reached up to cup his face as she stood up just a little on her tiptoes to give him a soft, lingering kiss. “It’s me.”

It’s more complicated than that, isn’t it? Is this really going to turn out the way I think it does? The way that I hope it does? Jean shoved the unwelcome thought down deeper inside her mind as Scott kissed her again, and she allowed herself to melt just a little in her arms, forgetting about the carnage on the field, about the prostrated alien demigod begging for her forgiveness. For just a few seconds, she could pretend that she hadn’t died in nuclear fire at Cape Citadel, that perhaps, they were back in the forest around the Institute, looking for the Westchester Bobcat, or returning from a Rush concert to a hotel she’d booked, anticipating their first night together.

The moment passed, as all things must, and Jean reluctantly stood away from Scott and turned towards everyone else, who was standing around them, both old and dear friends and people she had never met before. Not far away from them, Lilandra, Majestrix of the Shi’ar and the leader of the faith of … her, or at least the force that lived inside of her, was kneeling, tears running down her face, an expression of limitless awe and wonder on her face.

“You don’t have to kneel.” Jean finally said to her, walking over to her and reaching out her hand to help her up. “Actually, I’d really prefer that you didn’t.”

Lilandra nodded and got to her feet a little shakily. “I never thought- I knew I was looking to find you, but I can’t believe you’re actually here-”

“Goddess.” Gladiator got himself up to his knees. “I beg your forgiveness- but the Emperor ordered me to- my mission is to bring you home, to Throneworld. If that is your will.”

Jean shook her head. “I’m not going anywhere right now. I’ve been alive again for a few minutes. Honestly, I just want to go home.” Oh my God, what am I going to tell my parents. How am I going to face them? They must have been devastated. Even as the thought left her mind, however, she felt a distant presence enter the horizon of her psychic perception. Whatever exactly I am now, I’m linked to the Shi’ar and to the faithful. And there isn’t just Lilandra and her guardsman here. Or her sister, Cal’syee-known-as-Deathbird.

Jean Grey looked up at the sky as they appeared, large enough now to be visible as faint specks in the afternoon sky, with one larger shape just large enough to be identifiable as a spaceship. Lilandra turned and Jean could see the colour draining completely from her face.

“The Starcracker. Goddess. D’Ken … have you gone mad?” Lilandra softly whispered.

“I am going to suppose that something you’re referring to as a Starcracker is very bad indeed. And that you are referring to that very large spaceship.” Hank looked up. “That we are apparently capable of seeing from outside Earth orbit. Do tell me- Majestrix, precisely what does a Starcracker do? ”

“It creates the phenomenon you know as a supernova in any star. It can wipe out entire solar systems.” Lilandra replied softly. “I had hoped that my father would have decommissioned it. No mortal being should have that power. I fear what my brother might do with it. He is … aggressive.” She took a breath. “But perhaps-” She looked at Jean. “Goddess, implore him to back down and he will obey. He may be wrathful in the knowledge that this world killed you but if you command him, he will listen.” Jean could sense that Lilandra was trying to convince herself of those words as much as Jean herself.

It was strange to consider the notion that she might be capable of having influence over a force powerful enough to summon what looked like dozens or hundreds of immense starships and a colossal weapon that was even more powerful than the Death Star in Star Wars. It’s certainly worth a try. I don’t think our planet has anything capable of dealing with a power of that magnitude.

Jean stared at the Starcracker for a moment. I’m willing to bet he’s in there. She stood away from her friends and felt the fire of the Phoenix wrap around her again and she launched herself in the air. When she’d last been alive, floating through the air had been one of the more difficult skills he’d learned. But now it seemed beyond effortless to fly through the air, through the veil of gravity of orbit and the vast distance toward the alien armada, the physical aspect of the Phoenix becoming larger and larger

Leave this place in peace. Your Goddess commands you.

Jean could sense over a million wills wavering, and hundreds of thousands of them breaking, fleeing as quickly as possible into the vastness of interstellar space, abandoning their Emperor. But the hated Starcracker remained, soon enough, along amongst all the ships. Her mind’s eye focused on the form of Emperor D’Ken and realized that he’d taken direct psychic control of much of his crew, a staggering feat that Jean Grey would have considered impossible not long ago.

There was something in his hands, a crystalline blade that made her heart nearly stop as a memory of a million lifetimes flickered through her mind. The M’Kraan. The only artifact in the galaxy that could harm her. He held it up in his hand and cackled and Jean felt its power rip through her, tearing at her essence, pulling it towards and into him. He’s trying to steal the power of the Phoenix for himself.  No. I can’t allow him to do it. The sheer malevolence radiating from his mind, the twisted madness, made her want to be sick.

This cannot be. I can’t let him win. He would bathe the galaxy in blood, destroy it in fire and then recreate it to destroy it again, just for entertainment.

The resulting explosion of psychic might could be felt by every sentient mind on Earth, from the mightiest of heroes to the most humble of ordinary people. The light was blinding, just as the nuclear fire of Cape Citadel, but far more transitory as she felt herself begin to fall down, like Icarus in legend, her telekinetic shields reaching out to protect her. Soon enough, she was wreathed in psychic flame, but she knew that part of it was gone.

D’Ken cut a part of my essence and controls it now. And he’s still in command of the Starcracker.

And then she hit the ground.

Ow.

Chapter Text

It was a strange twist of fate, indeed, that had brought Erik into the room with Ororo, speaking to Charles, the Majestrix Lilandra and Scott at Westchester, Nick Fury, Steve Rogers, Doctor Strange and Tony Stark at SHIELD Headquarters, Abigail Brand from the Peak, Reed Richards from the Baxter Building, Doctor Doom from Latveria and the Black Panther from Wakanda on videoscreens. An effort to contact Namor had gone without success. Not long ago, Erik was quite certain that he would have to face an attack by at least some of the Avengers in addition to the X-Men. The truth was, however, that they all faced a common threat, one that threatened to obliterate the entirety of the human race.

“The Shi’ar aren’t particularly interested in hiding the schematics of the Starcracker, as you can tell.” Brand began. “It’s intended as a terror weapon and I can assure you, it can do exactly as promised. If it discharges into our Sun, we can expect planetary destruction from the resulting energy wave in 24 hours or less. And no matter how powerful all of you think you are, none of you can do anything to protect the planet from a supernova.”

“That must have been a brilliant deduction for you, Colonel.” Doom spoke with the scathing contempt he saved for functionaries of any stripe. “I do not believe that is a novel understanding for anyone in this room. Let us focus on important matters- how to disable or destroy this device.” Doom paused for a moment. “Shi’ar technology is greatly advanced. Whoever designed this Starcracker deserves a … modicum of respect for their work. However, it is not totally invulnerable.”

“I’ve examined the data as well and it appears to be vulnerable to a very precise and narrow band of electromagnetic radiation. If it is exposed to enough electromagnetic radiation at the precisely correct bandwidth, it will disable the Starcracker. Likely not permanently, but for some hours at absolute minimum, possibly as long as 24 hours. It would be unpowered.” Reed Richards spoke. “I or Doom could likely build a device that could produce radiation at this band, but it would take more time than we currently have. Hesitant as I am to say this, but Magneto is likely our best option.”

Erik couldn’t help but smile faintly at the reluctant endorsement. It was a strange, but not altogether unpleasant irony that the planet would rely on his beneficence. Doubtless, they will forget about this day soon after it is over and return to hunting the mutant race throughout the world. I, however, will remember. If they return my generosity with treachery, I will crush them utterly.

“I wouldn’t be smirking too quickly, Lehnsherr.” Tony glared into the videoscreen. “You won’t be able to create the level of power needed, not on your own. You’re going to need help with that. We’ve been able to deduce that you are capable of augmenting your electromagnetic powers with existing phenomena. That’s where you come into the picture, Ororo. You and Thor are going to create the world’s greatest thunderstorm, concentrated in a very narrow area. And that narrow area- that is where His Majesty comes into it.”

“My scientists indicate that vibranium’s unique properties will lend itself towards the creation of the right band of electromagnetic radiation.” The Black Panther spoke, his voice betraying no particular emotion. “Let it be known that you will only be admitted to Wakanda to perform this one deed. Do not assume that we are powerless to defend ourselves, even against you, Magneto. We would not admit a stranger, much less a man such as you to our land, but for this catastrophic threat.”

“I have no intention of betraying your trust, your Majesty.” Magneto replied. “You are correct about the peculiar properties of vibranium being … useful, as you are, Dr. Richards and Lord Doom, about your calculations. It would take you days or possibly weeks to construct such a device as could simulate the powers that I possess naturally.” He paused for a moment. It might not have been best to emphasize the point, to needle his allies of necessity, but he ultimately couldn’t resist. “Consider if you will, how impossible your plan would be without the assistance of mutants, of myself and Ororo.”

“I’m glad you’re so confident about this working, Magneto.” Fury spoke next, his voice thick with disdain, as if he were some sort of common criminal, rather than the would-be saviour of an entire race. “The pulse is, of course, only the first part of the plan. It appears that D’Ken, the Shi’ar Emperor, has taken part of the cosmic power known as the Phoenix Force, for himself.”

“He hasn’t taken all of it.” Scott replied, speaking for the first time.

“The Shi’ar legends say that such a thing has happened in the past. The Phoenix Goddess can reclaim her power, but she must do so by defeating the Emperor in battle.” Lilandra spoke in turn, her voice grave but neutral. “In the meantime, however, his power, already enormous, will be vastly increased. Charles has offered the use of a few Cerebro units to amplify the power of a few of our most powerful telepaths, to assist in fighting his influence. I am told, Magneto, that you have in your service a telepath of sufficiently immense power. We will have three such here. There are three units here and one in Genosha on the Blackbird.”

“Understood.” Erik replied. “I am sure that the X-Men present will be kind enough to teach Exodus how to use Cerebro technology. I’m afraid I’m rather rusty with the particulars of it.” He couldn’t resist the small jab at Charles. “So … why Doctors Strange and Doom, then? Surely such august personages are not here simply for moral support?”

“All things wrought by human hands are potentially vulnerable to magic.” Strange spoke for the first time. “The most powerful magic-users we have available to us right now are myself, Lord Doom and Wanda. We will do what we can to assist you and hinder them, to amplify the damage done by the wave and prolong its effects.”

Fury was the next one to speak. “Reed and Tony can sufficiently handle the technological angle of it, along with adaptations made to the Starjammer. On the Starjammer itself will be a small strike force of our most powerful fighters, with the sole job of protecting Jean Grey and assisting her in defeating D’Ken. We will separately use Ms. Voght to place the Hulk in the main engine core- and let him do what he does best.”

Amelia will be delighted by that, I’m certain. To transport the world’s most dangerous temperamental manchild into the core of a powerful starship. No matter. She will do as she must. She understands duty. They continued to speak at greater length about the specifics of the mission. While the Starcracker was disabled by the energy wave, a group would sneak upon the colossal vessel and confront the Emperor. Magneto found himself irresistibly drawing comparisons to the Star Wars movies. The whole thing seemed like a mishmash of the plots of the various films.

“It is imperative that we move as quickly as possible. It takes some hours to charge the Starcracker, but I am quite sure that D’Ken has started the process. Most likely he initiated the procedure as soon as he attempted to steal the Phoenix Force. If he succeeds in destroying the planet and killing the Phoenix with part of its power within him, he will absorb the rest. Combined with his already, unfortunately, enormous psychic power, he will become all but a god.” Lilandra spoke with a measure of sadness. “I assure you, in that case, yours will not be the last planet to be destroyed. Merely the first. He will drown the galaxy and perhaps even galaxies beyond in blood.”

“And we are certain that you will not attempt to do the same?” Doom asked. “He is your brother after all, and yours is a conquering race. Why should we trust you not to lead your people on a bloody crusade to conquer our world?”

“Much as I hate to give Doom the credit, that’s a fair question.” Steve Rogers replied, speaking for the first time. “What assurances do we have that you won’t change your mind and attack us in the future?”

You have none, Rogers, Magneto thought. The only assurance we have is our demonstrated ability to resist alien incursion. Just as the only assurance that the mutant race will ever possess is our ability to avenge the wrongs done against us. Strength against strength, it is the way of more than just the world, it seems. Nevertheless, Magneto knew they had little choice but to hope that Lilandra was acting, at least for the moment, in good will. They needed all the help they could get, even with the formidable resources they possessed.

“Earth is the birthplace of the avatar of the Phoenix Goddess.” Lilandra replied. “It would be blasphemy to render harm onto it. Should your nation’s governments voluntarily wish to join the Shi’ar Imperium, they would be welcome to do so. But to use force would be unforgivable-”

“So why does the current Emperor see things differently?” Nick Fury replied, with his usual brand of bluntness. “Because he doesn’t seem to have a lot of reverence for the holy ground that our planet apparently is. He seems pretty intent on blowing the whole damn thing up, which suggests that at least some Shi’ar don’t see things the same way you do.”

“D’Ken is mad. He was … exceptionally gifted with psychic power, even by the standards of our ruling elite.” Lilandra replied. “I thought that perhaps, in time, he would mature into a different perspective, but he has become hardened in his views. He believes that the Phoenix Force is rightfully his to possess and control, as is everything else in the cosmos. If there is to be peace and order in the galaxy, he must be dealt with as quickly as possible.” Magneto didn’t have any particular reason to doubt that she sincerely believed those things to be true, but nevertheless, it struck him as being quite convenient for her.

“Which has the additional benefit of placing you on the throne.” Doctor Doom slightly acidly observed, though Magneto was quite sure that everyone was thinking it. There was allegedly another child of the former Emperor, but Lilandra would possess the endorsement, most likely, of their living goddess. He wondered about the possibilities for turning these events towards his, and mutantkind’s, advantage.

“I am prepared to make political guarantees of the Earth’s safety and neutrality, not only towards the Shi’ar, but the entire galaxy.” Lilandra replied. “If the Kree and the Skrulls know that Earth is considered holy ground to the Shi’ar Imperium- they will not attack it. Our Empire was won in great part from their defeats. I have no designs on this planet- economically and military, if you’ll forgive me, it is of relatively little value to us.”

“The Shi’ar Imperium is the greatest power in the galaxy.” Brand spoke up. “They control nearly forty percent of the galaxy, as much as the Kree and the Skrulls combined. If Lilandra takes the throne and guarantees Earth’s neutrality, I doubt we’ll be seeing any Kree or Skrull fleets entering our space. The last thing either of them want is another bloody war with an Empire that defeated them thoroughly only a few centuries ago and has only grown stronger since then.”

The meeting continued on, but the primarily points had already been made and before long, everything had concluded. There would be a few hours of respite- before which they would plan what was probably the most ambitious operation that any superhumans, or combinations thereof, had taken in the planet’s history. Magneto couldn’t help but be impressed by the sheer scope of it. The Avengers, Fantastic Four, X-Men, Wakanda and Latveria would all be contributing resources to it, along with the Majestrix Lilandra representing at least a portion of the Shi’ar Empire.

“It’s quite an interesting prospect, isn’t it?” Magneto spoke as the meeting wrapped up, to Ororo. “So many factions, frequently at each other’s throats, joining forces to fight an existential threat to both the human and mutant races.” He reached over towards a bottle of fine Genoshan cabernet, pouring himself a glass, and offering one to Ororo, who declined. “Who would have thought that we would have concluded the events of today as partners in such a grand endeavour?”

“This is a truce.” Ororo replied, evenly but firmly. “It does not change anything fundamental. The world will not accept what you are doing here- you must understand that. As much as Genosha is reviled in much of the world-”

“If they are so reviled, than why is the world so eager to purchase what they’re selling?” Magneto replied. “Perhaps some people find open mutant slavery to be distasteful, but I suspect that is simply because the Genoshans openly proclaim what is supposed to remain a whispered secret- because they are afraid their views will be exposed for the barbarous sham they are. Few people truly wish to seem bigoted and they fear those with the vile courage to openly live their beliefs. That is, until they give in.”

“And establishing a mutant separatist state will make things so much simpler and better for mutantkind.” Ororo replied dryly. “You speak of mutants and humans as if were were a different species, as different as lions from gazelles. But that’s not true at all, is it? And as this most recent crisis has so clearly demonstrated to us, we share this planet. The war you so desperately want to begin will result in nothing but our mutual extinction.”

“I do not, in fact, wish to create any such war.” Magneto replied smoothly, taking a sip of his wine. “I want to build a homeland for our people, so that we may gather and become stronger. Humanity will eventually become extinct and we shall inherit the Earth. It is up to them whether their demise is slow and peaceful or if they wish to accelerate it in some sort of conflict. I claim Genosha as the site of our homeland, until such a time arises as our numbers grow too great for this land to support.” Magneto turned towards her for a moment, allowing his eyes to ever so briefly roam over her figure. She really is a beautiful woman. A shame that we’re stuck in emnity. I would like to get to know her better.

“You can say what you like.” Ororo replied, her eyes narrowing. “It does not make me put any more trust in them.”

“Of course.” Magneto replied, suddenly feeling a surge of annoyance, but fighting it down. “In any case, we are allies for the next short while. And once this is all over, you will have free passage back to your Institute. I assume you will be so kind as to not stab me in the back?” I know that I can trust Charles’ word, as misguided a soul as he is. He’s a fool, but not a backstabber. His boy, Scott, is even more wedded to his vows. I do not know Ororo as well.

“The Professor and Cyclops have given you the assurances you need. Do not assume that they will last for very long.” Ororo stood up fully. She was an impressively tall woman, only a few inches shorter than himself. “If you truly wanted to do what was best for mutantkind, you would surrender yourself immediately after we were done here. It’s quite possible that we could arrange for an amnesty for most of your followers. It may even be possible to consider a reduction of your sentence, or modifications to the conditions that you would be held in.”

“A gilded cage for me? I think not.” Magneto replied, frowning deeply. “I was in Auchswitz. No man shall cage me alive, whether comfortable or not. And my followers are interested in revolution, not amnesty. You and the other X-Men should join us. With the technology you possess and the power at your disposal- we could build something truly impressive here in Genosha. Your powers alone- you could ensure that our people never go hungry, protect us from the fury of the storm-”

“An offer that would be tempting, if another man were offering it.” Ororo replied bluntly. “I will not miss the Genoshan slavers, and neither will most of the world’s population. Perhaps a mutant nation of some sort or another could even be established here with widespread toleration, even with blessings. But it will never happen as long as you are in charge. To the world, you are the madman who threatened the planet with nuclear destruction at Cape Citadel.”

Magneto’s lip curled slightly at the insult. How dare you call me a madman? I am trying to affect the liberation of our species, our people.

Ororo wasn’t done yet, however.

“And to us? You’re a man who neglected his own children and conspired to terrorize others to suit his agenda. A man who would harm or even kill children to get what he wants. A man who refuses to contemplate the broad and intimate consequences of his actions on others-”

“ Stop. ” Magneto practically hissed, as metallic objects in the room began to vibrate. “You do not understand. You have not seen what I have. You cling to the belief that there is goodness in humanity. But you haven’t been where I have. Seen what I’ve seen. Felt what I have felt. The goodness of humanity is a lie. With mutantkind, we have a chance to start again, to build a new world, free of the chains of history.”

“If the goodness of humanity is truly such a lie, then why are we trying to save it?” Ororo replied caustically. “To save your own skin, perhaps. I suppose I cannot blame you too much for that. I also enjoy living. But that’s not grand enough for you, is it?” She half-turned away from him. “I will do what I must when I must, to save the world and its people. But we are not friends, or even allies. This is a truce. And in my mind, you are only scarcely less dangerous than that starship looming over us. When next we speak, it will only be about what must be done- and.” She turned towards him again. “If you ever look at me like that again? You will regret it.”

With that, Ororo left, and Magneto was left alone with his thoughts. He thought briefly about summoning Amelia but she was going to be busy with her work. Perhaps I’ll simply have another glass of wine. My task is easy enough, I don’t have to be completely sober to do it.

We should not be enemies. We should be working together to build a new world for mutants. Why can’t they see that?

Chapter Text

The mood inside the room was tense, to say the least. Nobody had said anything since they’d got on- Captain America hadn’t given a noble speech, Stark hadn’t made any bad jokes, nothing. Not really a lot of speechifyin’ that needs to be done at this point. We’re all gonna see this through because the alternative is too horrifying to contemplate. There was really nothing to be done but to shut up, get in the transport and get the job done.

Abigail Brand had been helpful in outlining how tough their job would be- the Shi’ar Imperial Guard were apparently legendary for their prowess in combat and there was no doubt whatsoever that they’d all be grievously outnumbered. They haven’t picked on a lot of us Earth folk though. We’re nastier than shit.

They would doubtlessly fight hard, for their honour, for the prestige of their vast interstellar empire, for their Emperor who was something like a god now, by all accounts. They ain’t fighting for the survival of their species, though. I have no doubt they’re damn good at what they do- they made the cut from, what, thousands of worlds? But right now? We’re fucking animals. Backed into a corner. And we know that the only way we’re gonna survive this thing is to get through them.