Fandom X-Men Second Class IC

[Thatguy1]

Vol 1: X Begins
Issue 1: X of Nights
Part 1

Beyond the rule of Kang, beyond the Ultron Assimilation and near the end of all things as The Immortal Hulk, Devourer Of Realities flies through what little cosmos there is at the end of time, there is Immortal City- Population 1, home to Mr. Immortal, mutant who cannot die who is rummaging around the city’s library in the mutant section of the history annex. The once handsome and lanky blonde man has shoulder length curls and a bear gut, his Great Lakes Avengers uniform barely fits him and is ripped and stained from all kinds of mess, finally after however long it takes, he finds a holodisk and activates it, it takes a second to boot up.

A blurry image of a priest decked out in the garb of The Universal Church of Truth begins to speak from the Mutant Gospel. “In The beginning, there two mutants, a brother and a sister...

WAY IN THE PAST, BEFORE CAVE WRITINGS WERE A THING

A young woman with jet black hair and gauntly facial features tried to run through the tall grass, wincing as she did from the thin blades cutting into her flesh as another ran beside her, his face very nonexpressive and he moved with such speed. The two of them ran into a clearing with her in a panic as those that were chasing after them managed to catch up, many of the hunters held makeshift spears and were yelling words not yet deciphered yet, but it was obvious they were angry with the two of them. The nonexpressive young man looked at his scared sister whose eyes darted everywhere, looking for a way to escape. In their native tongue, the girl cries out, “Did not mean for death to happen to family, please no kill, please.” She looked over at her brother who in turn looked at the nearest hunter and silently approached him.

Then he opened his mouth and a black slime flew forth like a fire hose into the hunters face, getting the attention of the others who screamed and made loud prayers to their gods as the brother’s eyes rolled back and he fell lifeless to the ground. The slimed hunter in a split second went from horrified to completely complacent as the black slime wormed it’s way into every orifice of the man’s face as if hijacking him. In the moment of distraction, the sister reached for anyone’s hand and grabbed tight, her fearful frown replaced by a knarly smile as she felt her target’s energy seep into her, healing her cuts and bruises caused from her plight. The hunter on the other hand began to turn deathly grey and shrivel up in seconds and then fell into the ground dead. The remaining hunters would try to flee, but they stood no chance. The sister looked at the body of her new brother and smiled before saying, “Race?”

MODERN DAY, THE X-MANSION AT NIGHT, CHARLES XAVIER’S SUBCONCIOUS

The grandfather clock in the well adorned bedroom quietly struck midnight as Charles tossed and turned in a heavy sweat, he was having a nightmare that felt incredibly real. In it, he was kneeling on a gallows with the noose around his neck as he looked everywhere around him and saw nothing but dead mutants and his mansion completely destroyed and on fire. beside him was a fat, greasy executioner who held the rope that would take his life, “Not my fault,” he cried, “I tried... i tried so hard to help everyone,” he weeped and looked up at his executioner, whom he knew but also didn’t as they laughed in his face.

“You are no savior Xavier, you can’t even help yourself, let alone those mutant sacks of shit. Don’t you see? Your dreams have doomed your people!”

IN THE REAL WORLD

As Xavier tossed and yelled out with cries in his sleep, the whole mansion shook from his telekinetic and telepathic pulses, it was so loud that it awoke his nurse Amelia Vought who tried to wipe her bleeding nose from the telepathic onslaught, but it was to no avail. Each movement she made was agonizing from the telepathic pain, and she was sure the others had awoken to it as well, nobody could be comfortable with this. With as much strength as she could muster, she activated the school’s intercom by her bedroom door, and let out a quiet, “Students, it’s the Professor...” and then she fell unconscious, her mind being absorbed by the hellish nightmare of Charles powerful telepathy.

 

[Goonfire]

Bobby gritted his teeth as the surge of pain hit him. It was a rude awakening—dreaming of living in half a mansion one moment, splitting headache and stiff joints the next. He heard the faint voice broadcast to the rooms; Amelia sounded as though she were about to faint. "The... Pro...fe...ssor?" he eked out, rolling onto the floor with a 'THUD'.

Stubbornly, the young mutant tried to crawl forth, towards his door. Under the strain, ice crystals spread across the floor where his fingertips touched. He clawed at the wall in an effort to rise. Gravity felt as though it was five times more potent, like he was about to be crushed by the air itself.

The furniture and the windows shook. Agonizing emotions raced through his head in waves: despair, dread, fear...

... Fear? What did the Professor fear?

Bobby lunged up, grabbing the doorknob and twisting. The toggle lock disengaged automatically, and the door swung open, dropping him face-first into the hallway. This was horrible... He didn't know how much farther he could go, but he knew who might stand a chance.

"J-Jean!" he cried out desperately. "Help him...!" She was one of Xavier's star students, a telepath just like him. The two could have entire conversations without opening their mouths. Surely, she had learned some trick to shield herself from a barrage like this.

---

Rogue gasped, bolting up despite the pressure. Though her bones creaked, her super strength gave her a fighting chance. "Can't a gal get 'er beauty sleep in this house?" she muttered to herself with her Southern drawl, trying to put on a good face as she crashed through her door. With no wall within arm's reach and her body feeling as though it was about to become a pancake, she fell forward onto all fours.

Then, the telepathic barrage hit. All the negative emotions... Something stirred within Rogue's mind. Sorrow, confusion, terror, rage... and not all of it her own. She felt the eyes on her—the eyes of everyone she had absorbed. They were in her head, and they still didn't understand her. All her insecurities bubbled to the surface; she could hear them judging her for her crimes. They wouldn't stop, ever.

"AAAAHHHH!"

Rogue had curled up in the fetal position, crying and screaming right there in the hallway. The floodgates had opened, mental blocks breaking as the Professor's unconscious mind hammered away at hers.

 

[strawberryspiral]

When Jean’s eyes opened for the upteenth time that night, her anxiety riddled mind at war with the sweet release of sleep. It wasn’t due to her own existential fears this time, no, this interruption was made by a loud and incessant beep of the school’s intercom.

“Students, it’s the Professor…” A soft and easily recognizable voice spoke over the speaker.

Only to then dissolve into static crackles, with no further words spoken. Leaving Jean’s imagination to spin wild theories. After all, she could feel it in the air. The Professor’s overbearingly powerful telepathic presence pulsates in waves throughout the corridors bleeding under the crack of the door into her bedroom.

It’s disorienting to an alarming degree, is this how her family felt when she’d had no control over her intrusive telepathic powers? Their minds addled with vertigo and sinuses almost vibrating with the psykinetic energy that sent her skin prickling into goosebumps.

“Now’s not the time, get it together-“ She berates herself.

Blinking up at the ceiling above her as she takes a series of deep breaths. The professor’s ability is prolific, she can feel his presence in her very lungs with every breath she takes. Psychically it’s oppressive- as if the air is full of humidity, too thick to breathe, but it’s just her mentor’s distress. Appearing in the air as some sort of mental onslaught.

Shaking her head with force Jean manages to shove herself out of bed. A chill in the air forces her to rip a hoodie off a hanger, and pull it over her head in a daze.

Eyes squeezing shut she imagines the Professor’s face, pressed with wrinkles around his mouth from smiling too much. More lines at his brow from being in a state of constant concern for his students. She doesn’t like it, the feeling of probing into someone else’s mind without their consent. It makes her feel gross, icky in all the wrong ways.

But he’s not really giving her a choice here.

He’d done this for her before, been her lighthouse in the storm. She hones in on focusing on kind blue eyes full of warmth. Pushing out towards the Professor mentally with the gentlest touch she can manage.

“Professor? Can you hear me? It’s Jean-Jean Grey!”

She shouts out mentally, stumbling on wobbly legs to her bedroom door. Twisting the knob with her telekinesis and whipping it open, listening to the resounding SLAM it sends down the halls.

Outside her bedroom she spots several other students gathered there, bedroom doors ajar.
Someone yelps out her name and she turns to glance at Bobby who’s hunched over in agony. Not fully taking in his words because of the chaos around her.

“I’ll find the Prof-“, she startles to silence as a voice screams out, echoing down the halls. The shrieks of pure desperation are what sobers her from the sleepy daze she was once in. In the halls it’s far worse than it was in her bedroom and blood trickles down her nose.

Staggering some as she makes her way down the hall, a dizzy spell hits her full force. Wiping at the blood smearing her upper lip she attempts to form a sheer pink shield of psychic energy to protect herself. Knowing it won’t be that effective against someone so powerful. But it’s better than nothing she supposes. In her mind’s eyes she imagines a tether- reaching out through a tiny crack in the psychic shield she’d created. Reaching her way out attempting to grab hold of the Professor’s mind.

“Professor? Are you there? Is everything alright?”

Jean projects telepathically. Calling out to him once again as she comes upon the sobbing form of Rogue curled up on the ground in the hall.

“Rogue? Hey, you’re gonna be okay-“ She attempts to soothe her from where she is leaning against the wall. Struggling to even remain standing.

 

[lillymity]

Like always Logan was laying awake in his bed, thoughts rushing through his mind, memories of past events, at least from what he remembered. Eventually his tiredness got the better of him and he drifted to sleep. Not for long, though.
Some time later he was tossing and turning under his blanket. Nightmares plaguing him, not from his memories though. It was completely different, he couldn’t put it together but it was agonizing, and it got worse by every second. His body tensed up and suddenly he shot up.

Wide eyes, heavy breathing and his hands having a tight grip at his blanket. The school intercom's beep startled him. The professor ? He was too tired to put it together but there was something wrong here. His whole body felt so tense and heavy, like the adamantium in his body weighed ten times more than usual.

At first Logan thought the weird feeling would just go away, that it was just because of his nightmare. But he was soon proved wrong. A torturing headache washed over him, making him almost whine out in pain. He rubbed his temple, hoping for the pain to go away. To no success.

Maybe some water would help him. Thinking he was capable of walking, Logan just stood up. Staggering and almost falling over, he just grabbed the edge of his bed. What was that ? It felt like gravity was playing tricks on him.

A sudden pain in his chest forced him down again, gasping for air. It was like someone just pushed a dull knife into his chest. Then again he remembered the words.

It's the professor.

Something was wrong with him and it projecting all over the mansion. Even though he was breathing heavily, trying to bare the pain, Logan pushed himself up again. Shuffling to the door while holding onto the wall the best he could.

It was even arduous to twist the doorknob and open it. Finally open, Logan supported himself at the doorframe. In the hallway were numerous of students, it was pure chaos. Seeing them in pain, especially Rogue, he wanted to step out of his room, but it felt like his legs would give in if he would take another step. Sure, they were still pretty distant, but she seemed in a lot of pain.

Opening the door only made it worse, it was like an avalanche came crushing down on him. Making the pain in his chest only worse. By now his hands were really tensed up, his claws already digging into the wooden doorframe as he slid down the wood little by little.

 

[Lost Martian]

Jean-Paul was still getting used to living in the Xavier mansion, not used to sharing a home with this many people since he was a child in foster care, before he was adopted. In fact his current dreams were callbacks to that period of his life. Phantom images of his sister Jeanne-Marie appeared in his mind’s eye, always shifting, never a stable images.

Having lost two different sets of parents, Jean-Paul’s wayward sister was the only family he had left. The thing that was currently bugging him about his sister was the fact that he couldn’t fully recall what she looked like. Jean-Paul had been so young when he was separated from Jeanne-Marie that he almost had no memories of her left. He knew that they were twins, but he couldn’t picture her, even when he looked at himself in a mirror.

Eventually Jean-Paul’s mind would leave the pain of a distant family, instead moving to his days participating in the Olympics. It was just as Jean-Paul was recalling a brief fling with a Canadian bobsled athlete that something broke into his mind. It was if all the memories that he was dreaming about were tossed aside, a tornado ripping through his psyche.

Jean-Paul’s eyes immediately opened, causing him to see what was still an unfamiliar ceiling. But that didn’t matter to him, instead he focused on the unfamiliar presence in his mind. Jean-Paul had never encountered telepathy before coming to the Institute, and once experiencing it decided that he was definitely not a fan. He knew that there was a student, Jean he believed her name was, that had telepathy, but this was power on a scale Jean-Paul had never felt before.

As fears and anxieties kept Jean-Paul forced down on his bed, he did get an answer about just what this power was. Over the intercom he heard a soft voice stating that it was the professor, before going silent. While Jean-Paul knew that Xavier was probably stronger than any of the other mutants here, he had never thought that it was just this strong.

Forcing himself off his bed and onto his feet, Jean-Paul almost doubled over, the stress being exuded by Xavier making him want to vomit. But Jean-Paul controlled his body, years of athletics providing him with a certain level of control over his body. Gingerly taking a few steps, Jean-Paul made it out of his room, noticing a few other residents in the hall, both student and X-Man.

By now tears were streaming down his cheeks, all trauma and bad memories unearthed in a psychic storm. Eventually Jean-Paul couldn’t fight it anymore, so his flight defense took over. Without thinking, Jean-Paul launched himself in the air, attempting to get away from these feelings, only to slam into a wall, cracking it.

While not injured by this hit, Jean-Paul was shocked at his loss of control. Wiping the tears from his face, he then turned to see that several students had bewildered looks on their faces. Jean-Paul got it, the new guy just randomly causing property damage. It wasn’t the first impression he wanted to make.

While his current emotions made Jean-Paul feel like dropping to the floor, he did notice the girl telepath, Jean he was sure her name was now, run off toward Xavier’s quarters. If anyone could stop whatever was going on it would be her. So Jean-Paul awaited her possible solution to this, tears still coating his face.

 

[Thatguy1]

Vol 1: X Begins
Issue 1: Night Of X
Part 2

AT THE END OF TIME

In the complete and utter silence at the end of all time, in the hall of The Immortal City- which was once known as New York- the disheveled Mr. Immortal is hurriedly searching for more holodisks in a vain attempt to stop the unstoppable Immortal Hulk who was on a trajectory to devour him and end time itself. He was in the pre-historic section as he heard and felt the rumblings of the Immortal Hulk's hungered rage, "c'mon where are you?" He called out into the vastness and quickened his pace, and after what would have been an hour, if time still existed, he found it buried under a pile of rubble that was caused by the scuffle between him and the last Super Adaptoid.

"Gotcha," he said quietly as he picked up the device that looked akin to a metal doughnut and sat down on the marble flooring after sweeping some rubble away. He input a code and once more the priest from the Universal Church of Truth flickered into the blue light, this time the priest looked a little tired. "In the beginning, the mutant brother and sister knew not their truest potential...

WAAY IN THE PAST

The Siblings were sat beside a fire, behind them were several used up human corpses, the Sister had now aged backwards by several years and looked almost shimmering in the light of the fire she was so clean, while the Brother, who had inhabited the body of a medicine man was covered in gore and the black goop that allowed him to take possession. They were just discussing, in a rather one sided way about where their next food source would be, but unbeknownst to them they were being watched by a woman whom had a similar facial indifference as the Brother.

With a long wooden spear in hand, she cocked her head to the side attempting to understand the situation as she looked from the bodies to the siblings and she spoke in a monotone voice. "Bad," she said and stood up to approach them, spear ready to strike. "You kill?" she asked in an accusatory questioned form, the siblings looked at one another and the Sister smiled.

"Yes, we kill, and we kill you." She spoke in a calm voice as she started for her prey, but the newcomer was ready. She threw her spear wide, only catching in the Sister's shoulder but it was a moment for her to start towards the bodies, but the brother was faster and grabbed hold of her by the upper right arm. The moment they touched though, the Brother cocked his head and looked over at his Sister and spoke, "She like us."

MODERN DAY, A COUPLE OF MONTHS PRIOR TO NIGHT X

Charles was pushing forth on his control pad that was attached to his wheelchair, dressed as usual in a fine blue three piece suit and brown pants that he had put on his person telekinetically, he had a somber look upon his pale blue eyed face as he came into the living quarters of the students. Reaching out with his mind he located both Robert Drake and Anna Marie's minds and spoke to them as if on a three way calling conference, "Apologies, young ones, but i need to speak to the both of you, it's rather important..."

A FEW DAYS LATER AFTER THEIR TALK

Charles was sat down at a chess table in his rounded study in the back corner of the Institute, sitting before him was Jean Grey and the two of them were telekinetically playing a game of chess, but instead of moving the pieces they were using astral images. It was the that the Professor removed his hand from his chin and leaned back a bit as he was getting ready to speak, "Jean, there's something you and i need to discuss..."

A DAY LATER

Charles wheels himself across the unsteady concrete of the school's large garage, using his power to push away any tools in his path as he approaches Logan, who is working on his motorcycle, is trying reach for the tool nearest him so Xavier gives it a little push into his fingers. "Logan," he speaks through a deep breath, "there's something you and i need to discuss..."

A COUPLE OF DAYS BEFORE NIGHT OF X

Knowing Jean Paul was of olympic calibur in his physicality, Charles made his way towards the gymnasium, which was outfitted with the latest high tech equipment courtesy of SHIELD and Nick Fury. Reaching out with his mind's psychic eye he found Jean-Paul's thoughts. "Please excuse the intrusion Jean-Paul, but there is a matter of import i wish to discuss with you..."

NIGHT OF X

AMELIA awoke in a burning land in a daze, it took her a few moments to find herself amongst many dead bodies, many of whom were children from the school and she let out a horrified scream, only it came out all garbled and bubbly as she spit up blood onto the already red stained grass. Before her was a platform on which Charles was kneeling with a noose around his neck and someone was behind him that she couldn't quite see as they were whispering things into his ears. She looked to her left to see Bobby Drake, and Anna Marie rise from a mountain of corpses, "oh dear children," she gasped, only those words didn't come out, she was still gurgling blood and looked down to see a gaping wound in her chest and she screamed in horror.

From Charles point of view, he started to watch in anguish as his students and faculty began to rise from the dead, and he couldn't look away, but then the burning sky gave way to a beautiful blue sky and then the Sun shone through as The Professor heard the voice of Jean like it were the voice of God. "J-Jean, is that y-you?" His telepathy was feeble at the moment, every ounce of it was trying to keep the beast at bay, "remember Jean, remember your promi-" He was cut off by the Executioner who immediately resumed the nightmare.

"Oh no, Charles, we're having none of that today, in fact, why don't we go another level deeper so you can't reach out for help, naughty boy." The thing laughed in his ear as the nightmare shifted once more into a funeral for Charles, who was looking at his own body in an open casket and nobody around him was noticing he was alive. He watched with baited breath as his young charges each took a turn to berate and tear away at the man he wasn't even remotely to them in the real world, but alas there was no escape from this torment. "Look at the man you were to these people, Chuck." the Executioner laughed with the power he wielded, "listen to what they all say about how horrible of a leader, teacher, and father figure you were to them. You're a failure on every level..."

MEANWHILE ON MOUNT WUNDIGORE- THE SECRET BASE OF THE BROTHERHOOD

Erik sat quietly at his obsidian desk with his hands rubbing the sleep from his leathery face, listening to the newtons cradle that hung suspended in mid air by nothing other than his powers of metal manipulation, that and the cries for help from his captive. He simply smiled at that and began to get up, waving his hand on a set of floating metal balls that he morphed into his specialized anti telepathy helmet, he was going to visit his prisoner a floor below him, but then he heard unrelenting screams of pain and terror coming from Destiny and Mystique's room, so using his body's magnetism he hurriedly floated down several flights of rocky stairs and flung open her door. "What?" he yelled to the woman who could see the future, "what do you see?"

 

[strawberryspiral]

A tidal wave of emotions rolls over Jean’s body in crashing waves as she gets to the professor’s room. Long halls seem to curl in neverending spirals of fanciful wallpaper and dark hardwoods as she staggers on, her body sluggish. Reality slipping through her fingers like jello. For all her focus and fortitude Jean feels the resistance, and can sense the immense presence of the Professor’s all consuming guilt and shame in the form of weight on her own shoulders. No matter how powerful, the mutant is still man. He feels things deeply, the Professor carries an unimaginable responsibility, the weight of every single one of his students' lives hangs in the balance. The great man he is, the Professor saw himself as something to tip the scales- but those hopes for a brighter future always came with a price.

Watching the world around her ripple into some nightmarish hell scape, fire sprawling through fields of tall grass, flames licking the skies. Jean freezes those flames draw her in, consuming the world around her in a vortex of smoke. Mesmerized by the sparks heat dancing in the darkened sky. She has to force herself to look away, eyes widening in horror as the bloody red stained terrain below comes into view. At the center of this chaos is the Professor, hunched over, looking smaller than she’s ever seen him. Usually a man who carried himself with pride, blue eyes shining with curiosity, and a smile kind beyond words. Now, he looked anything but the warm mentor she’d come to know.

Beside him is his executioner, a person she doesn't recognize, and doesn’t care too. Right now, her only focus is the Professor, saving him is her top priority.

Instead of the dark sky, those flames, and the smoke she pulls on a memory all her own. One from when she’d first moved to the Institute, she’s always clung to it for strength. On that day Jean stood beside the Professor on the balcony connected to his private office. After a particularly tough session of talk therapy he’d brought her out to observe the beauty of the Institute's vast gardens below. Flowers in myriads of colors- red, orange, and yellow just like those tall flames released petals in the wind. Their sweet, floral scent is pungent in the heat of high noon. The sun is warm, catching the Professor’s face in a golden glow as he rolls his wheelchair backwards, turning to gesture to the azure blue skies overhead.

“See, doesn’t that feel better? Sometimes all we need is a little change of scenery to gain a new perspective Jean.”

He’d projected into her mind, with the softest mutter. In that moment she’d been a bit resistant, still torn apart from their session before. Jean knew she needed therapy, that was one of the main reasons she got sent to the school. Plus, with her telepathic abilities it was a useful tool to control the turmoil within, but that didn’t mean she enjoyed it. Now, she would give anything to go back to that moment.

That memory of perfect peace is instantly ripped away from her, brought back to the present by the desperate cries of the Professor below.

Drenched in sweat and tears, with the eyes of a frightened animal the man’s head lifts, mouth opening to stutter out in bewilderment. "J-Jean, is that y-you?" He says from where he's knelt over, noose dangling around his neck.

"Remember Jean, remember your promi-" His yell pierces through her mind leaving the taste of his pure, unadulterated fear behind with her.

The Executioner interrupts, cutting the man off with flourish as the hell scape consumes the once blue shining sky she appeared in above. He attempts to fore Jean out of the connection and she only remains by stabbing the pink tether she first used to reach out for the Professor into the earth, using it as an anchor.

Jean knows what the Professor speaks of immediately. It was a promise, one she meant to keep, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t afraid of what him calling in this promise means. Watching on in horror as her mentor sits there, a crumpled husk of the man she’d come to know him as. The scene of apocalyptic nightmare resumes, the world rippling into rivets as a funeral proceeds to come startling into view.

It's enough for her to be in pure awe of the terrifying power at display before her. Whoever they are, their power rivals Jean's by leagues and bounds there's little hope for her to make any true difference here. Strange versions of all the students who were currently curled into balls on the floor in agony lined up. Each planning to speak their own piece at the Professor’s eulogy. Jean gulps, the shield of pink energy flickers as she watches the ghastly version of herself walk up to the podium. She can feel herself being pushed out, the being holding the Professor captive digs what feels like claws into her temples. It takes everything in her to resist.

Her odd lookalike glares over to the corpse of the Professor, lying dead in the casket.

“Good riddance. The Professor always thought he was so devout, so perfect, so benevolent. But we know the truth, he’s just a user, all he ever saw us as were pawns. He never truly cared for us, we were like strays to him. A collection of misfits to prove to no one but himself that he was a good person. All he did in his miserably long life was make us pay for his own transgressions. All of us, just a means to an end. I hope he rots in hell! I should've known from the moment I met him he was meant to be my doom.” A nightmarish clone wearing her face screams herself hoarse into the crowd of onlookers and Jean’s whole body freezes.

None of what she’s saying is true, Jean doesn’t feel that way, she has to tell the professor. The Executioner’s telepathic claws dig into her, trying to rip her out of the horror show before her. Jean can see the crowd of funeral goers shifting as someone else approaches the podium. If the Professor continued on this way he might lose it before she even had a chance to make good on her promise.

Arms stretching out all she can manage is a simple push of telepathic intent, a pink gust of energy that blows the very essence of the sentimental memory she recalls from the distant past. It forms into iridescent petals- carrying the pungent scent of summer flowers from that sunny day. Bottling all of the hope and genuine trust she felt towards him that day- pushing it through that brief glimpse of a memory down towards the Professor.

“No! Professor! Please don’t listen to-” She tries to scream out telepathically for him one last time as the pain she feels becomes immeasurable, suddenly forcing her to the present. Jean can still feel it, the tether she'd sank into the ground like an anchor pulsates a mere blip of sentimental and goodness is all that she leaves him in the midsts of his storm.

Jean hopes it will be enough. She can't lose the Professor, he's the first and only person she'd ever felt truly understood her. The only person to ever tell her that she could be something more than just the mutant gene so often held above her head.

From somewhere in the halls a resounding CRACK echoes through the air. Another sharp shout of panic rings out in anguish, joining in with the others. She can hear someone mention Jean-Paul’s name from somewhere in the shadowy halls. The cacophony of screams and groans of pain ground her there, in the real world. The shield of psychokinetic energy shudders and seems to fade, flickering some with the effort it takes to fend off the Professor’s ever looming psychic presence.

As she stumbles to the ground on hands and knees, fingernails digging into hardwoods. Lines and cracks between individual floorboards spin, Jean’s left with only option. Throwing her head to the side and spewing the contents of her dinner out all over the floor. Mouth tasting like bile and nose bleeding profusely she tries to remain conscious, the psychokinetic shield she’s imagined flashes as her focus intensifies.

All she needs is to get to her feet, if she can just do that-

Jean’s voice raises, screaming above the chaos around her. “Yo-you guys! The Professor- he said-” She pauses to take a heaving breath as blood drips down her lips, pattering the knees of her pajama pants. Whoever the Executioner had been he’d left a nasty mark on her psyche, it was taking everything in her to just remain lucid with the shield of energy shuddering around her.

“I n-need to get to the Cerebro, so-someone! Anyone?!” Jean knows someone has to be listening, really all she needs is at least one other person. Someone to help her stand and get her to the Cerebro. If she can at least do that, then maybe all isn’t lost, and her promise to the Professor can be fulfilled.

 

[Lost Martian]

Clarice was loving the size of the room provided for her at the Xavier mansion, as it was nearly triple the size of what she had in her parents’ small two bedroom apartment back in Miami. While she had mutant friends in the past, Clarice had just never been around this many fellow mutants at one time. It was like she finally discovered a place where she belonged. So Clarice decided to enjoy it, nestled comfortably in her luxurious bed, having a perfectly fine dreamless sleep.

That blissful nothingness would be interrupted by what felt like a hammer to Clarice’s brain. Waking up and raising her head off her pillow, Clarice would immediately have a terrible headache. Then, just as she was adjusting to that, a wave of anxiety swept across her bedroom, quickly overtaking Clarice. This inadvertently triggered her fight or flight response, an accidental blink portal formed beneath her.

Next thing Clarice knew she was falling down onto the grassy lawn in front of the Institute. The grass was damp from a brief rain shower earlier in the night, causing Clarice’s pajamas to get wet. With a groan, she picked herself up, bare feet squishing down into the moist ground.

While her normal response after an accidental teleporting would be to just go back to wherever she came from, Clarice was hesitant. The building in front of her seemed to exude a negative energy, something almost malevolent. It inspired some unknown fear in Clarice, a dark power existing inside. Her intuition was telling her to avoid whatever this was, but her heart made her worry for her fellow students.

After a brief battle in her head over what to do, Clarice stepped forward toward the mansion. Even moving that little bit caused more fear and anxiety to waft toward her, but Clarice pushed through it. However, before she even reached the front door, tears began to stream down her face, as almost every bad memory she had were let loose from wherever she had hidden them in her mind.

Eventually Clarice felt like her knees were going to buckle, and her to fall back down onto the grass. But she would call upon her inner strength and throw a blink javelin at herself, which instantaneously bring her back to the hallway outside her bedroom. The hall was full of her fellow students, some sobbing, others in the fetal position, or any of many other states of distress.

Whispers in the hallway told Clarice that this had to do with the Professor. He was perhaps the strongest mutant Clarice knew of and had always just assumed that he had full control of his powers. Apparently not though, as his telepathic energy wrecked havoc on the minds of the denizens of the mansion, Clarice having to prop herself up against the wall to support her weakening legs.

Clarice would be so focused on just maintaining what little composure she had left that she didn’t even turn when she heard something slam and break behind her. What she did notice was Jean stumble into the hallway, asking for help. Clarice would manage to walk over to her.

“I would teleport us, but I’ve never seen where Cerebro is before,” stated Clarice, “And if we go in blind, I might take us into a wall or something like that.”

Acknowledging her limitations was something that Clarice didn’t like doing. However in a situation as serious as this Clarice could fore go feelings of embarrassment, if it meant she would stop feeling this overwhelming sadness.

---

---

Jean-Paul still felt like a jackass for crashing into that wall, and to add to that he couldn’t stop crying. A great depression had spread across the Institute, one that was wearing down even the strongest of mutants present. It was not the greatest introduction for Jean-Paul for what to expect now that he was a part of the X-Men.

Memories of his lost family and the terrible last few years were washing over Jean-Paul’s mind’s eye, replaying the worst moments he had experienced on loop, over and over. It was in this deluge of nightmares that Jean-Paul spotted a light in the chaos of his mind. A feminine presence briefly entered his psyche, one that had a level of familiarity to it. Even though the connection was brief, it did bring Jean-Paul comfort.

Jeanne-Marie?

Out of all the weird stuff that had happened in Jean-Paul’s life, psychically connecting with his long lost sister wasn’t even that crazy. While Jean-Paul had no idea how it happened, or if it was just a figment of his imagination, it did provide reprieve from the onslaught of anxiety and fear coming from the Professor.

Focusing on the more positive psychic connection than whatever Xavier was doing, Jean-Paul was able to rise to his feet and walk over to some of the younger students, still in a state of extreme distress. Placing a hand on the shoulder of a green skinned child, Jean-Paul flashed him his famous smile.

“It’s going to be alright, we’ll get through this,” said Jean-Paul.

However even as he spoke, the positive feelings of his sister began to dissipate as Xavier’s mental presence began to erode his control some more. Figuring that he had perhaps a minute or two until he was back to crying on the floor, Jean-Paul figured he should help out whoever he could in the meantime.

That’s when Jean stumbled out of Xavier’s room and asked for help getting to Cerebro. After not receiving help from another student, who Jean-Paul thought her name was Claire or something like that, he would approach the young psychic.

“I think I’m just fast enough to get us there before my mind gives out,” stated Jean-Paul, “If you can guide me, I think we can get there in a minute. That is if you are alright with going insanely fast?”

Jean-Paul tried to flash her a smile, but found that he couldn’t form one with what was going on in his mind. In fact it took a lot of strength just not to frown, Jean-Paul forcing a neutral expression on his face. He could feel his mental fortitude beginning to fail, but hoped that he could last until they reached Cerebro. While Jean-Paul didn’t know much about the advanced machine, from the whispers he heard, it sounded like it was strong enough to straighten out whatever was happening with Xavier.

 

[lillymity]

The closer he got to the floor, the pain got only worse. It felt like a crushing weight on him, pushing him down more and more. And the pain flowed through his chest up to his head, making it feel like someone pushed hundreds of little needles into his head. Logan groaned in pain and quickly lost his vision, which was replaced by agonizing memories, things he didn’t even know he still remembered.

It were only little snapshots…blood…screaming…gunshots…
Logan clawed into the wooden floor and was breathing heavily. These were things, he thought he already repressed. But of course in the depths of the mind were always dark corners. The ones you show to no one.

People running…the smell of iron and dirt…
The blood in his hands began to run cold.
Another scream knocked him deeper into the cruel imagination. The claws digging little holes into the floor. Logan's whole body was tensed up in pain — not only physical pain but also mental.

He knew these images and these sounds and smells, but he couldn’t put them to memories. It was like there was something missing, something crucial. Like having two puzzle pieces but the one connecting them was gone. The screams got only louder and louder and more painful, his ears were ringing already.
Till suddenly everything stopped, his vision pitch-black for seconds and only coming back slowly in little dots.

It took some time for him to snap out of that torturous nightmare, but hearing Jean's voice, it somehow worked. Logan slowly worked himself back up to his feet, turning the corner he saw Jean. The brown-haired quickly wanted to get to her, but his first step forced him to the ground again. Ah yes, walking wasn’t too easy right now.

Working himself up again, this time slower because it felt like there was much more pressure on him, Logan saw Clarice and Jean-Paul approaching. "I can help..!" It took some strength to fight out these words and it took him even more strength to get to the three of them with that much telepathic force in the whole hallway.

"I can help..I know where Cerebro is…" Logan was a little hunched over, the telepathic force really draining him. He has been to Cerebro quite some times, he knew the way like he knew the back if his hand. Now standing next to the three, shortly glancing at the students and then back at Jean, he knew that they had to move quick. They shouldn’t let the kids be in pain longer than they need to.

 

[strawberryspiral]

When Pietro snaps up from where he had been snoozing fitfully on a couch downstairs with his face smashed into his laptop keyboard. The world seems to spin counterclockwise around him. Rubbing both eyes, adjusting to the flickering blue light of the laptop screen as a migraine pulsates between his temples. The weird dream he’d had earlier is still messing with something awful.

He pushes himself off the couch he’d chosen as a bed that night with reluctancy. There’s something strange in the air, if he didn’t know any better he’d just assume it was his sister- Wanda, having some sort of awful nightmare just like him bleeding and oozing out into reality as it does sometimes. But this is different, instead of feeling Wanda’s presence it’s something far more malevolent. Like the air is abuzz with so much dark energy there’s little to no oxygen left in the manor to breathe. Pietro leans over with one hand on the arm of the couch with raspy gasps.

There’s a clattering sound to his right, and he turns around quickly to see the kitchen’s entire set of pots, pans, and various utensils shaking and shuddering. Whatever’s going on is causing some sort of weird earthquake. He’d be convinced that’s all it was if not for the fact that he felt like he had a fever and stomach bug at the same time. Pietro wondered if this was what whiplash felt like, he’d never had it given that his body’s been adjusted to go practically the speed of light since young. Wanda always said he was lucky-

Pietro’s whole body jolts at the thought, lips parting to whisper faintly. “Oh, shit, Wanda- Wanda?!” He yells out in confusion, feet darting across hardwoods as he searches the entirety of the downstairs living area for her. Stopping as he notices just how late in the night, er, early in the morning it is. Technically, it’s the early hours of the next day.

When approaching the large set of stairs that lead upstairs Pietro’s hyperactive brain finally registers just how violently the window panes shake. Maybe it’s him this time, instead of his sister? Pietro could have awoken some strange power within him through his dreams.

Only one way to find out-

Pausing mid step he stretches out both arms before him towards the windows imagining them all splitting into fractured pieces of glass. Nothing happens. Apparently he had in fact not gained a new superpower in his sleep, too bad. Every step up the stairs is rapid, and when he reaches the second floor where he knows his sister’s bedroom resides he slams his knuckles against her bedroom with meaningful force.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

“Sis, you there? Something’s wrong… I-I think I’m sick, or someone else is, and they’re making me sick?” As he says so the world tilts, a wave of pure, unadulterated fear, and grief funneling through him. For the briefest moment he gets flashes of a lab, a man with skin made of reflective skin made of almost metal standing over him in a lab coat, a syringe with the longest needle he’s ever seen in hand.

Head shaking violently from side to side to shove such memories out his mind Pietro’s fist slams into his sister’s door once again with so much force some of the wood on the surface splinters. He falls to one knee, kneeling at the door, other mutants piling out into the hallways, all of them looking either just as bad or worse off than him.

Some are wailing, others gripping the sides of heads screaming shrilly, a guy forcing his way into the hall slams into a wall. Pietro recognizes him as the conniving genius who froze his feet to the ground during training once- Bobert; no- that doesn’t sound right- Robby? He’s not sure, he’s new here, and bad at names. Pietro refers to him as the Popsicle King in his own head, not that he would never call him that to his face. He’s a self admitted coward who knows just how sensitive some of the people around here are.

“W-Wanda? You in there?!” He yells out in urgency, mind moving a hundred miles an hour as he tries to find some sort of balance in the chaos going on around him.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Despite the telepathic shield she has up Jean can still feel it- the Professor's endless grief circulating through the halls like a tornado. But she manages to stand, nails dragging along flowery wallpaper as she forces herself to stand. A few others approach her and she recognizes them immediately.

Clarice, the gifted teleporter, says something about helping her out but also quickly admits to not knowing where Cerebro is exactly. It wouldn’t be her first option- getting stuck in a wall, but sometimes one had to take chances to get anywhere.

“That might work-”

Jean starts only for someone else to come barreling through the telepathic havoc. Jean- Paul stumbles towards her with an offer, she doesn’t catch the first part of his sentence. There’s a lot of screaming going on around her, but she does catch the last thing he says.

“If you can guide me, I think we can get there in a minute. That is if you are alright with going insanely fast?”

It wouldn’t be the first or last time she gets whiplash. “Sounds like a-”

"-I can help..!"

A distant call from afar makes her feel a whole lot better, all isn't completely lost. That feeling of hope only doubles as Logan steadily approaches. Slightly hunched over from the exertion it takes just to be in the same hall as the Professor’s bedroom. "I can help..I know where Cerebro is…

With what little energy she still has Jean breaks off pieces of her psychokinetic shield imagining it shifting into smaller ones. Massaging one temple she forces each shield to hover carefully over Logan, Jean-Paul, and Clarice’s heads. She would be more exposed now, but they needed to be in good shape to get her where she was going.

It’s too much effort to speak now with part of her own shield fractured into tiny pieces so she uses her telepathy to project her voice into each of their heads. “Clarice, if you make a portal to get us all to the elevator that leads under the school then Logan and Jean Paul can help me get to the Cerebro from there. Can you do that?”

More blood drips down from her nostrils as she holds tightly to the figments of shields projected around the others heads. Focusing all of her intent into making their heads a space to safely concentrate on the task ahead of them. Attempting to wean off some of the worst of the Professors agonizing onslaught onto herself. Blood pours steadily down her nose, bile rising in her throat, but Jean holds fast. Drawing on strength from that simple sunny memory she held so dear to her- the Professor is relying on her, on all of them. After everything he’d done for her she refuses to let him down now, when he needs her the most.