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]

Some days prior Logan was working on his motorcycle in the garage of the school. It was far in the back, behind the other numerous cars. The brown-haired was far too concentrated to even notice the Professor as he was working on adjusting his gears. When reaching for the wrench, it somehow just slid into his hand. Wondering what the cause was, he looked up and now noticed Charles. Logan quickly wiped his hands off on his pants after the Professor said that he wanted to talk. "Sure, something important ?" Logan was actually curious, as it was normally something important, when Charles wanted to discuss things.

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.

Flashing images of people, that seemed familiar, looking at him both disappointed or in shock, fear even…but he couldn’t name one person. Logan knew, that he probably knew who these people were but he had no idea from where. Most of these little glimpses were bloody and dark. Like being outside at night dark, still some light left but only so much, that he could see the expressions of them. The pain they seemed to have.

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, but he knew he made a promise, so he had to help Jean. For the sake of the Professor. 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.

 

[Goonfire]

With the Professor's barrage only growing stronger, Bobby knew he couldn't handle much more. A sheet of smooth, slick ice formed underneath him, a layer also growing on his chest to lower the friction. He pulled himself along with his forearms initially until he gained enough focus to sculpt the ice and ease himself forward. On his way past, he lurched to grab the sobbing, debilitated Rogue and drag her away.

"I can't... handle much more!" Bobby alerted his teammates. "I'm—ugh..." He had paused briefly mid-sentence. "...Gonna help the others escape! Good luck, guys!" He wasn't even sure what he was trying to say before finishing his actual thought. The negative emotions brought about thoughts that hurt... such as hard truths, things he repressed so he could take one step at a time, starting with controlling his powers.

Regardless, he glanced back at the narrow, frozen strip going down the hallway. Bobby grimaced, realizing he might be causing water damage when his ice melted... but he shook away the bizarre thought relative to his current predicament. Making it to the mansion foyer, he reached out to create a slide down the staircase, only... a torrent of snow came out. His focus and strength were waning. He then felt a hand clasp his cheek prior to blacking out.

Seconds Prior...

Rogue's eyes fluttered open. Her jaw was stiff, as though her face was contorted in agony. She could hardly move, and when she looked down, she understood why. She was mangled, hands crushed. Only a grotesque gurgle escaped her throat as she beheld Amelia, with a hole through her chest. Anna Marie's body moved involuntarily, rising shakily as though she were a shambling undead.

Suddenly, her vision faded and zoomed out from her body. She perceived another person occupying her battered corpse—Ms. Marvel! Carol murmured vengeful things in Rogue's voice: "You... couldn't... help... me..."

"Professor!" Anna Marie pleaded. "Don't listen to 'er! Remember, you did help!"

The memory replayed in her head... drifting closer to the mansion, struggling to maintain focus as the voices derided her. It was a lukewarm reception as others gathered at the door, wary of the fugitive on their porch. Still, they parted ways as a voice rang clear from behind them. She spent several minutes explaining her troubles to Xavier. The conversation ended with a pledge that she always has a home here, followed by a reassuring handshake.

Next, she and Bobby found themselves in a three-way telepathic chat with the Professor. Rogue was in her room, listening to the radio while reading a magazine, while Bobby was seated before the fountain, making small ice shapes on the water's surface—partly for practice, and partly for his amusement. "Professor X! What's up?" the boy asked, withdrawing his hand from the water.

"Ah hear ya, Professor. Go ahead," Rogue invited him. Her inner voice was much sweeter, a far cry from the angsty, withdrawn, snappy girl who had shuffled through those doors months prior.

Rogue had snapped out of her daze with some distance gained between her and Xavier. Even then, it was as though the memories overlayed her vision, like double-exposed film. Now straining to compose herself, she siphoned an ounce of Bobby's power, enough for her to finish the slide. "Ah gotcha," she panted, lunging to glide down the stairs. The two gained momentum, hurtling towards the door. Rogue drew back her fist and hit the front door, knocking it off the hinges. They flew downhill, into the spacious, curved driveway. Any others who followed along on the hellride were sure to collide with them.

Bobby found himself amidst a pile of bodies. His eyes flickered about... he could see a body encased in ice—nay, it was solid ice, tinted a faint red. The figure, the musculature... belonged to him! His head was disconnected from it, his mouth crackling as it opened in a silent wail. The body rose, grasping the severed, screaming head with clawed hands. Blood rose from the pool below, gluing together the shattered neck and cracked limbs.

 

[Thatguy1]

Vol 1: X Begins
Issue 1: Night Of X
PART 3

AT THE END OF TIME- IMMORTAL CITY

The unquenchable roars of The Immortal Hulk drew ever closer, and Mr. Immortal looked into the eye of a high tech telescope he had scavenged, the stars in the sky were no more as this jade destroyer devoured them all, but he could take note of a single twinkling of green, which meant that he had time- hardly any- but he had some, and it was going to take a lot of searching through rubble if he wanted to succeed. With the next holodisk put into a satchel he found, and an idea forming in his head he began to head for what remained of Alchemax, only it was on the opposite end of the city, a hail mary he supposed, so he grabbed his K-Chemical blaster- a gun capable of weakening any remaining zombiotes- but it only had one clip in it, enough for six shots. He began his journey out of what was once the Mid-Manhatten library, now was called the Annex of Information- renamed in the 2090's after Alchemax rebuilt the city during the invasion of the Iron Legion, he walked down on the street and tried to climb over rolled over cyber cars as nary a sound came to him beyond the roars of Hulk.

He rummaged through his sack and turned on the holoprojector, but was only half listening as he came to a dead stop in front of a street that covered from rooftop to sewer in a slick, writhing, shiny black substance. This was Zombiote territory, terrifying zombified corpses being hijacked by mindless and bloodthirsty symbiotes, judging by the freshness of a sample he studied on a nearby overturned car, they were expanding their territory. Now even more in a hurry, he brought the hulking green energy weapon up and looked through the scope as he quickened his pace, taking a second to get his bearings in relation to where what remained of Alchemax was situated.

Coming up on a street intersection filled with broken glass, Mr. Immortal swore under his breath with a light chuckle until he heard the soft crunch of glass beneath his feet, a few more steps in and from a burned out coffee shop he heard the gutteral otherworldly screeching of a zombiote pack, so he hoofed it with a light jog to get some space before the necrotic hosts came into view with a shuffling slow walk, their bodies hunched over as they sniffed the air, and the pack of ten started racing at him. He fired a single shot and got one in the leg, it screamed and out of the missing flesh it bled a black ooze that behaved erratically, leaving it's host and screamed to the high heavens, Immortal turned back around and ran even faster, Alchemax being just a few city blocks away, he slid over the hood of a busted up SHIELD humvee and took cover so he could reload. Once so, he peeked up over and aimed for another, just grazing it in the side, but that was enough for it to stop and try to deal with the burning pain, but his luck would get even worse as a couple of Ultron assimilated humans flew through a nearby office building and began to target lock all the combatants. "Well crap," Immortal said, putting the gun against his head as he tried to think of a way out.

"Biological life signs detected," One of the Ultron persons spoke in a hazy voice, "Assimilation Directive Initiated," and it began quickly flying towards him while the other dealt with the Zombiotes, running low on breath, Immortal barely made it to the front entrance of what used to be a world wide organization dealing all things super, and then was used as a makeshift FEAST Camp for war refugees. As Immortal entered the safe confines of the lobby, an automated voice, once belonging to a Liz Allen spoke up.

"Ultron unit detected, deploying safety measures." Then three heavy artillery machine guns slowly rose from the ground and began firing at the unit, unfortunately the guns were on their last legs so all they could manage was blinding the unit and destroying it's left leg.

"Okay, how do i get out of this?" Immortal said worriedly as he retreated further into the company...

MONTHS PRIOR TO NIGHT X

Charles wheeled himself in front of the fireplace that was on the opposing wall of the large screen tv, and he had a perfect view of his students just being so, he smiled knowing that one day they would be called upon to act in service to the betterment of society, and he hoped that they would be ready. He projected a blue, and whispy astral form of himself so that he, Rogue, and Iceman could see one another, "I need the two of you to promise me something," he paused to let the gravity of his words and warnings soon to come take hold. "Rogue, you are a wonderful young lady, and i'm very proud of the progress you've made at the school thus far. There will come a time when i won't be here to guide everyone on their journies, so i need you to promise me that no matter what, you will protect these students." Then he turned his attention to Bobby and used his astral projection to sit next to him on the fountain and leaned forward with his hands clasped together, "As for you Bobby, I need you to promise me that if for whatever reason i become compromised- in so that i may be possessed, i need your power to freeze my body, freeze it until there is no longer a heartbeat in my chest. Can you both promise me those things?"

A FEW DAYS LATER

Xavier looked gravely at Jean across from their telekinetic chess match and pulled a white business card out of his breast pocket, on which was the code to Cerebro (9-1963), as well as instructions for an emergency. "Jean, on this card is the most important information in the world, if i become indisposed and my body is used for nefarious purposes, you will use Cerebro to contact Maria Hill of SHIELD. She's the current acting Director of a worldwide peacekeeping security force, and you are to simply tell her, 'X is Down, enact Defcon X' She will then alert all major world leaders to bunker down until one of two things. Either i specifically give the all clear, or I am put down. Jean Grey, you are the only one capable of using Cerebro besides me, you're my only hope..."

A DAY LATER

Charles rubbed his hands together while he sat in his wheelchair facing Logan, and for a moment he looked out at the driveway and sunny afternoon before returning his attention to his fellow mutant. "So, considering the fact that my powers don't work on you Logan, I need you to promise me something. That if i were to perish that you take over as leader of the X-Men."

NIGHT OF X

XAVIER'S NIGHTMARE

The Executioner picked the whimpering Xavier up by the back of his shirt collar and spun the emotionally empty Xavier around as child after child marched up to the podium and utterly berated the memory that was Xavier as a failure and screamed in his face. "YOU ARE NOTHING! YOU DISGUST ME! DO YOU HEAR ME?" You call yourself a mentor?! You think you have what it takes to lead? Why don't i show you the path you're leading the whole of the mutant race down.

Just like that, the world melted away only to be replaced by the steps leading up to the lincoln memorial and the reflecting pool in Washington DC, surrounding the pool were a crowd of thousands of mutants of all different colors, shapes, and sizes, all with different variations of abilities. Standing before the overwhelming crowd was a Professor X who was using his telekinesis to float in the air. "WHAT ARE WE?!" The potential future Xavier yelled out, to which the crowd responded with, "WE ARE MUTANTS!"

Xavier repeated, "WHAT ARE WE?!"

"MUTANT AND PROUD!"

"WHAT DO WE WANT?"

"FREEDOM!"

Before the potential future Xavier could respond, somebody in the crowd called out something nobody would remember as a suicide bomber exploded in the middle of the crowd, killing many, then a stampede of terrified and powerful people occured which added to the chaos. The Executioner and Dream Xavier were watching this new nightmare unfold from the steps of the Lincoln monument, the Executioner turned to Xavier and smiled devilishly, "So here's how your future plays out, since your such a big dreamer," He laughed mockingly before continuing, "Sure, you're able to unite all the mutants of the world, but this," he widened his arms at the chaos as Iron Man sized sentinels began to land in an attempt to squash the terror, but their presence only added to it and several fights broke out. "Your dreams Charles, will always end in nightmares. No matter what you do, no matter how you plan around it. Everything you touch will burn to ash."

Finally, the drained Charles looks around and speaks feebily, "I can't just do nothing,"

The Executioner smiled even wider at that and spoke directly into the man's ear, "there is one thing you can do..."

 

[Scatterbrain]

Thomas Corsi stood alone in the wilderness, surrounded by towering pines, the scent of the earth and trees thick in the air. His breath fogged before him in the crisp night, and the world was eerily silent. It stood in the shadows of the trees, its massive form shifted in and out of the darkness, eyes glowing with a dim, primal light.

The bear.

The hulking beast that had once attacked him, the one that had awakened his powers. Yet, there was something different about the bear this time. It took a step toward him, and the air around it seemed to warp, shifting into something darker, more malevolent. Tom’s chest tightened as a creeping sense of dread began to claw at him, far worse than what he'd ever felt in his first encounter with the creature. His instincts screamed danger but his legs refused to move.

The bear growled but it was like the sound was coming from the depths of something else. The growl morphed into a snarl, and the bear’s form began to change. Its eyes gleamed red, its fur blackening into shadows, claws growing long and wicked. The bear shifted into a demonic creature, far larger than it had been before, with dark tendrils of smoke billowing from its back. Tom stumbled backward as the demonic bear let out a deafening roar, and as it did, the sky cracked open, splitting the dream apart. A voice, distorted but familiar, cut through the air, shaking Tom from his nightmare.

“Students, it’s the Professor...”

Tom shot up in bed, gasping for air. The nightmare was over but the dread hadn’t left. His heart raced and his skin was cold with sweat. He knew something was terribly wrong. That voice, Amelia, calling through the intercom. Tom could feel it, the thing that had turned his recurring dream into a nightmare, a psychic presence sweeping through the mansion like a tidal wave. The weight of it pressed down on him, turning his muscles weak, fogging his thoughts. Tom swung his legs out of bed and staggered upright, nearly tripping as he got to his feet.

He stumbled toward the door, his vision blurring as emotions not his own flooded his mind, twisting his own thoughts until he couldn’t tell where his own feelings ended and the professor’s began. His hand grasped the doorknob as he steadied himself, determination forcing him forward. With superhuman strength, he ripped the door clean off its hinges, wood splintering like paper under his grip. He staggered forward, his legs wobbling beneath him as his strength drained away, like sand through an hourglass. His face, once youthful and strong, began to age as the psychic onslaught wore him down. Wrinkles etched themselves into his skin and his muscles weakened with every step he took toward the professor’s room but Tom pushed on until his legs finally gave way beneath him. He collapsed in the hallway, his feeble body heaving for breath.

And then... darkness.

-----​

When Tom opened his eyes again, the world was on fire. He stood in the remains of the mansion, the ground beneath his feet scorched black and the air thick with smoke and ash. Bodies lay scattered around him, many of them children from the school. He looked down at himself and froze. His body was that of his old self, the Caucasian man he used to be, before his mutation. None of this was real… it couldn't be... could it?

Before he could question it any further however, his eyes were drawn ahead, where a raised platform stood in the distance, amidst the flames. Kneeling upon it was the professor, a noose looped tightly around his neck, and behind him, a dark, shadowy figure. Tom tried to reach the platform but pain suddenly tore through him. His body staggered, and when he looked down, his skin was covered in bloody wounds mirroring those of the bear attack that had first awakened his powers. As he looked up again, he was just in time to see the executioner pull a lever. Time seemed to slow. Tom stretched out a hand as the trapdoor beneath Charles opened and, with a violent snap, the professor’s body disappeared from view.

 

[lillymity]

Logan turned the wrench in his hand, awaiting what the Professor had to say. It had to be important by the look on his face. The next mission ? Maybe some new bad guys roaming the streets ? But after what felt like an eternity, the Professor told him what the lingering tense air between them was about. "Uhm, I mean sure." The brown-haired sounded a little hesitant, fazed even. What was this about ? Charles still had enough time, right ? Was that demand with some ulterior motives ? Logan didn't see the importance of it yet — but he would soon enough. "It's not like you‘re gone tomorrow, right ?" A sarcastic undertone in his voice.

Despite his sarcastic manner, it was an honour to be Charles‘ successor. Sure, he would never reach the level the Professor had, alone because of his rather lone wolf attitude. He wasn‘t really the guy for a team, more like doing things on his own, as he showed multiple times. But he was a good leading figure, steady, strong and confident. Not afraid to do what was right for the sake of saving them. Logan was not afraid to step in or to sacrifice himself. And with someone almost unkillable, they had a good leader. He would try his best for both the students and his fellow X-Men, that was for sure. To make the Professor proud of taking him in and using his nerves and energy for him.

That exact moment he remembered right now, when getting closer to Jean. He promised it to the Professor, but he hoped so much that this wasn't foreshadowing for that situation. As much as he would try, he didn‘t feel ready in the slightest to take over that spot. But no time for worries about that now. As Jean protected them with her psychokinetic shield, it was a moment to breath again for three. All the pain Logan felt in a second just numbed in the other. For a moment his whole mind was just blank, a wide empty space. And that was a relief for as long as it may last. No bad memories, pain of forgotten pieces or torturing reminders. It was like a restart, but with still remembering who he was and what he did, just like a block for bad thoughts.

It wasn’t too often — actually never — that he had something like that. It would definitely help him at night, to go to sleep and to not wake up in the middle of the night because of an agonizing nightmare, that didn’t let you get back to sleep. Oh, he already lost track of how many nights he roamed through the halls because he couldn't sleep. Ending up in the kitchen or infront of the TV. And eventually the Professor telling him to go back to sleep.

Well, it wasn't that easy but a late night smoke helped him to get tired again and that way he could catch at least some hours of sleep before they had to get up again.

Looking over to Jean, seeing her with all that blood, he wanted to help her so badly. But even if he would, there was new blood to come. And he shouldn't interrupt her in such an important moment. The Professor was first priority right now. They had to save him, for the sake of all of them.

 

[Arifutonautilus]

Quebec, Canada.





Cain marko, better known as the unstoppable juggernaut, sat in a rather engrossed deep series of thoughts. He reflected, for a moment, back to the time when he and Charles had served together. He took a deep gulp of lager from pitcher he purchased at a local bar he frequented whenever he was in this part of town. Cain found himself requiring times of silence and stillness. No matter his reputation and power as one of the most powerful on the planet, it was necessary because it reminded him of his humanity no matter how small or minute. He recalled returning fire on the enemy that was bearing down on him and charles’ platoon. Loosing men and ground quickly Charles called to Cain.



“Cain we cannot continue this way! Staying and fighting will only result in casualties and unnecessary loss!” We have to fall back for the love of God man!”



Cain heard his step brother pleading calls and with gritted teeth and furrowed sweaty eyebrow, he continued to pour it on with the 586 M249. The muzzle fire blazed as the gun spewed metal hell. The bullet belt that Cain was holding was running dangerously short, but not before enemy fire hit the weapon causing a few of the rounds to ignite. Knocking Cain back, two more of their comrades lost their lives to head and chest shots. The last thing Cain could hear before it all fell apart was his brother screaming his name. Cain shutting the thought down and returning to reality let out an aggravating breathe. He had came here to meet Tom. Tom as in Black Tom. A silver tongued Irish man that had became Cains friend and partner in crime. Cain motioned for the bar keep another pitcher, Nervously the keep made her way over to Marko’s table. “Cain…..umm..I can’t let you drink us dry boss…I..I….got a business to run buddy.” Cain stood at this point. When he isn’t powered up Cain chooses to still be over 7ft and still weighs at the very least as much as an suv. He spoke calmly,”ya know, earlier today i paid a visit to a bank southeast of here about 40 clicks or so…..they had one of those new magnetic bank doors…say it was made out of a vibranium compound, that absorbs kinetic energy. They say Reed Richard was responsible for the designs and re-assured that nothing on earth could breach it.





The bar keep beginning to sweat a little, her left hand trembling before rubbing her back of her damp neck spoke adamantly still,”bro I’m just saying you’re killing my supply and i don’t see a truck until Wednesday is all..” Cain ignoring her completely he continued, “i took these two fingers” he motioned with his right hand “and punctured the locking mechanism, and with this hand i grabbed the top of the vault door, and i brought my hand and fingers together and the entire door folded on itself right down the damn middle….it looked like a folded quarter. And then with a small gesture i tossed it through the east wall and it split a tractor trailer in half and knocked the wall out of the Walmart across the street” Cain glanced at her at this point. A crimson glow beginning to shimmer in his eyes. “…..with a gesture kid…..” Cain loomed over her like a mountain of dread. His presence crushing her senses into a building fear, the bar itself was empty, due to the fact that the moment Cain entered, what few patrons that were there immediately vacated the premises. Cain turned his glance towards the table he was using and grabbed one of the military duffels he had. He unzipped the bag and grabbed half money in the bag due to the large size of his hands and placed it on the table and he shoved the bag towards her causing her to stagger abruptly, regaining her balance she looked down at the bag,”…..boss..i can’t take this man…”





“Sure ya can sweet cheeks…Listen just guessin’ its at least 600k in there. Apparently this bank is for some fucker called Puff daddy or Diddy or something, well he’s going to prison for a long time so guess what? You just hit it big. Now, i just paid 600k for beer here. You can take this money and go and do some girly stuff OR you can see how you fair as a vault door seeing as how your standing between me and all that good cold beer.” She didn’t take long in her decision making to say, “place is all yours boss…” She quickly threw the duffel over her shoulder grabbed her cowboy hat and headed out. Cain stood silently as he watched her mount her Harley and ride out quick dust trailing her along the way.

Cain helping himself to some more beer glanced up at the Tv which had just displayed a news flash about the bank and area he just demolished 3 hours prior.



“Ye’ dinnae have to handle her that way buckers…ye’know ya really gotta do better with the softer sex Marko.” Cain looking his direction slowly and sneered abit he was not in a light mood. “You got what I asked you for Tom?….you said General Ross had a file on Xavier. Including whereabouts, His name turns my stomach and as soon as I find him the sooner I can turn him into a memory.” Cain finished his beer and they both headed outside. Upon hitting the open air Cain planted himself and brought both fists up just above his sides and he frowned and clenched his teeth as he literally swelled in size to almost 9 ft tall weighing easily 6 tons as his mystical armor formed and interlocked, mystical metal clanked as bolts locked armor pieces in place as his crimson aura swelled and bellowed. Lastly, Cain looked down in his own hands which were now opened as his crimson bands formed “metal knuckles” across his fists. His helmet began to form slowly as a large crimson flame danced in both his hands. He smiled a bit. Legendary in its own right the dome like helmet formed completely just as Cain was mounting it. He slammed it on and it made a “CACHUNK!” Sound as the bottom and the shoulder unit lit up indicating it was in place and he turned it harshly as it locked itself into place as two more bolts and latch locks locked in place. “yea….that’s the stuff I feel my anger and power swelling and my urge to destroy is growing” Black Tom swallowed hard as he watched this happen, friend or not being close to the juggernaut still caused fear and nervousness. The presence and weight of his crimson power was extremely heavy. “Yea buckers. I got the location but not the file I figured you could use some fun.” “And also it was a good idea to purchase this teleportation device from Deadpool…I’m convinced that boyo would sell out his own mum fer the right price…welp let’s be on our way ya big lug..” Cain and Tom opened the swirling particle portal and stepped through only to soon arrive at the small check point base in Fort Cavasos, Texas

 

[strawberryspiral]

“Wanda, we just don’t know what to do with you anymore!"

A woman’s voice pierces the darkness of Wanda's subconscious, signaling the start of another nightmare. Trapped in murky blackness, she hears haunting echoes of many voices, some breathy, others heavy with despair.

“You’re all alone here. No one ever saves you…” one voice gasps, breath hot against her ear.

“N-no, you’re wrong!” Wanda protests, the words striking her like invisible fists. She collapses to her knees, her mind overwhelmed by insecurities.

“Because you're nobody. You shouldn’t exist,” Another voice croaks out, taunting her.

Wanda struggles to rise, spotting a polished shoe inches from her trembling fingers. Her gaze shifts up to Professor Xavier, seated in his wheelchair, flanked by fellow mutants, all with scowls of disdain.

“You can’t trust them, little one. Even your professor is the least trustworthy,” the Professor’s voice warps and deepens, turning into almost inhuman in nature. His eyes are void of any compassion.

Invisible hands drag her up and slam her down, pain radiating as she strikes the ground. Blood fills her vision, mixing laughter with their eerie melody.

“My mother said I never should
Play with gypsies in the wood.
If I did, she would say:
Naughty girl to disobey!”

A chorus of children surrounds her, their features distorted into blank, black canvases. All chanting in an eerie, melodic tone. Wanda feels the weight of their taunts, each note twisting like a knife in her heart.

“Your hair shan't curl and your shoes shan't shine,
You gypsy girl, you shan't be mine!”

Trembling, she whispers to herself, “Don’t cry… don’t give them the satisfaction.” But the shadows close in, their eyes soulless pits of malice.

The nightmare shifts, and she finds herself in her childhood living room.

Her mother’s voice echoes harshly, “All you do is lash out at the people who love you most!” Wanda sits in her disgruntled parents’ shadows on the couch. Their words stabbing right through her chest like needles of fire.

From behind them Pietro peeks from the bedroom door frame, looking younger, and smaller.

“Wanda, you in there?”

Suddenly, the living room warps into a sterile lab of whites and grays. Filled with retro hospital equipment and a sinister doctor looming over her brother. His cherubic face begins to hollow out, dark circles and bruises pressed to his paling skin. As if he’s shriveling into a dried up husk before her very eyes. His face morphs changing into something oddly familiar yet so foreign.

“Du bist ein Star, eine wissenschaftliche Entdeckung…” The doctor with round glasses claps his hand down on the tiny stranger’s shoulder, and the kid winces.

The boy’s terrified gaze meets hers, stirring a deep connection within her. She’s seen him in nightmares before, and this time he has her brother's hazel eyes. As Wanda reaches out, red energy surges through the doctor, and the scene sort of glitches before her. As if reality is nothing but a frayed web, the child she once looked to with pity morphs before her eyes. Face deepening with wrinkles and scared eyes filled with something akin to maniacal curiosity, a child with the face of a man centuries her senior. Everything about it is plain disturbing.

“I-it can’t be, W-wanda? Is that you?” His voice is much deeper than a boy’s- rough, yet, there’s a strange fondness there. As if the stranger she only meets in her nightmares knows her personally.

He opens his mouth to say something else-


“Wanda! Wake up!” Pietro’s voice rips through her dark reality, leaving behind a deeply unsettled feeling in the back of her head.

Eyes flying open, guilt, and frustration crash over her. “I-I’m awake…”

She notices Pietro’s bed across from hers, lacking pillows or the usual duvet. “You slept downstairs again? Are you seriously that paranoid?”

“Something’s up. We need to leave,” he insists, urgency lacing his tone as his eyes dart about the darkened bedroom. Zipping to her nightstand to flicker on a light that merely pops loudly, flickering on and then back off suddenly.

That sends her jumping out of bed to her feet, leaning back surprised as Pietro at high speeds darts across the room to grab her some sturdy shoes.

While he does that her eyes search her room, finding herself in what seemed like a parallel universe from the cozy atmosphere she’d fallen asleep to. Destruction gives way as the glass panes of her windows shake and shatter, floors shuddering under them as if an earthquake’s hit.

“What’s going on?” She asks, voice raising an octave as intense waves of peril and despair waft through the air.

Wanda senses the presence of something malevolent hanging heavy in the air as she and Pietro attempt to navigate the chaos around them.

“I don’t know, but we’re not sticking around,” he replies, trying to scoop her in his arms to run away. A psychic veil of pure terror is dancing in the air of her bedroom, and the entire campus outside their bedroom window too.

“No, we have to figure out what’s going on!” Wanda counters, pushing his hands away, driven by a mix of defiance and anger she marches onward out the doorway. She spots a hole in her door, like Pietro knocked so hard it split and gives him a look.

“What? You were sleeping like the dead in there! You can’t blame me for getting worked up! Just look at this place-”

A shriek of pure horror rips through the air stopping them both in their tracks at a hall corner. Their eyes quickly meet and both throw up their hands for a quick round of rock, paper, scissors, like always Pietro loses.

“Shit,” He whispers as Wanda watches him poke his head out from the corner, before disappearing in a flash of silver hair. When he comes back, a mere two blink later, he’s got wide eyes, and a nose bleed.

“Theprofessor’snotdoingsohot,youteleporttothefrontoftheschoolI’llmeetyouthereinajiffgottadoafavorrealquick.” His mouth moves so fast she barely understands him.

“Pietro, slow down! I’m not going anywhere without-“

He’s gone. In an instant, she’s easily ignored. It’s annoying, no matter how hard she tries, she can’t keep up with him. Pietro’s always been one step ahead of her but it never bothered her as much as it does now. It leaves her feeling far lonelier than in her nightmares.

---

As Pietro Maximoff runs a third lap, purposely practicing control by jogging. The Professor watches from the sidelines of the trail that leads out into the woods that bracket the back of campus grounds.

“Promise me one thing Pietro,” The Professor requests as he comes to a stop beside the older man.

“Depends, what do you have to offer?” The speedster flashes a wicked grin.

Charles Xavier’s gentle face turns into a grimace, his left eye twitching the only clue of his underlying frustration with the young man’s flagrant attitude. “A boon for a boon then? Is that the type of man you want to be?”

“I dunno, but that’s how the world works right? Everything's transactional Professor.”

“Doesn’t have to be, we can choose to do good for goodness sake,” He raises a brow watching Pietro take a swig of water.

He wipes his lips with the back of his hand, “Nobody’s like that, even people who do good stuff just do it to make themselves feel better.”

Humming the professor nods, “A valid point, but untrue. I believe all of us, human or mutant, can be capable of selfless good, given the chance.”

“Sure,” He shrugs as an awkward silence falls over them, Pietro wishes he’d joined Wanda in the library instead of here. Talking with the Professor always made him feel off. Not because he disliked him or anything, but because he reminded Pietro of everything he couldn’t be.

“One day the time may come, you'll have to choose to act selflessly. Can you risk your own safety to help the ones around you?” Pale blue eyes meet his and there’s a strange glint to them, as if the professor is looking straight through him at something else completely.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just that you are good Pietro, I see it in you. You’re your sister’s moral compass, you can’t lose that. She needs you to make the right choices she can't. You understand?”

Every word goes through one ear and out the other, Pietro’s not sure what he’s going on about. “Sure, yeah...”

The Professor lets out an exasperated sigh, “Nevermind.”

The tense and awkward atmosphere only thickens, and Pietro’s a dumbass so he says the first thing that comes to his head. “So- uh- should I keep jogging?”

“Yes, continue, I’ll just leave you to it,” He begins to roll away in the direction of the nearest entrance back into the building. Pietro can’t help but feel kind of bad, so he tries to make up for his earlier blunder.

“Wait!”

Wheelchair coming to a stop, the man tilts his head to regard the young mutant with a side glance. “Yes, Pietro?”

“I’m kinda all over the place, ya know? But, I’d- I’d really like to be a good guy. One day, if that’s even possible?”

Smiling in relief, the professor nods, turning back to continue his journey to the double doors ahead. “We are what we desire, Pietro.”


When Pietro loses rock, paper, scissors he leaves his twin’s side to dart around the dreadful corner. Following the screams he hears a mad dash- people passing by in blurs until he comes face to face with some of the professor’s closest students. Jean Grey, Logan, and others he barely remembers the names of, having only been there a few weeks now.

Jean’s tear and blood streaked face breaks into a smile. “Pietro! Thank god, you can run Logan and I to the elevator- quick, we don’t have time! The professor needs our help-”

Pietro turns around on his heel to dash back to Wanda, speeding past the small groups of other mutants making their way towards the nearest exits. When he gets back to her he tells Wanda to meet him at the front of the school after he’s done with Jean and Logan. Something tells him this is about that promise he never made to the Professor.

Guilt cover him like a blanket at the thought. Speeding back over to Jean and Logan, narrowly avoiding bumping into a girl who is deftly feeling around on the ground for her glasses.

While at high speed he grabs them off the ground and flings them crookedly back onto her face. “Your welcome-” he taps her nose and then he’s off.

Coming to a stop just as he nearly bumps square into Logan’s chest, barely managing to sidestep him, and grab Jean by the shoulders instead.

She jolts, wide eyes meeting him in surprise. “Where’d you go?”

He shrugs, “Nowhere, now, let’s get you to that elevator.” Opening his arms for her as she approaches, Pietro pulls Jean into a bear hug as he goes into the usual string of warnings. “Hold on tight, be careful of whiplash, eyes shut if you don’t want dry eyes, and keep your mouth closed-”

“-Okay, we get it! Just get me out of here and to the elevator. Quick!” She demands and Pietro snorts. “Hmph, I was just trying to be helpful. Have it your way.”

In an instance he’s pushing off the ground, feet flying under him so fast his footsteps sound like rapid gunfire.

They’re breezing down hallways, everything moving in slow motion as he goes down the stairs and he comes to a sudden halt just as they get to the record player in the main living space. Always a sucker for a good time, and needing something to drown out the background screams of terror, and crashing glass. Pietro lets go of Jean for the briefest fraction of millisecond while searching for the perfect record.

“There you are-” He grabs a record in a colorfully decorated sleeve and places it on the turntable. Lifting the needle and placing it as it blips to life, turning the volume all the way up for his own listening pleasure.

Dance, Boogie Wonderland hey, hey

Dance, Boogie Wonderland

Midnight creeps so slowly into hearts of men

Who need more than they get​

Head bobbing to Earth, Wind, and Fire he scoops Jean back into his arms, and lets his feet fly under him. Carrying them both to the main elevator, setting her down just at the sliding doors entrance.

“You’re welcome,” He winks, and Jean blinks back slowly.

“Is that music?” She asks in bewilderment, eyes searching the darkness.

A gust of wind sends her hair flying, the only sign of his leaving. Once Pietro’s back upstairs with Logan he doesn’t even bother to share words. Just grabbing with both arms in the same bear hug he had Jean and running back in the direction he came.

Pietro grunts as his legs pick up the speed, carrying him is more of a burden than Jean, what’s this guy made of? Cement? As he comes back downstairs the music ebbs and flows, so loud it shakes the floors right along with the psychic energy antagonizing them.

All the love in the world can’t be gone

All the need to be loved can’t be gone

All the records keeping playing and my heart keeps saying

Boogie Wonderland, Wonderland​

At this point the music is entrancing, Pietro’s in the zone, and when he comes upon Jean Grey at the elevators he has to spin himself and Logan off to the side to miss barreling into her. The both of them go flying from the force of his speed, and he winces as he trips. Almost smacking into the elevator doors, but just avoiding the hit as they slide open. Logan falls in front of him into the elevator and they land in a heap. Untangling himself from muscular limbs, he ignores the looks from Jean and Logan both, as his head bobs up and down to the music out of habit.

Just as Jean enters the elevator, he slips out. Turning to both of them as the doors slid shut, “Your welcome!” He raises one hand and gives her a thumbs up.

When the doors close he dashes off, determined to meet Wanda at the school entrance. Whatever's going on, it’s not his problem anymore at least. Pietro helped, did exactly what the Professor asked of him, and he hopes that’s enough.

---

Once in the metallic halls of the school’s basement Jean’s on a mission. She wastes no time, pushing herself through the muffled headache, and vertigo. Towards the Cerebro chamber with Logan at her side she feels less out of control. He has that ability to make someone feel safe even in the midst of utter chaos.

As the doors to the high tech room open she feels a great sense of doom, looming overhead as she stumbles right up to the helm. Pulling it over her head of messy hair and squeezing both eyes shut tightly.

All at once she’s hit by millions upon millions of voices. Traces fleeting thoughts and deeply hidden secrets twisting through her mind. It takes everything in her to focus on one name, on one voice.

Mariah Hill. She has to find her-

Jean searches, poking out with the cerebro’s massive reach. It’s like her whole body is pulsating with the psychic presence of every person on Earth. And it basically is, a multitude of psyches whispering and at times shouting in her head.

“Mariah Hill,” She speaks aloud, hoping this is enough to reach her. “It’s time, enact Defcon X. The professor’s in trouble, we’re what’s left now!” Jean’s yelling without meaning to, but it’s her only means of reaching the woman.

Who cares if thousands of people receive the message meant for Mariah at this point? As long as the woman who’s meant to hear her does, that’s all that matters.

“Defcon X! Get everyone to safety! Can you hear me?” Jean asks, voice cracking as millions of voices wreak havoc on her mind.

 

[Goonfire]

The violent, disturbing scenes kept playing in Bobby and Rogue's minds—humans and mutants alike being massacred as the intruder mocked the Professor and his dreams. It was horrible; the fragment of Bobby's mind tried to shut out the graphic scene this freak used to weaken their morale.

Bobby went wide-eyed, bewildered by the request. The Professor had essentially asked him to kill him, should the team's great mentor be compromised. "Woah, Professor! W-where's this coming from?" he sputtered, unsure of how this idea even arose. "I dunno if I have the strength to do something like that. How would I even know..." He paused to rub his temples.

The thought of doing such a thing scared him, but he knew the master telepath was a dangerous foe under certain circumstances. His good nature kept him from imposing his will on others, but if something like Xavier described actually happened...

"I... I promise," Bobby finally said. If he had hesitated any more, his conscience may have stopped him from admitting the hard facts and agreeing to this. A tear threatened to well up even at the thought of murdering his teacher, but that wasn't what either of them needed.

Rogue had remained quiet, holding her breath as Bobby's and the Professor's voices carried in her mind. She, too, wondered why the latter brought up the subject. "Ah doubt that'll happen," she reassured them, keeping a positive outlook. "But if anything does happen, Ah'll be on it like paint. These boys'll be safe on mah watch."

Bobby groaned, slowly regaining consciousness in the mansion driveway atop a bed of snow. The menacing voice was still present, deriding Professor X and his ideals. In his mind, Iceman stitched himself together and inched forward to intercept the Executioner, his real body following suit. He rose to his feet, an exhausted Rogue pushing herself up with one arm to look at him. "Bobby?"

"There is one thing you can do..."

"No!" Bobby exclaimed, jogging unsteadily back towards the mansion.

"Bobby, what're you gonna do!?" Rogue shouted after him.

"This is it, Rogue! He needs me—the promise!"

Her face went pale as he pushed ahead through waves of telekinetic force. She watched in abject terror as he pushed himself up to Xavier's bedroom window. Using his ice, he pried the window up and climbed inside.

"I'm here, Professor," he murmured, dropping to his knees next to the bed. Frost built up around his hands before spreading over the sheets, threatening to envelop the unconscious body upon it. Freeze it until there's no longer a heartbeat, he thought, chilled tears streaming down his face. The room temperature plummeted, the ice crystals forming delicate patterns on every glass and metal surface. He focused his energy, ready to flash freeze the man in his sleep.

 

[Thatguy1]

VOL 1: X Begins
Issue 1: Night Of X
Part 4

1963- Langley Virginia, The Central Intelligence Agency

In a place known by it's employees as the Farm for it's stall-like cubicles and well trained show boaters, a gruntled middle aged Agent Smith was rifling through his memos and sorting reports, not in the least bit concerned with any thoughts that may be deemed untoward The Farm when his desk black desk phone rang and he adjusted his horn rimmed glasses in suprise to see that it was line 1 that was blinking, that line was only used for the higher ups to call people like himself upstairs. So slowly he picked up the phone and shakily answered with a "H-Hello?" He waited a few minutes for the other person to respond, "Y-Yes, I'll be right up."

A FEW MINUTES LATER

As Smith dabbed his sweaty African American head with a paper towel and walked down the shining hall where the Board Of Directors worked, he pushed open the doors of Meeting Room C and had to adjust his glasses from the light in the room, that came from some unnatural angle. He looked nearest him and saw his bosses look from him to the other side of the room was a blonde haired, rather buxom looking woman who was dressed like she worked here and a white guy who looked rich and bald as hell. One of his bosses stood up to break the awkward and motioned for Smith to sit down, and while doing so Smith was about to speak before the bald guy performed some kind of magic trick.

"Agent Smith, you are correct, the light did come from your co-worker, Ms. Blaire, I myself was just showing them my own mental abilities by making them all talk about chickens while we waited for your arrival, and yes I can read your mind, I know about your mishap during prom with the Tyisha girl, so yes, it's safe to assume that in an organization renown for secrecy, i've quite literally unlocked all the doors. My name, you ask? I am Charles Xavier, and i have come with a dire warning that the world is not prepared for..."

AT THE END OF TIME- IMMORTAL CITY, ALCHEMAX

Mr Immortal hurried through the tents and awkwardly manuevered around the camping chairs in the large atrium as the Ultron voice echoed in the empty, dank area, "Assimilation Directive Engaged, Searching..." thankfully, Immortal had wounded it so he had a wee bit of time, he wiped his brow with the sleeve of his commorative one of a kind Captain Marvel jacket he snatched from one of the tents. He kept moving though towards the elevator bay where there were five of them, one of which was open but the car itself was destroyed at the bottom and he laughed to himself, "At least i don't need a security key." He spun around and gave the finger to wherever Ultron John Doe was before outstretching his arms and falling back into the chasm, and for a man falling to his supposed death, Immortal was really quiet as he took up a relaxing pose and counted the seconds away until he reached the wreckage with sick wet noises and cracking of bones.

ROUGHLY A HALF HOUR LATER

Mr. Immortal awoke with a start atop the wreckage, the only damage being from his clothes, and he could hear Hulk's hungry roars even from down here, meaning he had even less time than he anticipated, so he dug himself through the wreckage and into the shellshocked hallway of a lab-like area, and so he marched on, passing doors with certain designations that he didn't know, but he was specifically looking for the number 42, Prison 42 to be precise. A space in the Negative Zone where none other than Reed Richards put the worst of the most powerful criminals before he himself was locked away during the Infinity Wars.

MONTHS PRIOR TO NIGHT X

The astral form of Professor Xavier stayed by Bobby's side, and put a whispy hand on the young man's shoulder, "Robert Drake, you are a good boy, and i am proud to call myself your teacher and mentor, it pains me that we would have to have this discussion, but it had to happen..." The scene gets foggy and distorted as-

NOW

The physical body of Charles Xavier rose up in a quick, fluid motion, before Robert's ice had engulfed him, his eyes a putrid black, the man himself no longer in the driver's seat as this living Nightmare had assumed control and in shakey movements it reached young Bobby in a span of a single thought and spoke with a terrible pain as it laid a hand on the young man's face. "Robert Drake, you thought you had it in you to do as your failure of a mentor asked, what befalls the world next will be blood on your hands. Though that is not your worst nightmare it seems," It stopped speaking to smile at the boy he had frozen in place with the Professor's powers, "You're a mutant, in more ways than one. That Jean Grey may need Cerebro to touch so many minds, but not this body." The body of The Professor touched his head and sent out a telepathic pulse, worldwide. To families sleeping in their homes safe, to night shift workers at convienence stores, to literally everybody in the world.

"To those it may concern, let it be known that Robert Drake of the X-Men is not only a mutie, but he is a f@%." After dropping such a bomb he let the young man go and walked away, out of the room to feed on more fear.

MONTHS PRIOR

The astral projection of Xavier that appeared before Rogue was wheeling himself about, matching her slight jovial nature. "I appreciate you as well Anna Marie, you are indispensible to me as both a member of the team, and guest here, and a friend. As such, i am psychically downloading into your mind a list of eligible teachers as well as their teaching subjects. What say you and I take a road trip and seek them out?"


NOW

At the front gates of the school where Rogue was situated, the possessed body of Xavier moved effortlessly towards her direction, and rooted her to the spot like he had done Bobby. "Anna Marie!" it's voice in it's horrible anguish, "You do not leave me!" it demanded before crossing the distance in mere seconds, the Professor's feet inches from the ground, "You can never leave your nightmares because you live them day in and day out. You can't even touch another living soul for fear of taking their lives away from them." Then without pause it spoke in the voice of a young Carol Danvers, "You don't even visit me anymore, that hurts my feelings, Anna Marie. So i'm going to do what you did to me." The possessed professor projected onto the front lawn bodies withered away to husks, hardly recognizable. "Look at all the lives you touched, Anna, everything you touch... DIES!" and it left her in this illusion before making its way back towards the school.

A FEW MINUTES PRIOR

SHIELD HELICARRIER IILAD- OVER THE NATION OF GREENLAND

Deep in the bowels of the floating armada that was Iilad, in a secret compartment only accessible via agents with Level 9 credentials, there is a bio-tank in the center of the room filled with life saving fluids for the silohouette inside, sitting at the desk that was situated in the corner, a thirty something year old female agent sporting an toned as hell body and a tight military raven colored hairbun was looking at the digital after action report of her agents who found whoever was inside, alot of which was redacted, but her security clearance allowed her to see everything. Her name was Maria Hill, Acting Director Of SHIELD (Strategic Hazard Intervention and Espionage Logistics Division), a peacekeeping force that had been operating since the Middle Ages, Maria set down the report and wiped her eyes before looking at whomever was inside the bio-tank, "You sir, are going to change the world someday."


As she started to stand up, that was when the voice of Jean Grey pierced her mind, but telepathic intrusion was always painful. "Maria Hill, It's time, enact Defcon X," Maria's steel blue eyes went wide and started to form an 'oh shit' expression as she reached for her comms gauntlet, "The Professor's in trouble, we're what's left now!" hitting a series of commands, Maria brought up many of the world's top military generals and advisors into a holographic display, glowing a bright blue, "Defcon X," Maria heard the girl cry out in her head and Maria almost doubled over. "Get everyone to safety, can you hear me?!"

Picking herself back up, Maria looked around the room at those she gathered, who watched and waited for the signal. "Ladies, and Gentlemen," she began with her broadcast, "I understand many of us feel uneasy about the question of mutant legitimacy, but there is wheelchair bound nuke that is set to go off very soon. In a matter of minutes, everyone on Earth will be affected, there is only one safe harbor. Please tell your leaders it is time." She waited for mumurs of understanding before turning the holograms off, then ever so slowly she looked at the vibranium helmet and Red, White, and Blue shield propped up against the bio-tank.

"I guess today is that day after all..."

BACK AT THE XAVIER INSTITUTE

The possessed body of Charles Xavier floated effortlessly through the halls, his silk pajama robe billowing in the wind he left in his wake, everywhere he went, he fed on the nightmares of terrified children, feeding and growing ever stronger in it's control over the host, all the while seeking the most delicious nightmare ridden members in the sub basement where cerebro was, he had to take the elevator which was agonizingly slow for this beast before finally coming into the basement where the team had their danger room, hanger bay and medical bay, but he was really after was Cerebro. "Oh Jeanie Girl!" It called out in it's tortured voice, "The Professor wants a word with you, give me Cerebro and i might let you walk out of here without feasting on all those wonderful little fears about your powers, about that death of your friend in high school? GIVE IT TO ME!"

IN THE MINDSCAPE

Charles Xavier was awake for all of it, all the horrible darkness this beast was spreading with his name, and the desecration of his dream was going to torn to shreds before it ever really got started. The beast that was Nightmare incarnate had him strung up like a puppet, only instead of string he was held up by razor wire so that every movement he made was so painful, it hurt him so badly, each cut was a tear into the fabric of his very being. He tried to call out, but Nightmare wouldn't let him. So if this were it ended, Xavier gave it one last push before finding the minds of Jean and Wanda, of anybody still able enough to answer the call.

"To me... my X-Men..." and then darkness.

 

[Goonfire]

Bobby gasped as the professor bolted upright and reached him. He was cemented in place, unable to recoil or fight back, cold sweat moistening his forehead and eyes locked with the jet-black pools that stared back at him. He was initially silent as the creature taunted him. If anything, he was confused; 'a mutant in more ways than one'. He didn't even understand until the telepathic broadcast began. "Wait, what are you...!?"

"To those it may concern..."

"No, stop!"

"... let it be known that Robert Drake of the X-Men is not only a mutie..."

"STOP!!!"

"... but he is a f@%!"

Bobby's jaw dropped. At first, his thoughts were superficial; his secrets had been revealed to the entire world! How would he show his face in public again? But the worst blow dwarfed those issues. He failed to uphold his promise... The possessed man levitated out of the room, leaving Bobby to collapse at the foot of a discarded wheelchair, exhausted, mortified, and afraid.

Rogue waited, anticipating the tragic end of this incident. Her mouth twisted into a grimace when the message hammered itself into her mind. "Bobby's... gay?" It was a bombshell for sure, but whatever the truth was, she pitied her peer. The revelation was outrageous, suitable only for a trashy television show. Who was this creep to expose and degrade a friend in such a juvenile way?

The figure barreling out of the mansion startled her. By the time she realized who loomed over her, she was already under his spell. Withered corpses appeared all around her, a wicked reminder of past hurt. Charles's raspy, strained voice shifted to Carol's to taunt her as the illusion persisted. Left with the nightmarish vision and whispers gnawing at the edges of her consciousness, Anna Marie gazed at the bodies until the telekinetic hold on her subsided. Slowly, her fear morphed to something else...

Disgust. Anger.

"This ain't real!" she roared, fist cracking the asphalt driveway. "Ah've had enough'a this. If Ah'm gonna live a nightmare, Ah sure as hell won't take any guff from you in the process." The initial flood of emotion had already come and gone. At this point, the hallucinations felt as though the entity was trying to pour salt in old wounds... but those wounds had already left their scars.

"A road trip this time'a year sounds nice. Ah'll drive."

Rogue's time at the mansion was more than some therapy sessions or telepathic probing and healing. She had time to build friendships, skills, confidence, and self-esteem—all things that helped her overcome many situations ranging from commonplace to catastrophic. Her memory of the trip to recruit teachers proved how far she had come in under a year. Recognizing this fact, she wiped the tears staining her cheeks and marched back into the mansion. She had people to protect and a promise to fulfill.

"Where are you going? Don't you walk away from us!" Carol hissed. Her demands were ignored.

Once inside, Rogue scanned for signs of the Professor. That beast in his head had enough control to read minds and send embarrassing messages, but those were lowest common denominators among telepathic abilities. He needed Cerebro. Rogue observed the indicator lamp, noticing the elevator had just reached the sub-basement once again. She pried with her bare hands, the doors grinding open despite their programming. One last plea reached her mind: "To me... my X-Men..."

"Hang in there, guys," she muttered as she stared down the dark metal shaft.

 

[Arifutonautilus]

The air of the center mass began to distort less than a 60 feet from the guard building of the base in Texas. The Mp was watching the game on his phone, catching the play by plays, today had been a good day for the guard stationed there. It was the end of his shift and he was due for leave. His mind was on beer and his girlfriend and some hard earned R&R. He had no idea he would have to work or have a story to tell like the one he was about to experience. Even though the day was pretty mild temperature wise, and all the windows of the guard building were open. The day was beautiful with the chirping of birds and the like. That would come to an abrupt end when the mysterious wave of heat hit him hard enough to detour his attention away from his phone. The wave hit him as though a boxer had hit a training bag with a light practice shot. He gasped minutely before letting a “damn..” slip his lips.





The center mass began to swirl picking up speed and expanding in size. Each size increase caused another heat wave, it thrived and amassed as a heart does when it gorges itself. Seconds after the third pulse, a hissing sound could be heard that grew just as intensely as the heat pulses and waves as well as the expansion. The guards eyes wide at this point as crackles of electricity were licking the outter walls and corners of the building, leaving huge burn and scorch marks across the pavement. His office a hurricane of paperwork’s and office equipment gone haywire. He fumbled clumsily for the telephone, not taking his eyes off what would appear in his imagination a door of some sort had just appeared, unknowingly in his assumption that he was indeed correct, he quickly hit the emergency contact button on the phone and brought it to his ear while simultaneously holding onto his helmet, His superior chimed in lazily



“Yes…..MP Faulkner, this better not be a request to leave early…..”



He was cut off abruptly by yelling, he jumped from his chair so hard it rolled into the back wall and knocked a few pictures of his family face down. “SLOW DOWN SON WHATS THE MATTER!”





Faulkner absolutely loosing all control and training is yelling to the top of his lungs.





“SOMEKINDOFDOORWAYSIR!!!!! SOMEKINDOFFUCKINGDOORWAYISOPENING!!!” SEND TANKS!!! SEND AIRPLANES!! SENDNUKES!! YY-OU GET EVERYTHING WE COULD POSSIBLY HAVE TO THE ENTRANCE GATE NOW!!!”



Getting his bearings back the soldier slammed the phone down. Grabbed his rifle, shouldered it and pulled the T-shaped charging handle back on the rifle loading a round and clicked his safety off. He was fully focused now. He had seen two tours of combat. His senses razor at this point. Rigorous training and combat experience would have a normal civ immediately think his senses were super human almost. He left the guard building rifle tight too his shoulder, breathing controlled. He moved with pinpoint accuracy checking his blinds as another wave of heat hit him. He slowed his breathing while thinking.



((Stay sharp fam……stay sharp…whatever it is whoever it is….mf is getting double tapped))



Standing in the middle of the entrance just past the wooden gate plank that rises and falls, he ignored the fact that it was swinging abruptly, As the winds and air had changed completely coming off the fullsized portal now. Electrical current still fizzing and crackling randomly everywhere. He was dangerously close to this door way. And one jolt could harm or even kill him. Faulkner did not move or shy or even blink away from this fact. He’s had several conversations with death during his military stint.





((Stacy whatever happens baby I love you. I fucking love you I swear baby..))



His thoughts currently as he seen a figure emerge from the portal. He thought of her more than ever now. His heart fluttered for her despite his current situation. His brow furrowed deeply upon seeing a single silhouette form and emerge from the door way. “Weeeeeeeee Lad!! What a ride!. Black Tom quickly glanced the scene, they were definitely in the right place, but the light detail guarding the main entrance caught him completely off guard as he tilted his head seemingly startled at the lone but dedicated MP.



“Guessin…you lads don’t see much action here aye boyo?”



He asked the guard with a huge wide tooth smile he raised his hands immediately still holding his wooden shillelagh. He took a few steps towards the MP who stood in opposition to him defiantly.



“That’s close enough! Keep your hands held high and drop the….the…that..what is that?! A piece of wood ..a staff?! Whatever it is toss it chief! Do it now!”



Faulkner stood now. Barrel still aimed precisely at the chest. He was more than prepared for the double tap. As he remained vigilant he waited for Tom to toss his cane.



“Wait wait lad now hold on! We’re cool…we’re cool look it’s gone. Now don’t worry about me..meh..I’m just a messenger and I got one fer youu” black Tom now sneering and mixing his smile to create a more sinister look on his face. Faulkner quickly yelled out.



“Yea what’s that mother fucker!”



Black Tom spoke still sneering



“Get out the way boyo…ye cannae stop what’s comin…Hell personified is comin! And he’s innae bad mood!”



Faulkner quickly responded



“Yea well let’s see because I’ve walked hell a mile at a time homeboy. And I did it sipping lemonade!”

 

[Scatterbrain]

Tom blinked, his knuckles white around the police baton. He was back in uniform, standing on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial, overlooking a massive crowd of mutants assembled around the Reflecting Pool. Thousands of them, young, old, every colour, shape, and size. There, suspended in mid-air, was Professor Xavier, his voice commanding as he addressed the crowd.

“WHAT ARE WE?!”

“MUTANT AND PROUD!”

“WHAT DO WE WANT?”

“FREEDOM!”

Suddenly, a blinding explosion tore through the crowd as a suicide bomber detonated, taking out scores of mutants in a violent burst of flame and shrapnel. Tom instinctively shielded himself as terrified mutants began to panic, each trying to escape the carnage. Metal figures, Sentinels, descended from the sky in an attempt to contain the situation but only ended up fanning the flames, causing fights to break out between the police and the protestors.

The feeling of rage surged through Tom’s veins as he stood in the chaos of the rally. Everything was a blur of noise and movement but his focus had narrowed to one figure in front of him, a young mutant whose defiant glare triggered something dark in Tom’s mind. He swung hard, his baton connecting with brutal precision. Each strike felt like a release, like he was pouring every ounce of frustration, resentment, and uncertainty caused by his new existence into every strike. Then, in one sharp, chilling moment, he felt something he hadn’t expected; enjoyment. Tom froze, the horrific thrill turning his stomach. He looked at the blood on his baton. This wasn’t him, he didn’t take pleasure in pain. His purpose was to protect and serve. Tom's mind flashed back to the restraint and discipline drilled into him by the army.

Breathe...

Get control...

He barely had a moment to steady himself when the world twisted around him again. The sounds of the rally and the roar of angry voices melted away. He was no longer in his police uniform but in fatigues, his rifle slung over his shoulder. It was the desert, years ago, when he was in the army. He felt the bite of sand against his skin, but something was off. A palpable tension clung to the air, an unnatural silence. Ahead, surrounded by barbed wire and guards, sat a makeshift POW camp and in the centre, bound and bloodied, was Professor Xavier. Tom ducked behind a sand dune and began devising a plan. It would be difficult without the rest of the team, far too many guards for him to handle alone, but Tom wouldn't rest until Xavier was free.