This is the first of many short stories about the X-men and how they've dealt with Messiah Complex, House of M, and World War Hulk. Minor spoiler alerts Warning before hand. These are reminiscent of the Jeph Loeb, Tim sale color series, using a different color for each story. Read, and leave reviews please, feedback is HIGHLY appreciated, as this is my first fan fiction that has ever been published.

Disclaimer: ALL rights belong to Marvel, not a single character belongs to me in this story, I am just expressing my adoration through imagination.

Cyclops: Red

The wind picked up more than normal during this time of night. Rain falling in hard sheets hard current. Scott stood alone, looking into the surrounding area with more caution than curiosity.

Did he cross the line? Did he go far beyond the ideals of Xavier's dream?

There wasn't enough time in the day to ponder on that, or enough facts to prove of disprove his thoughts.

Had he asked himself this? Of course, every leader questions his actions, but the great ones never let their soldiers see them sweat. Going the extra mile and making choices others won't. Does that make him bad, or just necessary?

Does not knowing Laura, X-23, explains why he sent her with X-force? His own personal hunters, the ones without a viable future, the ones who are so down on themselves that they've long gave up the search for peace. Does he even care for them, or just use them?

He scoffs aloud.

After the events of the first mutant birth since M-day, what choice did he have? It wasn't an easy choice, but one he knew needed to be made. Things got carried away under Xavier's watch. Too many deaths, too many risks taken, and he wouldn't have another mutants death on his conscious.

The beer in his hand was warm, bitter from the long wait between swigs. Never one to drink too often, he figured it couldn't hurt to have at least one. And it still tasted horrid to him.

The thoughts still raged, taunting him. The way they look at him now. Their afraid of him, afraid they would disappoint him, afraid they would be sent on some killer mission. X-force was supposed to be a secret, but for how long? They all knew, they just never said it aloud. And Scott figured it out when Nightcrawler couldn't even look him in the eyes anymore.

It tore him up inside, but his heart can't take away the fact that mutants are an endangered species. They were supposed to be the future, the next evolutionary step, but now….they won't.

And instead of blaming the one responsible, the one who whispered those three fateful words.

No More Mutants

He blames himself.

Remember the old days, the days of yellow and blue costumes and danger room sessions. Where did they go? The late night movies with Jean, having Hank recite poetry while he exercised, even when Bobby would put a bucket of ice water above the door, only to have it dump on his own head.

In a fit of rage, he let loose a beam of energy from his eyes into the darkness of the sky. One full blast parted the soft clouds and hit nothing but the night air. Pulling the ruby quartz glasses downward, he fell to his knees.

Broken, defeated.

Helpless, feeling the loss of control, of friendship, even family. Cable was gone, Jean was gone, Alex was no where to be found and even Xavier is missing.

Her touch was soft on his shirtless shoulder he remembered, the scent of lilac on her fire toned hair. And the piercing stare of her emerald green eyes. What would she say to him now? What would she think? Did he know how she would react? Did he miss her at all?

Jean was his savior, his friend, his lover. And she was gone.

With a single whisper he asked.

What should I do red? You always knew what to say. You always knew how to calm me. What….do….I….do?

He stared into the white moon, the glasses he wore since entering the school made everything he saw a bright crimson. And he couldn't remember any colors beyond it.

Then he felt that same touch he remembered, that same scent in his nostrils. But as he turned slowly he was staring, not in the eyes he thought of, but that of two crystal orbs. Golden hair shining against the mansions backdrop, Emma stood in her nightgown. In her diamond form she wasn't able to use her telepathy; she would take this transformation to assure Scott that she wasn't prying into his mind.

Emma was not his savior, but his reason, his answers. She was his thoughts and his friendship. With her diamond lips on his, she was the only one that makes him see red a little differently.

End

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