CHAPTER 2: Wings

This is my MUCH belated Christmas gift to you, readers! Merry Christmahanakwanzika!

December 22nd, 2011 – 7:27 PM

The holiday spirit was strong at the Xavier Institute of Gifted Children, and everyone was in the lounge exchanging gifts and putting up the decorations that weren't placed yet. The place was alive with chatter and joy, and many of the students were enjoying one last night together before a lot of them left for the Christmas weekend to see their families. A select few were staying here purely because they didn't have families to go back to, but that didn't seem to dampen their moods. Tonight, it was all about fellowship and thanksgiving, and a lot of these students were quite thankful for being a part of this school of learning and training for their mutant powers.

Jason sat at the end of the couch with Bobby, Ray and Tabitha, enjoying a helping of eggnog with some apple pie cookies as they talked about their upcoming plans. "Bobby, you're parents are in Boston right?" Jason asked.

"Yep, that's where they are," Bobby said. "Not too far away, but not nearly far away enough. I'm pretty sure my brother still thinks I'm a spawn of Satan."

Tabitha was her usual care-free self. "There are worse things; your father could be in jail and your mother a recovering drug addict."

"Or they could be both dead," Ray said. "Although that depends on your outlook."

Jason looked somberly at Ray. "You're not sure?"

"My parents were a little conservative, but not overly," Ray said. "They died when I was eleven before I even had powers, and I've been living on the streets until the Professor found me."

That sobered up Jason. "I'm sorry."

"It's ok; it was a long time ago."

Bobby spoke up. "My parents aren't so bad; they just…have a hard time with the whole mutant thing."

Jason smiled. "I can sort of relate. My mother was not very sure of the whole thing; she's always kind of pious. She came around though."

"How?" Bobby asked.

"My Grandma Denise had a few words, or rather, she basically said something along the lines of 'Now you see here, Elizabeth Hollard-Downs, you stop that fussing right now. Your son is only using the gifts the good Lord gave him and I won't have my daughter saving face because it's not what you expected. Shape up or so help me, I will bend you over and give you a good swat!'" Jason altered his voice to imitate his grandmother, complete with waggling finger.

Tabitha broke out in laughter, while Ray and Bobby were agape. "Did she really say that?"

"Scouts honor!" Jason said, although he followed that up with, "Although I never was in the Scouts."

Both Bobby and Ray buried their faces in their hands as Tabitha still was in full laughter mode. Jason took the quick reprieve to look around the room. He could see Jean handing out gifts to the newer girls in the Institute, Rogue placing a few ornaments on the tree, Storm and Mr. McCoy talking about different things, Piotr sitting in a chair drawing in a sketchbook, and the Professor and Logan talking about other things. He then realized that he didn't see Kurt anywhere; Jason could only wonder what that one was up to tonight. The only other ones missing this little gathering was Scott and Kitty. After recovering overnight from the storm, Scott and Alex were flown back to Hawaii to spend a much safer holiday with the Masters family, while Kitty had flown out to Chicago to see her own family for Hanukkah.

Seeing the Professor reminded him that he needed to talk to him about a favor he had in mind. He hoped it wouldn't be too much of an inconvenience. He looked over at Piotr, still sitting by himself. While Piotr had generally been much happier at the Institute as of late, Jason could tell that he still dearly missed his family. Piotr needed something to really cheer him up, and Jason had an idea. Still, he would wait until he wasn't busy with Logan.

As Roberto was coming to join them at the couch, he espied Jean with Amara and Jubilee. Jean had given them all gifts, and they were both admiring them while expressing their thanks. At that moment, Jason finally saw Kurt practically slithering up to the from behind the couch, holding something in his hands, but he couldn't tell what. Finally, he hovered over Jubilee, and Jason at once noticed a small twig of mistletoe in his fingertips.

Jubilee noticed as well. "Kurt! In your dreams!" She was ignoring a chortling Jean and Amara.

Kurt didn't seem affected too much by the refusal. "All in the holiday spirit!" he said, and puckered up.

Jubilee slipped away from the couch. "Kurt, lay off!" She laughed as he ran off.

"Come on!" Kurt said. "Just one!" And he gave chase.

The Professor and Logan watched the two in their cat-and-mouse game. The Professor looked amused. "Ah, to be young again…"

Logan was quite the opposite. "Yeah…glad that's over."

The Professor was amused by Logan's general Scrooge outlook on the holiday, but Logan wasn't about to let his feelings ruin it for everyone else. "You know, Logan, you are welcome to hang with us at the Institute over the holiday. I'm sure no one will bother you."

"That's all right, Chuck," Logan said, and his eyes seemed to get a little distant. "But…I got a few things to take care of myself."

The Professor understood. Last year, Logan did the same thing. Something about this time of year affected him, but Logan was a private person and the Professor never pried. Logan had his reasons.

Meanwhile, Rogue had finished up decorating the tree and located Piotr still sketching in his sketchbook, taking in the festivities and allowing them to inspire him. Rogue had located a present and carried it over to Piotr. "Hey, Pete," she started.

Piotr looked a little startled when Rogue came up to him and spoke. "Oh, uh…hi, Rogue."

"Sorry I startled you," Rogue said. "Why are you by yourself?"

Piotr relaxed and shrugged. "Everyone is busy and I am not wanting to interrupt."

Rogue looked across the room, directly across from them was Jason talking with some of the New Mutant boys and Tabitha, and generally looking happy. Rogue knew the story about Piotr, or at least the general circumstances. Piotr had no idea where his family was, so the odds of him going home for Christmas were astronomically low. Rogue had no real family to go to herself, and so did a couple others here at the Institute. "It's going to be pretty quiet when a lot of these people go tomorrow."

Piotr looked around the room. The grand majority of these people were going to be gone tomorrow. Jason would stay an extra day tomorrow because he was going to take a faster means of travel come Saturday, but Rogue was generally right. "Yes, it will…"

Rogue didn't seemed bothered by the prospect. "Well, it might be fun having the place to ourselves. "The Prof, Ray, Mr. McCoy…"

Piotr wasn't sure what Rogue was implying. "I suppose so…"

Rogue lifted the Christmas present she brought over. "I actually got something for you. I drew your name out for the Secret Santa so I hope you like it."

Piotr had quite forgotten about the Secret Santa drawing earlier that week. He had drawn out Amara's name and made an art-piece for her for her gift, which she adored and got a frame for it. Piotr hadn't considered his name to be drawn, so was surprised. "Oh…I am sorry, Rogue. I did not realize."

"It's ok," Rogue said. "That's why it's a called a Secret Santa." Rogue handed the gift to Piotr. "Go ahead and open it."

Piotr undid the bow and tore open the paper. He worked the box inside open and found a black sweater with a red pinstripe down each sleeve. Piotr looked at Rogue, and smiled. "Spasibo bol'shoye."

"It was nothing, really," Rogue said. "Jason actually helped me pick the size."

Piotr looked across the room, just in time to see that Jason had noticed Rogue had given Piotr his gift, and he was smiling across the room and gave a little wave.

"It was very thoughtful," Piotr said. "Thank you, Rogue."

From across the room, Jason smiled at seeing Piotr accept his gift. Rogue had come up to him and asked for a bit of help with a gift for Piotr because she had drawn his name in the Secret Santa and needed an idea. To be honest, Jason had a hard time thinking of a good idea as well, but was able to suggest a sweater since Piotr loved sweaters. It also got him to think about his own gift idea for Piotr, but he still needed to phone in a favor with the Professor first.

At this point, the chase between Jubilee and Kurt had reached Jason's group and Jubilee found herself tripped into sitting next to Bobby, and before she could recover, Kurt teleported over to the seat next to Jubilee, still holding the mistletoe over Jubilee's head. Kurt leaned in for the kiss, and Jubilee slithered away while Kurt had his eyes close. Kurt leaned in and with Jubilee gone, the mistletoe drifted over Bobby's head.

No one dared speak as Kurt inched closer to Bobby, who slowly grew horrified as what was about to happen. Everyone else shut their mouths but their eyes were wide open. Suddenly, Kurt realized that Jubilee was gone and he opened his eyes, and saw that he was inches away from giving Bobby a romantic kiss. They locked eyes for two seconds, and then both turned away, Kurt retching and Bobby flinching.

Everyone else burst into gut-bursting laughter, while Kurt scurried away to the opposite end of the couch looking a little green, while Bobby kept trying and failing to not look at Kurt. Jason was the first to recover. "Ok, that was epic…"

Tabitha was in tears. "Oh, man! That's better than anything I've come up with!"

Roberto and Ray seemed like they were trying to forget what they were about to see, but were still chortling.

"Hey, it could still work!" Jason said. "Kurt, do you still have that Kourtney version of your holo—" Jason ducked a flying pillow, lofted at him by an embarrassed Kurt.

"Are you ever going to let me live that down?!" Kurt said, flushed.

Jason merely mouthed. "Never."

Bobby was still in shock at the whole thing, and Jason thought he was literally going to melt away. Bobby had a feeling that he wasn't going to live this one down either.

XXXXXXXXXX

The air was also festive in Manhattan as last-minute shoppers crammed the malls and traffic slowed as people were trying to get to their holiday destinations, grateful for the reprieve in both work and school to see their families. Virtually every building was lit up in Christmas colors and store fronts chimed with Christmas carols. The sun had already set, but the snowy city was well lit up, least of all Times Square. New York City was definitely in love with the holidays.

Swinging from building to building was a lithe figure, dressed in a red-and-blue tight suit decorated with spider-web patterns, and dominated by a single black spider on the front, and a bright red spider on the back. His mask covered his entire face, dominated by large white eyes. Shooting web from specialized shooters in his wrists, he swung swiftly over the city below. When he reached the height of the swing, he shot another line out and swung again, letting his momentum carry him up and down town.

Spider-Man was quite a controversial figure: he was constantly maligned by the Daily Bugle—ironically where his out-of-suit-self Peter Parker worked as a freelance photographer—but lauded as a hero by the neighborhoods. It wasn't easy to balance his life as Spider-Man and as Peter Parker; he lived with his aunt May after his parents died, and later his uncle, and his aunt did not know. It kind of sucked to go at patrolling such a metropolis as New York by himself, but he really didn't have many to turn to. The Fantastic Four were usually holed up in the Baxter Building doing government work, and Iron Man was usually too busy doing the ladies than doing the duty. Still, Spider-Man did his best. Not quite two months ago, he ran into two mutants in the Bayville area east of his home neighborhood borough of Queens, and they helped him take down another mutant of fast feet and faster mouth. As it turned out, those mutants preferred to stay on the down low, but it was nice to have help such as theirs not too far away. If it came down to things, he can always swing by their place if something really bad happened.

As he swung by a news chopper, he overheard something about a burning apartment building in the Upper East Side, and that a disabled woman was trapped inside high up, and firefighters were having a hell of a time getting to her. "Sounds like it's time to get to work…" Spider-Man said to himself, twisting around to swing northwards. Just as he did, he espied a fire-truck peeling through traffic, likely intent on reaching his destination. "Lead the way, reds! Don't wait up for me!" Spider-Man swung ahead of them.

Quickly, he came upon the apartment complex and immediately saw a number of firetrucks already parked outside. Most of the residents of the complex seemed already out, but Spider-Man knew better. One was still in there, and unable to get out. Looking down, he could see a young woman struggling with the firefighters, trying to go back in and save her mother. Spider-Man didn't need his so-called "spider-sense" to guess that was the disabled woman on the dispatch. Looking from his perch opposite of the complex, he could see where the smoke was pouring out of the windows. That had to be the place. Spider-Man swung across the street and landed on the side of the wall, sticking to it like his namesake.

"Ok," Spider-Man said to himself. "Get in, find the woman, get out. Sounds simple enough." Spider-Man looked around to see the best angle would be to smash in the window. "Looks like the good old-fashioned slingshot should be the be—OH GOD!" Spider-Man felt his spider-sense, a precognitive instinct that always flared up when he was in danger, light up like a flash bulb. He quickly ducked out of the way, and just in time as the window blew out. Spider-Man thought it was an explosion, but he looked just in time to see a figure dive out of the window. Spider-Man looked at him, and looked again. The guy was dressed in a white-and-gold uniform, and was carrying a sickly looking woman as he fell. Before he fell far, the guy's wings unfolded and he flew across the street.

"Wings?!" Spider-Man exclaimed. "Oh, that's just not fair!"

He watched as this guy flew to the street, located a bus stop bench, placed the women gently on it, and then flew away as if his duty was done. Spider-Man watched the guy go, disappearing into the snowy sky.

"This guy is for real?" Spider-Man said. "I thought he was just a joke!"

Down below, the young woman who was crying that her mother was still inside, gave into despair and stop struggling with the firefighters. She turned away, her face freezing due to the tears, but she didn't care. Her mother was as good as lost now, and there was nothing she could do. All at once, the guilt for not being a better daughter came rushing in, and she regretted fighting so much with her. She could give anything to have her back.

"Jaimie!" came a familiar cry. "I'm over here!"

The girl, Jaimie, looked up, and couldn't believe what she saw. Her mother was alive and well, sitting on a bus stop bench on the far side of the street. "Mom!" She ran across the street to her waiting mother, and nearly fell twice reaching her. When she reached her mom, she was crying fresh tears of happiness. "Oh, Mom!"

"It's ok, sweetie. I'm ok."

"How did you get out?" Jaimie asked.

Her mother looked up to the skies. "An angel saved me, honey…a real angel…"

Spider-Man watched the whole exchange from his perch. "Well, can't say I've seen that before…" He looked up through the skies into where this "angel" character disappeared. "I wonder of those mutant guys know about him…"

XXXXXXXXXX

Warren Worthington III was a rather fortunate person, or so he kept telling himself. He was born into a wealthy family, and was subjected to inherit Worthington Industries, a major player in the capital trade of goods and services in the country. With its fair share in both government and residential contracts, business was quite good for the company. Warren was raised to take over the business, and maintain the Worthington name in all face and deed. His parents were proud of his accomplishments, and he was already close to be enrolled in Harvard.

There was just one little problem, for Warren had a very unique feature to him: when he was twelve years old, one night he woke up to feathers coating his bed. He didn't realize what was going on until he went to the bathroom, and saw himself in the mirror; rather, he saw the massive white wings sticking out from his shoulders. His father one caught him trying to remove them with a knife, and the blood was so bad that his father called in a concierge doctor to clean him up, and paid him triple the normal fee to keep him quiet. For a time, Warren debated having his wings removed surgically, but an X-Ray had revealed that his wings were firmly attached to the scapulae. Any attempt to remove them could cause severe weakness in the blades and nearby clavicles, permanently handicapping him. As an exchange, Warren found he could fold his wings under specialized harnesses which kept his wings secured against his back, as long as he kept a coat on. Summertime was absolute hell though.

Now that he was nineteen, Warren had grown to accept them, and even taught himself in secret how to fly. Over the past five years, he had heard of people with special abilities saving people from scum of the earth, including someone swinging from the buildings called Spider-Man. The press seemed to hate him, but the public seemed to have a less polarizing view. The Fantastic Four also had prestigious positions in the Baxter Building, and they were quite public with their abilities—Warren had actually met the youngest member Jonathan Storm who was a little too public with his sometimes—but they were always for the betterment of society. Lately, while his parents were on business trips to Europe, he began going out and rescuing people and leaving just as fast. He had fashioned a white suit with yellow trimmings to enforce the idea of him being an angel after the first newscasts described him as an angel. The suit had a partial cowl that covered a lot of his face save for the area around his mouth and eyes, also allowing his golden hair to say exposed like a halo. He knew he was no angel, and hardly an exemplar of a model citizen he thought to himself, but if he could do these good things for the city, perhaps his parents would be far less pious about him.

He arrived back in his penthouse suite in Worthington Towers after saving that mother from the burning building, high enough off of the ground so that no one would look up to see him flying. Landing on the patio, he took one last look over the city he called home. From here, it looked like nothing was wrong at all, but Warren knew better; this city kept the façade of a peaceful city, but like any metropolis, it was rife with trouble. He could only hope to make a dent into it. Because of his status as a billionaire bachelor, capturing the eye of many eligible bachelorettes—and the occasional bachelor—he had to keep himself discreet about his activities as well as his identity. It really was a lonesome life, but it's what he had to do.

Entering his room, he began to change out of his suit into nightwear when he noticed a blinking light on his cellphone. Picking it up, he noticed that there was a voicemail message, and the recent missed call registry listed the caller as his mother. Sighing, he dialed voicemail to listen to the message as he sat down.

"Warren, if you're there, please pick up." A pause. "I just wanted to call to tell you your father and I are in London and we were thinking about you. Please call, dear…you're dear to us…" The message ended.

With a touch of scorn, Warren deleted the message without a second thought. He didn't like having to be this bitter about his parents, but their parents were quite mixed about him, despite his best efforts to calm them. His father rarely spoke to him, and her mother was caught in a vortex of emotion where she was weighing her piety against her love for her only son. Warren wished he didn't like having to keep proving himself to them, mainly because of his wings. While he accepted the fact that he was different—he actually was thrilled by the prospect of flight—it was quite a downer when your parents seemed rather to save face rather than embrace their son.

Sitting down in a chair, he turned on the TV and saw the news reports were already quite buzzing about the newest appearance of the mysterious "angel," swooping in to save a woman from a burning apartment. Watching the interview, he felt a warmness flow through him. Despite what his parents thought of him, it was nice to see that he was making a difference out there.

XXXXXXXXXX

December 23rd, 2011 – 9:27 AM

Jason, Piotr, Rogue, the Professor, Ray, and Mr. McCoy were watching much of the student body disperse in various vehicles, each destined to their own holiday destinations. Many of them wouldn't come back until well after the holiday, but a few would be back just after Christmas. Only six remained behind—Logan himself had already decided to take a drive—to watch them go, wishing them a safe and happy holiday.

As the last of the students disappeared out of the front gate, Jason realized that the place was already stone quiet. He was the latest to arrive at the Institute—arriving only this August—so he was here during the bustle of the arrivals of the New Mutants. Jason remembered with a smirk when he first met Sam Guthrie, a mutant who had the power to propel himself up to speeds close to 1800 feet per second, being invincible at this speeds. "Cannonball," as he was called, nearly took Jason's head clean off when he first arrived. Needless to say, Sam had made quite the first impression, and the second impression was a fence that finally stopped Cannonball as he shot overhead.

"Well," Jason said wistfully. "Can't say I'll miss the bustle."

The Professor smiled. "They are quite a free-spirited bunch."

"I'm right here, you know," Ray said.

Jason smiled as he looked at Ray. "Yeah? What of it?"

"It's a part of being young," the Professor said. "We should enjoy the youth we have while we have it. You never know when you realize that your youth has finally passed you by."

"True enough," Jason said.

"Well, with that all being said and done," Mr. McCoy said. "Who's wanting to help the Professor and I install Cerebro's new security updates?"

Jason, Ray, Rogue and Piotr looked at each other, completely unsure of what to say.

Mr. McCoy chuckled. "I'm just kidding, you four. After recent events, I'm sure all of you would rather kick back and relax. The Professor and I will be downstairs with Cerebro if you need anything."

Jason exhaled a bit. "That's nice to hear; I don't think I should be allowed around complex machinery at the moment. I might cause a power surge or something."

"I think we should be more worried about me doing that," Ray said.

"True, but you never know," Jason said. "Let's get inside, already. It's still cold out here, after all…"

XXXXXXXXXX

"Parker!"

Peter Parker jumped at the sound of his boss' voice bellowing from the office. Peter was working on developing a few digital photos he had taken of the fire last night when he heard his name called, or rather screamed. Peter's blood chilled; his boss, J. Jonah Jameson, editor for the Daily Bugle, was quite a terror in a good mood. If his mood was poor though…

"C-coming, Mr. Jameson!" Peter yelled, nearly dropping his camera on the way to the office. Peter had been here barely a year, and he was already feeling like he was thirty-something with all of the stress of the job, poor pay, school and most importantly, his boss. Peter's skills of taking nigh impossible shots had saved his skin so far. Still, he imagined a rage-induced termination was just around the corner at all times.

Peter slid into the office. "You called, Mr.—"

Mr. Jameson didn't give him the chance to finish. "Where are the photos of the fire from last night?!"

"I-I'm still developing them, sir…" Peter gulped.

"Any of them have this 'Angel' character in them?"

Peter's silence was the answer, and Peter felt his blood turn into cement.

Jameson looked ready to pop. "What good are you?! This Angel character is the biggest news since Spider-Man and you're dropping the ball!"

Peter had to swallow. "B-b-but he flies, sir."

"Spider-Man swings from building to building doing devil-knows-what! Why should wings be a problem?! Parker, get me those pictures of this Angel or you're fired!"

"Y-yes, sir!" Peter ran for the door.

"And get me more pictures of Spider-Man! I want him dead to rights when the law finally catches up to him!"

Peter nearly slipped on the floor when Jameson had a footnote request for him as well, but acknowledged as he recovered. "Y-yes, sir!"

As soon as Peter was out the door, Jameson was "kind" enough to slam the door shut, punctuating how serious he was of his demands. Peter gave himself only two seconds to breathe and restart his heart—he figured that anything beyond three seconds would be dangerous to his health if his Hitler-look-alike of a boss caught him "slacking"—and he began his way out of the maze of cubicles and desks. The air outside of the building was very brisk, but compared to the heat he felt with his boss breathing down his neck, it was a welcome feeling.

Peter Parker looked around and found his favorite alleyway. The streets were already busy as were the sidewalks, and that was just what he needed. Going deep enough into the alley, he ducked out of sight and removed his shirt, revealing a blue-and-red suit with a black spider on the chest. He reached into his backpack and pulled out the mask and gloves. In seconds, his transformation from homely Peter Parker into Spider-Man was complete. He shot web out high, sticking into the bricks opposite of the street from him, and he swung out into the wintry air.

Spider-Man swung from building to building, his mind wondering where he could even think to look for this Angel character. He was there when a disaster struck, dealt with it and then flew off just as fast. Spider-Man was an agile being, but this Angel somehow was so fast that Spider-Man had a hard time tracking him, even if he was looking for him. He needed to find someone who might have an inkling of who he was, or even where he might go.

Spider-Man's mind flashed to his meeting with two mutants, Alchemist and Colossus, who had helped Spider-Man take out another mutant called Quicksilver. They had encountered each other in a suburb east of Queens called Bayville. The last time they had met, the one called Alchemist had requested Spider-Man to not blab about them to anyone, which Spider-Man had faithfully adhered to his request. That was two months ago, and Spider-Man had an idea if these two were mutants on the down-low, then they might have an idea who this Angel guy was. It was worth a shot anyway; anything to keep his bony little ass from getting fired.

XXXXXXXXXX

A businessman was in a bit of a fix; he was walking through Central Park when a punk kid blindsided him and made off with his suitcase. He tried to give chase, but the kid was younger than him and clearly had more stamina. At once point, he tripped and fell into the snow, and he was beginning to think this was a lost cause; that suitcase had his laptop in there which had some very important documents for his firm. His job could be on the line if he didn't do something.

A shadow darted over his head, naturally causing him to look up. He thought it was an eagle flying really low overhead, but he double-took when he realized that the body of the flying creature was shaped like a man! Who was he?

The being dived like a falcon at the punk and scooped him up like an eagle would to a mouse. The punk began hollering and screaming as he was snatched up and taken away. The businessman's eyes nearly felt out of his head, despite his glasses. The first thing he could do was watch as this being aimed for a flagstaff at a nearby memorial.

Suddenly, a mounted policeman, having heard the cries of the assault, rode up. "Are you all right, sir?"

The businessman was shook out of his stupor, and looked up at the officer. "I don't know yet. I must be seeing things."

"What happened?"

"I was attacked by this punk, and he made off with my suitcase that way!" The businessman pointed towards where the punk went, and saw that the punk now was struggling on top of the flagpole, hanging on only by his jacket. His hollers were unintelligible from this far, but they definitely sounded desperate. "But you won't believe, but this guy just swooped down from above and put him up there on that flagpole!" He was beginning to ramble; even he wasn't believing what he was saying. "I-it was an angel! He swooped down and put the punk up there!"

About halfway through the rambling, the mounted policeman looked checked out, but he did see that a punk had somehow gotten himself stuck on the flagpole. As for this angel, he had heard about this "angel" going around but never believed it. This businessman was so flabbergasted that he probably didn't know what he saw.

A suitcase suddenly fell from the sky, landing in the snow right next to them, startling the poor horse. The businessman cut off his rambling and saw the suitcase. "That's my suitcase!" The businessman scooped it up, and looked to see where it fell from, and saw the flying man pass well overhead. Pointing to him, he said. "See?! Look over there! It's just as I said! An angel!"

The policeman looked where the businessman was pointing, and he saw it, and he still didn't believe it. "Oh my god…will you look at that…?"

XXXXXXXXXX

Warren had been taking a relaxing stroll through Central Park to clear his head when he heard a commotion further in. From afar, he had espied a punk tangling with a businessman, trying to take his briefcase. He watched as the punk managed to relieve the businessman of the case and run off. The businessman tried to give chase, but the punk was clearly more in shape.

Frowning, he shed his overcoat, revealing his white-and-gold bodysuit and pulled the cowl over his eyes to avoid recognition. He undid his harness and his wings unfolded; once he was free of the harness he took off in flight and was able to quickly overtake the punk and scoop him right up.

"Wha—?!" The punk cried. "Put me down! You got no rights!"

Warren carried him even higher, and the punk realized that they were really high off the ground now, and he grew quite afraid of the distance between him and an unceremonious landing. "N-no! Don't let go of me!"

Warren blocked out the punk's pleas, despite promising that he would go straight and go to church as he placed him on a flagpole by his coat. The punk even handed over the briefcase quite willingly, but Warren was deaf to his pleas. Perhaps this scare would set him straight, but a night's stay in jail might be more effective.

Warren flew back towards the businessman, and found him talking to a mounted policeman. Swooping overhead, he dropped the suitcase as he flew over them and aimed his departure towards the sunlight to avoid any good views of him. He circulated back once he was sure they were no longer watching him, and found his abandoned coat. Looking around to make sure he was alone, he pulled off the cowl from his face, and quickly bound his wings into the harness. It took only a minute, but Warren always grew anxious if he did this away from the privacy of his penthouse suite. Finally, he got his overcoat on and walked away, relieved that no one saw him.

Unfortunately, someone did see him. From the shadows of a tree, an older man in a hat and a trench coat had watched the entire thing. He had observed Warren and knew what he was, and was actively looking to refill his ranks after a disastrous turn of events had robbed him of a base and at least one of his recruits was AWOL. All of that was just one week ago.

For the past week, he had laid low and because of his proximity to his old friend in this city, he had to be extra careful. He despised having to use such transportations as public transit, but if he needed to stay discreet, he needed to go all the way to avoid detection. If he was successful, he could score another promising recruit, although he felt that none would ever measure up to the one that so resoundingly destroyed his base and scattered his recruits.

He was not discouraged though; he may not have won the battle that day, but the war was far from over, and Magneto intended to win, with or without the most promising mutant he had ever encountered: Alchemist.

XXXXXXXXXX

"So, Dr. Garrison, you're slating these angel sightings as this year's UFO sighting?"

"Generally speaking, yes…"

Back at the Xavier Institute, everyone was gathered in the room, mildly listening to the TV as an interview with a paranormal scientific skeptic expert was discussing the increase in angel sightings as of late.

"Tales like these, once they repeat themselves, eventually grow a life of their own, and the more they're told, myth and fact become so intertwined that it becomes difficult to tell apart the real from the fantasy. By this point, even usually rational people will start believing such irrationalities."

"So what should we take from these 'angel' sightings, like to woman saved from the building, or even the most recent sighting in the park?"

"While I cannot pretend to know what these people have seen, I believe that there is a far more rational explanation than a winged man or even an angel coming to the rescue of these poor people…"

Jason looked up at the TV. "He is definitely not someone I'd invite to a party; likely a killjoy."

"He's not unlike myself, Jason," the Professor said. "Everyone needs a realist in their lives in order to keep themselves balanced. While I generally do embrace the realistic side of things, what sets me apart is that I make room for belief."

Jason looked back at the chess game he was having with Mr. McCoy. "And what do you believe?"

"I believe that there is definitely more to what's going on than we know about this angel."

"'Be not forgetful to entertain strangers: for thereby some have entertained angels unawares,'"Mr. McCoy said.

Piotr, who was sitting nearby sketching in his sketchbook, looked at Mr. McCoy. "That is not Shakespeare, is it?"

"More like the Bible," Jason said, moving a pawn forward.

"You're right," Mr. McCoy said. "It's from the book of Hebrews."

Jason looked at Piotr. "Remember that friend I told you about? Samantha? I wasn't religious, but she was, and she once told me about that verse, and that its meaning was more or less remember to be kind to one another; you never know whom you might be helping."

"A worthy message," the Professor said. "In this regard though, I do have my doubts that this angel is of the heavenly variety."

Piotr looked at the Professor. "Do you think he is demon?"

Rogue scoffed from her seat, watching the chess game with minimal interest. "Yeah right…"

"'There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy," Mr. McCoy quoted.

"Now that was Shakespeare…," Rogue said.

Mr. McCoy nodded, pleased.

"We read that passage in Hamlet earlier this year," Jason said, frowning as Mr. McCoy had just taken the pawn he just moved with a knight. "I personally preferred King Lear."

"Pertaining to Piotr's question," the Professor continued. "No, I don't. I'm more suspicious that he is one of us, and if Cerebro wasn't going through extensive firmware upgrades, we might be able to detect him."

Jason looked at the Professor. "And he's been literally flying around the entire city rescuing people."

"Quite so," the Professor said gravely. "I fear that his activities, noble as they are, may jeopardize the safety of mutants everywhere if he's discovered. We will have to intercept him somehow and talk to him in the very least. He could join us here at the Institute, or relieve himself of his self-imposed duties. Either way, we must protect our own from his admittedly beautiful sentiments."

Jason looked uncomfortable. "Am I the only one who thinks that the idea sounds absolutely crazy? I mean, telling people to quit doing something because it's bad is easy enough, but to tell someone to quit doing something good because it's bad…talk about a mind-fuck."

"It is a very unusual circumstance," the Professor said. "But if we need to conserve mutant anonymity, we need to think of the greater good."

Jason sighed. "It sucks, really. I can hardly wait for the day when people will look at us and think we're special, and not different."

"As do I, Jason," the Professor said. "As do I."

Piotr looked at Jason. "It will happen, Jason."

"I know…," Jason said. "Sue me if I'm impatient."

"Patience is a virtue, but it's not wrong to desire something beautiful."

Jason sighed again, eager to change the subject. "So, what should we do?"

"Someone should go to the city and attempt to track him down. I know this will be difficult without Cerebro, but we don't have time to wait until he messes up."

"Yeah, that's a good idea! We could go!" Rogue spoke up, rather enthusiastically. Sobering up slightly, she continued. "I mean, me and another could. I'm really going nuts just sitting here…"

The Professor smiled. "I actually had you in mind, as well as Jason. I believe two is enough for this, but in the event it becomes problematic, we can send Piotr and Ray after you, provided Ray follows his teammates' lead."

Ray wasn't with them in the room; he was napping in his own room, grateful for the peace and quiet.

"He's been sighted almost a dozen times so far…," Jason said. "Where would we start?"

"The most recent sighting will likely be the most fruitful, but in the meantime, I'll have Hank compile a complete list of sightings and eyewitness statements for each. Hopefully through them, we might triangulate his position."

"Meanwhile, Rogue and I will interrogate the witnesses to see if we can narrow down the list of suspects, right?" Jason shook his head. "God, I sound like Detective Stabler…"

"You will be interviewing them to see what we can learn of this angel individual himself," the Professor himself. "I believe the best place to start will be the mother who this angel saved last night. I believe the news report mentioned that they were staying in a hotel where they were taking donations to help replace many of their belongings."

"Good place to start…" Jason said.

"As for the businessman, I believe he's working at—" The Professor cut himself off and looked away from them.

Jason noticed the gesture. "What is it?"

"It seems we have a visitor…" the Professor said slowly.

Jason, Piotr and Rogue got to their feet. "An invader?" Jason asked.

"No," the Professor said. "More like someone who could help us with our little problem, provided he lives through the security protocols."

XXXXXXXXXX

Spider-Man had swung through Brooklyn and Queens, retracing his steps, as it were, to where he first met the two mutants: Bayville, a bayside suburb that was rather unremarkable by itself, although it was home to a rather private school for the gifted: the Xavier Institute for Gifted Children. Spider-Man had no idea what it meant by gifted, but Spider-Man had an inkling that it was for the exceptional student. Alchemist and Colossus didn't sound like they were from around here, so unless he was completely wrong, they might be students. Alchemist sounded like he was from out West somewhere, while Colossus sounded distinctly Russian. Had they sounded more local, Spider-Man might not have been able to make his guess.

It took some exploring around the town—there was a rather annoying lack of tall buildings to swing from—but he found an off-road that lead towards a large mansion, fenced in and a good ways out of the way in a wooded area. Dropping down in front of the gate, he espied the metal sign that read Xavier Institute for Gifted Children. "Hmm, I wonder if there's like a doorkeep or something. What would I even say to him? 'Hello, I'm Spider-Man and I was wondering if you wanted to talk about a winged-man over a plate of Christmas cookies. What's this about a mask?' Yeah, that will go over well."

He looked through the gate and saw the mansion on the far side of the grounds. He looked around to see if there was anyone around. He did notice the tire-tracks in the snow. "Let's hope someone's home." Spider-Man climbed over the fence like his namesake and landed on the other side.

At once, an alarm sounded, and Spider-Man suddenly felt his spider-sense go crazy. "What the heck?!" Spider-Man exclaimed, and nearly jumped out of his suit when turrets rose out of the ground. Despite the fact Spider-Man's eyes were hidden behind the large white eyes of the suit, they too seemed to grow.

The turrets opened fire, and Spider-Man dodged them effortlessly. The turrets tracked him though, and Spider-Man clogged the barrels with his webs. More turrets rose up to challenge Spider-Man, and he dodged each fire, guided by his spider-sense when he couldn't see the danger. Not even a minute passed when all of the turrets suddenly shut down. Spider-Man stared around the grounds in shock, but when nothing else challenged him, he told himself, "Ok, either these things can only see by movement, or else someone shut them off. So, Pete, how about you move and stop standing still like an idiot?"

Spider-Man finally shook himself out of his battle stance and made his way towards the door. It took a bit to reach them, but when he did, he raised his hands to knock. The door opened on its own, and Spider-Man stared at it for a while. "Ok, can we please stop arriving in freaky-town?"

He entered the main vestibule and found it empty. To all appearances, the door opened by itself, and his spider-sense was starting to get antsy. He felt an impulse to go left, and so he did. Soon enough, he entered something that looked like a lounge. Looking around, he saw no one. "Uh…hello?!" He called out.

"Hello, Spider-Man," came a voice. "Welcome to my Institute…"

Spider-Man felt his spider-sense surge and he leaped to the side, and onto the wall, sticking there like his namesake. He looked just in time to see an older man in a wheelchair. Spider-Man had to blink. Was he there this whole time? "Oh, hello!"

The man turned his wheelchair to him. "There's no need to be afraid; if I truly expected you to attack me, I wouldn't be so relaxed."

"How do you know I won't?" Spider-Man asked. "Not that I would mind you, but why wouldn't you?"

The Professor made a knowing look. "Let's say I'm a good judge of character. Now, if you wouldn't mind…"

Spider-Man guessed what he was referring to. "Oh, sorry. It's a habit." He climbed down from the wall.

"Thank you, Spider-Man," the Professor asked. "I am Professor Charles Xavier, and I am the curator for this Institute. May I ask what brings you here?"

Spider-Man rubbed the back of his masked head. "You're probably going to not believe me, but I've been tracking down this new guy on the block: some guy with angel wings. I was wondering if you had some input."

The Professor steepled his fingers. "And why do you suppose I might know anything?"

"Let's be real, Professor," Spider-Man said. "No one would put turrets to squish only mildly-innocent spiders who just came to say 'hi'."

The Professor chuckled at that. "Perhaps you're right," the Professor said. "Generally, that only activates when someone comes without an invitation. Once I detected your presence and felt that you are trustworthy, I deactivated the defenses."

"And I can't be too happy about that," Spider-Man quipped. "Although you seem awfully sure about me. How could you know?"

The Professor seemed to gaze right into Spider-Man's soul, or so that's how it felt. After a few tense seconds, the Professor relaxed. "Perhaps you are ready to know. While it is true that this school is for the exceptional student, the exceptional student I have in mind are those born with the X-Gene, the source of mutant powers throughout the world."

"Mutants?" Spider-Man said. "You mean those guys I've been hearing about all around the world that have powers that don't seem to come from anywhere?"

"The same," the Professor said. "Our brethren around the world are treated like lesser beings or worse, and it's my duty here as the curator of this Institute to protect those that I can. Unlike how you have gotten your powers, Spider-Man, my students as well as myself were born with active X-Genes, which give us the powers and abilities we possess."

"Well, that only makes se—" Spider-Man cut himself off. "Wait a minute, how did you know that I wasn't born with these powers?!"

"The same way how I determined you were trustworthy, as well as how I even knew you were here before you stepped foot onto the grounds. I am a telepath; I can read and control the minds of others should I choose to do so."

"You—" Spider-Man said, but balked again. "Wait, that means you—"

"I do," the Professor said. "Rest assured, I understand perfectly why you hide behind the mantle of Spider-Man, and why you must remain that way. Your secrets are safe with me," the Professor said, and then added telepathically. "Peter Parker."

Spider-Man felt his spider-sense go off like an alarm, but it went away just as fast. "Ok, now you're starting to freak me out…"

The Professor knew that Spider-Man was being glib. "Would you care to meet more of us? I understand you are acquainted with a couple of my students already."

Spider-Man looked at the Professor. "You reading my mind again?"

"Not this time," the Professor said. "Two of my students had told me that you and they have a history. Now if I may direct your attention to the middle of the room."

The wallcrawler looked towards the center of the room, and nearly jumped out of his suit. "How long have they been there?!"

Sure enough, Jason, Piotr, Rogue and Mr. McCoy were all there, amused at Spider-Man's exclamation. Jason looked at Piotr. "Oh, now he sees us."

"My apologies, Spider-Man. In the event of a visitor that I haven't deduced I can trust, I can telepathically block the presence of people in the room. Once I deduced you were trustworthy, I lowered the veil as it were."

"That must come in handy," Spider-Man said.

"May I introduce to you Dr. Henry McCoy, one of our teachers here…"

The blue ape-like man stood up. "Pleased to meet you."

"And here we have Rogue…"

The pale girl with the white locks in her otherwise-dark-brown hair didn't stand up, but she waved. "How is it?"

"And I believe you are already acquainted with Jason Downs and Piotr Rasputin, otherwise known as Alchemist and Colossus."

Jason nodded in greeting. "Long time no see, Webhead."

"Are there more?" Spider-Man said.

"Yes, but they're currently visiting their families for the holiday." The Professor looked at the rest of the X-Men. "As it turns out, we were just discussing our mutual winged friend among each other. We suspect that he's a mutant and for the sake of our safety, we are going to either try to recruit him or tell him to cease his activities for the time being so his exposure won't have ramifications on the underground mutant presence in this country. We still have the looming eventuality of our revelation to the public hanging over us, and if we can, we need to delay it as much as possible for the smoothest transition."

Spider-Man couldn't blame him for saying that. Spider-Man was hardly free of criticism despite his extensive track record for helping anyone that needed help. Hell, he had a boss at the Daily Bugle that seemed to make it his personal mission to smear Spider-Man anyway he could. While the general public dismissed the accusations, some did believe it and it made life hard for him. "You might be right," Spider-Man said. "I actually have it on good authority that there's someone else looking for him: a photojournalist. He's not a bad person, really, so I doubt he'd do anything intentionally. His boss on the other hand…"

The Professor looked at Spider-Man, knowing what he was talking about, but he played along. "Then it is imperative that we intercept this angel."

Spider-Man had an idea. "I can search the rooftops, while the rest of you can follow up on leads."

Jason seemed to like that idea. "Sounds good to me, but what about that photojournalist? We're going to have to do something about him."

Spider-Man suppressed a flinch. "Nothing violent, I hope…"

Jason looked oddly at Spider-Man. "Do I look the type?"

The Professor answered instead. "Rogue and Jason will follow up on the leads; odds are you will encounter this journalist as you investigate. If you do, exercise discretion."

"Will do," Jason said.

"Well, if you all don't mind, I think I might be able to keep him occupied. In fact, if he follows you two around, he'll be less likely to do something we will all come to regret."

Jason looked at Spider-Man. "Is that a good idea? Wouldn't he get in the way?"

"Not entirely," the Professor said. "There's an old adage that states to keep one's friends close, but keep one's enemies even closer. If this journalist stays within your sight, you'd could better prevent him from publishing anything jeopardizing our safety."

"Hmm," Jason sighed. "Good point."

"I'll have him meet you at the hotel where that one woman is living until her apartment is taken care of." Spider-Man turned to leave. "I hate to be that buzzing fly, but this bug has gotta fly…like right now."

"Good luck, Spider-Man," the Professor said.

"I don't need luck! I'm…" Spider-Man checked himself. "Ok, you know what? I need a lot of luck. Gotta go!" With that, Spider-Man left the room.

Jason looked at the Professor. "How long until Cerebro is back online?"

"Another day at least," the Professor said. "We won't be able to use it to track down this angel today."

"Looks like we'll have to do this the hard way," Jason said.

"Fine by me," Rogue said.

Spider-Man suddenly peaked back in. "Hey, Prof? It's…ok for me to leave, right?"

The rest of the X-Men looked at each other in confusion at first, and then one by one they finally understood Spider-Man's hesitation and each had to bite their lips to keep from laughing.

"Oh, sure, it's funny for you guys!" Spider-Man quipped. "I tell you, I get no respect, no respect at all…"

XXXXXXXXXX

It was another hour later when Jason and Rogue arrived at the hotel in Manhattan where the disabled woman that "Angel" had saved last night was living while her insurance was dealing with the damage to her apartment. It was hardly a magnificent hotel, but Jason reasoned that it looked livable. Doubtless that the insurance could only afford so much, or rather the poor mother and daughter couldn't afford the difference. Jason pursed his lips at the thought; he hated bureaucrats.

"Not a bad place…I suppose," Rogue said.

"I was thinking the same thing," Jason said. "Price of paying for insurance that doesn't do that much to help you out, I suppose."

"You would know about that?" Rogue said.

Jason looked at Rogue. "Let's just say that my parents are still paying off the medical bills…for both of us. Turns out that even the Affordable Healthcare Act doesn't solve everything. It helped, but Oklahoma is not the best place to get affordable healthcare."

Rogue smirked. "You actually call it the Affordable Healthcare Act?"

"Well, I'm not about to call it—" Jason cut himself off. "You know what? It's not even important."

"You're right," Rogue said. "Wasn't that photojournalist supposed to be here by now?"

"He's probably running late," Jason reasoned. "After all, it took us an hour ourselves to get here. Gotta love the holidays…"

"Yeah, you said it."

"Well, let's hope he arrives soon," Jason said, looking at the X-Van, or rather the parking meter next to it. "I only paid for an hour and I'm sure the Professor wouldn't like a ding like a parking ticket."

"We don't even know what he looks like," Rogue looked at the crowd, each person in it going about his or her holiday business. "Could be that guy, or that guy or—"

"Was I supposed to meet you?" came a voice.

Rogue and Jason looked to see a rather slim looking teenager, armed with a backpack, a rather expensive looking DSLR camera and a pair of glasses that added to his nerdy persona. As a matter of fact, had Jason had this guy as a classmate, he would have pegged him as the extremely intelligent but nerdy one. "Could be him?" Jason looked at Rogue.

"Do you see anyone else that looks like a photojournalist?"

The teen seemed to smile. "Yeah, that sounds like me." He offered a hand. "Peter Parker of the Daily Bugle, at least for now."

Jason shook the hand, but he caught Peter's choice of words. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Let's just say that my boss will have my ass nailed to a wall if I don't deliver on this Angel story."

"Is he that bad?" Rogue crossed her arms.

"Let's just say he has the personality to match his mustache."

Jason and Rogue looked at each other uncomfortably. While they had no idea what Peter's boss even looked like, the sheer absurdity of the claim sounded truthful enough that it had to be scary. "Perhaps we should change the subject."

Peter looked uncomfortable. "Yeah, I would appreciate that."

Jason looked back at the hotel. "I suppose you already know what we're here for."

"S-sort of," Peter said. "I got an anonymous tip to start here, and to expect company. Are you press?"

Jason and Rogue looked at each other again. "Well, to a point…no, we aren't."

"Really?" Peter said. "Then why are you here even asking about this angel guy?"

Jason thought fast. "Well…it's more like we run a blog about all of the weird things that happen around New York. Paranormal stuff and all that…"

Peter looked strangely at them. "So…you're like, what, Ghostbusters-wannabes?"

Jason shrugged. "Who you gonna call?"

Peter looked at the van across the street. "Not exactly a Hearse, but I suppose it does the job…"

"We'll take what we can get…"

"So why this angel guy then?" Peter asked.

"Let's just say that I'm very interested into seeing if he's really an angel…," Jason said.

"You think he's not?" Peter said.

Jason looked firm. "I think it's a possibility."

"Wait a minute," Rogue cut in. "Why are you interviewing him? Shouldn't it be the mother we're supposed to interview?"

Peter and Jason looked at Rogue briefly, then Peter said. "Maybe you could help. However, you're not going to be able to talk to anyone just because you run a blog."

Jason looked at Rogue again before continuing. "It worked for us so far…"

"Yeah, but this angel-guy is big news right now. There is probably going to be a lot of people wanting to talk to her to get the scoop, so if you want to talk to her, you need to be press."

Jason looked at Peter. "Are you suggesting we join forces?"

"More like I'm doing you a favor," Peter said. "But yeah, I'm more of a photographer than a photojournalist. You want to ask the questions, be my guest. You let me tag along and I can get you your interviews."

Jason looked at Rogue. "What do you think about this, Rogue?"

Rogue crossed her arms. "It's not like we'll have anyone else to help us get answers…"

Jason looked back at Peter. "Looks like you got a partner, or rather partners."

Peter smiled, and looked at Rogue. "Good to hear, but I don't think I got your name."

Rogue narrowed her eyes. "That's because you didn't."

"Rogue," Jason said admonishingly, but turned to Peter. "It's nothing personal, Peter. I don't even know her real name. We call her Rogue, because that's what she wanted us to call her."

Peter looked at Rogue, who merely stared Peter down, daring him to ask too many questions. Peter got the hint. "Ok, then. And you?"

"I'm Jason; just don't wear it out."

"Well, with that all out of the way," Peter said. "Shall we go?"

"Lead the way," Jason say.

As Peter walked by, Jason mouthed "I can't believe that worked" to Rogue when he was sure Peter didn't see. Rogue had to smirk a bit; she wasn't sure if Jason was that smooth or just blundered into it. Either way, it was effective. She followed Jason into the hotel lobby as they followed Peter. Hopefully they could get answers soon.

XXXXXXXXXX

Four hours later…

"Well, that was a bust," Jason sighed as he sat down in the booth of a coffee shop, practically sulking in the seat.

Rogue sat down in the seat next to Jason. "Not a single clue on who this guy is."

Peter looked just as dejected. "You think you have it bad? I have to face my boss that is one mustache-hair away from jailing the Jews again."

Jason peered over at Peter. "I'm going to pretend that I understand what you're talking about."

Peter had to laugh, but Jason could detect a level of weary bitterness underneath the laugh.

Rogue put her head in her hands, her two-tone locks draping over her hands. "At this rate, the next thing we'll hear about this guy is in the news columns."

"And not mine either," Peter said.

Jason rose up a bit. "The woman at the hotel said that this 'angel' guy literally just flew in, dropped her off and left the same way: up."

"The businessman more or less said the same thing." Rogue sighed. "Maybe this guy really is an angel and we're wasting our time."

"Which would mean my neck is done for," Peter said, paling.

"If your job is that bad," Jason said. "Why stick to it?"

"Not many news outlets hire freelancer reporters, even more so on photographers, and that's what I am. I have to take what I can get."

"You can't be much older than me," Jason said. "Aren't you still a dependent?"

"I live with my aunt, sure, after my mom and dad passed away." Peter looked away as he continued. "But let's just say that it's hard enough to live in this city when you're already splitting the bills with someone."

"Ugh, good point," Jason said. Even back in Oklahoma, it was hard enough to make ends meet when everyone puts in their two bits. It got even harder when his father was now wheelchair bound, living off of a fixed income while Jason's mother and grandmother did their best to help. Heck, Grandma Denise moved in to help.

Peter straightened up. "Well, I have to see if I can scout out more leads before the day is over. Maybe if we're lucky, this 'angel' guy will show up again."

"Or unlucky for someone else considering he only shows up when some poor bastard is in trouble," Jason said, smiling grimly.

Peter looked away. "Well, nothing is ever perfect."

"You can say that again."

"Well, nothing is—"

"Never mind…" Jason said.

Peter chuckled a bit before leaving.

"So what do we do now?" Rogue said.

"Well, first, I can't think as cold and drained I am from today, so I think a hot drink is in order."

Several minutes later, Rogue and Jason had ordered and received their respective hot drinks, and sat down back at the booth. Jason had settled on hot chocolate, and was enjoying the contents quite thoroughly. "Ok, see? This wasn't all so bad with this to enjoy. I feel like my fingers were about to freeze off."

"You said it," Rogue said. "I can't stand this stupid cold weather."

"None of this in Mississippi?"

"Hell, no!"

Jason laughed. "Well, it's not usually in Oklahoma either."

"You miss it?"

Jason smiled a little sadly. "Sometimes. Not so much Oklahoma itself, but the people I left there."

"Your family?"

"Yeah."

"Well, you're lucky." Rogue took another sip from her coffee. "I didn't have much of a family."

"Just Irene?"

"Yeah. I'm surprised you remember her name."

"It happens to coincide with a name of a storm that I would prefer to keep giving the Voldemort-treatment, if you don't mind."

Rogue nodded. Hurricane Irene earlier this year was a particularly trying time for Jason given his chronic astraphobia. No one blamed him for lashing out as much as he did back then, once they learned how he became inflicted with it. Jason was still reluctant to talk about it, although the time did bring together a mutual loneliness between Jason and herself, and they were now fairly good friends because of it.

"Well, do you still plan to go see them?"

"Yeah, tomorrow, and hopefully this Angel-business clears up by then." Jason looked outside at the reddening sky. "Hmm, looks like it's going to get dark soon. Maybe we should head back."

"Why?" Rogue said. "We're out of the Institute, even if the day was a bust. We can still make something of it."

"How do you mean?"

"Well, I know there's a music store nearby…and you do still owe me a gift."

Jason laughed in realization. "Oh, so that's how this is gonna be, huh?"

"You got a better idea?"

Jason shook his head. "Nothing substantial." Jason sighed as his mind returned to this afternoon, listening to the testimonies of the people that had seen this angel. It brought up a conversation he had with Scott before he left for Hawaii to see his newly-found brother. "Hey, Rogue, I was thinking…"

Rogue perked up. "What's up?"

"It's about today, really. We heard all of these amazing stories of this angel helping these people, and then leaving just like that. It got me thinking, do you really think…that…"

Rogue straightened up. "Come on, you don't mean—" Rogue caught herself when she saw Jason's face, etched in a bewildered concern. "Wait, you do? You seriously—" Rogue caught herself again as she realized how callus her response sounded, especially as Jason looked away. Rogue kicked herself; it was not her place to question someone else's beliefs against her own. Jason had every right to explore the metaphysical realm as much as the next person, and she shouldn't condemn that. "Jason, I'm sorry, I didn't mean—"

Jason looked back at Rogue. "Oh, it's not that, Rogue. I can't say I believe in angels either, but today had me thinking."

"About what?" Rogue crossed her arms at the table. The best she could do was at least hear Jason out.

"Well, I've always heard of guardian angels and even when I was younger I thought they were real enough, but as I grew up, I outgrew the idea. Before Scott left for Hawaii to meet up with his brother, he once told me about how he once believed in a guardian angel watching out over Alex when he heard about the angel sightings. He too outgrew the idea, up until he heard that Alex was alive after all. After hearing that, and hearing those people today, I've been wondering if there is more to this after all…"

Rogue somehow had an inkling that Jason was warming up for something; Jason wasn't the kind of person that would talk about metaphysics casually. "Is that all you're thinking about?"

Jason shook his head. "Not really." Jason pursed his lips, something Rogue noticed that he did when he was about to say something uncomfortable. "Well, this whole year has been very hard on me for a lot of reasons, and there was definitely more than one time I should have been either banged up a lot more or even dead, but I'm still here and ok, sort of. I never put much stock in fate or destiny, but this whole year has me thinking that I might be here for a reason, and that I'm not allowed to die until then."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know, Rogue," Jason said, somewhat sadly. "It's been a hell of a year, and I have a feeling that I haven't seen the worst of it. I'm beginning to think that I was put here for a reason, but I don't know."

"Well, if you were," Rogue began slowly. "Then maybe you shouldn't worry about it. You'll find out soon enough and you'll be ready for it."

Jason shrugged. "I suppose you're right. No use fretting about it, anyway."

"Yeah, we don't need more mopey-you."

Jason laughed a bit. "The world doesn't need more mopey-me." Jason downed the last of his hot chocolate. "Well, let's hit up that music store before it closes. Best we can do right now."

"Ok," Rogue said, standing up. "Are you going to be ok?"

"Yeah," Jason said. "I will be anyway. Maybe if we can finally resolve this angel business, it will finally get out of my head."

"If he ever shows up," Rogue said. "He's been pretty active up until now."

"Well, the night is still young," Jason said. "Although no news might mean that there are no more crazy accidents happening in New York. It's too close for Christmas for a tragedy."

XXXXXXXXXX

Brooklyn Bridge

Spider-Man was perched on one of the tall piers of the bridge that connected Long Island to the Manhattan peninsula. The sun was already dying on the west, and Spider-Man shivered as the cold night winds began coming in from the ocean. "Why oh why did I not spring for the winter uniform?" he muttered to himself.

Spider-Man had come here after leaving Jason and Rogue alone back at the coffee house, under the guise of looking for leads. While that was half-true, Spider-Man's intentions were to keep an eye out for this angel directly. The Brooklyn Bridge was a good spot to monitor the city as he had a clear view of Manhattan without climbing to the top of the skyscrapers. He reasoned that this angel character was monitoring the city much like he was, considering how busy he had been this past week. He was getting here and there fairly quickly as well, which meant he had to have been stationed in the city itself, or else he really was an angel.

The traffic was milling back and forth below him, and his thoughts drifted momentarily. He had to meet up with Jason and Rogue soon again, and he hoped they didn't go far. He hated having to omit the fact that he was Spider-Man to someone he knew were people of unusual talents as he was, but he had very solid reasons to keep on the mask, as it were, even from those who would likely keep his secret as well as he could. Maybe one day he can open up to them, but something told him that even they had to stay under the radar because of how the public would react to so-called metahumans, especially considering how badly many were reacting to Spider-Man himself. That was probably the reason why there were living in that secluded mansion. He had seen how capable two of the residents were. It was a shame they had to live in fear instead of being themselves. So much for progression, Spider-Man thought bitterly to himself.

Something caught the corner of his eye and his head turned so fast that the muscles in his neck nearly protested. Sure enough, something was soaring right by through the gaps in the piers, quite high over traffic but beneath Spider-Man's planar position. Despite the gathering darkness of the night, Spider-Man would clearly see white wings flapping strongly, carrying the being forward. Either it was the world's biggest seagull, or Spider-Man's luck was reversing.

At that moment, Spider-Man heard a collection of squealing tires and crashing cars. Spinning around, he saw one car in particular smash through the railing, dangerously tipping over towards the frigid Hudson River below. "Oh, crap!" Spider-Man exclaimed as he automatically dove off the pier, firing a silky line to swing himself towards the teetering car. Crowds of confused onlookers were already coming out of their cars, perplexed at the mysterious cause of the accident, but their collective confusion turns into terror as each one saw the car began tipping over. Spider-Man swooped in from above and shoot one line towards the cars bumper and pulled just as he landed against the concrete. The car disappeared over the ledge, but Spider-Man held on, ignoring the horrified gasps behind him. The line went taught and Spider-Man felt himself pulled towards the ledge.

"Spider strength, don't fail me now!" Spider-Man commanded himself to hold on as he managed to stop himself just inches from the broken barrier. The car stopped, but it swung dangerously on its silky savior while Spider-Man's mind raced on how to safely extract the passengers.

Suddenly, a winged figure swooped in from his left and down towards the car. Despite the seriousness of the situation, Spider-Man couldn't help himself. "So the Almighty finally thinks I need help. About time!"

The angel dived like a falcon towards the swinging car, and he grabbed onto it, flapping his wings to slow its swinging. Once it stopped swinging, he knocked on the car window. The startled passengers were at first freshly alarmed at seeing a winged man just outside their window, but a flash of relief soon spread on their faces. Apparently, the angel's reputation preceded him. They quickly made violent motions towards their daughter in the backseat, and the angel understood that they wanted him to take her first. Quickly, the angel opened up the back door and reached in for the girl. The girl was at first scared stiff, but after an assurance from her parents and the angel, she took his hand and he quickly lifted her out and up. He soared quickly upwards, passing Spider-Man and set down nearby.

"Wait here," the angel said.

The girl nodded, rather awestruck.

The angel quickly lifted off and dived for the car, while Spider-Man quipped. "Take you time, no hurry here!"

The angel reached the car and made for the passenger's side. He opened the door, and pulled out the woman. He drifted over to the driver's side and got the man. He slowly lifted them both, thankful for his powerful wings, back up to the bridge to rejoin their frightened daughter. They rose over the broken railing and then slowly descended towards the girl, who looked quite relieved that her mom and dad were quite safe.

Spider-Man, seeing that the car was now safe to hoist up, pulled the car back up onto the pavement. "Whew, that's one less car in the Hudson. We have more than enough of them down there, let me tell you, angel guy…" Spider-Man turned to see that the awestruck-nearly-reverent crowd was gathering around the angel, looking rather uncomfortable at the attention he was getting. Spider-Man put his head into one hand. "Aw, come on! I helped! I don't get anything?"

Spider-Man's quips were drowned out by exclamations like "He's real?" and "He saved them!" Spider-Man was sure he even heard someone say "Praise God" at one point. "Just face it, Spider-Man," he said to himself. "You're not the cool one anymore, not that you ever were but who's judgi—"

Something went off in Spider-Man's head, an impulse that Spider-Man attributed to shit about to hit the fan. His eyes shot automatically towards the angel, just in time to see him stumble over a snapped cable that somehow got around his ankle. In the confusion, the little girl, anxious to talk to her heavenly rescuer, approached him and while he struggled, one of his strong wings pushed her away and through the gap in the barrier. Spider-Man sprang after her a fraction of a second before the girl's mother gasped when she saw her daughter disappear from sight. The girl screamed as she plummeted towards the frigid water, but Spider-Man blocked it out. He shot a line towards the pier and reached out for the girl. He managed to grab onto her, and he pulled on the line, swinging them away. Spider-Man suddenly realized that the line was too long to swing from safely, and he held on to the girl tightly as they both plunged into the freezing waters.

Spider-Man felt like he just took a punch from a pile driver straight to the chest and head as the subzero waters threatened to knock him out. He struggled to keep hold as the silk began to grow brittle from the temperature. He needed an out and he needed it now.

Suddenly, the angel reappeared, having freed himself of the wire, and saw Spider-Man holding onto the girl, who was near unconsciousness from the water. He quickly grabbed Spider-Man's arm, and hoisted him out of the water. The angel carried them back onto the bridge, and Spider-Man made a note to never complain about the cold air again as it now felt even worse now. Thank goodness his suit was watertight, but that might not completely dissuade hypothermia. The angel set them down on the bridge.

"Are you all right?" The angel guy asked.

"As long as I don't smell like wet dog, I'm fine." Spider-Man shivered. "I don't, do I?"

The angel smiled weakly, understanding that Spider-Man was ok. The girl, however, was another matter. She was out and clearly pre-hypothermic. The mother rushed forward, and Spider-Man quickly handed her to her nearly-hysterical mother.

"He did that to her!" came a voice from the crowd. "He knocked her into the river! I saw him!"

Spider-Man's gaze shot towards the source of the voice, but didn't see anyone specific. He did see that the crowd's attitude was shifting to reverent to abhorrent very quickly.

Another crowd member spoke up. "Yeah, I saw that too!"

Yet another said. "An angel wouldn't do that! He can't be an angel!"

"He must be some kind of freak!"

The angel's face paled; they honestly thought he did that on purpose?

Spider-Man interceded quickly. "Hey! No stoning the angels today! I can't remember Sunday School that well, but there just might be a proverb or something that 'sayeth to not stoneth the angel'."

The angel's face fell. "I-I didn't—"

"Hey, angel guy, let's listen to the great words of Gandalf the Grey and 'fly, we fools!'" Spider-Man said, seeing the crowd grow more hostile, and the growing sirens of the incoming paramedics.

The angel seemed to agree and soared upwards and away. Spider-Man twisted around, shot out a line and swung away. The crowd didn't seem to follow—not that they could—but Spider-Man doubled-back to the pier, and watched as the girl's family be intercepted by the paramedics who immediately got to work. Spider-Man read the hospital name on the side of the ambulance. He recognized the name and knew it was close by in Manhattan.

"Looks like the story isn't over yet. Time to head over there, and let's just hope they will let me borrow a towel."

XXXXXXXXXX

The sun had sank beneath the horizon and twilight had befallen New York City as Jason and Rogue were passing time in a music store. Rogue watched Jason bemusedly as he danced in place with headphones on his head, jamming out to a band she had just introduced him to. When Jason was completely oblivious to Rogue's choice of music and bands, Rogue decided to introduce the "country boy" to some metal, particularly from across the ocean as it were. Jason was apprehensive at first, being cultured almost purely in country and the occasional mainstream pop, but Rogue was determined to have him open his horizons, so she chose the song that brought her to the genre in the first place.

That was thirty minutes ago, and Jason was halfway through a fifth album of samples, and seemed oblivious to Rogue's amusement that Jason was quite enjoying it. Rogue decided to pick out a couple CDs for Jason to purchase one he finally grew tired of the music, although Rogue had a hunch that might be a while.

As she flipped through various CDs in the metal section, she managed to overhear the news on the overhead radio, which mentioned that yet another angel sighting was confirmed, this time over the Brooklyn Bridge. She immediately tuned her hearing into the radio's sound, and soon learned that the angel's rescue this time hit an unfortunate snag, although details are vague at the moment. Apparently, a girl had fallen into the river, but was saved by Spider-Man along with the angel, and that the girl was taken to a nearby hospital for examination.

As the news moved on to another topic of the day, Rogue abandoned the metal section and relocated Jason—still jamming out—and tapped him on the shoulder. Jason immediately stopped what he was doing, and actually turned red. "Uh, yes?" Jason said, his blush intensifying.

Rogue would have found Jason's embarrassment entertaining had it happened at any other time, but Rogue was all business right now. "Jason, we have to go. There was another sighting, real close by too."

Jason's flesh returned to its normal shade of peach as his mind switched back to the task at hand. "Where?"

"The Brooklyn Bridge, but I have a hunch that we need to go to the hospital."

That threw Jason. "What? Why?"

"Something went wrong, and a girl the angel tried to save ended up in the river."

Jason then paled. "Oh my god…"

"Yeah." Rogue quickly responded.

"We need to go" Jason said just as quickly.

"Yeah."

Jason and Rogue checked out of the music store and returned to the X-Van. It was a slow and somber drive to the nearest hospital, which was thankfully nearby, but when they arrived, they saw that the press was already there.

"How many of them actually care about the girl, I wonder," Jason spat bitterly as he pulled into a free spot.

"How are we even going to get in?" Rogue asked, noticing that the press was just barely within their legal limit of hanging in front of the entrance. "They're practically blocking the entrances."

"They're blocking the main entrance, but not the emergency entrance." Jason pointed out the vacant emergency entrance, although police were stationed to make sure a generous area was given to any incoming ambulances.

"But the cops are there," Rogue said. "They won't just let us in unless we have a real emergency."

"Still working on that," Jason said, as he got out of the X-Van. "But this is our best chance to find out more about this angel guy. If he goes to ground after this mess-up, we'll never find him."

"Right," Rogue said, claiming out herself.

Jason and Rogue were walking towards the emergency, trying to not attract the attention of the press or the police. They were just about to clear the press, when a photographer managed to look their direction, and apparently recognized him. "Hey! You two!"

Jason jumped slightly at being addressed, and was bewildered that any of the press would want to talk to him about anything, but when he located the one who called out to them, he relaxed. "Looks like Peter found us."

Rogue saw that sure enough their photographer friend from earlier, Peter Parker, had somehow tracked down the story here just as fast as they did if not faster. Peter broke from the press inconspicuously—not hard considering their attention was towards the door—and joined them. "You heard too, huh?"

"Who hasn't?" Jason quipped.

"Good point," Peter said. "But I doubt you'll be able to get in any easier than we are."

"We're going to try the ER," Rogue said. "But I don't know if the cops will let us through."

Peter eyed the imposing blue shirts blocking the curious from getting too curious, and began to look thoughtful. "I might have an idea, but I have to ask:" Peter began. "How good are you at acting?"

Jason looked at Peter, confused. "Uh, I'm okay at it, I think. Why?"

"Too bad."

WHAM! Peter shot a fist into Jason's gut. Jason flopped to the ground, gasping for air as it was knocked out of him.

"What the hell?!" Rogue said.

"I just gave us a medical emergency, but help me with him!" Peter made to pick up the still gasping Jason by his arm.

Rogue was so stunned by what she just witnessed that she wordlessly obeyed, and both Peter and she carried Jason towards the ER. The police noticed the three, and Peter quickly said. "Hey, can't we get through?My friend here has a bad gallbladder, I think, and we need him look at, like now!"

The policeman looked briefly at the still gasping Jason, and quickly said. "Need a stretcher?"

"No-no!" Peter said, almost too quickly. "We just got this! Just need to get through, or am I going to have to call Moses to part the Red Sea for us?"

The policeman peered at Peter indignantly for a bit, but was thankfully feeling merciful. He stepped aside. "Get better soon, sir…"

Jason still couldn't quite respond, but his gasping was slowing. Peter and Rogue carried him through the doors, and saw that the emergency was reasonably crowded enough so the three could come in rather unnoticed. They put Jason on an empty chair, and Jason glared up at Peter. "I should break your jaw for that…" he wheezed.

"It got us in, so good acting," Peter said, patting Jason, who continued to regard Peter a little venomously, on the shoulder.

"Well, now what?" Rogue asked.

"Now I'm going to see if I can get some info. Sit tight, you two," Peter said. "Should you experience any further unpleasantness, Mr. Downs, please let me know. I'd hate to miss it."

Jason could have incinerated the entire hospital with the look he gave Peter, and promptly flipped Peter off.

"Well, at least you still know where your fingers are. This is good!" Peter left the scowling Jason behind.

Rogue looked at Jason. "I can't believe that even worked."

Jason leaned back, still clutching his gut. "I knew I hated the press for some reason…"

XXXXXXXXXX

Meanwhile, the little girl from the bridge had been admitted into the hospital before the three investigators had arrived in the ER. The doctors had diagnosed her with shock, a mild concussion and hypothermia. She was only in the water for a few seconds, but the fall had done the damage more than the water did. It was easy enough to reverse hypothermia on its own, but the combined shock and concussion from the fall with the hypothermia made recovery questionable, despite her rescuers' best efforts.

Warren looked over the still form of the girl remorsefully. He had managed to track the family down after the debacle on the bridge, and had watched them through the window. She saw how distraught the mother was, while the equally distraught father held it together and comforted his wife. From watching the silent exchange, Warren guessed that the girl's situation was serious, but not lethal yet. He espied the projected vitals on the monitor and saw that they were steady, which he took as a good sign. He had waited for the family to leave before working the window open and sliding in. He had lost track of time as he stood sorrowfully over the girl's form in the hospital, but it didn't matter. This girl was his responsibility and he let her down.

Warren reached to touch the girl's head, breathing a silent prayer to whomever that she recovers fully. Blinking away tears, Warren spoke quietly, "I'm sorry, little one…I let you down. I can hope you find it in your heart to forgive me someday."

The girl didn't stir under his touch or to the sound of his voice, and Warren was a little grateful despite the gravity of her situation. He would have no idea what to say to her had she responded. It was perhaps better if he left now before a nurse came back to check on her. Turning around, he slid the window shut, and spotted a closet. Opening it, he found a doctor's coat long enough that could hide his wings once he folded them tightly behind his back.

A minute later, Warren made his way out of the room and found himself trying to figure out how to get out of the hospital as discreetly as possible. He didn't have his change of clothes with him this time, which exposed him if he didn't get out quickly. He didn't make eye contact with anyone while he made for the elevator; thankfully the nurses seemed that they had more important things to do than monitor for strange doctors. He waited patiently for the elevator, all the while trying to not draw attention to himself by acting conspicuously, but the longer he waited, the more he felt like he had a target painted on his back. Finally, the elevator doors opened, and he strode into the thankfully empty elevator cab and he turned around just as they closed.

The elevator reached the ground floor and Warren strode out, feeling quite ready to leave and head back to Worthington Towers and keep a low profile for who-knows-how long. It was good for a while to be doing good deeds, but after today, he realized how much things could go wrong in this business and he wasn't sure he could deal with the consequences. Perhaps it was time to hang up the cape, as it were.

He soon found himself in the emergency room lobby, and the place was quite crowded with various injured or ill patients waiting to be helped by the clearly overworked hospital staff. The people here didn't seem to notice a tall blonde doctor slowly making his way through the room and towards the door. As he walked by, he espied a rather lean tan-haired youth and a pale girl with silver locks of hair towards the front of her dark brown hair talking to the receptionist. He soon got close enough to hear them talking.

"Please," said the tan-haired youth. "We're just looking for answers into this angel story."

The receptionist look exasperated. "I can't tell you where the family went, because I don't have the authority and you don't have the business."

The girl put her hands on the desk. "Come on, we've been asking around all day and if they can help us track him down, it could help a lot of people."

"I'm sorry, but I can't. I'd lose my job if I did."

Warren tried not to pale as he made his way past them, but he quickened his pace. He was being tracked? By whom? What did they want?

He was so preoccupied about what he heard that he didn't see where he was going, and ran right into someone walking his way back from the restroom. "Watch where you're going!" the man barked.

"Sorry," Warren said quickly and quickly made his way around him.

The pale girl with the two-tone hair heard the ruckus and looked their way, and saw the "blonde doctor" stride away, and her eyes bulged as she saw something fall from underneath the coat: a long white feather.

"Jason!" she exclaimed. "It's him!"

Warren spun around, hearing the exclamation, and quickly noticed a third young man with a disfigured face get up suddenly, locking his eyes on him. Warren bolted down a nearby hallway, and overheard security at the door give chase as well. Warren dared to look behind him and saw that the scarred young man was hot on his heels. Whomever this guy was, he was well-trained in sprinting.

"Wait!" said the scarred young man. "We just want to talk!"

Warren had no idea if that was true or not, but he didn't dare stop. Even though this young man seemed willing to sit and talk, the security guards behind him were likely not. He espied a cart of towels along the hall's wall and acted at once; as he ran past, he yanked it around behind him, nearly toppling the cart in the process.

As he sprinted, he threw off the doctor's robe he borrowed and saw his opportunity ahead. Looking back, he saw that the scarred youth seemed to have easily evaded the trap—how skilled was this guy, he thought—and was still on him. Warren pulled on the cowl for his white-and-gold suit and reached the window. He pulled the window open, and quickly dived out. His wings spread out and he flew into the night, leaving his pursuers behind.

Thinking himself safe for the moment, he looked over his options. He had just come this close to being exposed for the "fraud" he was twice already, and his original thought that this "angel" business had finally went too far. It was time to fly back home and never mention this again. He already had an inkling that his parents had already heard of this exploits and were going to give him a good reaming once they came back from their business trip to London. He didn't see any good way of avoiding it either.

At the same time, for as long as it lasted, doing good however secretly was very fulfilling. Most of the time, he stayed alone in his private rooms, the only place he can unfold his wings without no one to judge him. For a long time, he had questioned why he had these wings. He could fly, something man has dreamed about for millennia, and he was alone and ashamed of them. Using them to save people seemed to give him purpose, but now that the mystique of his acts of heroism were evaporating, he began to feel that his time in the real world was over, and that he must now recede back to solitude. He would never be more than a freak in the eyes of the world, despite the near-reverence he had received.

His eyes espied lights emitting through the windows of a nearby cathedral, capturing his attention. He smiled with a sense of irony; he spent so much time soul-searching this past week, and the sheer irony of the idea that an angel be drawn to a church to soul-search was nearly laughable. Well, he supposed even messengers of God need a pep talk once in a while. Turning towards the church, he lowered from the sky towards the upper roof. Hopefully, there was a hatch he could get in without being seen.

XXXXXXXXXX

Jason had managed to evade the toppled towel cart, in addition to the discarded lab coat, as he had chased his target down the hall. He skidded to a halt just as the "angel" shot through the window and away. He watched him go, studying his direction. Despite the brightness of the "angel's" uniform, he was quickly gone into the darkness of the winter night. Slapping the wall in frustration, he turned down an adjacent hallway to rendezvous with Rogue and Peter, ignoring the security guards that weren't so limber to avoid the cart.

After a few or several turns, he managed his way back into the ER main lobby and found Rogue and Peter in conversation. As soon as he approached them, they looked at him. "Where did he go?" Rogue asked.

Jason was still breathing a little hard. "He's gone."

"Bummer," Peter said. "He left us a souvenir though." He held up the feather.

Jason looked at the long feather. It wasn't one of the prime flight feathers towards the wingtip—too short—but it was a still a good seven inches long. "Certainly doesn't look like he got it from the local pigeons."

"I was hoping to take this to some lab to see if they could tell me about it," Peter said.

"Us too, actually," Rogue said.

Jason nodded. "Shame he only left—" Jason stopped as he felt a strange trickle at the back of his head. It was painless, but Jason was familiar with it: it was the Professor seeking to speak with him on a telepathic level.

Peter noticed the strange expression on Jason's face. "Hey, what's eating you minus a parasite?"

Jason ignored the glib jab. "Just remembered that I need to take my meds. I'll be right back."

Rogue had noted Jason's face, and guessed what was up, and played along. "Right, you do that."

Jason smiled. "Thanks for the encouragement," Jason said dryly as he walked away.

He quickly located a bathroom and entered. It was thankfully vacant, and Jason stooped in front of a sink. He looked up into the mirror and with a sense of amusement, he saw Professor Xavier's face looking out at him. Jason smiled a bit; he once voiced his opinion that he didn't care for having people voice thoughts in his head—jokingly saying he had enough of his own to deal with—and the Professor remedied this sometimes with more theatrical telepathy where Jason would "see" the Professor either in the room, or in a reflection. Jason knew that the Professor was doing it to make Jason more comfortable speaking to him through telepathy by giving Jason the illusion that he wasn't.

The reflection of Charles Xavier spoke to Jason. "I hope you don't mind me dropping in, but I have some news."

"Good to know," Jason said aloud. The bathroom was still empty and hopefully will stay that way.

"With Cerebro indisposed at the moment, I've had to resort to more conventional means of mine to search for this angel. I cannot conform it, but I know that our angel may be a mutant after all."

"I had a hunch," Jason said. "I would think angels would try a little harder to stay hidden."

"Indeed. Furthermore, I finally have an identity: Warren Worthington the Third. He's the heir to Worthington Industries."

"You're kidding," Jason said, his eyes widening.

"I wish I was. He may not just be a mutant; he may be a mutant in the public eye."

Jason hissed a swear word mentally, knowing full well that the Professor could hear it, but the Professor shared his sentiments. "And I just lost him."

"Perhaps not," the Professor's image said. "While Hank was working on Cerebro, he ran a test scan on the local area, and it picked up mutant activity in the form of electromagnetism, but the source itself was masked."

Jason's mind immediately worked out the hint. Cerebro was typically telepathically powered through Professor Xavier, but it could detect mutants without his help. Few things in the world hindered its effectiveness. Throw in the aforementioned spike in electromagnetivity at the Bridge, Jason had quite enough to deduce to whom Professor Xavier was referring. "Magneto."

"I fear so. It seems the destruction of Asteroid M has not slowed him down."

Jason gritted his teeth. "And this angel is in his sights? That's the last thing we need."

"Yes. You must not only locate him quickly, but discourage any outside interest in Warren. Do you have a lead where he might have flown?"

"Not really," Jason said. "He was flying northwards I think."

"I will try to find him, but without a proper signature via Cerebro, it may prove difficult. In the meantime, you and Rogue make your way north and away further instructions."

"Understood."

The reflection of Charles Xavier melted away, leaving Jason's scarred face looking back at him. Jason merely looked at it for a brief second before turning away. He quickly relocated Rogue and Peter. Peter looked at him. "All drugged up now?"

One of Jason's thick eyebrows rose, and he quipped, "We're in a hospital. Who the fuck isn't?"

"Good point."

Jason looked at Rogue. "What we know is that the angel guy flew northwards. Anything northwards that might be of interest?"

Peter looked thoughtful, and Jason dared not to breathe as he hoped Worthington Industries wasn't one of them. Finally, Peter spoke up. "Only thing I know of close by is St Patrick's Old Cathedral and a lot of business towers. Doesn't mean much."

"Well, we can't wait around here anymore," Jason said. "Rogue and I will try to see if we can catch another glimpse of him."

Peter looked skeptical. "At this time of night? You're better off finding a needle in a haystack."

Jason made a glance at Rogue. "The thing about needles is that all we need is a little glimpse of the needle to find it." Jason made a wink at Rogue, out of view of Peter's eyes.

Rogue saw the gesture and understood. "Whatever. Let's just go already. I've had enough of this place."

Peter made a strange look, but shrugged. "Fine, it's your funeral. If you see him, let me know, ok? It's my neck on the line, you know."

Jason nodded. "Sure. Now get out of here already…"

Peter scoffed. "Fine, I know when I'm not wanted."

"Because I just told you."

Peter left the two as they began to leave. He left the building himself and worked his way into a dark alleyway and removed his backpack. Quickly opening it, he fished out his mask. "At least I can at least swing from building to building, but they get a nice warm van to drive in. What's a guy to do?"

XXXXXXXXXX

St. Patricks Old Cathedral

Warren found himself in the balcony just above the narthex of the cathedral, overlooking the aisle towards the sanctuary near the far transept wall. He stood looking over the serene and somber atmosphere of the church as his mind was in turmoil about what happened at the bridge. He hoped that he could find some absolution here for what happened. Isn't that what people sought here? Absolution for their mistakes? Despite the holy atmosphere, he felt as welcome here as a gargoyle.

Despite it being Christmas Eve very soon, there was no mass tonight so he was alone in the church. He was granted solitude it seems, but no absolution. Warren looked sadly across the aisles from above; he tried to do the best he could with what he was given, so why did it all go wrong?

Warren suddenly sensed that he wasn't alone; turning around, he espied a floating figure in the shadows. Despite the darkness, Warren espied that the dim light of the cathedral showed that this figure was wearing a reddish helmet, and his form was enveloped by a billowing violet cape. Warren braced himself, although he didn't know why. "Who are you?"

"Someone like you," the form answered.

The sheer ambiguity of the answer didn't sit well with Warren, and he felt himself ready to run at a moment's notice. "What do you mean?"

"I am someone who used to wonder whom he was, someone who questioned his very existence to the point of asking myself 'why am I here?'" The figure drifted forward with some unseen force, and Warren felt a strange sensation shift as he did, and it caused the hairs on his neck to stand up. The figure continued. "I am someone who once thought whether he was cursed or blessed."

Warren's masked brow fell over his eyes. "Mind getting to the point?"

"Surely these same questions have echoed through your mind when your wings, white as a dove's, came to be yours."

Warren unconsciously looked at his wings. "What about them?"

"Don't you realize what marvelous gifts you have?" The figure touched down onto the ground. "You can fly; for eons, humankind has dreamed to do the same, and yet you are ashamed of it when you shouldn't be. You are among the blessed of the world, part of humanity's redemption, but you are alone, hiding in fear and shame when it should not be this way."

Warren had to give this stranger that point; ever since he tried to save anyone he could that crossed his path that needed his help, he felt that it could in some small way prove his point to the world, but after tonight... "I'm learning to deal with it," Warren said, although he didn't sound as sure as he liked.

Warren felt that this stranger had caught on his shaky resolve, and he was right. "Do you think that even after helping a few people out of many that you could gain their affection and trust? You saw how fast they turned on you for a simple mistake today; humankind is fickle so their affection is by no means lasting despite your efforts."

"No, but—" Warren started to automatically say, but caught himself as the words digested in his mind. "Wait a minute, how do you know about—"

"I've been watching you for some time, Warren," the stranger said. "I am Magneto, and I've been watching the plights of young mutants who hide among humankind just seeking to be normal, but why seek to be normal when evolution has chosen you to be extraordinary?"

"A mutant?" Warren said. "I'm a mutant?" He repeated to himself. He had heard of mutants from other parts of the globe, and their plight was particularly jarring; to be one here in a supposedly more tolerant country was unsettling.

"Indeed," Magneto said. "Your wings are a gift to you, but you have been misguided on how to use them because you seek favor from the wrong people. Your intentions are good, but all that is lacking is where you put them. There are many others like us out there, and I have gathered a few of them. I would like for you to meet them."

Despite the show of sympathy, something was just not right about this Magneto guy, Warren thought to himself. He knew too much, and how was he even able to track him down? "Listen, it sounds like a great sell," Warren said. "But if you really know who I am, you know that I just can't leave anywhere without someone noticing. Sorry, but I can't. Thanks though."

Warren turned to walk away, but didn't get far when his he heard the sound of metal bending. Turning around, he saw a metal bar rushing towards him, bending in the middle towards him. Ducking, the bar stuck into the wall over his head. "What are you doing?!"

Magneto, his hand risen towards Warren, seemed even darker than he was in the shadows. "You could have made this easy, but it seems that lately, a stubborn streak has been also appearing among the younger ones."

Warren didn't know what that was supposed to mean, but he didn't want to stick around to find out. He dived off the balcony, his cloud-white wings shooting open, and flew towards the transept. He quickly realized his mistake as there was no way out from over there, and he turned around, just in time to see Magneto reach for a floating candelabra high above the aisle, and snap it off with an unseen force. It shot towards Warren like a bullet, and its chain wrapped around his core and wings like a python. Despite his wings were now bound to his side, he found himself not falling, but somehow afloat off the ground. Looking at Magneto, he saw that his hands were still stretched towards him like a conductor of an orchestra.

"Regrettably," Magneto began. "You chose the harder path, but at least you aren't so much of a bother as the last one."

Warren looked at Magneto strangely; that was the second time he inferred that others turned him down and that he wasn't so welcoming of rejection. "What are you talking about?"

"It is of no consequence," Magneto said. "Once you see our true plight, I trust you will be more receptive of our role in the world." He turned around and Warren felt himself pulled along.

Several things happened at once: someone hollered "Heads up!", a red-and-blue blur plowed into Magneto, sending him flying through a stained glass window, and Warren felt himself fall only to be caught up in a new form of binding: a silky substance like a spider's web. Before he could even think about these things, the red-and-blue figure was back, only far less blurry. "Whew," he said. "Didn't think I'd ever see a day I'd net an angel, but that's New York for you."

Warren recognized him, both from earlier today and from the news articles. "You're Spider-Man," Warren said.

"Mask and webs give it away?" Spider-Man said.

Before Warren could respond, the doors leading to the nave of the cathedral burst open, permitting two figures dressed in gold and black uniforms into the aisle. One was a tall young man with a disfigured right side of his face, while the other was a shorter young lady with white locks dominating an otherwise brown weave of hair. The taller spoke first. "Well, can't say I see this every day."

"What happened?" The woman spoke up.

Before Warren had a chance to speak, Spider-Man spoke up. "Oh, just some buckethead thought he could steal a messenger from God. You know, just another Tuesday in New York."

Warren looked at Spider-Man. "Isn't it Friday?"

"Is it?" Spider-Man said. "TGIF."

"Did you say 'buckethead'?" The man said, looking slightly pale. "Fuck…"

"Great," the young lady said. "Magneto is back in business."

The man reached for the chain around Warren's core, and Warren watched with fascination and awe as the chain seemed cocooned in a green energy, changing into a long metal rod. Warren climbed to his feet and stretched his wings out. "Who are you all?"

"You fools!"

Before Alchemist and Rogue could say anything, Magneto stormed back into the cathedral, bellowing at them like a storm cloud. "I suppose it is too much to ask to see if you have learned anything, Alchemist…"

Alchemist scowled rather bitterly at Magneto. "I am a slow learner, what can I say?"

Magneto gathered his powers around him, raising up metal bars, candelabras and anything else he could grab around him. "Do not meddle in the affairs of those above you!" Magneto sent a pulpit flying towards the group.

Scattering like roaches, the X-Men, Spider-Man and Warren took cover as Magneto launched a magnetic assault. Alchemist dared not to look around for Magneto from behind his pillar, but at least this time, he wasn't alone.

Magneto espied Warren, who flew towards a window. Lifting up another broken chain from a different hanging candelabra, he launched it at Warren. Spider-Man saw it immediately and snagged it up with a webline, diverting its course into the wall, allowing Warren to escape. Spider-Man landed on the balcony ledge. "I hope that earns me some points with the man upstairs."

Magneto was about to launch something else at Spider-Man for interfering, but Alchemist interrupted him by transmuting a stone spike from underneath. Magneto was quick enough to levitate to the side, and quickly surrounded Alchemist with a magnetic field. Alchemist himself felt the side of his face about to explode, and quickly transmuted an opposing field, thankful that he didn't have to clap his hands anymore. After shaking off the charge, he forced his own towards Magneto.

Magneto and Alchemist shoved their respective magnetic fields towards each other, Alchemist's teeth gritted like a mad dog's. "I sort of have you to thank, Magneto," Alchemist said, his voice warbling in the magnetic field. "Your little genetic enhancer crashed down into the room you left me behind in, and a little trinket from it gave me a little boost. Not that I needed it to beat you, mind you…"

Magneto scowled. "You will never learn, young Alchemist."

"Oh, I think I have…" Alchemist said. "I've learned that I'm never alone when fighting you."

Magneto was about to ask why Alchemist would point something so cliché, when out of nowhere, a voice shouted at him. "Hey, buddy! I think you dropped this!" Magneto looked up just in time to see the chandelier he had thrown at Warren come right back at him. It smashed into him before he could react, sending him crashing into a pillar and to the ground, stunned.

Rogue didn't hesitate; she ducked out of hiding, pulled off one glove and snaked her bare hand onto the only exposed part on Magneto: his face. Rogue barely touched him before Magneto realized what was going on, and quickly snatched her hands away, cutting her hang against his helmet and kicking her away. Rogue sprawled into a pew while Magneto stood up shakily. Despite the brief contact, Rogue had done enough. Magneto's eyes focused just enough to see an incensed Rogue, recovering and Magneto could feel her magnetic field growing exponentially.

Magneto knew that this was a losing battle, and quickly levitated himself away.

"Hey!" Alchemist cried out, transmuting a stone staff and heaved it at Magneto.

Magneto saw it coming, and magnetically blocked it with some metal plates snatched from the altar. "Do not meddle in my affairs again, X-Men," he said menacingly, and then drifted out of view through the broken window.

"I'm not done with you, buckethead!" Rogue said, and levitated herself off the ground and flew after him.

"Wait!" Alchemist cried out.

"Don't worry!" Spider-Man swung in. "I'm on them like your scar is on your face!"

Before Alchemist could retort, Spider-Man swung out the window after Rogue and Magneto. Alchemist was now alone in the torn-apart cathedral. Alchemist rose his hands and slapped them against his thighs angrily. "Well, that's just fucking perfect. Leave me to clean up the mess! Thanks a lot, assholes!"

None of his teammates or allies heard his ranting. Rogue was right on Magneto's heels in the snowy night, and Magneto knew it. He quickly located several air conditioner units on top of the buildings and reached out with magnetic fields. With explosions of sparks, each air conditioner unit lifted off and flew behind Magneto.

Rogue was gaining on Magneto when she espied the flying air conditioner units. "That won't work on me, buckethead!" She summoned her own magnetic fields, which caught the rogue units and sent them flying away.

Spider-Man was swinging after Rogue and Magneto a little further behind, when his spider-sense picked up something afoot. He looked up just in time to see a flying air conditioner unit barrel towards him. "Yikes!" he yelped and adjusted his swinging, just in time to miss. "Hey! Stop throwing stuff!" He called out.

Magneto looked behind to see that Rogue had easily evaded his projectiles. He had underestimated the adaptive powers Rogue possessed. He would have to do something else. He looked ahead and found a towering skyscraper ahead of him. He shot forward with a fresh burst of speed towards it. Rogue recomposed herself after seeing him shoot forward like that and flew after him as fast as she could. Magneto disappeared behind the building and Rogue followed him around…only to find him not there.

Shocked, Rogue landed on a steel gargoyle and looked around. There was no view of Magneto anywhere. Spider-Man swung in and landed beside her. "Hey, where'd he go?"

"That's what I want to know." Rogue looked around. "He can't have gotten far…" Rogue lifted off and drifted around the building. "I can't see him; did he get—"

Magneto suddenly loomed over her from out of nowhere and exerted a massive magnetic pulse at Rogue. Rogue had copied Magneto's abilities, including the ability to levitate with magnetic fields, and Magneto knew it. Rogue found herself blown head over heels, flying out of control towards another skyscraper.

Spider-Man, having swung in, saw Rogue blown away. "Hey! Did anyone tell you not to hit a girl?"

Magneto was in the process of ripping off a metal gargoyle with magnetism when Spider-Man approached, and as Spider-Man swung in, he tore it right off and smacked Spider-Man hard. Magneto had no words for the web-slinger and simply took the detached gargoyle and flung it towards Rogue.

Rogue had just gotten her bearings, stopping herself just before she hit the building's neon lighting. She glared towards Magneto, and saw the gargoyle coming as fast as a jet plane. She barely ducked in time, and the gargoyle soared over her, smashing into the neon. An explosion of glass and cement showered down all around Rogue, and one large piece of debris hit Rogue on the back side of her head, stunning her enough to cause her to fall like a stone.

Rogue plummeted towards the ground, and nothing could stop a messy demise…had Warren not been there. Warren had doubled-back after escaping the cathedral, and had followed Rogue and Spider-Man. When Rogue started to fall, Warren dove towards her like a falcon and swept her up from a nasty fall. Warren rose further into the sky, carrying Rogue carefully and slowly; the wind was very cold and the last thing he wanted was a frostbitten victim after a rescue. One was enough for the day.

As Warren carried Rogue back towards the cathedral, a recovered Spider-Man had tried to pursue Magneto, but Magneto had gotten away. Doubling back, he found Warren carrying Rogue towards the cathedral. "Wow," Spider-Man said. "He just might be an angel after all…"

XXXXXXXXXX

Back at the hospital, Jason, Rogue and Warren were sitting in the waiting room, discussing the events of the day. Warren had reunited with Jason back in the cathedral, just after he got done with cleaning up the cathedral with alchemy, and had taken Rogue to the emergency room, but Rogue had thankfully regained consciousness on the way. Still, Jason had insisted on going back to the emergency room to rule out a concussion. Warren had accompanied them because Jason had asked him to come along so they could talk about a few things. Warren was unsure, but Jason insisted they'd hear him out so they could talk things over.

"So, you know that Magneto guy?" Warren said, having shed his costume and holstered his wings under a trench-coat.

"You could say that," Jason said a little distastefully. "It's more accurate to say that he and we have crossed paths more than once."

"Nothing good it seems."

"Not at all."

"Jason has more reasons to not like Magneto more than I do," Rogue said, nursing her headache with an icepack. "But Magneto is bad news, that's for sure."

Warren folded his hands in front of him. "He wanted to recruit me for some big thing he was doing…"

"Same song, second verse," Jason said. "For most of this year, he'd been trying to recruit me for some global campaign for mutant superiority. Tooting the same rhetoric: humanity needs to go, we need to conserve the mutant race, blah blah. He also doesn't take rejection well."

"Tell me about it," Warren said. "He tried to trap me and take me with him."

"Verse three," Jason said. "He did that to me, and I was still in a hospital myself."

Warren's eyes grew. "He did?"

"Yeah," Jason said, and started to look a little uncomfortable. "Please don't ask me too much about the details; it's not a pleasant experience to say the least. Let's just say that I'm very grateful the X-Men were there. It would have been very bad for me, or in the very least worse."

Warren had tried not to stare at Jason's garish scar that dominated the right side of Jason's face, and had the inkling that scar had played a small role in Jason's own experience with Magneto. "So who are the X-Men?"

"That's us," Jason said, motioning to Rogue. "We're something of a peacekeeping force headed by Professor Xavier. With Magneto trying to cause trouble, the Professor thought that something of a counterforce to protect humanity from Magneto was a good idea, and the past months have shown that was a good idea."

Warren wasn't sure he wanted to know the details about that, and thought it was better to take Jason's word for it. Something came to mind; he was wondering how they were able to find him. "That reminds me. How were you able to track me down both times?"

"Well," Jason said, looking at Rogue. "We had been looking into you almost all day. I'm sure you've heard about all the stories you've started, and we were looking to see how legitimate they were, more in the metaphysics surrounding it."

Warren had to smile. "Yeah, I can see that, so what did you think?"

"We thought you were a mutant just like us," Rogue said, readjusting the icepack.

"Yeah. Considering that we're a team of mutants, it wasn't that much of a stretch of the imagination. The Professor was concerned that your actions, however well-intended, could expose mutantkind to the world."

Warren looked a little stung. "Well, there's the Fantastic Four and Spider-Man out there…"

"Which is a fair point," Jason said. "But they're mutates, people who had experienced a transformation from some outside source to become whom they are, as opposed to mutants who were born to be the way they are; mutates are merely tolerated because they're small in number. Even then, have you read the Daily Bugle? Spider-Man is like Harry Potter in The Deathly Hallows: Undesirable Number One."

"Yeah, you're right," Warren said. "So how did you become an X-Man or whatever?"

"Well, skipping the unpleasant parts, the Professor found me in the hospital almost right after my mutant abilities developed and asked me, once I was out of the hospital of course and fully recovered, to join the Xavier Institute of Gifted Children to hone my abilities and be a part of something bigger, to use my gifts to eventually help humanity once they are ready."

Warren narrowed his eyes. "That sounds a lot like Magneto's spiel, and no offense, but it seems like everyone is suddenly out for me to join their little club or something."

Jason nodded graciously. "I can relate to that, but rest assured, believe it or not, we aren't anything like Magneto. Our goal isn't supremacy, but harmony and equality."

Rogue backed Jason up. "Yeah, it's not like that. In the end, we just want to fit into the rest of the world while doing good things with our abilities."

"However, we've learned from observance that we have to be reserved and careful with our abilities, because of mutant relations in other places in the world, the world is not ready to realize that there aren't just a few of us, but an entire multitude of us, so the Professor wants us to keep it under the radar until the time is right."

Warren recalled the bridge incident earlier that day, particularly how the public went from reverence to revulsion at the drop of a hat. "Huh, you're probably right about that."

"Rest assured, you did a pretty good job staying out of sight, but now people are asking too many questions, and that's not good for the rest of us. It sucks, but in the very least, the Professor has sent us to request that you lay low for now. He also extends an invitation for you to join us at the Institute, but unlike Magneto, we will understand if you say "no." This also isn't a one-time invitation. If you want to come later, we are more than welcoming to that. However, we do formally ask you to strongly reconsider your activities for now."

"Well, in the very least, I think my hero days are over after what happened on the bridge." Warren looked away, and saw that the family of the little girl he dropped into the river that Spider-Man saved for him was still there.

"Everyone has a bad day," Jason said. "I've had colossally bad days that I can't even talk about because they were that bad for me, but with a little training, I'm sure you'd be a grade-A X-Men if you decided to be."

"Well, thanks for the vote of confidence anyway," Warren said, despite the fact he still looked despondent.

A doctor entered the waiting room, and approached the mother and father of the girl from the bridge. The parents looked very anxious, and Warren watched the exchange like a hawk. The doctor said something unintelligible to Warren, but apparently it was good news because the parents looked much happier. The doctor led them away, and Warren quickly got up to follow them.

Jason and Rogue watched him go, and Rogue turned to Jason. "Do you think he will come with us?"

Jason shook his head. "I don't think so. He's discouraged from today. Once he shakes it off, maybe, but now? No."

Rogue looked after Warren. "I think you're right. What do you think we'll tell the Professor?"

"The truth," Jason said. "We delivered the message, and we did the job. The thing we fell short on was bringing Warren with us. We just tell him that."

While Jason and Rogue waited in the lobby, Warren had followed the girl's parents to her room, and found them inside. He waited just outside the door and listened in. The girl had just regained consciousness and seemed well on the road to recovery.

Her voice was still weak, but only tired. "I saw him, Mommy. He came to see me."

"Who did, honey?" the mother said.

"The angel at the bridge. He came to see if I was ok."

Warren had to will himself to not cry right there and then. Despite failing her, the girl still believed he tried his best. So in a sense, he did not fail her. He watched as the parents gathered around her and he decided to leave. As he did, he thought about what Jason and Rogue had said to him, and a little voice inside him suggested that he was indeed cut out for the hero business, however secretive he would have to be. In the very least, he would need more time to consider everything that's happened.

Eventually, he did rejoin Jason and Rogue in the lobby. "I…think I need to think about this. I'm the kind of person that just can't disappear from the public eye without some kind of scandal. I'm too high class to just vanish into the night, you understand."

Jason was informed by Professor Xavier that Warren was in fact among the top-class of New York society, and that they were always in the public eye. A disappearance of anyone with such a profile would be scandalous in the very least. "You're probably right about that."

"I need to figure this out, and there's a lot of red tape in that for me. In the very least, tell the Professor that I will think hard about this, but also tell him that I will retire for the time being. No more heroics. I'll leave them to Spider-Man."

Jason stood up. "Don't worry about it, Warren. If I can speak for the Professor, our door will be open should you decide to come." Jason offered a hand.

Warren took it. "In the very least, thanks for taking the time to help me and giving me an eye into the big picture. If you don't mind, is there any chance I can have a means to contact you all?"

Jason reached into his wallet. "Here's a number for the Institute. If you need us, just call."

Warren took the card. "Thanks, Jason. I'd better get back to Worthington Tower. It's luck that I haven't been recognized by anyone here yet, and I need to leave before that changes. I'll be in touch."

"Thank you, Warren."

Warren promptly left. Jason turned to Rogue. "How are you feeling?"

"Just a small headache."

"Well," Jason looked around. "It doesn't look like they're going to get to us anytime soon, so maybe we should sign a release if you're all right. We need to get home before it gets too icy outside, plus there's something I still need to do before tomorrow."

"Yeah," Rogue sat up. "Let's get it over with and get home already. I'm over today."

"Me too, Rogue." Jason sighed. "Me too. Don't know where Peter Parker went, but I'm kind of glad he didn't rejoin us. Made having to be vague and secretive not an issue."

"He was kind of a pain to have around."

"You're right," Jason said. "But I can't help but wonder if I know him from somewhere. He just reminds me of someone."

XXXXXXXXXX

Spider-Man was swinging his way home after dropping off his photos he had captured of Angel from the bridge—in his Peter Parker persona—and felt fulfilled. It seemed today that he met some possible allies in his fight for stability in New York once things were better with mutants, and that they were dependable after from what he had seen with their tussle with Magneto. As it stood right now, he was still alone in the battle for New York's people. The Fantastic Four were too involved in government work, and Iron Man was too uptown and usually too involved in his own projects to be dependable, and there was no one else…except possibly the X-Men.

That was something he would have to pursue later, because it was now nighttime and he needed to get home. He was your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, but he was also a seventeen-year-old boy who had to get home before curfew. When he arrived at his house in Queens, he landed as quietly as possible on the roof, crawled towards the window to his bedroom, quietly slid it open, slithered in and quickly and quietly exchanged his suit for more pedestrian clothing. Now presentable, he climbed down the stairs to see his aunt in the kitchen making Christmas treats. "Hey, Aunt May, I'm back!"

Aunt May turned around. "Peter! I didn't hear you come in!"

Peter looked sheepish. "It was a little late, so I didn't know if you were sleeping or not, so I kept quiet coming in."

"Well, how was your day?"

"Busy as usual, but it was quite an…angelic day in the end. So, what's for supper?"

XXXXXXXXXX

Xavier Institute for Gifted Children – December 24th, 2011 – 8:02 PM

Piotr looked despondently out the window. It was Christmas Eve, and it looked like he was going to be stuck at the Institute for Christmas. It had been two years since he had been with his family, and while he was a little more positive over the fact that his family was safe from Magneto due to a sense of security Jason have given him, he was still sad that he was still cut off from his family. Jason had said he would try to talk to the Professor, but Piotr wasn't sure how successful he was.

Piotr looked at a sketchpad that had an exquisite charcoal sketch of the farmhouse his family had been in for generations. That farmland in central Siberia was where he discovered his power to steel up and become the best thing to happen to the group of farmers around him. It was also where he was approached by Magneto to save his family—his sister specifically—from sorrow in exchange for his services, which would herald almost two years of sorrow.

Despite being rescued by the X-Men earlier this year, and finding kinship in Jason, his roommate and best friend, Piotr still had a part in his heart that needed the relationship a family only could provide. In the very least, he just wanted to be able to know that they were ok. It hurt not knowing, and he didn't know how he could last another year without knowing.

The door opened, and Jason strode into the room, carrying a small wrapped parcel. "Hey, there you are!" Jason said, rather happily.

Jason somehow snapped Piotr out of his melancholy. "Hello…" he said slowly. "Are you not going to your family?"

"Yeah, soon, but I have something to do first. You and I are going on a little trip, and I need you to get dressed."

That stunned Piotr. "What?"

"You heard me, now get your coat on! It's going to be fucking cold where we're going."

Piotr stood up and looked for his heavy coat in his closet. "Where are we going?"

"You'll know when we get there. You'll need your Russian hat thing as well. What is that called again? The one with the ear flaps tied up?"

Piotr pulled out his large greatcoat and started putting it on. "My ushanka?"

"That's the one!" Jason said, pulling on a pair of thick overalls to cover his legs. "You'll have to hold on for me. I'm from the South so I have a harder time with the cold than most."

Piotr was thoroughly confused at Jason's behavior, but went along with it. Jason had gotten his boots back on and was slipping on his thick winter coat just as Piotr put on his ushanka. "I am ready, but where are we going?"

"You'll find out, so just hold onto your ushanka." Jason pulled on a beanie cap, his choice for ear warmth in cold weather. "Now, I think that's everything. Oh wait…" Jason espied the parcel he put down on the bed so he could get changed, and scooped it up. "There, that's it."

"Now are you telling me what is going on?" Piotr said, growing impatient.

"It's better if I show you, Peter, but let's just say that this is my Christmas present to you." Jason reached into his coat and pulled out the Amulet of Agamotto.

Piotr's eyes grew. "I thought you are not supposed to be using that if you are not going to be meeting Dr. Strange."

"After talking to the Professor, we thought this was the best way to go where we're going." Jason offered a hand. "Trust me, you're going to flip when you see where we're going."

Piotr sighed. "All right." He took Jason's hand.

Jason smiled impishly as he held up the Amulet of Agamotto. "Peto locus!"

Piotr felt a jumping sensation, saw a flash of blue and a loud whooshing sound. The next thing he felt was a blast of cold air, silence of the very early and he could see the sunrise in the east. Piotr was thoroughly confused. "Where are we?"

Jason shivered, despite his precautions in his choices for winter wear. "You don't know?"

Piotr looked around at the snowy predawn-lit land, and he saw the houses and fields all in a winter slumber. His eyes slowly grew. "This is…this is…" He couldn't continue.

Jason walked up and pointed towards a nearby house. "That was your house, right?"

Piotr still couldn't believe it. "It is…" He saw that there was some dim lighting in the house. "Why did you bring me here?"

"Because you're overdue for some family time," Jason said, smiling.

"But—" Piotr's mind was beginning to work, despite his mouth rushing ahead. Jason had teleported him to his old farmhouse in the Ust-Ordynski Collective in Siberia, and had suggested something about family time. That would imply that his family was here, but the Professor had stated he had the family moved to an undisclosed location to prevent capture by Magneto. "But the Professor said—"

"He did," Jason said. "But that's what he wanted you to think, because he guessed that Magneto would foresee that the Professor would find a way to move the family to prevent retaliation on Magneto's part. If you were ever captured, you wouldn't have any idea where your family was so if Magneto tortured you, you couldn't divulge their location. It wasn't that that the Professor didn't trust you; he was willing to do whatever it took to make sure you were protected. The Professor also guessed that Magneto would assume the Professor wouldn't divulge the new location to you, so Magneto might be less tempted to capture you." Jason sighed. "Sadly, he underestimated the kind of grudge Magneto could carry, as shown when Mystique got you captured just a couple weeks ago.

"However, the Professor was able to guess that Magneto would never think to look back here to find your family. Best place to hide something is to hide it in the most obvious place. Remember in class we read The Purloined Letter by Poe? It's the same deal: the most obvious place is the most unexpected place. So, they were here all along. There's still a risk of Magneto finding them, but after the events of Asteroid M, I think Magneto will think better than to keep looking for ways to get his revenge on you, because I'll be there waiting for him, and he now knows that. He messes with you, he messes with all of us."

Piotr looked back at Jason, and looked ready to cry. "I…I…"

Jason raised a hand. "You might want to reconsider crying. You'll get frostbite in your eyes."

Piotr choked a laugh, still unable to believe that this was all being given to him. "I am not knowing what to say…"

"You don't have to say anything, but there's more…" Jason handed Piotr the parcel. "It's a set of communicators. They used an encrypted algorithm to keep conversations private. One is for you, the other is for your family. So whenever you need to talk to them even after you come back to the Institute, you can. I know it's not the same, but it's something."

Piotr couldn't bear it anymore. He simply strode towards Jason and hugged him tightly. Tearfully, he managed to choke out. "Spasibo bol'shoye, drug moi. Spasibo bol'shoye!"

Now Jason had a hard time not crying. "Hey, you're welcome, man. You needed this."

Piotr held on for as long as he dared, and then reluctantly let go. "No one has ever done this much for me."

Jason had to swallow to make sure his own tears didn't flow. "It was my pleasure, Peter. Truth be told, I wouldn't do this for just anyone. You're my best friend, and you mean the world to me." Jason looked at the farmhouse and noticed that some lights were on more radiantly than before. "You'd better get going. I'll pick you up after sunrise here tomorrow. You have all of today to be with them as it should be on Christmas."

Piotr was about to turn to leave, but turned back. "Do you want to meet them?"

Jason shook his head. "This is your time, Peter. I'll just be in the way. Besides, I need to get to my own family. You need to spend time with them. Maybe some other time I can meet them. If they raised a son like you, they have to be amazing, but for now, this is for you and you alone."

Piotr nodded. "I understand. Thank you so much, comrade…"

"It will always be my pleasure, Peter." Jason took a step back, although Piotr could tell he didn't want to. "Well, I got to go. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Proshchay, moy drug," Piotr said.

Jason nodded, and he held up the Amulet. "Peto locus."

Piotr watch Jason disappear in a flash of blue smoke. Now alone, he looked at his old farmhouse. He strode towards him, growing apprehensive. It had been two long years, and he wondered how much has changed. He reached the door, and slowly raised his hand to know. He knocked weakly, hoping he didn't wake them. He heard people stir inside the house, and the familiar voice of his father wondering who was at the door at this hour. The door opened, and he saw his mother look at him, a greeting evaporating instantly from her lips. Piotr tried not to cry as he said, "Zdravstvuy, mama."

The woman grabbed Piotr in a hug. "Moy Piotr!" she bawled.

Piotr even started crying. "I am home…" he said.

His father came to the door, and despite his rough exterior, he looked like he was going to break as well. "My son!" He said in Russian. "Welcome home!"

"We thought we lost you!" His mother chided him, also in Russian. "Why did you not try to contact us?"

"I did not know where you were," Piotr said tearfully. "I am sorry, papa."

"No matter," his father said. "My boy is back and that is all that matters.

"How is Illyana?" Piotr asked tentatively.

"After she returned to us, she is better than ever. Whatever she was given, it has helped her. She is walking a lot more now, but misses her brother."

Piotr was relieved. Magneto at least kept his word on that.

"She will be so happy; she is still sleeping." His father turned to his mother. "Mama, let Piotr in before he freezes."

His mother finally let go, although reluctantly. "How did you get here?"

Before stepping in, Piotr looked at the place Jason had dropped him off. "An angel brought me here."

XXXXXXXXXX

Logan was in a small seedy bar, playing a solo game of pool as the time ticked down for Christmas Eve. He didn't celebrate Christmas, and he hadn't for years. In fact, Christmas had been something of a melancholy time of year for him since he far outlived his own family, and that around this time of the year, back during the War, he had often had a little tradition to play a game with war comrades, particularly one Steve Rogers.

Steve Rogers used to be a scrawny kid, but after being chosen as a prime candidate in the Super Soldier program called Operation Rebirth during World War II, he became a living legend: Captain America. They became mutual friends in the war, especially since they were both as tough as angry wolverines, and fought just as ferociously. They had many campaigns together as the Invaders, and was even there when Rogers lost his best friend, Bucky Barnes.

Rogers was lost to them after one last campaign that he insisted on doing himself, but Logan tagged along anyway. They both managed to stop a rogue Nazi group led by a Baron Zemo, but not before Zemo launched a missile. Rogers piloted a craft fast enough to catch up with the missile, and that was the last Logan saw of him. According to reports, Rogers had successfully disarmed the missile but fell into the freezing waters of the Arctic. They never found his body.

Every year about this time, Logan would play pool in a bar of choice as a tradition because he and Rogers used to play it, and they were both equally good at it, as either one lost as many games as they won. Logan wiped the table once again, and took a drink of beer. Each year was just like the last, and just like the old soldier he was, he honored his fallen comrades his way. Silently, he raised a toast to the fallen.

XXXXXXXXXX

Downs' residence – Red Rock, Oklahoma – 7:23 PM

Jason reappeared on the sidewalk in front of his family's house, feeling a plethora of emotions after dropping off his best friend back with his family in Siberia. He knew that Piotr needed this, but a part of him was afraid that Piotr wouldn't ever want to leave now that he knew his family was there. That was a risk he knew that he needed to talk, plus it was selfish of him to not act based on that risk. Piotr needed this to get full closure, and perhaps, with a little luck, Piotr would come back to the Institute and be fully committed. Jason didn't want to think about what would happen if Piotr decided to remain in Russia after all of this, but he knew that if Piotr decided to stay, he would respect that wish, because that's what friends do: support each other.

Deep down though, Jason desperately hoped to whomever was listening that Piotr would return. Back in Asteroid M, he realized that Piotr was more than just a friend to him. The revelation was jarring enough, but Jason knew that his feelings were real, and that was all he knew. He felt like revealing his feelings for Piotr to him earlier, but he felt that it wasn't the time with what Piotr was looking forward to. For now, Jason would just have to temper his feelings until later. He still wasn't sure how to tell Piotr anyway.

He would figure that out later, for right now, he needed to stop standing outside his own house like an idiot and join his family for Christmas. He walked towards the door and rang the doorbell. In less than a minute, his Grandma Denise answered the door. "Jason, you know better than to ask for permission to enter your own house!"

Jason smiled. "Sue me, I'm good-mannered."

"And that you should be! Now come on in!"

Jason entered the house and was nearly ambushed by his five-year-old sister, Beth. "Big brother, you're back!"

His adoptive mother and father saw that their son had arrived. "It's so good to see you again, son!" his father said. "Grades going well?"

"As well as they should be; it's not easy juggling normal life with you-know-what."

"Come on and have dinner with us!" his mother said. "We were waiting for you! I thought you were coming a little earlier."

"Sorry; I got tied up, but I'm here now, and I hope that's tuna casserole I smell!"

Everyone started to sit down around the table to take part in a scrumptious Christmas Eve dinner. Jason was happy to be among family, and he was happy that he was able to change someone else's life tonight. "I know I'm not the religious type, and I know I'm going to sound so dorky saying this, but…God bless us, everyone. Merry Christmas."

XXXXXXXXXX

Back at the Institute, the Professor and Mr. McCoy shared a toast of hot chocolate next to the fireplace. It was another eventful year, and despite mistakes and failures, they wouldn't change a thing of it.

"Merry Christmas, Hank," the Professor said.

"Merry Christmas, Charles," Hank wished back.

"And to another good year, whatever challenges may come."

"And may the year to come bear its share of blessings as well."

"Indeed."

The season of Christmas is the promise of new beginnings, despite whatever may befall. For all of the X-Men here and abroad, a new year was coming and new beginnings promised new blessings and challenges. Whatever may befall, the X-Men would be ready, and this the Professor knew. For now, it was a time to count one's blessings, and spread peace on earth and goodwill to all men, human and mutant alike.

XXXXXXXXXX

I can't even begin to apologize for this delay. This last year has been incredibly hard on me, particularly after the election. I've lost family due to political affiliations and my job has been tumultuous. That being said, I'm also back in school as well as making time for my original novel. It's been a very busy and crazy year, but I hope to keep pushing through. I also lost my computer to a virus and had to stick to my iPad which I couldn't take with me most places as I found out.

Thankfully, I have a new computer now as a part of school and I hope to keep pushing on. As this chapter is about Christmas, it's a promise that despite what befell me this year, I'm still here and I'm keeping on pushing. Speaking of, here's what is coming next:

Tabitha is getting on everyone's nerves with her devil-may-care nature, and it's compromising the function of the team. After a mess of a performance, she even is now plagued by family ties she hoped that would remain severed. After she is convinced by her father to help, the X-Men must now act fast to prevent Tabitha from sinking into big trouble. See more in Chapter 3: Boom-Boom!