Disclaimer: Don't own.
Storm floated over the empty streets of New York City. Her hands were to her temples and eyes closed tight in concentration as she tried to call out to Jean. She knew that it was possible for a non-telepath to send a psychic message, the professor had taught each X-Man how to do just that in case of emergencies. Willing herself to recall the nights events clearly, she gathered her thoughts and released them in a stream of mental energy.
The alley, the aftermath, the monster that Wolverine had become. How, when he had threatened her, Nightcrawler had teleported in front of her in a final act of chivalry. Blocking the attack and bamfing himself and Wolverine away to who knows where.
Landing on a rooftop in order to devote more of her focus to communication, Storm tried to send her information again.
Across the city Jean Grey caught the echo of a familiar thought. The message came in fragments, but it was easily recognizable as a call from Storm. Through their connection Jean saw brief flashes of memories, jumbled into a blur of semi-distinguishable pictures. Over all the images was Storm's voice, screaming... something. The only bits of speech that got through were "Wolverine... not to be trusted... gone mad... he's become a... must be stopped-"
The message suddenly became more garbled, the visions Jean has seen turning to one huge, multicolor blur. Concluding that Storm had lost her concentration for a moment, Jean held the line waiting for her to resume transmitting. Soon the images returned, hazier than before and melding together as if Storm was moving quickly. Then a bright flash lighted the mental scene. Lightning. Storm was fighting.
Taking initiative and strengthening the mental link herself, Jean got a perfect view of the action. It was as if she was the one doing battle, not just watching through her friend's eyes. From the picture she was receiving, she could tell Storm was hovering a few feet above the tarpapered rooftop, crackling with electricity and searching for her enemy in the shadows. Jean watched in horror as a sharp "snikt" sounded behind Storm. The picture spun as she whipped around to face the threat, then the connection was severed.
AN: Agh, short and lacking in graphic violence. I'm slipping...