Note: major character deaths, plural. You've been warned.
20: Ashes, Ashes, We All Fall Down
Rachel was no longer asking herself how the telepathic cloak could be so seamless, or who could have managed a psionic construct this strong and this perfect. Why and how no longer mattered; she just wanted it down. Anything could be happening down there on the surface of the moon, anything at all. Scott could be dead. They could all be dead.
And we're floating up here, blind! Rachel drew more deeply on the Phoenix, let the fire flood through her until the empty space around her glowed with dancing patterns of light. Energy particles of a thousand different types flowed around her and through her, and she screamed in mingled pain and rage as she turned her attention back to the cloak. Fiery talons reached out, tearing at it in a frenzy. But it regenerated instantly, so fast she couldn't even catch a glimpse of what was happening below.
It only drove her more wild with fury, and she intensified her efforts. #FALL! Damn you, FALL!#
#Rachel! Stop it!# Nathan's voice was like a splash of cold water in the face as he approached at speed. He had been trying to map out the boundaries of the cloak, Rachel remembered, but it felt like they'd had that telepathic conversation hours ago. How long had it been? Minutes? She pushed herself back away from the edge of the cloak, breathing hard.
#Anything?# she asked, forcing herself to focus on the here and now. One moment at a time. But she felt like she was burning inside and out, like she was about to fly apart. It was happening, she was slipping. But she had to fight it, she told herself wildly. Her family was depending on her. What was left of her family. The urge to burst into hysterical laughter was almost irresistible.
#No.# Nathan's presence reached out to steady her, afire with - worry. Frantic worry, and not just for the team incommunicado on the surface. For her, too. The strange thing was that there wasn't even a hint of weariness in his presence, despite the fact that he'd just circumnavigated the moon. #It surrounds the moon completely. No breaks, no weaknesses that I can see. Rachel... I think you need to go back to Earth.#
#I can't,# she sent back unsteadily. She was beginning to think that she quite literally could not, that she wouldn't be able to hold it together for long enough to hit atmosphere. Energy danced around her, calling her back to the stars. Whispering at her to let go, to give herself over. She could still do what she had to do if she would just accept that there was no coming back from it. #Nathan, I can't... I can't concentrate...#
Before he could respond, the telepathic cloak cracked wide open. They both heard Betsy call out to them, her scream so full of rage and despair that it should have shattered the silence of space. She managed to send them only one word.
#RUN!# But there were images beneath the surface of the projected scream, images of dark-armored figures that Rachel recognized immediately - it had been chaos that day on Chandilar, pure bloody chaos, but she would never forget the face of Lilandra's assassin - and then, images that were even worse. Ororo, lying motionless on the ground, eyes open and lifeless. A burned corpse barely recognizable as Sam, and more of the assassins moving to stand over Carol Danvers.
Over Alex.
The next scream was hers, as she tore herself out of Nathan's grip and dove towards the Blue Area. Another betrayal, more loved ones murdered. No more! Rachel shrieked again, her thoughts incandescent with fury. No more of her family. She would burn them down to ashes, Shi'ar and assassins alike, and then she would go to Chandilar and put an end to all of this.
As she dove, the firebird around her changed, swelling into immensity. Red bled into rose-gold flames and talons grew longer and more vicious. She surrendered herself to the Phoenix and it surrendered to her. All the power she would need to do what had to be done coursed through her, like liquid fire through her veins. All the Shi'ar would have to do was look up and see their doom coming for them.
No more restraint. No more resisting the inevitable. Just death, the death they so deserved for everything they'd taken away from her.
Somewhere far behind her, she heard Nathan cry out her name. In the same instant, she saw, sensed what the telepathic cloak had hidden. Power like the ocean, blue and endless and so deep that she couldn't see the end of it. She felt the Phoenix recoil in shock within her, but it was too late.
It reached up for her, the mind behind that shining ocean of light, and knocked her out of the sky.
"What's going on, Araki?" Kubark asked, sounding curiously dispassionate.
It was very unlike him, Araki thought worriedly, although at least he wasn't resisting the Raptors leading the two of them back to the ship. Had the Earthers done something to him? She would have to have the medics ensure he was well, once they were safely back aboard ship and no longer exposed to stray energy blasts.
Xavier had promised this would be far cleaner than it was. Even at this distance, she could still smell burned flesh, still feel the echo in the air of plasma and repulsor blasts. The atmosphere of this place was odd that way. In any case, it did not bode well for his confrontation with the Phoenix hosts. She looked back over her shoulder despite her resolve not to. High above the moon's surface, she could see a light too bright to be a star - too bright, and getting brighter.
"Nothing that need concern you, my prince," she said as firmly as she could. "The Praetor will see to the Phoenix hosts. All is going according to plan. The Earthers fell right into our ambush."
"Oh." Kubark moved steadily towards the ship, a strangely pensive frown on his features. It made him look like his father, Araki thought, unnerved. Was this some attempt to put on a show of maturity? She could hardly disapprove of that. "I guess that makes sense. What about Cyclops? Is he dead?"
Araki glanced back one more time, and promptly wished that she hadn't. "No," she said distractedly. "The Praetor thought it best to keep him alive until we no longer needed him as bait. He's safely restrained on the detention level," she thought to reassure him, knowing he would hear stories of the warbird's crash from the crew. "There's no need to worry-"
The sky caught fire from horizon to horizon, burning a baleful crimson. Araki shuddered in horror. "We must get to cover, my prince!" she said more urgently, and turned to one of the Raptors, to command it to pick her up so that they might fly more quickly back to the safety of the ship together.
But the words died on her lips as Kubark spun, his fist smashing through one Raptor's faceplate and shattering the skull beneath. The Raptor dropped, thrashing in its death throes, and its comrade had no time to react as Kubark turned on it in a blur, a flurry of blows hammering it to the ground. The snap of its neck was audible.
"My prince!" Araki cried out, completely bewildered as Kubark went airborne and shot back towards the ship at near-ballistic speed. Swearing under her breath, she picked up her robes and ran after him as quickly as she could, leaving the Raptors where they had fallen.
Alex had been unable to move, his limbs numb and lifeless and his powers completely inaccessible as two of the dark-armored figures had dragged him out from cover and thrown him to the ground where Betsy could watch him die. He'd seen the look on her face, the exact moment when she'd finally snapped. Certainly, he and everyone else in the vicinity had heard her telepathic scream as she'd told Nathan and Rachel to run.
He would have done the same thing in her place. Exactly the same thing.
Charles, or whatever he had become, flicked the hand that held the glowing blue gem at Betsy. Her head snapped backwards and she crumpled without a sound. Alex heard a desperate, enraged snarl from Hank's direction. Betsy was still breathing, he could see it, but God only knew what Charles had just done to her mind.
The sky caught fire, burning an angry, ominous crimson from horizon to horizon, as if a great fiery dome had just descended over the Blue Area. The numbness started to ease, and Alex was able to lift his head and look up. What he saw didn't surprise him. Nathan and Rachel were doing the exact opposite of what Betsy had told them to do. Of course.
"I'm sorry," he heard Charles murmur as he raised the glowing gem.
And he felt it, almost saw it, like a giant hand shimmering on the edge of visibility. It reached up into the sky and knocked Rachel's firebird out of the air as if it was swatting a fly.
"NO!" Alex shouted in anguish as she spun out of control, plummeting to the lunar surface and hitting hard enough to send dust and debris flying in all directions.
The hand reached skyward again, and Nathan came crashing down a moment later, just as hard. Charles turned away from all of them and started to walk quickly towards the two fallen Phoenix hosts, one of the dark-armored figures falling in behind him and carrying something that Alex's mind refused to process for a moment.
Korvus's sword. Oh God, what does he think he's going to do with that? Nothing good, obviously, Alex thought, and gritted his teeth. The numbness was receding even further. He felt like he could almost lift his hand, and if he could do that, maybe he could do something else.
His brother might very well be dead already. His brother's children were at the mercy of the most powerful telepath in the world, who had apparently lost his fucking mind, and if there was one thing he was not going to do, Alex thought savagely, it was lie here and let this happen.
The plasma blast formed almost of its own accord. At close range, even his would-be killer's armor didn't help him. Fighting back a flash of nausea at the near-overwhelming stink of burning flesh, Alex struggled back to his feet. He still felt numb and clumsy, but the force that had kept him pinned to the ground was gone. Without a moment's hesitation, he turned to blast Charles, but the soldiers Charles had left behind weren't hampered by recovering from a telepathic assault. They were quick to intervene, quicker to fire back, and Alex swore as he was forced to dive for cover again.
The others seem to have been freed, too. So he had help, but even so, they were still outnumbered. Three of the dark figures went airborne and cut Stark off even as he tried to blast after Charles. Carol took an energy blast in the face, enough to stagger her if not to knock her down, and Hank and Natasha had somehow managed to wind up cornered in the last two minutes.
Alex fired blast after blast grimly, snarling under his breath as the dark figures dodged with unnatural speed. He managed to take down one coming up on Hank from behind, but his focus on defending his teammate cost him a precious instant to react to another coming at him from above. Alex managed to dodge the blast, but the shockwave of it was enough to knock him flying into a pile of rubble. Darkness crept in at the edges of his vision as he hit, hard.
Instinct, rather than conscious thought, had him rolling away an instant before another blast struck the rubble where he'd been sprawled. Alex fired back blind, from a prone position, and heard an atonal scream.
"Havok-" It was Stark's voice, rasping in his earpiece. "I tried... I'm down again, I can't move-"
Another scream, female this time. Natasha, Alex thought, not Carol. Goddamn it, Summers, get up already! Hauling himself back to his feet, he ignored the way the world seemed to spin around him and tried to reorient himself, to find Charles. Take out the telepath. Don't think about why this was happening, just fucking stop it before they lost anyone else...
Something slammed into him from his left, bearing him to the ground. A physical tackle, not an energy blast, and Alex realized in dazed horror that it was Hank. A massive blue-furred fist slammed into the ground where his head would have been if he hadn't jerked it sideways at the last minute.
"Alex... I c-can't stop," Hank choked out, and hit him - successfully, this time. Alex's head snapped backwards, hitting the ground hard, and although he raised his hands to try and block the third blow, it didn't do much to help. Hand to hand, he was no match for Hank, and he couldn't bring himself to blast his friend. Not when he knew what had to be happening here.
A gloved hand came down suddenly on Hank's shoulder, hauling him backwards, and Carol punched him squarely in the jaw, knocking him out. As Hank fell, she immediately reached down to pull Alex back to his feet, but then raised both hands to her head, a cry of agony escaping her as she went to her knees.
#Stay out of this,# Charles's voice said crisply. #All of you.#
FUCK YOU! Alex snarled back at him, scrabbling back to his feet as Carol crumpled the rest of the way to the ground. He was the only one of his team left standing, he saw instantly. There was nothing more from Charles. As if he assumed Alex was safely corralled - or maybe, because he needed his concentration for his real targets.
And there were eight - no, nine of the dark figures standing between him and Charles.
Between him and the only two members of his family he knew for sure were still alive.
Nine weren't going to be enough, Alex thought, snarling under his breath again as he picked his first target. The blast was powerful enough to turn the lunar surface in its path into glass.
If he had to do that to the entire Blue Area, he would.
It had gotten harder the last day or so to focus, to stay alert for another opportunity to escape, or at least to remove himself as potential bait. Part of Scott was bothered that his thoughts kept heading in that direction, but it was just so hard to hold out any hope. Whatever was inside Charles, it had all his power and none of his humanity. It had torn through his mind over and over, hunting down every memory, every thought about Hope. He could still feel the residue of its presence, cold and oily and burning like acid. Whatever it was, it wasn't Charles. He knew what the Professor's mind felt like, knew it as well as he'd known Jean's. There hadn't been anything of Charles in it.
Or maybe that was just wishful thinking. Maybe he wanted to believe that, because the idea of Charles choosing to do this, to murder his own people, was too much to process. Scott forced himself to open his eyes, and stared blindly into the darkness. "Know your enemy," he mumbled. Charles had given him a copy of Sun Tzu once, a long time ago. Too bad he couldn't remember anything useful from it at the moment.
He was dehydrated, he thought. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had any water. That was the problem. One of his many problems, at the moment. Get on your feet, Summers, Scott told himself. He thought better on his feet. But then, his thoughts cleared enough that the reality of the restraints holding his wrists pinned to the wall above his head reasserted itself. A dry rattle of a laugh escaped him. Oh, right. He'd jumped that guard. Forgot about that.
He needed to stop drifting and think, Scott told himself more fiercely. Figure out what he hadn't tried yet, and do that. If opportunities worth seizing didn't present themselves, you made them. It was that simple. It had to be. They needed him. I won't fail them. Not this time. Strange how it wasn't about saving the mutant race anymore, how everything had narrowed to Nathan and Rachel and Hope. Maybe that made him selfish?
There was noise in the hallway outside, and Scott flinched, tensing, the haze in his thoughts receding at a little at the sudden surge of adrenaline. He could hear what sounded like angry voices, and then the wall he was leaning against vibrated, as if something had struck it. Something was obviously going on out there. Concentrate, he told himself doggedly. Keep your eyes open, and be ready to move.
In the next moment, the door opened. Scott's eyes watered and blurred at the brightness of the light, but he was able to make out a figure that... no, not Gladiator, he told himself. But the resemblance was obvious. Kubark, he thought, confused, as he matched the face to the image Rachel had shown him weeks ago. But why would the Shi'ar prince be here?
The young Strontian gazed down at him for a long moment, his expression hard to define. There was anger there, but also confusion and unease. "I'm worried about my father," Kubark said after a moment. Scott couldn't help but notice the lack of any guards standing behind Kubark. "So I get it. I think... I would have done this anyway. Or I would have wanted to, at least."
Scott couldn't help the flinch as Kubark moved towards him, but it wasn't an attack. The Shi'ar prince tore the restraints right off the walls, freeing Scott as casually as someone else might have torn a piece of paper. ... the hell? Scott thought dazedly, but Kubark was grimacing down at him as he tossed the broken restraints aside, and Scott forced himself to focus.
"He said to tell you he needs you to be his ace in the hole. You look like I could beat you to death with my little finger, so I don't know what good he thinks you'll be."
Nathan. It had to be. The bewilderment passed, all at once, and Scott gritted his teeth, using the wall to haul himself upwards. He took a deep breath, willing his knees to hold him.
"What's happened?" His voice came out gravelly, but stronger than he would have thought. Maybe it was the adrenaline. Or hope. Free, he was free, and whatever was happening, at least he wouldn't be sitting here helpless...
"It's a trap," Kubark said. "The Praetor's going to kill them. I think some of the X-Men who came with me are dead already."
He stepped back out of the doorway, and Scott followed, even as he shuddered at Kubark's words. Dead already. The guard who'd been standing by his door was sprawled on the floor, either unconscious or dead, and Scott leaned down to pick up his weapon.
"Get somewhere safe," he told Kubark, more curtly. "Do you hear me? Thank you for doing this, but you have to stay out of this now. Charles... the Praetor is dangerous."
"I just want to go home." Somehow, the enormously powerful young alien suddenly managed to look and sound like a lost child, and it was enough to pierce even the rapidly building horror and anger Scott was barely managing to keep in check. "I didn't want to come in the first place," Kubark went on, blinking rapidly. "It's... I remember. He made me. The Praetor." He looked at Scott almost imploringly. "Are you going to kill him? I think... I think he's doing something to my father, too."
"Yes," Scott said, swallowing past a throat that felt like sandpaper as he checked the gun in his hand to ensure it had a full charge. "Yes, I'm going to kill him."
The Mind Gem was blazing in his hand, its blue light fiercer than he'd ever seen it. He was drawing on a great deal of its power, the Praetor realized, more than he ever had before. Even the strongest telepath would have been unable to hold two Phoenix hosts unaided. Even now, he could feel them struggling against his grip, the raptor's scream echoing over and over again on the astral plane.
But the Mind Gem's power was beyond even the Phoenix force, or at least the reflection of the Phoenix embodied in the two felled mutants. Had the firebird itself been here... well, the Praetor reflected grimly as he headed towards the first of the two craters, that would have been interesting.
As it was, he was uncertain how this would end. He was drawing on such a colossal amount of power that it burned as it flowed through him, searing the very structure of his mind. Even the most powerful telepath on Earth was not capable of holding this much pure power for very long. There would be a great deal of damage, even if he was successful. Possibly too much to allow him to continue his work and seek out Hope.
Stop this. Please. The voice at the back of his mind was a bare whisper, weak and pained. Pitiful, the Praetor thought distantly. You can still stop this. Let them go.
#Be quiet,# he told it. #What is, is. Even if I were inclined to release them, they would kill us all if I did.# The variables had narrowed, he could feel it in the Datasong. Only one way forward now. It was a pity; finishing this himself would have been far more efficient.
But if this was the end of him, there was another who would finish his work. The Praetor's lip curled in disgust as he heard what sounded like a sob of despair from that distant, fading fragment.
#Did you really think you could avoid that? Is that why you surrendered to the Datasong so willingly? Thinking that if you served us, we would release your son in the end? You were a fool, Xavier. We do not make deals. We do not show compassion unless it serves a greater strategic purpose. We do what needs to be done, as we always have.#
All of the illusions were gone now, burned away in the light of the Phoenix. The remaining shell was crumbling into ash, and the Praetor finally saw what he was and what he wasn't. He was not Charles Xavier. He was Xavier's shadow, the new being that the Fraternity had incubated inside the human telepath's mind, to help accomplish the Great Purpose and protect the Imperium.
The clarity was pleasing. He would accomplish his purpose here, and if he left the work unfinished, the entity that had been David Haller would finish the job.
Reaching the edge of the first crater, the Praetor stopped, gazing down at the red-haired young woman lying sprawled on the ground. Light still surrounded her, flaring erratically, and her limbs thrashed feebly, as if part of her thought the grip that held her pinned to the ground was physical. Her mind was in shock, he realized as he touched it cautiously. In shock, and... disintegrating. Rapidly. His telepathic attack would not have accomplished that on its own, but it must have helped along a process already well-advanced. The straw that broke the camel's back.
#It's a mercy,# he told what was left of Charles Xavier. #Observe her for yourself. She's already dying.# He climbed down to where Rachel lay, the Gem flaring even more brightly as he layered his defenses carefully. Even a dying Phoenix could be dangerous.
Her whole body spasmed as he approached, the flares of light growing even more erratic. Her skin was incandescent, the white-hot of molten steel. Strange, the Praetor reflected neutrally, that the Phoenix was consuming her when she was the one who had hosted it for so long.
"P-Professor..." Her voice was weak, barely audible, and the green eyes that met his were unfocused, full of pain he could see even through their pulsing glow. There was no coherence in her thoughts, no awareness of her danger. Her mind reached out to him, feeble but imploring. "It hurts..."
"I know," the Praetor murmured. "Close your eyes, child. I will end the pain, I promise." And she believed him, he sensed it. He took a chance and crouched beside her, laying a hand against the side of her face. The heat coming off her skin was almost painful, but he focused on projecting an image directly into her mind: Scott kneeling beside her, grief and love twisting his features.
Compassion for a strategic purpose. Far easier if she laid there quietly as he killed her.
Rachel gave a shuddering sigh and closed her eyes, glowing, burning tears leaking down her cheeks. #I'm sorry.# The telepathic whisper was anguished. #I tried, Dad...#
#I know,# he sent back to her, watching as her defenses wavered and fell. More than enough of an opening. On the astral plane, the Phoenix was screaming in rage and denial and anguish, such soul-shattering anguish that the Praetor was taken aback.
But there wasn't enough left of Rachel Summers to react. Light exploded in the other crater, but the Praetor drew on more of the Gem's power, and his grip on Cable held. For now.
He had to hurry. He rose, reaching out a hand, and the Raptor beside him placed the sword's hilt in it. The Praetor shifted his grip to hold it more securely.
The sword was very old, predating the Rook'shir lineage by centuries. To the Shi'ar, its technology had been mysterious, so advanced it might as well be magic.
To the Fraternity, it was a primitive tool, an interesting example of how their technology had been put to use by the people the Raptors had sworn to protect. The blade's initial capture of a Phoenix fragment all those cycles ago had been a fluke, mere chance. The Fraternity's artisans had examined it carefully, determined how it had happened, and then modified the blade.
It could be lifted by anyone, now, and it no longer simply absorbed. It extracted.
Rachel's eyes flew open suddenly. #Nathan?# Her voice was still weak, and those hazy eyes roamed aimlessly. #Where's my brother... where's Nate...#
And then she screamed aloud, a scream that cut off in a gurgling, choking noise as the blade pierced her chest and embedded itself several inches into the ground beneath her. The Praetor held grimly to the hilt, his teeth bared and his eyes squeezed shut against the fire that boiled up around him. He felt it, felt the blade tear the Phoenix out of Rachel as her body convulsed around it. Power poured out through the hilt and fountained skywards, incandescence turning to flickering flames and then finally to dying sparks as it rose towards the stars.
And he felt the extraction shatter her mind, like a stained-glass window fracturing beneath one massive blow. It left nothing for the Phoenix to return to, nothing for it to restore. It was the only way to be sure.
The light died. Breathing hard, the Praetor yanked the blade free of her body. Even though he had drawn on the Mind Gem's power to shield himself, his armor was scorched, and from the feel of it, exposed flesh had burned as well. But it was simple enough to turn off his pain center, and he did.
Even when he did, his hands were trembling, his heart racing, but he watched her as closely as he could, with his mind and his eyes alike. But there was no sign of unnatural healing. No flicker of fire in the darkening rubble of her thoughts.
Nothing at all.
"One down," he murmured aloud, roughly.
Still staggered by the backlash of the extraction and Rachel's death, he didn't sense the attack for a crucial instant. If the Raptor beside him hadn't darted into the path of the plasma blast, he would have died right there.
"You son of a bitch!" Alex Summers roared from the edge of the crater, his grief and rage almost a physical thing, battering at the Praetor's already-damaged shields. The Praetor lashed out at him in the same instant that he fired another plasma blast. It went wild as Alex staggered backwards, hitting the ground.
"I told you to stay out of this, Earther," the Praetor said harshly, reaching out with the Mind Gem to grasp Alex's mind and break it. Stubbornness seemed to be encoded into the Summers DNA.
But even with the Gem's help, his grip... slipped, unable to find traction in the wild anguish and fury swamping Alex's thoughts. Too late, Ray, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, kill him, KILL HIM-
The Praetor tried again to shut down Alex's mind - and swore in disbelief as his grip slipped yet again and another plasma blast came his way. The Mind Gem reacted seemingly of its own accord, and it was deflected by a telekinetic shield. #Just DIE, Havok!# the Praetor raged, unnerved. Where were his Raptors? Why had they not stopped him? He would have to do it himself, it seemed. If he could. There was something strange at work here, some sort of energy that disrupted his psionic efforts. As if he was looking into an unending series of mirrors and kept grasping at reflections.
But as he shifted the bulk of his focus to Havok - kill him and be done with it, the combined voices of the Fraternity still in Nullspace called out to him, kill them all and be done with it - just a fraction too much power came with it. It was the tiniest miscalculation, one he started to rectify instantly.
Too late. The psionic trap holding Nathan shattered, and the Phoenix's scream was deafening as a firebird of pure white light rose from the second crater. The Praetor looked up, met gray eyes turned incandescent silver, and knew all at once that the Fraternity had misinterpreted the Datasong. They had seen Nathan's restoration to life and full power as a fluke, the desperate act of a child determined not to lose her father, and his role as secondary.
But this man had once been the axis upon which an entire timeline had turned. There was weight in that, weight and force that could still exert a powerful influence over the timestream. It was no accident that he had raised Hope.
The Phoenix had followed its own plan all along. The rest of the Fraternity was screaming with sudden clarity at the back of his mind, howling in deafening, discordant warning as the variables fell into place. They had missed the moment of convergence, missed it by years. The time to have stopped this was the moment that Cable had taken an orphaned infant in his arms. Not now.
But now was all they had. This battle. I have to kill him. The Praetor raised the Mind Gem, drew on its power as deeply as he could. No more restraint. It was now or never.
A shield took shape. An attack was launched. Irresistible force met immovable object, and the ground beneath them began to tremble and collapse inwards. Impossibly, Alex was still trying to fire on him, and the Praetor spared an instant's concentration to reach out and smash him down into unconsciousness – a temporary fix at best, but if he could finish one Summers he could finish them all. But he failed to grasp Alex's thoughts again, and Nathan pressed the attack, the talons of the firebird tearing into his shield.
Into, but not through. It was stalemate, as impossible as that seemed. He held an Infinity Gem. Nathan only reflected the Phoenix's power; he was a host, not a true avatar like his daughter. This should not have been an equal match. The Praetor felt blood running from his nose and ears, the strain of using the Mind Gem at such a level already unendurable. Combined with the agony of the fire boiling at his shields, trying to force its way into the cracks that kept appearing as quickly as he could repair them, it was almost impossible to maintain his focus.
I will save the Imperium, he thought distantly. I must... Alex was still firing plasma blast after plasma blast at him, with a dogged determination that seemed endless. Trying to distract him, the Praetor thought – and knew, at that moment, what his strategy needed to be.
Somehow, he made it out of the warbird without drawing any attention. An emergency hatch at the bow of the ship opened directly to the outside – ten feet above the ground, admittedly, but it was well clear of the main airlocks and any guards that might be stationed there. It seemed impossible that he hadn't been caught, Scott thought distantly. Maybe the Shi'ar were glued to their sensors watching the confrontation outside. Maybe Kubark had decided to help him out a little more. Hard to tell.
Harder to care. Up ahead there was a pulsing blue light, like a star had fallen to the surface of the moon. The fire that had filled the sky when he'd first opened the hatch was fading as he watched. Scott forced himself into a run, ignoring the pain that tore through his chest and the way his legs went rubbery after no more than half a dozen steps. Kubark was right, he was in no condition for this. But that didn't matter. He couldn't let it matter. He had fought through worse for less reason.
Nathan. Rachel. He had faith that Hope wasn't here, that they wouldn't have let her come. But his son and daughter would have walked into this trap for him with their eyes wide open. It was who they were. So damned brave, so... unbending in the way they loved. Few of the other X-Men would have seen either of them that way. They were fooled by the facade. The scars.
But Scott knew his children. Knew how strong they were. It was the ones who'd lost the most who loved the most fiercely. Please, he thought wildly, willing them to hear him. Please hold on, I'm coming...
The ground heaved beneath him, and light exploded skywards from the site of the battle ahead. Not just light. It was a firebird, Scott realized as he stumbled, going to his knees. A red-gold firebird, somehow compressed into a column of flame and propelled upwards, twisting and tearing and disintegrating as it went.
Beautiful, even as it died. "No." It hurt to form even that single word, as if it had been ripped out of his chest along with his heart.
Rachel. He knew. He heard her, calling out to him and Nathan and Alex. Saying goodbye.
The blue glow pulsed and steadied, and Scott saw the unmistakable energy signature of his brother's plasma blasts. Alex. Alex was there, alive and still fighting. Then there was a flash of white-gold fire, billowing flames that had to be another Phoenix host. Nathan..
Desolation crumbled beneath a wave of sudden, ferocious determination. Scott took a deep, shuddering breath and forced himself back to his feet, back to a run. As he ran, he pushed the grief into a dark corner and left it there, making himself focus and pull together his own mental defenses.
He had been here before. He had seen someone he loved die here in the Blue Area, right in front of him, and it had hurt so much he'd thought he wouldn't survive it. But he had, and he couldn't let ghosts of the past stop him now. Not when there was a chance to save what was left of his family.
No time to feel. Later for that, if there was a later. He had to fight.
The ruins gave him cover as he made his way around from the west. Some care had to be taken. All he had was the weapon he'd taken off the guard; he hadn't found tools to remove his inhibitor collar on his way out of the warbird, although he'd tried. If he wasn't careful, he'd be useless. The Praetor would brush him aside like a fly. Truthfully, the only hope he had was that Nathan and Alex could keep the Praetor busy.
It was possible to sneak up on a telepath, if the telepath was sufficiently distracted.
Closer, and he saw the white-gold firebird erupt out of a crater and dive at the Praetor, smashing into the massive shield of blue light, over and over. The shield didn't break, but nor did the Praetor launch a counterattack. A stalemate? Scott thought, leaping for a handhold on the remains of a wall and hauling himself upwards. Need to be higher. He ran half-crouched along the top of the wall, moving as fast and as silently as he could. His weapon was short-range, without much of a sight. He had to have a clear shot, or it would be a wasted shot.
And there was a shot. However the Praetor was managing this - because Charles wasn't a telekinetic, had never been a telekinetic, and Scott didn't understand how this was happening - he obviously had no sense of how one created a proper telekinetic shield. The shield glowed so fiercely that Scott could see exactly what areas it covered and didn't cover. All of the substance of it was out front, blocking Alex and Nathan.
The shield protecting his back was barely visible, a faint, shimmering veil of light. It was a chance, at least. That was all he could ask for right now.
Almost there. Almost... So close. Close enough to see the stalemate break. The Praetor half-turned towards Alex – not quite turning his back on the raging Phoenix trying to smash through his shield, but almost. Some would have called it reckless, foolhardy.
Scott saw what was about to happen and knew it was going to work. Only a powerful telepath or a strategist who knew his enemy very well could have predicted Nathan's reaction precisely enough for this to work. Xavier, or what Charles had become, was both.
The Praetor dropped his shield, and in the same instant, attacked Alex. A wave of debris like a tsunami of stone and metal swept towards Alex, who did his best to try and blast it away. But there was too much of it, just too much.
An instant before it would have crushed Alex, the torrent of debris hit a shield that glowed white-gold. The Praetor's gambit had been perfectly timed. Attacker and defender had switched places, but Nathan was defending Alex, not himself. Acting to protect his family, and leaving an opening.
And the Praetor took advantage. He spun, raising a hand surrounded by a nimbus of incandescent blue. A spear of that same blazing blue light shot outwards, piercing the firebird and striking Nathan directly in the chest. Scott bit his lip hard enough to taste blood as his son fell out of the air, the firebird collapsing around him as he hit the ground. Nathan's shield – and the debris – fell an instant later, and Scott couldn't see Alex at all.
The Praetor staggered, the blue light dying to erratic flickers around whatever he held in his hand. His shield was gone, and now Scott could see the burned, blackened skin of his face and hands, the blood streaming from his nose and ears, the charred armor. The Praetor hadn't come out of this unscathed, but he took a stumbling step towards where Nathan had fallen. Then another. Determination was written all over that burned, bloodied face.
Damn you, Scott thought emptily, raising the weapon and taking aim. His daughter. His son. His brother.
The Praetor was so focused on moving towards Nathan that he didn't even look in Scott's direction. Nathan wasn't moving at all.
Scott pulled the trigger. Again, and again, and again. Without hesitating.