The Next Offspring

by jenskott

Fifteen years after of the end of Operation: Zero Tolerance, the children of the legends gather in a new team to fight against the evil

1. Default Chapter

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Next Offspring

Author: Jenskott

Summary: Fifteen years after of the end of Operation: Zero Tolerance, the children of the legends gather in a new team to the fight against the evil.

Continuity: This is the first of one series depicting a new generation universe. The history begins fifteen years after of Operation: Zero Tolerance. After the final of O:ZT it branched off to another timeline. Hence, Alex never was stranded to the 'Mutant-X' universe, and he and Lorna didn't break up either; However, X-Factor was shut down by the Government. Bishop returned to the Earth along with the remainder X-men, and Maggot left away the team soon. Yes this gets succeed, I get a prequel in works.

Rating: PG-13.

Disclaimer: They are owned by Marvel. I'm sure nobody knew that before I confessed it. My alternative universe treat them enough more fairly anyway. I don't intend make money with this, but neither I intend screw with them. Besides, I want to Cyke, Cable, Wolvie, Havok, Colossus, Nightcrawler, Jean, Rachel, Storm, Rogue, Psylocke and Polaris when Marvel is over with them. It can't be far long.

Oh, and Sikudhani McCoy and Serena Creed belong to Darqstar and Jimaine, respectively.

Feedback: To jorgisimox@hotmail.com. Whether it likes or you loathe it, write. Advices and CONSTRUCTIVE criticisms are allowed. But I've to warn English isn't my native language.

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Part One. Gathering of New Legends-

High trees of the forest grew up large and tall, proud and giant, on the woods of Xavier grounds, caressed with the soft wind and the dazzling sun. Birds chirped joyously, and sounds of animals shook the foliage frequently. Owls dozed on its branches while heavy boots treaded upon the ground of mud and dead leaves, crossing a path never more transited after several men cleared long time ago.

A single figure walked wordless through a dark path, looking up at the gigantic trees. On her back hung a thick backpack did nothing to hinder her steady rhythm of steps. Intense green-blue eyes studied the roof of broad leaves, feeling the itching of solar beams over her soft flawless skin. The clear obscure of complex patterns of labyrinthical branches dimmed the lower regions of massive wood. Her long legs sidestepped a thick and thorny bush, struggling so the wood spikes didn't mess with her flaming red hair.

A gust of frozen wind streamed, and filtered under her clothes. However, the needles of cold piercing her skin didn't bother. She was used to the weather on Alaska, and that middle temperature didn't her mind. Besides, she liked trekking through the woodlands of the mansion. They remembered her to Anchorage, although it hardly was more than a mere and dim copy.

Her thoughts drifted for a moment towards the North region. Huge, vast woodlands spread widely along all the country, as a green-brownish stain under the pale sun. Within them, sticky steams arose upwards until the cloudless sky, as blurs of ivory in a cerulean canvas, and animalistic shrills broke sometimes the ominous silent of any far off landscapes.

The bother and the arctic weather didn't mind her at all. Seeing millenium trees, with roots old as the continent being killed for the acid rain on the other hand...

A slight ripple on her mind cut her reverie and awoke her senses. She strained. The ripple had been born when a blank spot hid among the strands of psychic power building that realm...

Then, a slight murmur. As footsteps printing the soft ground during a sprint.

A cursing crack of a dry twig.

And she flung immediately the hand towards her belt, while her eyes enlightened with a rose flare. She grasped a metallic club, and her arm darted upwards, slicing the hissing air with a swift and shining arc.

Metal clashed against metal, and stainless steel glinted with the golden of the sunrays and the pink and red of psychic power flaring up.

And she met herself in front of a face, guiltily grinning, with a striking kinship to her own. Except it was a masculine face, of a boy younger than she was. The red-brown bangs of his short and spiked hair were glued on the forehead with the sweat of a hard workout, and his eyes, so blue as her ones, sparkling with too good mood, were pulsating with a glowing brightness of flaming red flashing on the irises. Widening his smirk, he pushed his psimitar, a long metallic spear with a curvy and razor sharp blade on the end, against hers own. Both weapons crackled and blazed with immaterial energies building up, and coiling along the long staffs. Though she didn't bulge one inch.

"All right, aunt. How the flonq did you know I was stalking you?" he laughed and at last put away his arm.

"Pleaaase Theo. Give me SOME of credit" She lowered the psimitar, still dazzling with power, and waved over herself. "I am fifteen. Two years more of training must count for something." Then smirked. "Besides, your shielding needs working. It's nearly better you don't try camouflage since your blind spots cry out any psy-sensible nearby."

"Ha, ha, ha. Very funny, Ray." he glared her, folding his arms.

She leaned the psimitar on the shoulder, and without turning around, she aimed with the edge towards the trees. "You can to go out now, niece." she stated.

The thick weeds she was thumbing at without looking trembled and rustled. A cursing on a weird language was heard, and a girl stepped out the green bushes. She was greatly alike the boy, except her hair was shoulder length and wavy, and a patch of a darker hue of skin bordered her left eye. Yet, it was slightly dimmed with the glow of her mesmerizing purple irises.

She grumbled. Aloud. "And how is supposed you did find me?"

The redhead whirled 180 degrees. "Simple. It's easy enough to spot somebody with a flower sundress amidst the wood."

The girl took to pick specks of dust off her hem. "I haven't come here for this, Ray. Otherwise I would be wearing the camouflage suit, and would be much more cunning. Besides, if I hole the dress, mom will shoot me."

"I know." she nodded. Then strode towards her, and wrapped her tiny frame with her arms. "I'm glad of seeing you Jenny. So glad."

Jenny returned the tight embrace and smiled. "It's been too while."

"Not so long as the last errand of my blockhead brother. Has Nate come at last to the mansion?" she asked with her eyes shining with anticipation.

"Aunt, you know he won't forgive to himself if he miss this. But he warned us about giving a detour through Greenland."

Rachel blinked. "Greenland? What is up him now?"

Jennifer Summers folded her arms and scolded. "I believe he caught a pack of flonquing Dark Riders on Norway, and he found out of a shipment of weaponry towards the island. The Blue Lips Mummy might to be establishing a headquarters on Greenland, and was transporting technology from Europe and Russia until Scandinavian Peninsula to ship them away to the place."

Rachel pondered for a second. "So he'd have a base where attack America and Europe from, and easily defendable."

"So he has dragged with him to mom and the entire X-Force, and they must to be kicking the fat butt of Nur on the far North." she stated easily.

"And I'm losing me the party." Theo mumbled regretfully.

Rachel sighed heavily. "I wish he be done soon with it. Like I said before, it's been a while."

Theo scratched his temple with the tip of his weapon. "Yes, I think the last time was almost when the grandparents took the leave to Alaska. Right, we were still on the Academy, and you left the school to help to grandfather Scott taking care of the grandmother. The last we heard of you was the accident of Detroit, two weeks ago."

"By the way" her twin sister interrupted him "What was the deal with that mess?"

Rachel shrugged. "I had come back for two days to check and update the files with the group, when we heard the Sentinels were rampaging the city. Turns out the FOH had found a Government's underground fabric to massive production of Sentinels. They were old rests of Zero Tolerance likely, and... Well, you may guess."

His nephew grimaced disdainfully. "Yes, let me guess. They began to make Sentinels, and these blew up on their faces."

"You have got it, boy. The robots stormed the city..."

"And you went out with your partners to save a world..." he trailed off, grinning meaningfully towards them.

"... Fears us and hates us" chorused the three at the unison. Then they burst laughing, and seated on the land, holding their stomachs.

A growing rumbling of motors, oil burning, propellers searing the sky and air rushing in the atmosphere, skimming over their heads cut their giggles and chuckles. Inside their mind oddly felt a weak tug, and a foreign presence. A scary grin up tilted the Rachel pink lips and a gasp opened the ones of the siblings.

Jenny put a hand on her shoulder. "Rachel, I believed the grandfather was already on the mansion."

Her brother nodded.

"An he did. But Aunt Ororo met troubles rescuing several mutant children, and he had to go out with the Uncles Bobby, Bishop, and the Aunts Rogue, Kitty and Sarah to help." commented casually Rachel. Then she ended the sentence. "Remain here both. I'm going to say hello."

Lids slammed shutting her eyes. Almost instantly an unholy glow of thousand hues of gold filtered out between her eyelashes. A powerful wind stirred, twirling leaves around hers, and a whirlwind in its wake. Eerily soundless, an invisible force started to lift her frame up over the floor. Seconds passed, and the force rose up her body above of the shrubs, branches, trunks, and took speed, turning her rocket, that speedily flew away towards of the heights.

The Summers third generation kept still and quiet while both gazed the ascension.

A curious fox peeped out briefly its triangular head in confusion amidst of the moss and gnarled lichens. Minutes passed with he motionless, until its bare attention was lost into its skull. With a rustle, its snout vanished among of the leaves, ready to seek preys.

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The powerful plane rode over the wind, glistening with the sunlight as a cobalt thunderbolt, leaving twin trails of whitish steam on the way, skimming the thick ivory clouds at awesome velocity, and still less than the half of its average rate.

The pilot, a man in his middle age, with red glasses under his short brown hair, clad with a uniform that embraced his athletic frame, 6' 3'' tall, steered the cargo away currents of air. As his attention was locked in the flight route, he spared a lopsided glance towards his team. His six X-Men were leaning and nursing a pack of children on the stretchers. The most were fine, only very frightened of the horrible ordeal, but one boy was drenched with blood, and two girls had several nasty-looking lessons. And although he couldn't distinguish quite the colors, he'd bet one at least had a concussion. Regretfully, he missed haven't brought along to Hank with them when gathered hurriedly an available team. But he blue-fur mad scientific was needed in the mansion. And although Cecilia was a wonderful doctor, they couldn't seriously put her in danger on the battleground.

His thoughts started drifting towards the reason of Hank being twenty-four hours on the mansion, when a bright light flashed in the glass. Bobby, seated on the co-pilot spot screeched freaked and sprang backwards in his chair, until the point of bending the seat bolted to the floor with the momentum. The arc of fall ended with the thud of his skull against the cold floor, and he moaned loudly rubbing his very-soon-bruised head.

All blinked. Kitty clutched her stomach with a hand and plugged her mouth with the remainder. Bishop trembled with the effort of stifling some alarmingly alike to one smile. Storm approached to Bobby and leaned down him on another seat as Rogue straightened the axis of the seat, and let collapse on it, spent.

And meanwhile Scott Summers stared to Bobby, devilishly amused with the fall, when a familiar tingle into his rear brain announced one mind probing his own.

Hello, dad. Have you got a funny flight?

It was... entertaining, honey

But, Uncle Bobby... his head seems a LUMP. Scratch that, IS a lump

His stare shifted from the dumbfounded glance of his child at the sprawled body on the seat, with Ororo soaking his aching head with a wet cloth. To someone else seemed the aloof stance of a cold man. Jean Grey would have been able read a smirk in the invisible quirk of his lips and chuckles inside his brain.

Thus also her daughter.

Forget it, he gets it all the time

The wielder of massive psychic powers clutched her stomach between guffaws, all it airborne. Cyclops could "hear" her stray thoughts Not, will not laugh, not, not, not, I'm flying, can't break my concentration, won't throw up my guts, I want not to fall down of the ground, oh, dear god

To avoid her daughter one painful communion with Mother Earth, Scott made a question. The young telepath noticed soon his eagerness.

And your mother? How do she is doing? Any trouble?

Rachel got serious. Don't worry, she yet hasn't... However, the date is due

Scott Summers exhaled in relief. Thank God. Please, be a dear, and tell her I'm the way. I'll be seated beside her when we landed and got comfortable the children

By the way, your grandchildren are already on the grounds

She sensed sheer joy glowing on the opposite end of the link. His father smiled brightly. I'm glad. Tell them their poor and old grandfather will huge them when arrive

Sure you don't want they run for the hills?

Ha, ha, ha. I hope the rest of the people also arrive soon

Even...? She wondered, and he felt her troubling, her arising anxiety.

He will come in time, don't worry. Nathan didn't lose yours one, did he?

The infamous mutant hero smiled with the brightened beam of her daughter. She loved to her chronologically very displaced bigger brother. Cyclops only had hoped achieving to bring back the group at time to be with his gorgeous wife. He would never forgive to himself if he missed this moment.

Enough awful was they happened with Nathan Christopher.

While pondered that, he failed in notice the ethereal glow surrounding her child, a bird-like aura, orange as the blazes, elongated around her arms as flaming feathers of energy.

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Salem Center. Few hours later.

"I'm warning, pals. You're choosing the wrong guy who mess with."

"You, a man? Don't flatter yourself, rat!"

Choruses of loud laughs hailed the cruel remark. A bunch of nine young boys, among seventeen and twenty years old, was circling around other boy, as sharks preying a lonely victim. Back them stood a boy, the oldest and tallest of the group, with twenty-one years of age, 6'' of height, wearing ragged jeans and one black T-shirt uncovering muscle-bound arms. One of his meaty hands was bearing a large iron chain.

While the sight had born fear upon others, the harassed young remained indifferent, except by the quirk of his mouth, a sneer of deep spite. The young boy was somewhat short but muscular, and with movements too fluid to his likely age. His color skin was black as the obsidian, highlighted with the clarity of his eyes, right now lidded with a glow of Disgust? Scorn?, sharp as a dagger. His unruly and disheveled hair, his baggy trousers, and one jacket covering a torn shirt gave a definite impression of untidiness.

"Goddess, some folks really get angry with a cleanness matter."

The leader gripped the chain with such strong could had done to snap. "You did throw GARBAGE from a trashcan on my car. MY CAR!"

And actually the last interjection was remarked by the crunch of the links snapping, pulled away by his meaty hands.

The other youngster just sighed. "It can't possibly be more shit-filled than when you ride in it. Besides" his eyes flashed with danger. "You and your goon squad threw dogshit over a homeless. Only for his skin color."

"It's our duty clean our beautiful city of scum. Exactly as you, black abort of a genetic freak."

Genetic freak. If he asshole knew... he thought. Certainly, what would do he if just knew? Run away? Attack with more hatred? Mind it ever?

The man seemed fed up of the speech, and commanded his minions attack. As they rushed, he stood quiet.

The group rained blow after blow about his victim, ecstatic with the glow of the violence and somebody else's pain. The boy only covered with the arms, as if it might help. The punishment continued with punches and kicks, for seconds...

A flash of light. A blur of movement. A solid lightning striking. And hurt.

No one of the circle saw what happened. However, one of them was fallen on the ground, twisting with the pain. The sight of his hands clutching a pulverized jaw was chilling.

As they were paralyzed in shock, more screams sounded. The supposedly defenseless objective had smashed two enemies more with the bare hands, and now was crushing the skull of a third with his boot. The most shocking was his aspect. Nor mark neither swollen bruise crisscrossed his skin, and he looked perfectly healthy and rested.

One lunged in front while other leapt behind him. While the fighter punched the guts of one, kicked the groin of the second without turning. With the same momentum stood the leg on the floor, spun around and kicked his head. Then glared to the three remainders. And grinned.

They tried stopping him, harming him, outrun him, but it was pointless. The fool had begun the insane violence stared agape the blur of movement and speed was that boy. Hits didn't seem affect him, was too nimble to be caught, and when in fact was, he always broke away the grip.

So amazed was, never saw coming the man lurching forward, diving a knee at his stomach, and pounding his entire body with the fists. When the young man was assured of his blackout, raised over him. Hadn't sweated ever, and his breath was normal.

"You deserved it, rotten load of infect pus." spat.

He piled the bodies on a single heap, and left away the place. He was pondering the incident, and the events of past weeks, when his senses alerted of something. Something only he could feel. A disturbance in the air, like a ripple on the strands of air and temperature of the atmosphere.

His head snapped upwards. However, his over-developed smell did unnecessary to look.

The girl whistled casually, so indifferent and natural you would swear she was meant to stand on the top of the lamppost, with both feet stepping in the bulb. She was a pretty mulatto woman, almost identical to the young man below. A raven cloak, bounded to the bracelets of her wrists floated on a slight wind, and concealed a halo of mystery in her figure.

"I reckon you there have been enough of a good time, brother" her voice was soft as the leaves floating on the breeze, and yet stern as the steel.

"I have a certain fetish for beating a pulp of morons, sis. But you wouldn't bother on coming just for scolding the little and lovely me, would you?"

She sighed, wondering if he paid mind sometime ever. "No, I didn't. I came down here to buy groceries, meat and powder milk." She heaved several bags on both hands reinforcing her point. "And so pleasant as the idea of annoy the hell of you is, I need to obey and carry out one order. May you go back with me?"

"What for?"

She rolled her eyes "Because father told me, and quote 'Go down the town, get the lazy ass of that slacker of your brother, and drag him back. We've the hands full of job, and he must help' unquote. Do you want the exact sentence of mother?"

He threw up his arms. "All right, all right, I'm going. No need for overstating the point."

She beamed. "Well." Without looking back, she took off towards the sky. When she had lifted up, she shouted suddenly "I'LL RACE YOU!" and vanished on the skyline.

"Cheater smart-ass" He grunted under his voice, but was secretly pleased. He'd miss any chance of competing with his twin sister.

He crossed his arms ahead the chest, and shut the lids. The world around shifted in patterns of energy, and elemental waves. Imaginary hands spread to grasp the correct wisp of energy and string his frequencies like he wished.

A stream of raw wind of power woke around him, and he bolted upwards with a powerful hurricane. A shudder rippled along his spine, and he felt powerful elation, making one with the nature. Bare seconds later, he had caught with his sister, and both vanished on the distance.

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Rocky Mountains.

From the wilderness of Alaska, where the ground turns ice and the ice turns ocean, until the south of Unites Estates. Where the desert and the prairies break the hills, where the green landscapes gained height shifting into brown rock. Where spread out the spine of North America, countless miles of ridges of stone split during ages by glaciers and wind, got worn out and nourished by sun.

The light brown eagle spread its wings under the sun, as its piercing coal eyes looked over awesome cliffs, whose sight had frightened any awkward human being, but not to the majestic predatory. Its limbs raised up the blunt peaks, while pupils sharpened with the impression of movement.

There! Miles underneath it, a grey rabbit jumped among the rubble, looking for grass. Folding its wings, shifting its weight with the wind and its streams, dived downwards, idly feeling the air rushing between the feathers. Barely within seconds, the mammal was at its reach. It would not run away.

Suddenly, when it placed forward its claws, the rabbit lifted its pointed ears, and leapt with a gigantic jump out of the way. The bird scarcely had time to switch the route with an arch upwards, while the stealthy animal dashed seeking safe refuge.

The simplified mind of the hunter didn't understand the failure. Its diving had being perfect, quiet, and quick. The flight had been with the utmost precision. How had...

The animal felt an abrupt tug inside her brain, and almost turned 360 degrees on the sky. "Something" inside its skull reassured it with soothing sensations. The eagle understood numbly an apology for getting into its hunt, and pushed to side fly towards one certain ledge...

Unknown forces pushed at the place, and with minimum flaps reached the wall of limestone rocks. Here, on a spiked edge a big piece of meat smoked with the heat of the southern sun. The brain of the bird of prey didn't query because sliced meat of cow was in the middle of nowhere and nothing. Instead just calculated the flight to catch without stopping, and with same thrust, go back to the nest. And, if it would have had a more complex cortex, or bigger distrust, probably wouldn't worry either, anyhow. Only a flying as itself could reach that ledge, on an even crest of flat stone, one mile below and other above of floor and peak. And no in the least a human being.

The young girl swayed pleasantly her slender legs while looked at the eagle leaving, ascending at the upper clouds. She was deeply sorry for alerting its prey, but felt pity by the little rabbit. By that offered the meat to the animal, a wild and free soul as herself, free to fly boundless over the earth.

She stood on her foots. A slight breeze woke, tugging her mane. She tossed backwards her long blonde strands with a hand, letting her slit eyes regard the surroundings. Her pupils darted downwards. Endless feet of hardness, with a bottom darkened for the mist and the shadows.

Without doubting, stepped forward and fell at a secure death.

Except large wings with ivory feathers spread on her back, and with powerful flaps, halted her way at the dirt, arising her body up. Within seconds, she was soaring towards the clouds, like a white arrow cutting a cobalt canvas.

Those moments were her pleasure and her delight. Fly across the dome of the sky, hovering above the lower world, above the faceless multitude, and emulate to Icarus, son of Dedalus, surrounding to the sun. And on top of all, arise over the self-called-human vermin.

When? When did she begin to get apart? Why had all in the school hated her?

She frowned. When she was born, their parents registered her in an expensive private school, the best of the New York state. They could have her taught on the old Xavier's School, but both wished she received an education among normal students. And she passed through the scholarship with flying colors, being the top student and sportswoman. Maybe for that the girls were reluctant to get along with her. Maybe for her English mother. Maybe the wealth of both of her family branches. Maybe, although she was purely Anglo-Saxon, they didn't understand her pale skin and Asian features, moreover with the blonde hair. Maybe was her Japanese looks. Maybe her mutant wings. Maybe...

Maybe she, feeling rejected, had ignored all the remainder students. On the end, she only got friends among the sons and daughters of her uncles and aunts, and she resorted to study on the mansion, where she could blend into the group, and to be one more among her equals. Not looked down for her money or wits, or strength. Only looked as the person she was really. Victoria Worthington. Nor a snobby, spoiled rich-brat. But a girl who goes to the shopping, watches TV garbage when she gets bored, cracks her skull studying when she must, eats nutritional-value-lacking fat packs labeled as fast food to piss off uncle Hank, and can be petty, mean, unforgiving and cold when it suits her. But even so the most of the students of Xavier Institute got troubles looking as other thing than a purse or the daughter of two symbols.

Truthfully, she had got used to periods of loneliness. Fortunately, thanks to her friends, she didn't use to need them.

But she still enjoyed of the moments when the wind and she were one. And being a second-generation mutant, the paternal freaking gene had evolved. Not only was capable of flying and had an innate direction sense, but also possessed an understanding with the birds, and the extreme sight of one. She could find an insect between the grass to three thousand feet of height.

So absorbed was she couldn't dodge a white and blue blur rushing over her. A banging blew her body, and struck down her downwards. She struggled for recovering the impulse, spinning over her, and fortunately got set upright. Her wings screeched with the effort.

From above came down a godlike silhouette, outlined with the brightness of the day. A blue-skinned figure with long golden locks, hold on the air by strong wings, of the kind of hers owns. An apparently Asian woman was snuggled into his arms.

Somebody else had claimed about "Angels rampaging in New Mexico", but she knew better.

"Hi, dad, mom."

"Hello, dear" the strong English accent of her violet-haired mother sounded strange through those cliffs. "I'm afraid you are slacking. Never noticed your father and me nearing. Your_own_father, for the God's sake."

She sighed. The Dad's mind was really transparent, and her years of training with her telepathy must have snared someone wisp of thinking, the idea of her dad of a surprise workout. Or at least ripples in the air. "I'm afraid was very engrossed flying throughout of the valley, mom. Like he says..."

"That won't save you _this_ time, young lady. You might had reached our thoughts, or see my shape before attacking. After the trip, you'll need more training. You mother want put to test your telepathy and if you practice the lessons of telekinesis."

More exercises She grimaced Oh, joy, joy. Wait a moment. What trip?

Victoria "Vicky" Worthington scanned superficially the thoughts of her parents. They were going now to the private jet to arrive to New York. And over there...

Elisabeth Worthington, "Psylocke" smiled noticing the glazed eyes of her dear child, ornate with a purple glow. Didn't take a genius to know she was accessing their minds. Barely a second, the knowledge had passed down her. And grinned.

She clapped fondly her hands. "Is it then? Aunt Jean at last is going to..." her face lightened with a broad, wide grin "It'll be a pleasure going, dad. If mom doesn't drink _too_ alcohol during the flight, mind you."

"Eh! On the contrary your Uncle Brian, I get control of my drinking habits. Just my drunkenness and hangover are awful."

"Must pass through the genes" Vicky muttered.

"Don't speak as this at your mother!" shouted dad Warren, even knowing fully it was a joke. To Vicky always liked her light discussions.

The family flew back to the mansion while gossiped about a future deliver.

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The next day.

The darkness of shadows of trees, with their trunks hidden for vines, and flanked by thick, tall shrubs, camouflaged the murderer glint of a shotgun. Lurching among the gloominess of the shades, the tall man with blonde and short hair and blue-eyed brushed lovingly his swastika, so black as his heart, of proud soldier of Third Reich, while trailed the pipe towards his target.

Pride.

There was that skunk. Daring to enter in a grave for people, being a Jewish whore. Yet more, a _SLAV_ Jewish whore. Jewish were spawns of the Devil, and the Russians were a lower race, hardly worthy of being vassals of the true Germans. Not only he'd teach their place to those less-than-monkeys, but also rid to the world of a bloodthirsty demon.

Hatred.

His gun was carefully aimed and straight. And if he failed, his backup partner would help. What could possibly go wrong?

Childishness.

The dirty lass kneeled in front of a gravestone, to hypocritically pretend respect to the deceased. Obviously, her race didn't feel pain for those crushed for its hand. He centered the target to the head and shot.

A bullet of lead seared the thin layers of cold air with a terrible screech, directed to its object, ready to slaughter other living being. The girl spun her head, but was too late.

The joy of the nazi was overflowed when looked the bullet hit the temple of her victim.

Exhilaration.

He arched back his head and laughed. His eyes were wet of the pleasure. While his fingers wiped out the tears, turned his sight at the saint place, looking forward to see the corpse of Jewish scum sprawled on a bloody pulp over the grass, with shards of bone scattered, floating on a crimson puddle.

There was nothing. Nor a person ever.

He blinked, stunned and numbed.

Disbelief, fear, apprehension.

To him the time froze in that instant. For that he never saw coming the hand abruptly grabbing his head and smashing pitilessly against the tough rear trunk. As splinters sliced his skin, he lost the conscience.

Pain.

His partner stood still a second, frozen with the horror of the easy prey arising out of nowhere and straightly after beating his partner. To the next second shot frantically a rain of metal.

Despair.

The target just smirked as vanished before being ricocheted for the bullets. There wasn't fancy light trick or explosion, or mist, or fading, just vanished.

Before thinking on it, an unbreakable arm hugged his neck, plugging his throat. Pain. He tried to lift his pipe, but a free hand clutched the iron bar, and twisted as a straw before snapping with a crunch. Pain. Surprised and suffocated, he remained motionless when someone heaved his weigh, hurled to the heights and before falling, trapped him and crashed against the ground. PAIN.

Numbness reclaimed him, as unwanted victory was granted to his foe, and foreshadowed defeat was of him. Thus the girl did pay the pride, hatred, and childishness of his partner, with fear, apprehension, despair and pain.

The young woman regarded the scene, looking with disgust at the two racist trashes she just had trashed. Poetic justice, indeed. Briefly wondered if that shit knew she was a "stinky mutie". It was likely if they had trespassed the wall to violate the grounds, but they were liable to care little for it. She was a Jewish woman with father born in a farm of Baikal Lake, and it was enough to kill her.

Splinters of fear nailed inside her stomach. If she would not had noticed the bullet... Fortunately, the ninjutsu of her mother had paid off. She taught to develop a "danger-sense", which ringed whenever she was threatened, similar to the mysterious sense of Spiderman. Only the Japanese martial artists called dairokkan. Her reflects had phased in her body just in time, and the projectile passed through without wounding.

Realizing of the danger, she filtered beneath of the surface and swam across of the rock until exit back of them. After, she felt they had been too lucky. Her unnatural strength was astounding, but if had shifted her organism into steel, the things might have get... ugly. Besides, she had nothing against the trees.

She sighed. Maybe was being too paranoid, or frustrated, or choleric. But the assholes had caught in a bad moment. Visiting ancient graves was a moment to peace and meditation, not to life-threatening fights.

She walked quietly at two headstones. Her glance traveled to the bigger. Had two alphabets, Latin and Cyrillic. One to the English writing, other to the Russian one, two idioms to the same phrase: "Piotr Nikolievitch Rasputin. Lived, fought and died with honor. The woman who thou loved don't forget."

Her mind briefly acknowledged a third tombstone, placed beside the two first ones and next to the Piotr's. Where there was carved "Pete Wisdom. I shall never forget you". Someway seemed fit the two great loves of his mother's life were buried together, regardless how much either fought. Her mother certainly considered it so when she lost both, one after the other. And she was left alone.

She couldn't bear it. Fell to her knees, and sobbed. Bitter tears for his father, the one she never knew.

A night her parents were talking about the old times, he trying to cheer up one weeping Kitty Pride, she trying to drown out her sorrow for the Wisdom death with gallons of alcohol and ... Well, both got drunk a bit too much. When mother understood she got pregnant, father swore would always be for her side... after freaking and fainting though.

He didn't get the opportunity. Shortly after was murdered by a sentinel in one battle, selflessly giving his life so his friends could to live to fight other day. Mother was crushed, and terrified with prospective of bring up their child alone. They incinerated his corpse, and she brought the cinders to his hometown, in Siberia. She knew the fact, but even thought his grave was empty, felt right to come here and pay her respects.

The aforementioned other slab got other name. Illyana Natalaynovna Rasputin. According to her mother, she was her best friend, besides of Rachel -of other temporal line-. As her father, her teenager-self lived fighting by the dream of peace between mutants and humans in a better world, and gave in her life to save the world and give to her child-self other chance, living as a normal girl. Once more, a new life was broken, now by the damned Legacy virus, sadly.

Their lives lost to save and arrange the world. For the hope in the tomorrow, in the future people and their lives. Sometimes she wondered if was worth. For the sake of all the spilled blood, she wished to believe that yes.

Katherine "Katya" Illyana Pryde didn't allow doubt that. Not, by everything they had faith in. Without faith, the Dream was only dirt over the mud. If the deaths of so much good people must mean something, they would keep the legacy. The TRUE legacy.

She raised after her preach, drying her last tears while her lips whispered a preach with words of ancient Hebrew. Father was atheist, and didn't believe on Heaven neither Hell, that was strange, inhabiting one city daily invaded for demons and devils, and where to see gods was matter of peeking out of the window. But she prayed for he was mistaken, and now his soul rested in a safer and less harsh place than this realm. May God have Mercy.

*********************************************************************************

Meanwhile Katya paid her respects on the graveyard, idly wondering by the lapse in security and how she were going to dispose of the intruders, two figures approached to the edge of the forest and the shrine. Both female ones, and with a stride barely concealing proud and steel in spades. The shorter, -comparatively speaking since she was slim and no dwarf at all- was a girl on her last teens, with waist thin and well-built, pale-skinned but healthy looking, and her athletic frame was dressed with a plain top and tattered overalls. Her eyes were of a cobalt-blue hue, deep and quiet, and her reddish hair fell on spikes over her temples, collected in a long ponytail. The second was sensibly taller, a gorgeous beauty with a long mane of flaming hair contrasting the golden tan of her skin. Her body was slender and feminine, but anyone bothered on looking her closely noticed powerful muscles rippling underneath her skin, and sleek and long legs, made for running fast. That anyone perhaps would have realized also she was less old than really seemed, even with her white T-shirt and her shorts embracing her body.

Both girls gossiped carefree and animated, when the shorter felt a sharp throbbing piercing her skull. She closed tightly the eyes and moaned, grunting as her occipital bone prolonged until sticking out her front. Gaping of pain, she forced herself in focusing, forcing it to grow like she wanted. The jagged bone silently grew at both sides, taking the aspect of a bony tiara, with a thorn jutting out the center, and the sides ending on two curled horns.

She clenched with either hands the head, sincerely believing this time she was going to burst.

The strong hands of her friend massaged her broad back on concern. "Lucy, Are you well?" sounded a worried voice, close of her ears.

"S-sure, Fionna. Give me a minute..." she blinked, feeling the moisture on her eyes and willing it go away. This there was been worst of late. She opened the eyes, and on the edge of the left one, she made out a figure far on the graveyard.

"Hey! Isn't that Kat?"

Her partner stared. "Yes, of course she is."

With her curiosity picked, Lucy Guthrie and Fionna Proudstar strode towards the grey sea of tombstones. When both reached the spot, the two women waited patiently for the figure hunched on the fresh ground break the silence. Seconds passed, and no one moved. Lucy, short of patience and temper, was going to step forward when...

"I was not ignoring you, girls. I was in the middle of a prayer, and wished to get over with it." She turned around, and straightened slowly. "I'm sorry?" and she beamed with a sad smile.

Lucy blinked flabbergasted. "Don't say bullshit, Katya. You haven't anything apologize for."

"Of course she have a lot to apologize for, Lucy. The lass and her team have not visited us in Massachusetts for month and a half!" The half Irish half Amerindian girl, placed a friendly hand on the Katya's shoulder and squeezed with a pressure which would have crunched the shoulder's someone else, but to her it was just a playful rub. "You're due to one beating, Rasputin. And I at last shall receive my REVENGE! MWAHAHAHAHA!" she cackled with a passably good supervillanous laugh. Both girls applauded.

A question dawned on Katya suddenly. "By the way, have you seen to Uncle Bishop?"

Lucy widened the eyes puzzled and Fionna tilted her head. "I believe he was on a mission several hours ago. Since then he have been closed on the Surveying Room with Uncle Remy, before he took off for New Orleans to pick up to Danny. Something about checking the monitors and updating the systems..."

Katya pondered heavily this. If they were changing the systems and codes, enough surely had shut down the system while they installed the new equipment.

"That resolves it." she mumbled aloud.

The pale-skinned mutant arched a thin brow. "Excuse me?"

She aimed among the branches. "Several minutes ago two esteemed Hitlerian followers tried to shoot off my brain cells, but their heads struck my fists instead. While I mourned and prayed was wondering me like they could pass through."

The girls stiffened, placing in high guard. Two ribs pierced the back of Lucy, and she ripped out, using as blades, and whirling on her hands. "And you said they had eluded the security system? It did must to be when the grownups disconnected the cameras."

"Yes. It had to be so." a voice echoed on the trees.

Katya shifted into organic, shining steel, and Lucy felt all her ribs sprouting out her back, and armoring her belly and thorax. However, Fionna had the better ears, and stopped them with a simple gesture.

Out the high trees, walked diffidently a girl, likely eighteen years old, with a wavy shoulder-length golden hair, and calm blue eyes, with sharp and slit pupils. Her frame, clad with a brown and yellow spandex, was obviously muscular and powerful. Long and hard nails ended her fingers. One of her hands dragged with a leash made with green ivy two very battered, bruised and tattered bodies. Neither moved on the slightest.

The three girls exchanged worried glances. "Hmm... Are they really dead?" wondered Fionna.

The four girl waved dismissively, and let drop the motionless heap.

"They remained like Katya left them. A damned fine work, by the way. I'm forced to appraise it." she sneered showing ivory fangs.

Katya shrugged. "Glad you like it, Creed."

Serena Creed chuckled. "The funny part is these guys are WAY well geared for being only a chance attack. When found them, I proceeded to one mind-scan" she tapped lightly her temple, "but they were warded against the telepathy. Must be the helmets." They kneeled and with caution pried off a helmet out one head. She glanced piercingly to the Russian young "Whoever wants you dead, took many troubles for ensuring your 'goodbye'."

Katya sucked air, and grumbled under her breath. "Great. Only great."

A sheet of silence abashed over the foursome of friends, nobody knowing to look forward on the next five minutes. Abruptly Fionna spun around, gazing towards the mansion.

"That is Hank, isn't him?"

Her friends raised the sight. The eyes of Serena glowed briefly with a grey light. "Yes, of course is him."

"What is he up now?"

"I'm afraid of asking."

A blonde, young boy were sliding on a ice bridge built by himself out of thin air, drawing the moistness of the atmosphere and turning it into bluish-white freezing energy, gathered and blasted with both of his hands. As he iced up his ramp, he made out the girls amidst the slabs, and sprang out the ice. When he was airborne, his self blazed with ivory energy, and a invisible push floated him downwards, landing softly on the trimmed grass.

"Hi, girls. Katya, did an awfully lot time I didn't see you around." he beamed.

No present listened his friendly greeting. Instead every pointed with their forefingers at him, as blaming him for some unknown crime. "Henry Warren Scott Drake! What are your evil schemes this time?"

"Yes! Whom are you running away?" Serena got the arms akimbo, apparently more perceptive than the others girls. Obvious benefits of being a telepath.

"I don't..." he retorted dumbfounded and annoyed. Then he shut up the mouth and reddened.

"I wanted to nail a prank on Rachel, and prepared a cushion stuffed with firecrackers. She was about of seating, when I don't know how or why, Nate Grey showed out of nowhere, and Ray was to greet him. Both started to talk and before realizing me, Grey had seated on the cushion. When it exploded, he leapt out, screaming as a girl, and put off the fire telekinetically, but the buttocks were already burned, and his backside stood out. In that exact moment Uncle Logan entered in the living room eating a chicken leg, and spat a mouthful when saw it, laughing utterly helpless. Then more people came into, and in a nutshell, X-Man is out seeking my blood, and I'm hiding until he calm down. See you later."

And with that last phrase, he ran way on the security of the trees.

Wind blew.

A long time passed, the silence disturbed only for the rustle of the wind across the pines.

No one bothered on telling to Drake about the ominous male figure standing on the top of a thick fir, gazing at where he was sheltering. Not ever when he floated down on the jungle.

Every laughed and chuckled loudly, rolling across the grass, and disregarding utterly the screams of pain spreading from the foliage.

********************************************************************************

New Orleans. Hours later.

An apathetic police wandered the slums, in his routine night shift. Complaining inwardly of the weather fall, the lacking sleep, the filthy streets, the government, and his private life in general, failed in noticing of a steady noise, like a beating, coming since a dim alley.

Inside of the lurking shadows, and beyond to the trash bin, a group of cloaked FOH members gang up on a tall young on his late teens. His light brown locks dropped over his temples, slightly dampened with sweat. Only slightly. Until then, he had succeeded in dodge every their blows, covering when needed with a rusty lid. However, they had cornered in a side, and now hadn't more getaways.

He bit his lower lip in concern. Not for his sake. But for THEIRS.

"By last time" he began back, fully knowing would be useless with those unconscious fools. "If you keep with this, someone is going to end hurt. And won't be me."

"Of course it'll be you, monster. You can't frighten us!" roared a bulky man, wielding a iron-spiked club.

I'm not being the frightened here! he said himself. After assisting a Council of Assassins Guild with his parents, half dozen of armed men were a piece of cake.

The former man, feeling the rush of the adrenaline, sprang forward, craving with shoving the weapon into his mouth and to force him at suck it. It was a lunge with neither style nor care, widely open to one easy attack. But he never realized.

Now! though the kid.

Abruptly he burst towards the man, and his hands gripped as blurs the wrist and neck of the man.

The remainder patrol had dashed after of the leader, but stood stunned, emotionless, while the boy shifted into a lightning of speed, and touched to the man. Suddenly, his charge stopped, and he remained paralyzed. The club slide down, out of his hands, preceding his owner. As he fell on his knees, his frame pulsated with unholy brightness, iris light flooding at the mutant.

After of the first moment, the men snapped of the trance, and advanced roaring foul curses.

The kid raised an open hand. The world blurred around of him.

And the fearless squad was frozen into crystallized blocks of irregular edges, with a halo of transparent whiteness. Bubbles of gas filled the surfaces, suddenly paralyzed.

The kid grinned, a smirk capable of melting female hearts.

"Fine, dudes, look like if your great captain is, after all, mutie. I'm not sure of if he knew, but can freeze the air molecules in crystals. A pity he is asleep at this moment."

His upper lips curled up with a sneer. His right hand abruptly pulsated with a surreal light, before flaring with purple power. Molecules and more molecules concealed until reaching the critical mass. Tiny sparks crackled among his fingers when the energy bolted downwards, on the feet of the group. A burst of matter and noise exploded, shattering the solidified oxygen and sending them up across the air.

The young rested a second, surveying the scene with his eyes of green irises and black ocular globe, and next bolted towards the darkness. He had got better things that do.

A glossy black X-Wing was landing on the nearest parking, humming loudly at the night. Dad was coming for him.

********************************************************************************

One day later.

The mild weather heated gently the lavish landscape of grass, with the early sun melting the wet dew, and arising up a sweet wind, combing the grass and hissing through the grounds of the School. The steady breeze helped to reinforce the peaceful image of the big mansion and the quiet stone path. Two deeply quiet figures neared slowly to the front door. One was a man on his late thirties, early forties perhaps, with straight brown hair, and face signed with both bitterness and gladness, wearing a formal costume. Next to him walked steadily a woman with long emerald green mane, so slightly swayed with each gust of wind. Her face was downcast, and irradiated a strong forlorn.

The man, with excited ways, talked endlessly, holding hands firmly with her.

"At last we have come. The traffic was next to impossible."

"Ah."

"It'll be nice see all the people again."

"Yes."

"I'm looking forward to greet to Scotty. I bet he'll be doubting between to die or faint just now."

"Maybe."

He glanced her, warily. "Lorna, dear. Are you hearing?"

"Of course."

He sighed. "Sabretooth is making love to Mystique below that purple oak."

"It's nice."

Alexander Summers rolled his eyes and looked up seeking an answer, preferably an antidote for heartbroken. With care caught the head of Lorna between the deadly weapons that God gives him as hands, and stroked softly her dyed locks, kissing her. "Hon, I know you are going through for. I know because also am going through it myself. But we..."

"We have go on with. I know, Alex." She cut with anger. "DANMIT, I KNOW! BUT DON'T MATTER HOW LONG PASS, WE LOST OUR SON! HOW BAD YOU THINK..."

She trailed off, and the flaming fury melt as the ice, turning into sorrow. She, as a sobbing self, buried her head on his chest. The poor Alex just hugged protectively, wondering why he was capable of focusing cosmic rays and shoot them, and couldn't mitigate the hurt of the woman he beloved.

The awkward moment of silence was disturbed for a yell of primal rage across of the road...

"RICHARD WAGNER, GO BACK HERE IN THIS INSTANT!"

Pause.

"'HERE' MEANING THE GROUND!"

... Radioed for a pretty blonde woman with stewardess uniform. Behind her ran a man with face and body cloaked on a suit, so that no one can see his features. They were chasing together a strange brimstone cloud. Smiling. And talkative. Appearing in front of a fallen trunk a second, and in top of a branch at the next. The pair was going crazy for hunting it, and swore loudly words fortunately in German.

Curiously, the explosions were coming on their way. Havoc raised a brown. And waited. When the cloud was to one certain distance, brought down the glowing hand and built up his power...

Nevertheless the preparation was unnecessary, cause when the indigo cloud burst in the middle of the air, a blur of sheer speed darted towards it trying to knock out of the sky and some of sense in it. The shadow dodged by the width of a hair and teleported beneath, on the grass. Right where he landed, the soil wavered and rumbled, rippling as a tide, and threw out his feet, striking down on the ground.

The two first chasers tackled it at once.

"Thanks, boys." Alex greeted, and the woman mused a thanks. She stood on her feet and tried to unwrinkle her dress and comb her bangs. A woman has an image to maintain after all.

"They are welcome, Uncle Alex." answered back a young girl, landing silently on the bare ground, her red mane flowing as underwater. Gailyn Bailey smiled broadly.

"At any time, Aunt Amanda" grinned a young boy, startlingly similar-looking to the girl.

As opposed to the other branch of Grey Family Tree, the twin Baileys had developed powers more at the physical side. Gail possessed super strength, super speed and flight capability; on the other hand her twin, Joseph Bailey, could become invulnerable, and mold any solid matter at will. Jean Grey suspected their special bond could hid also a low-level telepathy, but she hadn't could tell further on.

Joe parted with his hand some red bangs out his temple while smirked pointedly and meaningfully to the figure at her side.

There, Nightcrawler hotly scolded a young boy, although was hard say it cause a grey raincoat totally zipped with a cowl raised over the head, even with the sunny day. "He's, isn't he?"

"Sure."

Alex stared numbed. After laughed. "Is funny. Anyone was acquainted to Kurt knew the circus ran in his blood, but I didn't think his child also was a clo..."

Kurt folded his furry arms threateningly. "Beware, Havok, or perhaps you find yourself on the top of the Empire State, and without stairs to go down." Swiftly caught his son for the shoulder. "No, Rick, is NOT necessary you do it for yourself."

Rick, the boy in question, pouted.

Lorna brushed her swollen eyes and blinked. Repeatedly. "Mm, Kurt, Amanda, can I ask anything?"

They nodded.

"Clear me this once. _RICHARD_WAGNER_?"

The young groaned and spoke for first time. "Father and mother have a rather sick humor sense."

Joseph Bailey palmed enthusiastically his shoulder. "Hey, cool down. We understand you."

His eyes glowed amber underneath of the shades of the ample hood. "You sure do."

His voice sounded guttural under the cowl, but didn't prevent to the adults of laughing loudly. As Rick planned conspicuous ways to kill them all, Havok was truly thanked to Kurt and Amanda, seeing to Lorna giggling happy.

"Fine, better go into, before Scott and Jean make other one."

"I meet unlikely it be so soon, Aunt." mumbled Gailyn.

"Not, but after all those are the X-men who we're speaking from. So the chances are more probably a fight against the Marauders happens, or Apocalypse bombs the entire state, or Galactus enters ravenous in the Solar System, or Dr. Doom pins nuclear warheads around Manhattan, or Magneto arises declaring the war, or The Brood infects to the humanity, or Thanos..."

"We GET the idea, honey" Amanda claimed with the very noble purpose of halting him.

"Or perhaps happen EVERY the things on the next three seconds." he chuckled, mischievously.

All groaned.

*********************************************************************************

Two days later.

The kitchen of the mansion was a micro mayhem full with people spending the time of anyway seemed fit. Storm, Rogue and Gambit were seated on the big table and chatting. Psylocke was drinking an Earl Grey Tea, with the hair drenched with the shower she deserved after a workout. Alex was leafing through a newspaper, nibbling slowly a roll bread. Cecilia slammed the door and crumbled over a chair, demanding an herbal tea, with the aspect of wading through a nervous crisis. Psylocke handled kindly her own pot. While she slurped, Bobby Drake and Emma entered in the kitchen, caught a plate with muffins, and exited laughing. Carol Logan entered while both exited, saw to Daniel seated on the counter and chewing an apple, and seated with him. Idly she saw to Katya, a very bruised Hank Drake and Joe slurping a hot coffee.

She tilted the head. Theodore Summers, grandson of the uncle Scott and aunt Jean was handling two coffeemakers. One smelt as normal coffee. The other stank of caffeine, and the coal black liquid within sported the consistence of the tar. Evidently it was for him and maybe for his sister too.

She turned towards her friend and surrogated cousin.

"Do you know, Danny? I think Theo can to make shows drinking hot magma. It can't possibly be worst than that beverage."

The youngest male Summers growled "Mind your own business."

The door slammed open again, and on the threshold stood a slender and pretty blue-furred girl. "Fighting again?" she sighed.

"At all, Siku. We only were making a laughs." Carol smirked, and snatched a juicy orange out of a fruit bowl, and hurled toward the child with great easiness. "Catch!"

The newcomer received skillfully the fruit, and with the remainder hand began to peel it, perforating the porous skin with the long razor-sharp nail of the forefinger, and slicing it with its curvy edge. "Thanks."

Rogue stared at Remy while he took a creamed coffee, and with a finger wiped out a moustache of cream he'd got on the face after of a slurp of the mug, and turned at the hers own. "Today has been a day decent and quite enough, all the things considered." she smiled.

A noise of sucked breaths followed the claim, and the gathered group exchanged alarmed looks.

Betsy frowned mightily and grasping tightly her cup crawled hurriedly under the table. Remy hiccuped and went down with her. Storm and Alex rose up and sidestepping slowly began to edge away from Rogue and towards the door.

Rogue stared bewildered. "Hmm... Guys? What do you are doing?"

"You have just damned us." grumbled Psylocke with her voice muffled.

Rogue leered offended the table. "Why? What did I do?"

"You'll see." she sentenced ominously.

"This is ridiculous, sugar." she protested. "Only for being X-Men, is silly to be such paranoids..."

The wall exploded with a shower of rubble and dirt, and Wolverine rocketed towards the opposite wall, hitting with his back, and stumbling downwards.

"DAD!" screamed Carol.

"Here we go again" whispered Alex.

"Paranoia, indeed." Storm sneered jokingly. With a gesture, she held down a Cecilia with a hand on her shoulder. "Don't concern yourself unnecessarily with this matter, dear Doctor. His healing factor will eliminate his trouble."

Logan leapt on his feet, growling and unsheathing her claws. "This time you have gone too far, Tin Man!"

Gambit muttered a weary "Figure it" under the table.

A telekinetic blaze flared up and hauled away the shattered debris. Out of the man-sized hole stepped Cable, his heavy boots crunching the tiny pebbles. "I'm quaking on my boots, Logan."

"Oh, Goddess. Here go again." mumbled Storm.

Joe backed off carefully, approaching at his cousin's son. This one looked the coffeemaker percolating, not interested on the fight at all. "What do you think they are fighting NOW for, Theo?"

He glanced briefly both warriors, growling and seething, circling at each other as two sharks seeking for openings and weak points. "I don't think they know it ever."

Two female shapes stepped out the new door, getting into the room, and greeting with meaning bows at everyone. The first was Rachel, with a thoroughly annoyed glare. The second was a gorgeous raven haired albino woman, clad with tight black spandex, with the folded arms and the brows arched, enhancing the anger smoldering on her mesmerizing purple eyes.

Both sighed and muttered. "Here we go again."

"Mon dieu, that phrase is certainly popular around here." Danny shook the head, and the entire gathering stepped next to them, on the sidelines.

Carol glanced askance at both fighters. Wolverine had lunged on Cable, and this had him seized against his chest. However, the momentum did him to stumble, and both tripped on the tiles, rolling while jabbed the each other's ribs. "Aunt Dom. How long they have been as this?

"Fuck you, Nate. You always have to be that asshole?"

"You try to get calm down when a dog is barking on your ears!"

"THAT DOES IT!"

Dom chastised derogatorily. "Oh, for a while. There's a formula for calculating it, but I never can remember. Count their bruises and divide them between their lumps, and put the cipher in seconds, I believe."

Her sight spotted her son, and both their eyes connected. Neither of them talked anything, but his face brightened and she smiled. The rest wondered what they would be saying along their link.

"Do you think you are so big, twinkle-face?"

"Look at me, Logan, and look at you. Who do you think is bigger?" Nathan sneered, almost gullibly.

That joke is awful thought Rachel, wincing. Her family never should to be allowed crack jokes, ever.

Then she whistled appreciatively. The movement had pulled out uncle Logan must to be exceptionally good for heaving her weighed brother, and tossing high on the air. Nathan spun her mass and achieved landing back down on the table. Yet, when his body crashed on it, the wood cracked on splinters, and the table broke up. Betsy and Gambit barely got away to the same fate, scattering out the legs, and joining to the assembly.

Gambit stared to both women. They were sharing notes and making editorial comments about the bout. "Run this for me, please. Why they are on the each other's throats again?"

"Well..."

"YOU CAN'T ADMIT IT IS THE LEFT-WHITE IS BETTER, CAN YOU RUNT?"

"IF YOU WERE LESS OF A JERK, YOU WOULD SEE IS THE RIGHT-RED!"

Gambit blinked, and stared at both. After stared back both women. "Forget it. Gambit has the sudden feeling he really doesn't want to know."

"Personally I think they only wished for an excuse to try maiming at each other." Alex shook the head.

Joseph Bailey gazed at Domino, pondering before speaking. "Miss Domino..."

She laughed "Domino is enough, kid. Don't make me feel old. Yes?"

"You have more experience with their fights, right? Then when we ought to step in?"

Domino regarded quietly like Logan bent to punch to Nate in... A certain and cherished part. She cringed. If that concrete body part was not functional that night, there would be a hell to pay to Logan. Then again, Nate had imprisoned to Logan rising the kitchen tiles, and coiling around his, and when his fist struck his jaw, the ear-deafening boom shattered the glasses, and sent Wolverine sprawling against the wall.

"I usually await until Logan uses his claws and Nate his tk."

Katya coughed meaningfully. "Excuse me, aunt Dom, but aren't they doing just that?"

"Right."

Siku shuddered seeing to Logan crawling on his feet, rubbing his sore jaw. Nate glared angrily towards a drawer, and this one opened by itself with a scratching hiss, before the knifes and forks kept into hovered and bolted at Logan. Wolverine cartwheeled the slicing edges, and leapt away.

"Angry already, Summers? I didn't hit you SO hard, right?" he smirked.

Daniel stared unbelievingly both, and whirled towards his mother, clenched the fists nervously. "Mom, perhaps if you get into the way, your invulnerability protects till you can knock sense in -or out of- them."

"Works for me, sugar" she nodded and crackled her knuckles determinedly.

Theo retired at last the jar of the coffeemaker, and smelt the coffee. "One second, aunt. Somehow I feel the solution to the problem will be in here on..." he filled the thick beverage on a coffeepot, and eyed at her blood aunt. "How long?"

Rachel answered without blinking ever. "Five seconds."

Rogue and the rest, except the close friends of the redhead were taken aback with the statement.

Two ear-deafening roars signaled the fight was coming at an end. Nathan and Logan lunged newly, clashed and disengaged, landing on a crouch. Both glared at his opponent. Panting heavily with a mixture of wariness and fury. Then, their legs twisted and unfolded and they leapt high onwards.

The brown door whirled on its hinges. A polite and consternated male voice sounded. "Oh, God, not again."

And a temporal distortion rippled through the kitchen. Bright blue waves disrupted and warped the three-dimensional space. Caressing the fabric of the reality.

Cable and Wolverine never varied the sense neither the direction of the jump, nor stopped their progress. You can have cut more easily the drive of two trains. However, when they ended the loop, instead of meeting with each other, crashed against the unforgiving ceiling, flattening their faces. Their entire bodies were glued at full expanse on it. And curiously, they not only were facedown, but also their directions were rotated, as if they'd have sprung from the opposite direction they were positioned previously.

And they continued stamped on the surface, without falling down.

"I'm so sorry." echoed underneath them a voice. "I didn't want bother them." youthful, wary, concerned. "But when I saw you were trying kill mutually, I scared, and re-alienated the gravity."

Only there was one person capable of remaking the reality and seeming as an innocent young boy. Franklin Richards stood fidgeting on the door, looking up at the two men and biting his lip. Nobody eyed him with his wavy shoulder-length blonde hair and his big, watery blue eyes would say that boy might very well shifting the universe at his own image.

And to one of the presents, that gazed him with amusement and somewhat unreadable glimmering on her eyes, was another way different thing.

"I must to comment, Scrapper" she stated. "You have more talent to put my brother on his place than I gave you credit for."

He blushed deeply. "I'm sorry." Then he grinned, and a second later was behind her, and dropping his hands on both her shoulders, scared the hell out of her.

"And I'm sorry also for this, Red." He made up before she killed him. Carol arched a dark brow, regarding carefully at both. The Rachel's heart had doubled the pace of her beats. Cause of the start, but not only that. There was something more when he touched her.

Suddenly, her ears prickled with a slight, imperceptible echo of footsteps, and a faraway particular scent. Out on the door showed up a Japanese girl, on her late teens, with lanky and short jet-black hair, and limbs slender and light, but till strong and well muscled. The girl rolled up her eyes, and scratching the head, stared bewildered the figures on the ceiling.

The black girl palmed delightfully, and strode towards her, closing the distance swiftly. When she reached her place, executed a soft and formal bow, and hugged her tightly.

"Amiko. It's wonderful see you again, sister."

She slapped softly, friendly, her shoulder-plates, and giggled. "Nice to meet you and speaking with you, onee-chan." she smirked, using her affectionate term for 'Little sister'. Then she pointed with a long finger at the ceiling. "What is the motive our father is stuck up there for?"

Carol burst laughing, aloud, and kneeled on the soiled and murky floor. Chuckling loudly.

"I'm afraid it's mine fault. I'll rearrange the time-space now, if it bother you so much." Franklin apologized, and raised tentatively an arm up.

"No!" Domino stepped forward severely. He halted, not wanting contradicting a such commanding tone. "Don't let them free until they promised at least to PRETEND being civilized at each other. Meanwhile, and so much as I'm concerned, the two can serve of living ceiling decoration. "

"OATH!" screamed cringing Nathan. However, he shut up.

Still Wolverine was incapable of get his mouth shut. "That is dumb, Neena! I..."

A powerful, deafening thunder boomed outside, rumbling while rolled across the suddenly shadowed sky, for a time that seemed endless, writhing the house on its very foundations.

Franklin sent a mental picture at Logan of the exact expression of Storm.

"Then again, I have better stuff to do than kick Nate butt." he stammered hurriedly. Storm nodded firmly, relaxing a bit her features, and he breathed. His sharp ears sensed then to Alex mumbling under his breath 'henpecked', and vowed inwardly that Havok were going to get it.

"Your word is good enough for me, Logan." stated Storm. "You may lower them now, should they behave properly." She nodded at the Richards child, and turned around at Domino. "Really I'm awfully sorry for this. I beg your forgiveness."

She shook the head chuckling. "Not need of being such formal, Munroe. After all, is Nathan's guilt as well."

Meanwhile, Franklin warped and corrected the strands of the spatial, fabric, sewing and knitting them in their correct spots.

Nathan and Logan were descended downwards steadily, and while they were airborne, Franklin whirled slowly their frames and put them seated on the more opposite possible chairs on the kitchen.

Both whipped up their heads for a second, but then everybody -including their respective significant others- got among them, charging up their powers or crackling knuckles. They lowered their heads, whimpering with downcast countenances.

Wishing to decrease and lessen the tension, Carol directed her mother a meaningful look, and she nodded. She walked back Logan and applied a back rub on the shoulders of his father, kneading the sore points and massaging the knotted muscles until the tension was released, and got free. She worked her magic, relaxing to Logan, while Amiko proceeded to greet and bow to her foster mother.

Theo Summers came with a steaming hot coffeepot and a mug, and getting behind his father, spoke. "Do you want a mug, dad? It's coffee. My blend, don't worry."

Cable didn't rise up the head, but his eye glowed with a brightest golden hue. "Decaf?"

"Black, with no sugar, and quadruple espresso." he retorted, as if offended.

"Well, then." he took the offered cup, and gulped the liquid. Nathan leaned down, closing the eyes in contentment, and exhaled air with elation. The caffeine had a thing for relaxing the nerves.

Only YOU are capable of sprouting that he heard a bemused female voice on the link.

Oh, flonq you he grunted inwardly.

You did that actually. And very well for being so old, I can add

That was WAY more information than I needed of my bro. Thank you very much, Domino

Shut up. I'm drinking coffee

Yet she get a point, dad

May I get also a cup, Theo?

If you want to do telepathic chat with my son, WHY don't you speak STRAIGHTLY with him?

Ops. I'm sorry, Nate

The presence on his head vanished. A little of peace at last.

An explosion burst on the kitchen, with the flash of the lightning and the roar of a thunder, and a dark cloud pervaded the atmosphere with the acrid stink of the brimstone and the sulfur. All spun around, facing the two figures within it, Nightcrawler and Gailyn.

Both considerably freaked out.

"Cecilia! Hank needs you now!" the elf called urgently, sinking worry coloring his throaty voice. "Now!"

Cecilia, who was drinking a tea, spat the greenish liquid. "What? Is she due already?"

This time Gailyn was who answered back. "Yes, aunt Jean have just done of breaking waters! Come on!"

Kurt picked the doctor on his arms, and chivalrously teleported away with her. The remainders X-Men and family sprinted out of the kitchen, towards the medic lab.

*********************************************************************************

The waiting room was in that time a very unpleasant, noisy and enervating place where stand by. Inside of the tiny and narrow room were gathered the Summers family and the bigger part of the X-family whole with their respective families. Or at least very members. Very many. Packed on a cramped place during hours.

On the whole had met inside Iceman, White Queen, Psylocke, Archangel, Storm, Wolverine, Rogue, Gambit, Shadowcat, Banshee, Bishop, Cannonball, Marrow, Nightcrawler, Daytripper, Havok, Polaris, and a few more, even Longshot and Allison were visiting from the Mojoworld -by general consensus the X-babies had been locked up in the Danger Room-. Including the new generation: Rachel, Victoria, Jimmy, Carol, Katya, Daniel, Richard, Franklin, Theo, Jenny, Lucy, Fionna, Serena, Gailyn, Joseph, and Amiko.

Each one doing different chores, disregarding the strong chaos surrounding. Shadowcat was reading a book, Banshee rested leaned on a wall, Wolverine carved a figure on a wood with his claws, Storm gazed piercingly towards the bright white door of the medical bay, and generally every tried distracting the mind with any random chore, irrelevant enough to avoid going mad.

The most visible tension in the whole was visible on the Summers Offspring. Nathan and Rachel were glowering and pacing continuously, with impatience, frustration and concern. And due their telepathic nature, their strain and anxiety was affecting the remainders, disturbing and irking them and heating their moods. And better no one tried get in the way. Gambit stepped in front of Cable, and with a single sweep of arm he squashed to Remy against the wall as a particularly impertinent insect, and kept his unaltered stride grumbling over something in Askani. Daniel rose up, angry, and walked at Nathan, but Rachel silently leveled him with a glowing glare capable of melting rock, and he fearfully backed off. His brother kept on pacing in circles constantly.

Nathan seemed downright haggard and spent, restless on all his gestures and movements, walking until his heavy metallic boots began to erode the floor. And not only due to the former clash with Logan. He had returned days ago of his mission with X-Force, and yet hadn't said anything about the battle in the Arctic Citadel of Apocalypse, neither there were Sam, Berto, or even Tabitha. Only Domino had mentioned that the glacier where it rose and towered split and engulfed the fortress in its jaws when a Jean spooked and anguished asked for a psychic spike on the astral plane on that zone.

Nathan seemed about of dropping, after several months running errands across the world, battling the emerging army of the High Lord. However, he seemed better since the mess with the High Evolutionary that provoked the Second Evolution War, when he was wrapped on a techno-organic cocoon. He had deaged one decade, or decade and half, perhaps.

On the other hand Nate Grey looked older. He was on his early thirties, and his body showed already the signs of the aging and the strain of keeping together a body too weak for bearing the power of his mind. However, he had endured rather fine the time and the physical wearing, and began to mirror more to Nathan or Styrfe. Which is a very disturbing thought, when someone stops to reflect in it. Besides, he seemed have learned something, since was seated, quite and silent, and other than the nervousness of not knowing like relating his alternative family still, not was releasing insane amounts of unleashed energy without any motive. Instead he leaned on the velvet couch, with the closed eyes and the head tilted backwards.

Curiously, Psylocke and the White Queen were just so quiet and closed into their private worlds. The absolute and frozen calmness of Emma Frost only was disrupted when she cast occasional sad glances at her bruised older son and angered glares at an unperturbed X-Man.

Jenny was explaining animatedly the three of them were mustering their forces for building up a psychic shield around the reunion, thus preventing Jean frying them the brain accidentally. His descriptions of neurons burning and brain melted were reaching her culminating peak, when a strong disturbance stopped her.

Abruptly, a strong yell, a mix of bear roar and whale wail, reverberated on the ears and into everyone's minds, beating mercilessly the tough psionic dome, and raising its volume steadily, wearing off the shields speedily, until its echo alone bled ears and crushed skulls, reaching a brain-melting pressure. Rachel instantly pivoted on her feet, determination carved on her beautiful and grimacing face, and lifted up her best psychic shields, delaying the disaster. Her brother linked minds with her, and both searched for their brother and Betsy and Emma, merging their shields. Then the remainder telepaths on the room sent their energies and linked with them, and among all managed to calm down the psy shout to one numbed noise.

Strongly dizzy, Polaris sought a seat, and sank in its smoothness. Alex helped her to lie down, and held tenderly her thin hand, asking to Drake for ice cubes. As Bobby gave off intense coldness for making ice for her burning temples, Storm got cold the room with a slight blizzard, easing the charring pain on the presents. Jimmy Logan folded his arms thoughtfully, and then he explained with his awareness regarding the electricity, he had noticed when Jean screamed, the personal electromagnetic field of Lorna was scrambled. He supposed when aunt Jean, incapable of preserve her own shields, hurled her mental pain outwards, she disrupted the Lorna's magnetism, and she received the full brunt of the backlash piercing her head. If the telepaths of the crowd hadn't deflected the attack of Phoenix, Lorna very well might have blasted with her power everywhere, and their brains had ended melt in a puddle oozing out of their cracked skulls.

Kurt was forced to shiver. The idea of one of the Earth's most powerful mutants losing the control scared more than Wolverine going feral.

Suddenly, other psychic scream pushed to every to plug the dreams by sheer reflex, since no sound had pervaded the air. It was an intensity high-pitched and piercing, slipping between the earlobes, invading the hearing sense, and stabbing and shattering the neurons.

"God! Really I hope she didn't suffer and yelled such hard when she gave birth to me!" moaned Rachel.

"Of course not! You were a pain in the ass fairly superior!" Vicky stated gleefully.

"SHUT UP, WORTHINGTON! YOU HADN'T BEEN BORN EVER!"

"If we were hanging around in a hospital, the patients and doctors could have gone crazy in spite of the kinetic shield. Because that we get our births here on the mansion." Storm screeched. "I believe to remember when I delivered my twins, was threatening with electrocute the genitals of every men on the world."

"You can take my word on it. She did." Logan cringed, and shuddered with the remembrance.

"It's bad enough already we had to send away the students so this stuff didn't kill them" Warren winced. His head pounded and throbbed with the veins about of bursting. He wondered how Betsy was coping.

"Oh, so the X-Men are on their own to bear this. It isn't nice..." Marrow sneered, curled on a ball.

"Forgive my manners, ex-Morlock" Emma growled while willed to herself to focus. "But is rather hard to hold together the defenses without listening your petty bickering. Thus, unless you wish being on your own to fend off of this, close your mouth."

Sarah snarled showing her gritted teeth, and brought back an arm, gripping a long and blunt bone tip. Sam however stepped in the middle, pleading for peace.

The trial continued several hours more. Until...

All felt inside a new voice, joined to the last Phoenix shout. A voice speaking of clear eyes looking for first time the universe. Of lungs swelling with the first intake of air, so anxiously waited for. Of a head, unpolluted for the illness of a dark and bleak world, recording his very first shapes and colors.

Abruptly, all they bolted at the medical bay at the same time.

*********************************************************************************

Scott Summers was lifted up the tiles by Cecilia, and this shouldered him, panting, as her free hand reached for a chair and moved it near the bed, sprawling him over her. He was spent, and gasping for air, and dizzy and aching. She might have got angry with him, behaving as if he felt the pain and the strain of giving birth, when she remembered a statement of Hank.

She recalled how the Summers marriage was psy-linked, a piece of the one's self within the other's head, practically sharing half brain. Blending loves, hates, thoughts, feelings, ideas, passions, all at once as if they were one, strands of thoughts of both minds intertwined among themselves in a tapestry, tying their brains with iron bonds. And an understanding dawned her. He had held hands with her, receiving the end of a crushing grip during hours, and was the closest when she hurled psychic bolts. But if he had been inside of her head, feeling all she felt, sharing the pain and the experience...

She remembered when Rachel was born fifteen years ago. And with a new and grudging respect, she caught a cloth, and fanned him with it. The operation had been hard and tired on every.

And then the X-Men burst into the room. She palmed her sweat-drenched head. Would do they learn ever a bit of tact?

When the X-Men came into -softly under their viewpoint, of course- of the room, stark with its withish walls of plaster, they could have noticed the tired Cecilia rolling the eyes up in hopeless -couldn't imagine the cause-, or Hank washing his furry hands. But they only looked at Scott Summers sprawled over a chair, with the force-field maker fanning him with a cloth, and Jean Grey holding a stocky and pretty newborn baby.

The all's features melt.

At the instant, the bed was surrounded for a stirred mob of persons, cooing the pretty baby, or begging hold to the kid.

Phoenix just smiled, nodded and disconnected to the child of the noise and the feeling of overwhelming.

A familiar shadow rose up and neared, parting the group of people as a hot knife the butter. She widely smiled to the figure before he bent and kissed her, long, smooth and wet on the lips. She let herself to flood on the flavor and the sensations, and when it ended her tongue still licked her lips. With other smile, presented the baby to his husband.

Take, get to your son

Jean might not see the eyes of Scott, but knew that, back of the red glasses, he was seeming lovingly dumb. Oh, yes, she loved that.

As Scott held to his new and not-otherdimensional child, gazed at the face of Jean. And her smile. Of infinite happiness. He realized the corny it sounded, but seeing her happy he felt utterly happy also. With other smile he turned to her oldest daughter.

She pointed herself in disbelief, but before being able of complaining, had six pounds of baby on her arms. Jean almost had a laugh attack with the despair of Rachel for catching perfectly to the baby.

"Easy, honey. Fold the arms of this way... No, the right taller... So, hold tight and right the head and keep it tall. Don't worry, I help with my telekinesis. Perfect."

"God... He's so pretty as you, mom."

"Is he, right?" Dad seated next to mom and stroked her belly while they kissed... again.

"May hold him for a while?"

The present males raised a brow. Storm, Rogue, Psylocke, Shadowcat and Polaris, all together, had said the same sentence at the same time. And now all shifted glances, ashamed. No man laughed, yet. Fully right knew they would be slaughtered on seconds.

Rachel wasn't listening. She was gazing at the prettiest thing of the world, her little brother, throbbing with the life of her young heart to few centimeters of her face. Her little brother. The new son of dad and mom. She kissed his temples.

While she smiled, noticed a wet prickling on her cheeks. Wiping out telekinetically her tears, she linked her mind with the his, and sent him comfort, reassurance and love. He giggled and shook his short, so short hands and feet.

Nobody will damage you, little one. Never. I promise you, little brother

A new and rough, but very dear voice blared on her mind. You speak for me, sis

Brother? Are you?

Oath! Who else?

Have you seen his face? Is sooo cute! Were you the same of cute when you were born?

A aloud laugh telepathic I doubt highly that, Rachel, but you always may ask to Scott

What see to dad squirming for, when I can see to you? Her thoughts glimmered with mischievous, and Nathan did know he was in troubles. Do you want hold him?

He flushed swiftly and silently. Me? ME? Not. I can't. No way

She got the same face she showed when a juicy salmon had bite the bait, and she was about of hauling it. Eyes sparkling with perverseness, and tongue licking her lips and grinning perversely. She could be an evil wench with her devious and sick streak mind.

Oh, poor baby. He with one SINGLE hand can hold larger and heavier than himself, but he runs away scared out his wits when the challenge is to hold a tiny bundle

That bundle is ALIVE!

Same stuff, Nate. Hold him. Show him he is sure and protected. Open your mind

She brought forward her arms and offered the little Summers to Nathan to grab. He swayed as if would rather be two miles away, but finally, stretched out his arms and cupped his hands in readiness. She lowered the baby greedily.

Two stealthy hands snatched the kid, and got away him of both siblings, cradling and cooing softly.

Nathan and Rachel refined the 'glower' term.

Jenny disregarded fully the hostility vibes and stroked with her soft hands the smooth tissue of his face, and her eyes shone with unexplainable joy when he giggled with a broad smile on his rose-colored face.

Her brother neared beside her and folded annoyed the arms. His eyes crackled soundlessly with an upsetting golden flare.

"How the heck you ALWAYS be in the better place and moment possible for doing something, sis? Like, I don't know, sneakily to steal our new uncle beneath the noses of Dad and aunt Rachel?"

She smiled, staring gleefully his leering expression. "Knack, bro. Knack for the things fall on my side." She brushed idly the black patch around her eye, and parted smoothly brown locks away of her temple. "Mom did gave me her power to get lucky." Then she knocked on his front playfully with a half-closed hand. "You, however, must conform with leveling a mountain blinking on it if you are very pissed off." Jenny gazed pointedly the dark shades bulging on the pocket of his shirt.

He rolled up his eyes grinning. "Hmm... Sister. About being pissed..."

Before he ended the phrase, a figure stepped ahead her, and spread his shadow on Jenny. She gulped. Cable had the Towering Stance Mode at its fullest, completed with the Forbidding Scowl and the Heated Death Glare. Very fewer persons -not counting her mother. She'd have blinked indifferently- on the entire world could withstand that expression and not being rendered to one writhing heap curled on a corner. She stepped involuntarily backwards, and stumbled against the unyielding and unmoving shape of Domino, arms akimbo. Her mother didn't need such kind of looming like her father's, just remained silent, dissecting her with a curious expression, merely raising a brow.

She smiled over-enthusiastically, and offered the moving baby at her father hastily.

Nathan took quietly the baby, and squeezed delicately against his wide and muscled chest, as if he was an ancient china vase, or an incunabular book.

Unsurprisingly, gazing on the newborn, tiny being shaking on his clumsy hands, he felt a wrenching deja vu. Blurred pictures floated on his mind as he parted thin wisps of clear hair of baby's head. Images of another age, another world, and another life. He remembered when he held his son, Tyler, for the first time. Nathan had stared him in wonder, amazed about like something so little and so unique could cause him so many feelings.

Finding impossible speaking, transforming his feelings into words, he shielded his son with his arms and kept him warm with his chest, weeping silently. After, being unable of bearing the overwhelming emotion washing over him, he lifted up the child on the air, cackling as a lunatic, and spinning with him in arms, crying and singing. At last Tetherblood deemed necessary smacking his head with the rifle's butt so he stopped of shattering his bleeding ears.

Aliya, lying down on the oval biobed used on his future for the delivering pregnant women, was beaming with a smile of happiness just like his mother now, sending a soundless telepathic message of 'Thanks'. That had bothered him deeply. What did she believe she should to give him thanks for? Because he acknowledged him as his son? Did she think he could act otherwise? Tyler was always their dear and beloved son. Never, nor for a flonquing second, he mattered on the slightest he wasn't really his...

Dad?

The Nathan's reverie was frozen still when he listened the mental call of his son, and he did a metal breath sucking, while sliced the trail of thoughts, and sealed down a bitter remembrance behind virtual iron doors, on the oblivion where it belonged.

Then he glanced briefly his offspring. The twins. When he had lost consecutively his wife, his son, his Clan, his war and his time, he thought he had nothing worth living for, but fulfilling his mission in the present, and resting in peace at last. Then he met the Wild Pack. He let without realizing to Domino entering in his heart. Educated to X-Force. Met and got back his parents, and even a too akin sister and an annoying brother with the pack. A family. Every trying cracking his though skull and getting through it he wasn't alone. After a while, he lost his sister, and after got back her. And then Domino gave birth his new children. He surrendered, and had to admit he had a great deal of people caring for him, needing him, and not wanting to see him dead during his crusade.

Theo and Jennifer were the last -now the second last- addition to the Summers Clan, and listening the mutants on the Academy, "the living proof uptightness is inherited". He smiled. Until now they there weren't displaying an over-exaggerated guilt-sense, but they only were thirteen. Though they already displayed enough features of the family, visible on their most serious and grimmer than usual life-view, their incredible emerging powers, and a quick and nasty temper, visible above all on his daughter, who could be quite sadistic when was angry. Never get angry one Grey Woman, his father used to tell him. And when she had inherited a piece of the also formidable temper of Domino, get her angry turned into a very painful way of committing suicide. There was a neatest and quickest method.

And his father and his mother were glowing excited when the twins were born. He remembered smiling as they paced continuously, radiating anxiety sliceable with a dull knife, making dizzy to the two-years-old Rachel, and after melting when both gazed upon their grandchildren. Scott was fully giddy. Yes, Scott giddy. He'd got snapshots for proving it. Nathan would swear also he had seen the Astral shape of Madelyne hovering around the hospital, visiting hidden her grandchildren. The day had been great and noteworthy. He had been happy and relaxed, the most in years, and when watched over the children on their cribs, Dom snoozing heavily beside them, he promised himself this time he wouldn't fail in protecting them.

And again he had broken a vow.

Oh, for the Flonq's sake!

He trembled startled. A loud and fed up grunt had rippled inside his thoughts, breaking the trail of them. It was his son's voice.

And staring the blazes crackling from his mind, he seemed annoyed.

Dad. How long more are you going to take the blame? Years have passed already...

He cut him. Irrelevant. I should have been able of save you of that maniac. I never should have let him capture you. I am your father, you are supposed to believe and confide on me, but I did let down you. I failed. Again Theo and Jenny ought to know better than cutting a Summers during his self-flagellation. After all, they did know the importance to the mental stability of shouldering always the responsibility...

Like grandma says: Get over with it! Theo grumbled exasperated. Then he went on softer and milder. You couldn't know Stryfe had kidnapped me. Who was going to suppose the flonq was so crazy as to repeat the same stunt he pulled out formerly anyhow?

Still... he muttered miserably.

A tired psychic sigh echoed, and the presence dimmed. Nathan felt a splinter of regret stabbing his stomach. He could tell Theo was annoyed with him by feeling guilty, and with himself by not easing his burden. That bothered him, and plenty. Yet when Nathan thought over it, he felt there was more reasons, not only the discomfort of his son. But he was unable of put the finger on...

And then realization struck him. Theo was angry with himself by not help him, and not take him away a concern matter. He was feeling guilty by not help HIM with his own eternal troubles, and besides giving him new ones to deal with. He was feeling guilty by anything he couldn't avoid.

Your typical Summers.

Nathan considered seriously ramming the wall until cracking the bricks or his head, whatever happened before.

However several repeated and insistent clicks drew his attention, pulling away of a bout of self-immolation. He looked up, beyond his little brother, on the front...

And Nathan saw to Wolverine taking snapshots with a camera, pressing compulsorily the button, and barely concealing a feral smirk.

Logan made profit of Nathan was too stunned for reacting, and kept using up the reel until the shooter turned mute, signaling the camera had run out of snapshots. He lowered the machine with an innocent expression, and grinned wildly, staring at Nathan -angrier at each instant- and noticing how nervous he truly was, carrying the baby. Then he came up with a fine taunt. Or his idea of one, whatsoever.

"Oh. Seems Cable can't do a simple stuff like hold a kid. We shouldn't to bug him with that, right pals?"

"Nein, mein Gott. Would be SO unkind for us do that. After all, I still remember when not-so-long ago we tossed in the trash bin his filthy diapers..."

Nathan GLARED them with a frown capable of melting steel. Without words ever, he raised up an open hand, the infected with the virus, and his left eye flickered with ember glow. The Logan's camera slipped off his hands, and soared swiftly until the Cable's fingers. He limited to gripping strongly the hand, and the device was shattered and crushed under the unbearable strength of the metal, debris of twisted steel and jagged shards of glass bursting and raining down on the tiles. He ignored the clinging of the remnants of the camera on the floor, the snikt of Wolverine pulling out his claws and the twitch of his brows, and grinding his hand on the trousers, as if he was removing dirt and grime off it, whirled towards Kurt, grinning innocently. "Wagner, give me the other camera."

"NEVER!"

Nightcrawler clutched protectively his camera -with very valuable footage, blackmail merchandise worth of painful bruises-, and scampered away.

Cable gave the baby to her sister and was about of chasing to the teleporter, when a blue-furred and smiling girl, with sincere concern nesting on her pretty face get in the way. He felt his countenance wavering, and struggled for keeping the forbidding glower, but when her lids fluttering with sorrow, he surrendered. Nathan needed plenty more coffee cups before being able get angry with Sikudhani McCoy, chore next to impossible to anyone under the best circumstances.

She smiled him kindly. "Please, cousin Nathan, aren't angry now. Don't you want to fight ahead of the Aunt Jean and the baby, you do?" she held tenderly his wide forearm, trying being reassuring. He nodded reluctantly.

"Fine, it looks like if we have one worry less on our backs" Warren quipped, folding his arms.

The scowl and the soul mood darkened again his features, and Nathan spun around to wipe that smug sneer out of the Worthington face when thunder rumbled outside. Everyone froze still and glanced scared to one very angry Storm. Her eyes glowed with whiteness when she talked, slowly and menacingly.

"Should shame of yourselves. Here we are, joined to see one new soul brought to the existence, the JEAN´s baby, and you only can think in discussing and kidding. Today is a joyful moment, not other opportunity to pick up to partners."

" Easy 'Ro, we just..."

"Logan, SHUT UP."

Wolverine retired hurriedly the hand out of the shoulder of Ororo. During years he had learnt the meaning of that tone. And then heard Bobby laughing his ass off...

"Hey, Wolvie, if you want to change of costume, I think Psylocke still keeps her first..."

Wolverine drew his claws back in, without spare him a glance ever. "Do you want face the life sliced and put in storage, Popsicle? Sure the freezer is anxious of welcome you."

"Eep!"

"Right as I thought." Wolverine growled. While Psylocke tackled to Iceman.

Cyclops waited while the tempers relaxed. At last cleared his throat and stared to her child.

"By the way, honey, within one week, when you mother had got rest enough, you and the rest of your friends must be ready for a reunion in front of the school. Shall be all the students presents."

Rachel blinked. A feeling gut crawled from her stomach and traveled up the esophagus, until sliding out of her mouth. "What for?"

He gulped and averted the look. This couldn't be good. Mother seemed nervous. Not, nothing good at all. "The mutant teams are going to celebrate one meeting for one introduction, and... We need you."

The feeling got worse with each passing second, while she heard a telepathic sentence. "Oh, crap."

Cyclops gulped and grabbed her hand reassuringly. "Don't worry, darling. Always can be worst."

A second thunder crackled over the state, tiding as far as the city, although the sky lacked of clouds. "I haven't been." stated Storm.

Rachel glanced her, and next the apologetic faces of her parents. "Of course not, aunt. Of course not."

*********************************************************************************

Icy wind blow rustling the trees and flooding with resonant whispers, stealthy mumbles, and the crunching of grass with a legion of footsteps. The lovely and wealthy mansion in middle of Westchester country was not costumed to see so many visitors, even when now was full of students.

On top of a wood makeshift stage, Cyclops revised his speech on papers blurred with black ink, while his smiling wife, bearing a baby with her arms, helped with advises. His look observed to the reunited people (or at least was supposed he was observing, since his visor-geared head turned to both sides), these ones had given in their lives for the sake of the man's dream, like himself. The almost entire teams of the old X-men, X-Factor, X-Force, X-Generation, and the scattered rests of Excalibur, reunited for the celebration of today. To both sides stood seated the mixed crowds of students of the school, making use of a hiatus on the daily classes for witnessing the reunion of that day. The day a new offspring of mutant fighters was going to born officially. He directed a meaning glance backwards, on the rear of the stage, where a red curtain parted the platform.

"Still I'm going to kill to the designer of those costumes."

"Easy, Vicky. The tailor isn't guilty of his sick and chauvinist liking."

"What tailor? They made up them with the MOLECULE REPLICATOR!"

"But you look! How are you supposed to zip and unzip the dress? How are you supposed to BREATH?"

"My telekinesis shift the molecules automatically. My trouble is this dumb cloak."

"I really have no troubles with the mine. Suit fine to my frame."

"Yours goes with the dress, but the mine..."

"Ray is right. The dramatic touch of a cloak always is welcome, but it doesn't fit to anyone. I don't imagine her father with one..." The deep shudder behind the drape might feel almost from outside.

"Sure. He is too uptight..."

"Stop it! Dad is no uptight! He is very... serious, quiet and thoughtful person, filled of duty-sense."

"On my father's words... uptight."

"Granddad isn't uptight! And only in case you want to know what words use my dad whenever speak about yours..."

"Oh, yes, cousin Nate is an entirely impartial side, of course, what I'd be thinking over."

The attention of the presents averted to one row. Usually Wolverine couldn't be seen rolling around of the grass, laughing his ass off until weeping. For that was sight worth for enjoying.

Abruptly the conversation shifted behind of the drapery...

"Hmm... Is there anyone laughing out here?"

"Yes, there's someone. I wonder why..."

"In short? My psy-scan detects they have been hearing our discussion the whole time, but I'm SURE it is nothing we have to concern for."

Deadly silence made behind the cloth.

Cyclops said nothing. But the blush of Jean and the grind of his teeth in a squeezed jaw spoke volumes. Struggling for squashing his anger inside, he breathed widely a few times, and gathered his papers. The people made an intake of wind.

"Friends, teammates, family..." he began, turning the first leaf.

A globe loaded with tomato juice sprang out and exploded on his face with a resounding plof, staining his face with red pulp and splashing with juice everywhere.

The silence was positively deafening in the grounds. Far away a starling chirped. A squirrel climbed a chestnut tree with its sharp nails, peeked briefly the weird humans, and scrammed out. Breeze blow amidst the trees.

Then the uproar of dozens of shrill, piercing laughs echoed across the grounds of the mansion, spreading as a tide.

Scott counted three. He cleaned off the juice with mechanical, stiff sweeps of his fingers. Afterwards he closed his eyes as he took off his old visor and placed the spare and clean one ahead of his eyes. Then he turned to Jean with a forceful smile.

"Sweetheart, do you mind go on with the speech for me?"

"Jean beamed. "Of course not, dear." Please don't kill him she sent out.

"Thanks, love. I did know I could count on you." Then he spun around swiftly. "DRAKE! GET READY TO DIE!"

Jean rolled up her eyes.

He roared, leaping onwards. Bobby yelped, and dodged the bright red blast scorched the ground and himself whether it'd connected, and sprinted out the crowd while his body iced up, and he built a ice bridge to slide away.

He was running away safely, when Hank leapt feet-ahead, shattering the bridge, and Warren swooped low, seizing his shoulders and tossing him to the floor.

Bobby gave several spins before stopping, filthy with grass, leafs and barks. He groaned rubbing his rear and trying straightening, when noticed the looming shadow towering above him, his face darkened by the sun except in his crimson glowing visor.

He looked behind him to Hank and Warren -he DID know they were over there-, and glared them. "I suppose you realize if I survive, both will be hunted down and killed, slowly and painfully."

"We know" smirked Warren.

"Puny prize to pay, see your excruciatingly painful torture beforehand our slated murders." Hank chuckled heartily. "Besides, you suffering is deserved, indeed. My aching back still sports burnt fur and tissue after the explosion your meddling in my experiments provoked."

Bobby crossed his arms and glared it further more acidly. "Steal the extinguisher when there is a fire you made, changing two bakers because their colors didn't match, and Frankenstein never forgives."

Hank looked him down haughtily. "Breed a cat with swan wings, eagle claws, shark flaps and reptile tail, and you become Frankenstein. Resuscitate a tyrannosaurus in your lab and you become to be Frankenstein. Assemble a killer robot-"

"Excuse me?" shouted Scott. "May we go back to the actual issue, it means, the bloody Bobby's demise?"

"Scott is right. We should allow him to maim to the Ice-cube in peace and tranquility." Warren asseverated.

The foursome kept arguing on and on, oblivious to the whole of the X-teams and the students staff. Jean stared boringly the scene, leaned on the atrium and studying the papers. With her free arm, she nursed and cradled tenderly her child, being careful of filtering any strange noise. She was very focused in her task when glanced one student raising unsteady his hand.

She looked at him "Yes, Frank?"

"I'm sorry interrupt, Mrs. Summers, but are they like this always?"

She sighed. "No, the most of the time are worst. But since you are so nice of showing interest, I'll tell you the original five during the classes used half-brain to record the lesson, and the other half to scheme revenges or pranks. I'm sure we had to shorten the Professor's life ten years down." she did let time to the revelation sank in the boys and girls, while the X-teams laughed and she overlooked the papers.

She rolled up her eyes. "Look, guys, Scott got ready a very touching and pretty speech, but I'm tired, and the folds are smudged with tomato anyway, so I suggest we skip straight to the presentations of the new teams. Is it all right?" Jean saw all clapping or nodding, and smiled satisfied.

"Very well, then. This is the new X-men's rooster: Rachel Summers, Flamebird; Victoria Worthington, Skydart; James Logan, Thunderclaw; Caroline Logan, Windrider; Katya Pryde, Steelcat; Daniel Lebeau, Energizer; and Richard Wagner Darkstalker!" She heaved, recovering oxygen, and finished the list. "And this is the list of the new X-Force: Lucy Guthrie, Carcass; Theodore Summers, Psybolt; Jennifer Summers, Psywave; Fionna Proudstar, Sonic Wave; Henry Drake, Frostbite; Serena Creed, Cheetah; Joseph Bailey, Landslide; Gailyn Bailey, Sledgehammer; and Amiko Logan, Nukenin! A strong applause to the next and newest generation of X-Men, and of X-Force!"

Mom, you're speaking as a game show host

Shut up!

A roar of claps burst, choking all mumble. The curtain opened, and emerged out the assorted members of the first team.

Rachel combed her wavy strands, and readjusted the no existent folds. She was clad with a version of the Phoenix costume, it means crimson red, with a golden bird emblazoned in front of her chest. However the wings lengthened over and around the shoulders, and attached to both was a jagged cloak, woven to mirror wings, hence its color orange as living blazes of primal fire, and the pattern draw of feathers. Above all, the cloak had a cowl with bird-like face. She also wore a psimitar, folded and fastened in the rear of the sash. She felt the smiles of her mother and her father -this one had stopped a second his melee with Iceman to look at her-, and smiled back at both.

At the contrary, Vicky was grumbling about lecherous costume designers and brain surgery with her psy-dagger. She dressed a ninja-like costume, too fit and tight, and with a triangular cleavage, supposedly matching an arrow. The back was opened to let wide-open space to her wings. She figured must illustrate her codename, so her fingers crackled with purple energy and in her hand flashed a glowing bow, firmly hold. She was an expert in all sorts of psychic weapons, mainly in the blade and the bow, going to the extreme of pleading lessons to Hawkeye to improve her dexterity. Still she wielded a psimitar, like every psychic of her generation, idea of his cousin Nathan, who had supervised the children training.

The twins presented, wincing inwardly when Jean mentioned their full names, instead plain Jimmy and Carol. He dressed the old brown with amber sides spandex of his father, although the mask and the central part were black, and his gloves was fingerless to let space to his nails, retractile and sharp as razor knives. She dressed a black leathered spandex, zipped up down on the front, with raven gloves without back. Trailing behind her floated an ivory cloak with the lightness and the movement of a wind spirit. Liquid and sinuous. Carol neither might nor wanted to relinquish the dramatist of a cloak.

When Katya stepped in the stage, her boots cracked upon the wood. The girl walked onward with absolute security, and spun around, showing off her new costume. It reminded of the old uniform of Colossus, a snowy triangular upper side covering her thorax and abdomen, with cobalt straps running along both sides and triangulating in the shoulders, and a narrow belt clasping it to the waist. Baggy boots and gloves, cobalt color with a black strip on the rim, covered forearm and shin up to knee and elbow. Hidden inside the costume she kept an electronic kit to break into computers, and bend them at her will.

Daniel sported a cockier semblance than his friends did. His costume was simple: a leather black spandex, crossed by a large red 'X' logo on the chest with armor plates covering arms and legs, and boots. The right arm was holding a ragged trenchcoat, light brown on happier and earlier times. Yet he got it a great care, since was a gift of father. He flinched a moment, hearing his mother screaming and cheering for a loudspeaker. He rubbed his temples in torment, pondering whosoever suicide had given it to her was going to get a beating, and rightly deserved. Maybe it'd shut up comments about his nickname He wasn't precisely looking forward to jokes concerning to 'steal' the codename of Katie Power, Power Pack member.

When Jean spelt the Rick's codename, nobody came out however, albeit the red mantle slightly flapped with movement. The assembly was beginning to get worried when Psylocke blasted a psy-cannon of raw power, which drew a purple arch upwards, and crashed just behind of her daughter. Then an explosion sounded BEFORE the hit, and after another above of them. The exact portrait of Kurt Wagner was stuck on a pole on his feet. A young, human-like boy, except by his furry skin of dark indigo color, his long and prehensile tail, elfish ears, tiny and nearly invisible fangs, and golden eyes, glowing amber and without pupils. His uniform looked like Kurt's, except was fully raven black to adjust his skin. Thus was nearly impossible make out his shape in a shadow unless someone stared intently.

He kept swaying on the top of the pole, when abruptly his support vanished, and he fell down loudly. Kneading his pained rear -like any well-trained great acrobat, rotated on the air, and shifted to one somersault, but calculated wrong and failed the landing-, he neglected to see to Katya innocently phasing her hand out of the wood.

Lucy sidestepped around him, shaking her head. With the sight she spotted soon her parents, Sam and Sarah, holding a little boy, her brother. She beamed. Her spandex was made for the unstable molecules let pass to her bones and after repaired the tears. It was green with blue sides, and when she deployed her full arsenal, a spiked bone armor concealed her whole frame, doing a sort of helmet on her head. Her weapons were the array of ribs sticking out on a circle in her back, and the shapes she was capable of making her bones grow.

The Summers grandson emerged after. He was clad with a tight blue costume with the sides and the 'X' letter crossing the chest in yellow color, similar to the last X-Factor uniform of his grandfather. He had a belt with many pockets, and his golden gloves gripped determinedly his own psimitar. Her sister followed his entrance, walloping his head for good measure. She was dressed with a similar version of his costume, but purple and dark blue instead yellow and light blue. She had her psimitar slung behind the shoulders, and stood in her feet, folding arms and leering to the multitude, like the cat eating a mouse.

Fionna was the next out. She had chose for the uniform of her mother and grandfather, but black and blue, and spikes instead the stripped wings. She had chosen movement over supplementary helpings to fly. If she'd known his grandfather in the timeline of Nate Grey, would have recognized that uniform in him.

Hank Drake sided with her, parting blonde bangs away his face. He made out the figure of his dad, and raised a brow seeing him with the face swollen and bruised, while his mother petted him mockingly, holding near his little sister. Looking uncle Scott fuming as walked back to the stage, and remembering the former laughs, he wisely didn't wonder. He was wearing a sky blue costume, with an pattern of ivory white concentric hexagons spreading from his chest, linked with white stripes, making a snowflake. Other than a handle of the temperature and humidity, capable of turning hydrogen and oxygen of the air into water, and water into ice and in reverse, he was likewise a telepath-telekinetic alpha-class, and therefore, his belt held a psimitar, folded and with its edge glistening with the sun.

Serena Creed strode gracefully in the stage, filled with beauty and energy. Her costume was black and orange, with a mane around the neck, concealed with her long blonde strands. That surprised the people, because she loathed publicly anything related with her father, and that was the spandex he dressed during the Morlock Massacre. However, the psychic with enhanced senses and physical capacities, capable of shifting into a cheetah, had always her own reasons to do things, and never accounted her acts to anybody. With the exception, perhaps, of Jimmy Logan.

With reluctance written on her faces, the Bailey twins strode in hesitantly. They were wearing matching costumes, dark blue with red gloves and boots, and a classic 'X', red too, crisscrossing the body from the shoulders to the knees. Their gloom expressions got perfectly straight to everybody there weren't happy joining to the spandex ranks. However, they needed working out their powers, learning of them, and control. Not matter how much they scared them.

Amiko Logan was the one finished the parade. The single human of the group, the Logan's fore daughter, had been trained in the Way of the Art by his father and the former warrior of The Hand, Yukio. Therefore, her fighting skills overpowered to many of her team, due to one style based upon the speed, agility, and movement. She wore a clad mirroring her codename, 'renegade ninja', black and baggy. Concealed among the loose folds and underneath of the clothe was kept a real arsenal, invisible except for a long razor sharp katana, slung on her back. Any observer might notice its painted-black, metallic hilt shining dangerously with the sunrays.

Meanwhile Scott and Jean were glancing concernedly at their niece and nephew, both remembering too much well Inferno, the kidnap and the brainwashing, and the subsequent discovering of the death of Sarah Bailey. It hurt.

Nevertheless Jean squished deep down the feelings of grief, mourning, and even blame, struggling for going out, and she forced herself to beam.

Scott coughed meaningfully "And these are the new teams, friends. Come on, give them other applause!"

Meanwhile claps and cheers thundered across the landscape, Scott circled his wife's waist, now thinner, -but with the streaks of the steady stretching of the belly in the pregnancy showing in her skin below the dress-, and ruffled slightly the short fur of Alex, his new son. Meanwhile, he was wondering himself about them and his future. Old remembrances danced in his mind of the good old times, but also of the bitter, heart-wrecking tragedies he'd endured with the years, and had him made in he was nowadays. He pondered if the children had conscious idea of the plights they might be pushed into, or the pain they might suffer.

Thus he recalled the early years with big shooters (Magneto, Juggernaut, the Sentinels) but mainly pathetic menaces (Vanisher, Blob, Toad, Unus, Mekano, Grotesko) that soon made way to terrible villains (Steve Lang, Proteus, Hellfire Club, Dark Phoenix, Brood, Nimrod, Genosha, Sinister, Apocalypse). He winced, praying they never bore the same horrors than them. Or at least they didn't face the horrors his son got.

As always he thought in Nathan, a pang of guilt stabbed in him, and Scott felt his mood getting sourer. When his son was born, he wished to protect him, make the world better to that tiny, warm bundle of life. And from his viewpoint, he'd failed miserably. Leaving him with Madelyne, being unable of preventing Apocalypse infecting him with the virus, sending him to the future so he could survive, leaving him in that century, allowing he was turned into a war weapon... It hurt, think in every one the times he there should be stood for his side, being there for him when his son needed, the times he'd failed to Nathan...

From his spot in the corresponding row, Nathan just stood still and quiet, gazing at his father, and sighed. Why could he not left the past behind and move on? Whenever he 'talked' with Scott, there was guilt and grief in his face. When his father saw him, automatically thought always in the wrong things he did, or the stuff weren't his fault to begin, but he blames himself nonetheless. And it hurt...

Meanwhile, the two just born teams...

"I feel dummy waving my hand and smiling without wanting laughing..."

"Patience, Danny. Patience. I'm bored, and don't see me invoking a rainstorm to run away, do you?"

"Needless to say to mom wouldn't let you get away with it, sis."

"Bullshit. Patience is overrated. I'm out of here."

"If I can't teleport me away, Theo, mein freund, your neither."

"Oath! Where are the goods of teleporting if you can't use when need the most?"

"Oh, shut up, Jennifer!"

"Any trouble, Guthrie? Do you want to argue it?"

"Zip the lip both! Whose was the idea of joining me to the spandex brigade anyway?"

"It was necessary, sister. We need learn to fight to defend us..."

"Joe is right. I remember still when discovered my real strength..."

"Stop whining, dumb! I've got more reasons to complain about family curses than you, but don't see me shouting it to the entire freaking world!"

"Shut up all or I'll scream! And you don't want to know what it'd do to your ears in that close range."

"I regard, indeed, discipline in this group went by the wayside long ago. With luck someone shall us kill within-"

"Give us a break, Amiko, still we're rookies. To start learning we can shout 'Avengers Assemble!'"

"Are you trying anyone sue us, Drake?"

"My mother will pay a whole buffet of lawyers, and after will get angry with me and me only, so which is your trouble, Vicky?"

Rachel groaned, shaking her downcast head. "Really I HOPE not be the leader."

The X-Men team stared her. Arching brows, and exchanging glances.

"OH, NO! DON'T EVER THINK OVER IT! I'M NOT BEING THE LEADER!"

*********************************************************************************

"I'm _NOT_ being the leader!" she repeated, growling.

"Oh, yes, you are. Now stop bitching and join to the damned toast!" Carol matched her voice tone with her scowl, and gulped her drink.

Rachel glared her back, and after looked around the room, at her family and friends. The two juvenile teams were celebrating their own private party.

"My grandfather leads the Starjammers. My father leads the X-Men. My uncle led X-Factor. My brother led the Clan Chosen and leads X-Force. My OTHER brother leaded the Canaanite army and the MFL. My sister leaded or will lead the Askani. But the fact of being a Summers doesn't mean I HAVE to lead a team!"

"Doesn't it do? I was unaware" Carol hurled back, grinning mischievously.

"Theo or Jenny won't be leading X-Force, but Lucy instead." she hurled back.

The twins nearly choked in the drinks. "Thanks to the Bright Lady!"

"That sentence turns out very ironical over here, guys." Kitty Pryde giggled, resting the last stray with snacks on the table. "I'm sorry, children, but I'm leaving. The others and me will be in the town, buying gifts to Scott and Jean."

"Ah, the Mother Squad" stated Sikudhani McCoy gleefully, mentioning the joking nickname of the group of Ororo, Betsy, Rogue, Kitty, Domino, Sarah, and usually Jean. But albeit she was smiling, they didn't miss the lacking of neither mirth nor joy on her blue face.

Katya leaned beside to her and patted cheerfully her back. The girl without father was encouraging to the girl without mother. "Lighten up, Siku. Even though you have not mother, you dad is cool."

Kitty felt the joy snuffed off her, and a knot strangling her throat. Mumbling polite excuses, she turned around and went out the inn. Before closing the door, yet, she peered at her daughter, trying to smile happy, and grieved. She often second-guessed to herself, thinking whether she'd not have broken up with Pete, maybe he wouldn't have gone along with X-Force at that ill-fated mission, and he'd be alive and with her. Or if she'd made something more, whichever, maybe Piotr wouldn't have died to save of the obliteration her -their- child, and the entire X-Men. She cursed resentfully to the accursed Nimrod squad had deciphered the Xavier Protocols. At any outcome she'd not be alone and with a hole in the chest, and her child would have a father, and even siblings perhaps.

A rough snout rubbing her neck, joined to cooing sounds, lightened a bit her forlorn countenance, and she scratched the scaled head of her personal dragon.

"It's all right, Lockheed. It's all right." she mumbled.

Suddenly the Lockheed head perked up, and he looked around. However he calmed straight after, so Shadowcat didn't think over it anymore. Unbeknownst to her, a mind was looking for her so long as she was walking on the corridor, rippling with sadness, and ruefully sending tendrils of good feelings to cheer up her.

Franklin Richards pushed out the air he had held when Lockheed spotted someway his presence. Fortunately he had got to soothe the dragon before it freaked to Ms. Pryde. He wasn't doing anything bad either, but...

You didn't wish to alarm needlessly to aunt Kate completed one titling voice in his head.

He raised the head, startled. "Oh, you." he gulped saliva seeing her fuming, and agreed the glass she was offering. "Don't mean offense. Thanks, Red."

Rachel handed over the drink, and perused to the two relatives going with him. A tall, blonde woman with ponytail, and a boy with elfin ears and green hair. Valeria Von Doom, his alternative reality sister -and according to her brother Nate, a deadly case of deja vu-, and Torus Storm, the son of the Human Torch and his wife, the Skrull Lyja.

"How are the things going in the Freedom Four Tower, boys?" she queried beaming, after realizing she was staring too fixedly, until the point of the rudeness.

"Very well. All perfect. Yes, all is right." the half-Skrull answered right away, and she wondered if the boy wouldn't be in a sugar high.

"The things are very agitated of late, with the disruptions in the Negative Zone, but otherwise terrific, Ray." stated the other girl more serenely. She nodded.

Franklin scratched the nape of his neck, pondering over the best words possible right now. "Thanks for letting me and my sister and cousin in the ball, even though I'm not technically a member of either teams."

She beamed at him. "Bullshit, Franklin. You're a student here, and even if you weren't one, I say you're allowed no matter what. And if the Thou-Will-Be-Our-Leader crew has objections with my decisions, I'll tell them personally where they can shove in the objections or the nomination."

"Such rudeness is wildly unbefitting in thou, Oh, Thy Redhead Highness" chuckled someone behind them. Before Rachel turned around, a pair of arms wrapped around her neck, and a female body leaned on her, bouncing giddily.

She sighed. "Vicky, please."

Franklin raised a brow. Vicky was of Rachel's old fiends, and a telepath fellow, but sometimes her overly friendly conduct with Ray was a bit over-exaggeratedly... friendly. Getting in mind he was pretty sure Worthington liked men -he'd heard too many tales about she spying male dressers of gym to think otherwise-, it puzzled him. Perhaps she got used to be very carefree and at ease with her best friend, and cause that didn't mind her act that openly. He acknowledged ruefully that it got him somewhat jealousy.

"Are you listening, Richards? I was telling Ray is right. You'll always have a place here."

He startled. She sounded annoyed and suspicious of he was ignoring her.

"Thanks very much, Vicky. You and everyone are very kind."

"Actually you can join in to the team whether you meet up to it." Rachel blurted of sudden, blushing.

He blushed. "It is... very flatterer, Red, but now I can't. Now my parents are retired, uncle Johnny and uncle Ben need me to run the Fantastic Four, at least until they get the handle of the group and pick up a suitable substitute. Still I can help when you need me..."

"We shall call, Frank." she shook hands with him. "And the offer will always be open to you take up it."

"Don't worry, cousin! When I handle better my power, the Fantastic Four will be undefeatable, even without you! Here comes... Super Storm!" the threesome heard to Torus gloating loudly, and giggling, until Valeria smacked the rear of his green head, hoping that shut up him.

She glanced meaningfully to the girls. "Are you grasping what I have to put up with every day? Are you seeing it?" Both Rachel and Vicky guffawed.

"Look out my brother well, right?" she warned.

"He'll be safe here, Val, don't worry."

"True, your home is no less crazy than this. It seems me one of the first tries of the Doctor Doom to destroy the Fantastic Four consisted of setting up a mini-rocket in the building and dragging it in the space." Rachel procured to prod cautiously, knowing Marvel Girl the Second was very sensible to the Doom's topic. "The Baxter Building was leveled just so many times as the mansion, but our home has been rebuilt always."

"Once we had a bet going about the absolutely best destruction of the mansion" informed them Vicky cheerfully. "I covered up the bets. There was much fuss, but the final winner was..."

"Duck all, fast!"

When both X-Women heard the sudden warning yell, their honed reflexes kicked in time, and they crouched swiftly, without bothering in looking back. Franklin was more surprised than other thing seeing a cake-shaped blur streaming on the air towards him, and crashing against his face.

He was too stunned to react when slowly the chilliness of the ice cream began to sting his skin, and the chocolate slid down his neck. He was too shocked to do some else than wiping out his eyes while the whipped cream smearing his face dropped in his suit and shoes. He was too paralyzed to react when he saw to Henry Drake squirming nervously with the 'I wish to be half planet away at this moment" look.

"Mm... I'm sorry about that. I was aiming for the girls. Is not my fault they went down when I hurled the cake. Yes, that is, the blame is theirs! There aren't bad feelings between us, are there?" he giggled almost hysterically.

Then Franklin clenched his jaws, and everyone might hear a low snarl coming through his teeth. His sister peered the shade his face was reddening with, and the light glowing in his eyes, and chose to edge towards the door.

*********************************************************************************

Scott was occupied in the office, assorting wads of papers with Logan. Since the demise of the Professor the two of them had occupied of the school and the teams, cooperating with each other so much as they might. Right now they were opening files to the new teams and organizing the next classes. Was pretty much accorded the X-Men team would be located in Westchester, and X-Force in the Massachusetts school. There was set also a schedule to the Danger Room practices and...

A massive light explosion followed by an ear-shattering boom blasted in other wing of the mansion, and brightest ivory radiance flashed in the window, raising the temperature twenty degrees up. The subsequent earthquake took down to both men and shattered the window in thousand shards. A potent gust of both hot and cold wind flowed into the room, flying the papers everywhere, and whipping their faces with the debris of jagged glass.

Scott moaned with the hands on his head.

Wolverine lit up a cigar, and exhaled smoke.

"For the umpteenth time, DON'T smoke in my office" his old partner/friend/rival snarled.

"The wind is pretty dragging out the smoke." he shrugged. "Are coming interesting times, right?"

Scott shook his head. "Yes. I just pray we survive the experience."

*********************************************************************************

End Part One.

Next Part: The kids test their skills, wits and teamwork during major battles. X-Force runs into worrying troubles, and while a new mutant is presented.