Chapter 4
Trouble with a Capital 'T'
The Sentinels mocked me with their evil maniacal laughter, taunted me. I heard their voices in my head - blaming, accusing . . . I felt the hot tendrils of guilt tearing at my heart. So much guilt - I looked at Ororo's still form beside me.My vision blurred and I saw burned blond tresses and slightly aristocratic features where Storm's had been. It wasn't my fault. I told her to run, but she wouldn't listen! I tried to save her! I did the best that I could! I thought. It wasn't until the sound of my own voice came back to me that I realized my anguished cries had been aloud.
I lifted into the air, then, a cold stillness washing over me. I forced the darkness to retreat as I pulled power to me - surrounding myself in a thick blue-white heat shield and letting the light spill across the entire city.
Then I gestured, releasing a shock wave of roiling energy from my body. It tore through front runner of the gang standing before me and I watched as it's head just simply disappeared and with it, the arrogant sneer on its face. The body wobbled unsteadily for a moment, then crumpled to its knees, finally falling backwards onto the street.
I felt my power fading and my stomach rising in protest. I saw them begin to respond in kind, palms once more rising to fire. Gotta finish the job, I thought doggedly. But I couldn't even maintain my flight. Slowly, I began to sink towards the ground, my final reserves of energy drained. I nerved myself for the killing blow. But, it never came; they began to fall of their own accord.struck down.by something else.
I had little time to contemplate the victory, though. The ground was rushing up to meet me, and this time I didn't think I'd survive the fall - not without my powers. Suddenly, I was buffeted by large gusts of wind and a noise reminiscent of giant birds' wings. Then I felt hands - strong and sure - firmly gripping my shoulders, holding me aloft, hoisting me towards a nearby roof. "We" set down gently - having something solid beneath my feet brought back a measure of reality. I turned, to say thanks, but felt my knees buckling. I fell, but hands around my waist held me, trying to keep me up.
"Are you all right, kid?" a disembodied voice asked me. Then there was nothing as darkness swallowed me once more.
* * * * *
In her peripheral vision, Storm saw Tres come wheeling into the middle of their conflict, his body aglow with a soft cerulean light. She finished off the Sentinel that Wolverine had sliced open, sending an electric current through it's now vulnerable circuitry, shorting out its systems. Even as the thing fell, Storm was turning towards him, ready to order him back to the Blackbird, where he could be safe and the X-Men could continue this conflagration without being hampered by the assistance of a neo- mutant.
Then there was a blinding flash of light that seemed to burn into her brain. She turned her face away from Tres' visual display and waited patiently for her vision to clear. Storm's light colored eyes gave her a heightened sensitivity to light and it was a few moments before she could see without spots dancing in front of her eyes.
"Cripes, kid!" Wolverine swore, blinking his own eyes, confirming the fact that rest of the X-Men were no better off than she.
By the time her vision had cleared, Tres was gone, racing through the night sky, leaving a trail of blue-white energy in his wake. And the Sentinels were lifting off the ground to give chase.
"Wolverine, Colossus, Nightcrawler, regroup at the Blackbird with the Professor. Angel - you and I shall follow by air," she ordered. The winds around her picked her up from the ground, carrying her aloft. "This battle is far from over," she vowed, before following in the wake of the Sentinels.
Angel was soon at her side, his large white wings pushing him along, keeping up with her as they tried to catch the elusive Sentinels. Storm concentrated, manipulating the energy patterns that only she could see, calling forth a tremendous stroke of lightning to fell their nearest opponent. Pittsburgh was a rainy city, a fact that made it easier to summon the naturally occurring phenomenon. There was an ominous rumble of thunder, then a bolt of jagged white energy reached down from the sudden cloud cover. With deadly accuracy, the recently named leader of the X-Men incapacitated the straggling member of the six remaining Sentinels. The large robot went crashing down to the ground, destroying several buildings before it came to rest, battered and broken on the street.
However, even as her strategy destroyed one, the other five maneuvered Tres into a position with their laser fire. Storm watched as they neared him, oblivious to their tactics. A stun blast caught him in the side, and he stopped, mid-air out of surprise. It was that moment of indecisiveness that allowed them to entrap him. "Tres," Storm said, more to herself than anyone else.
They were hundreds of yards apart from the half dozen beings. But both Storm and Angel kept their eyes locked upon Tres as one of the Sentinels grabbed him out of the air. This proved to be a tactical error on the part of the red-and-purple robot. Tres responded poorly to being captured; his body erupted, once more, with light and heat.
"Not again," Angel grumbled as the pair of X-Men was blinded..again. This time they had both reacted quickly enough to shield their eyes. Having experienced the blinding burst of power before they were better prepared to recover from it. However, turning once more back to the battle, they witnessed a now one-handed Sentinel batting a prone Tres out of the air.
"We shall divide. Sweep low to the ground, Angel, and move towards Tres. I will attain a higher altitude to gain a better perspective on situation," Storm said. Angel nodded, tucking his wings and diving low towards the ground. Simultaneously, Ororo rose, arcing above the Sentinels, preparing to strike again. However, the Sentinels all but ignored her, instead re- orienting on Tres, following him down to the street. Storm pursued.
* * * * *
Professor Xavier telepathically observed his students and their roles in the ensuing skirmish. He was disheartened by the course of events that Tres had set in motion but had confidence that the X-Men would be able to adequately handle the situation.
Storm remained fully cognizant of Tres' predicament, blinded though she was. As field commander, her leadership skills had vastly improved over the past few months. She had grown very quickly into the role, honing her natural abilities.The position suited her, Charles thought, as he 'watched' her organize the X-Men, sending the land-bound members back to the Blackbird, while she and Angel followed by air.
He had, at first, felt inclined to make several suggestions to their course of action, but then reconsidered. He reined his natural tendencies in, to see how this new team of X-Men would operate without the experience of the veteran 'first generation' to guide them. Having only been on the field by herself once before, Storm could do without my judgment, he thought to himself. She's performing well without my intrusion. Even with the unstable and unpredictable actions of Clayton Darkmoon.
He should've seen this coming, though. He shouldn't have been so preoccupied with the plight of his students that he ignored the turmoil that was going on within Tres. He could have easily 'commandeered' his thoughts but that was a last ditch measure that he would exercise only in extreme circumstances. Such circumstances had not arisen . . . yet.
Charles began the pre-flight check as Nightcrawler, Wolverine, and Colossus neared. He focused his attention on Angel and Storm as they intercepted the Sentinels that had cornered Tres. Storm dispatched one, but the resulting interplay left Charles staggering from the myriad sensations that assaulted his senses. He quickly threw up a mental shield as vertigo swept through his mind, giving him an uncomfortable sense of motion sickness. He shifted the battle away from the forefront of his mind as three of the X- Men clamored on board.
"Ready for take-off, Charley?" Wolverine said gruffly, sliding into the co- pilot's seat. Colossus and Nightcrawler strapped themselves in as the Professor began the departure procedures.
Charles tabled his annoyance at the ridiculous nickname that Wolverine insisted on using and instead focused on getting the plane into the air. He was busying formulating a plan, when Ororo's thoughts came to him. [Professor - I am nearing Tres' position. He appears to be badly hurt,] she thought to him, mild concern accompanying the empathic message.
[I understand Storm. Be careful,] he thought back to her, masking his own emotions from her. Although he already knew she was being anything but.Separating from Angel, approaching the fallen mutant from a vector that left her exposed in numerous ways. It did, however, let Storm arrive at his side more rapidly, but with scant protection.
"Herr Professor? How are Storm and Angel faring?" Kurt asked from his seat. Charles focused on his words for a second then turned his attention back on the missing members of their party.
"Storm and Angel - have not come to harm." Yet, he thought. Would he ever stop worrying about his students, Charles wondered. How many battles had they been through? How many times have their lives been in danger? And how many more times would they continue to fight the 'good fight'? Those thoughts and others flooded his mind as the Blackbird lifted off from the ground.
"Wolverine, take the controls," Charles said. "I'll need to focus my attention on Storm, Angel, and Clayton."
"You're the boss, Chuck," Wolverine replied nonchalantly. The headmaster for The School of Gifted Youngsters ground his teeth in frustration. However, he had little time to correct Wolverine and instead sank within himself as he began to 'see' the world telepathically.
Charles reached out, touching the three minds, shutting out all else - the indigenous minds of the Pittsburgh-ians that were nearby. He strengthened the rapport he maintained with all his students, keeping close contact on the physiological status of Storm and Angel. But when he came into contact with Clayton's mind, he only 'observed'. He didn't want to intrude on the privacy of the young man's mind. Such a violation could damage any possible trust that may develop between them. However, Clayton's emotional state was so disordered, that a telepathic tranquilizer might soon be the only recourse soon available to him.
Clayton Darkmoon had evinced little alarm when they were initially attacked, but Charles had felt his mind shift backwards to the past; he was obviously reliving some painful memory. He didn't bother to delve much farther than that. And as the young man was slapped around, tearing through one building and knocked into another, his own mind reeled with hurt and confusion. He firmed his defenses, slightly detaching himself from the source and sent a telepathic forecast to Storm and Angel. He waited and watched as Storm made her way to his side.
She didn't get the chance to help, though. Cornered, several of the Sentinels attacked the leader of the X-Men; a bolt of energy knocked her unconscious. He [felt] the resulting pain of the stun beam and was immediately thankful that the Sentinels were sent to incapacitate and not destroy his beloved X-Men! And then he [felt] the impact, the sting of gravel and concrete, as she hit the pavement, then nothing . . . Through his mind-link he knew that Storm was unconscious, but not dead.
From Clayton, Charles felt the internal battle, struggling against desperation, denying fear when the Sentinels cornered both he and Storm. Again Charles felt his mind time slip. It was like Clayton was caught in a dream state, his memories overlaying the scene at hand. Instead of seeing Ororo, he saw.a young blond female, her burned body lying beside him. And when Clayton thought her dead, his mind exploded in chaos and pain.
"No!" the young man roared, his tormented cry piercing the sky, seeming to reverberate around the city. There was a flash of blue-white light that dazzled the eye. Charles watched as a waving corona of flames grew up and outward, surrounding Clayton in a beautiful cocoon of translucent energy. The young man gained altitude until he was eye-level with the Sentinels. Wolverine pulled the Blackbird up close to a rooftop and engaged the hover mode while the remaining X-Men prepared to re-join the fight.
Colossus and Wolverine made their way to the door while Nightcrawler retrieved something from one of the storage lockers. Opening the hatch door, the two X-Men jumped the short distance to the building below and Nightcrawler teleported down with . . . explosives? Charles immediately understood his intention and had the circumstances not been so extreme, he would have smiled at his ingenuity. But the situation was extreme.
The mentor of the X-Men watched from the Blackbird as Tres released a powerful burst of blue-white energy. The rolling flames expanded outward from his body in a half-donut shape and swept through one of the Sentinels like it wasn't even there. He turned away, momentarily blinded by the brilliant discharge. He turned to look back, less than a minute later, waiting for his vision to clear. What he saw gave him cause to both fear and appreciate the young man's abilities.
The Sentinel has been decapitated.No, that wasn't right. The head was simply gone. Fused circuitry was exposed from the charred and blackened neck. The rest of its body - what was left of it - was covered in molten goo that reminded him of mercury. He deduced it was the remains of the head, the slag that was left over from the heat wave Clayton had released. There was a moment of deafening silence, and then the headless robot began to fall. Like a fifty-foot tall domino, it toppled over, crushing buildings, cars, and lampposts. The sound of thousands of tons of metal colliding with concrete echoed for miles around.
Charles relayed a thought to Angel. The winged man agreed, giving the still airborne Clayton Darkmoon a wide berth as he moved in close to Storm. The young man hovered defiantly, a radiant figure in the now-quiet night.
Such was the fury that Tres felt, that Charles had at first been hesitant to reach out with his mind to attempt to soothe his turbulent thoughts. He quickly overcame his initial shock at the mutant's psychological state and reached out with what he hoped would be a calming touch to his agitated mind. He sensed that the worst of Tres' emotional frenzy was over though, and that the college student was becoming lucid of the destruction he had wrought.
It was like someone had snuffed out a candle, Charles thought in retrospect. No sooner had he contacted Clayton telepathically, than did both the light and his mind simply wink out. Clayton Darkmoon plummeted to the street below. Charles only had a second to warn Angel, but years of training gave them an advantage that belied speed. Warren, having been keeping an eye on Tres while recovering Ororo, moved into position. He caught the young mutant in his arms. Charles sighed his relief, telepathically and verbally.
There was one advantage to Clayton's outburst; he drew the attention of the Sentinel's to him. His X-Men moved into position and finished off the rest of the Sentinels - swiftly and efficiently. Charles relaxed as yet another day was won - the X-Men were victorious, with only minor casualties.
[We must remove ourselves from these premises quickly,] Charles thought analytically. He was determined to remain the voice of reason through out the chaos - as always. The X-Men's SR71 jet hovered above them all, seeming to survey the damage. Charles transmitted his instructions to Angel to begin the evacuation of the injured. Then Charles waited while the X-Men boarded their plane. It took a relatively short time for Angel to complete the action, but Charles counted each second, half-expecting a much larger squadron of Sentinels to arrive and . . . He ground his teeth in determination. That will not happen, he thought positively, as Angel brought Ororo on board.
"Wolverine take the controls. We must depart," he said. He turned in his seat, his eyes drawn to the prone young man lying on the floor of the plane. "It would be unwise not to take advantage of the lapse in further reinforcements." The other man plotted in their course, while Charles tapped his fingers on the arms of the pilot's seat.
Although his concerns had been put to rest and even though they encountered no further resistance on their way back to the mansion, still.Professor Charles Xavier could not divest himself of the feeling that something had gone terribly wrong.
* * * * *
He watched the ensuing battle as if it were some TV melodrama and the X-Men were actors playing out a scene. Technically it was. The X-Men had not willingly signed up to the role of New Mutant Protectorate, but it was one they shouldered at any and every opportunity. And since he had sent the Sentinels to detain the mutants and acquire their latest "applicant for admission into the team", it was appropriate that he watched the resulting altercation. He doubted very much that they would succeed in killing or even capturing their intended, though. And if they did, it had just meant that he had not chosen wisely enough. Again, the probability of annihilation remained small, but that didn't mean he wouldn't watch. He needed to know the outcome.
Regardless of the aftermath, he would get the desired results.
Further, it would provide an excellent opportunity to observe the growth of the mutant's abilities these past four years. He had theorized that four years of non-use would have greatly increased his powers, but had yet to see them in action. The last time Clayton Darkmoon had used his abilities had been quite . . . impressive. He allowed himself a small private smile.
Should he reach those power levels again, then my presence would be critical. I will have a meeting to attend to, he thought. He looked down where a small watch-like device was strapped to his wrist. In actuality, this apparatus was a micro-detection unit; it monitored quantities of psionic energy. Currently it was listing exorbitant levels due to the presence of an Omega class telepath and two more of the world's most powerful mutants. In his other hand, he held a device that functioned as an inhibitor/psi-damper, something akin to a power suppresser except this device functioned as a psychic cage. Both were essential to tracking his guest. He only had to wait, for he was sure the battle would precipitate the arrival of his intended party.
As he predicted, the battle climaxed rapidly, resulting in the mass destruction of the Sentinels and the departure of the X-Men away from the scene. In fact, his prodigal son had been part of said devastation - which only supported his belief that the young mutant's powers had increased greatly over the past four years. Such a large burst of energy would certainly be put to good use. As if on cue, his wrist indicator began to beep ominously as it registered a massive increase in pure psionic energy. He smiled to himself, a cruel evil smile, as the first of many dread schemes began to come to fruition.
Trouble with a Capital 'T'
The Sentinels mocked me with their evil maniacal laughter, taunted me. I heard their voices in my head - blaming, accusing . . . I felt the hot tendrils of guilt tearing at my heart. So much guilt - I looked at Ororo's still form beside me.My vision blurred and I saw burned blond tresses and slightly aristocratic features where Storm's had been. It wasn't my fault. I told her to run, but she wouldn't listen! I tried to save her! I did the best that I could! I thought. It wasn't until the sound of my own voice came back to me that I realized my anguished cries had been aloud.
I lifted into the air, then, a cold stillness washing over me. I forced the darkness to retreat as I pulled power to me - surrounding myself in a thick blue-white heat shield and letting the light spill across the entire city.
Then I gestured, releasing a shock wave of roiling energy from my body. It tore through front runner of the gang standing before me and I watched as it's head just simply disappeared and with it, the arrogant sneer on its face. The body wobbled unsteadily for a moment, then crumpled to its knees, finally falling backwards onto the street.
I felt my power fading and my stomach rising in protest. I saw them begin to respond in kind, palms once more rising to fire. Gotta finish the job, I thought doggedly. But I couldn't even maintain my flight. Slowly, I began to sink towards the ground, my final reserves of energy drained. I nerved myself for the killing blow. But, it never came; they began to fall of their own accord.struck down.by something else.
I had little time to contemplate the victory, though. The ground was rushing up to meet me, and this time I didn't think I'd survive the fall - not without my powers. Suddenly, I was buffeted by large gusts of wind and a noise reminiscent of giant birds' wings. Then I felt hands - strong and sure - firmly gripping my shoulders, holding me aloft, hoisting me towards a nearby roof. "We" set down gently - having something solid beneath my feet brought back a measure of reality. I turned, to say thanks, but felt my knees buckling. I fell, but hands around my waist held me, trying to keep me up.
"Are you all right, kid?" a disembodied voice asked me. Then there was nothing as darkness swallowed me once more.
* * * * *
In her peripheral vision, Storm saw Tres come wheeling into the middle of their conflict, his body aglow with a soft cerulean light. She finished off the Sentinel that Wolverine had sliced open, sending an electric current through it's now vulnerable circuitry, shorting out its systems. Even as the thing fell, Storm was turning towards him, ready to order him back to the Blackbird, where he could be safe and the X-Men could continue this conflagration without being hampered by the assistance of a neo- mutant.
Then there was a blinding flash of light that seemed to burn into her brain. She turned her face away from Tres' visual display and waited patiently for her vision to clear. Storm's light colored eyes gave her a heightened sensitivity to light and it was a few moments before she could see without spots dancing in front of her eyes.
"Cripes, kid!" Wolverine swore, blinking his own eyes, confirming the fact that rest of the X-Men were no better off than she.
By the time her vision had cleared, Tres was gone, racing through the night sky, leaving a trail of blue-white energy in his wake. And the Sentinels were lifting off the ground to give chase.
"Wolverine, Colossus, Nightcrawler, regroup at the Blackbird with the Professor. Angel - you and I shall follow by air," she ordered. The winds around her picked her up from the ground, carrying her aloft. "This battle is far from over," she vowed, before following in the wake of the Sentinels.
Angel was soon at her side, his large white wings pushing him along, keeping up with her as they tried to catch the elusive Sentinels. Storm concentrated, manipulating the energy patterns that only she could see, calling forth a tremendous stroke of lightning to fell their nearest opponent. Pittsburgh was a rainy city, a fact that made it easier to summon the naturally occurring phenomenon. There was an ominous rumble of thunder, then a bolt of jagged white energy reached down from the sudden cloud cover. With deadly accuracy, the recently named leader of the X-Men incapacitated the straggling member of the six remaining Sentinels. The large robot went crashing down to the ground, destroying several buildings before it came to rest, battered and broken on the street.
However, even as her strategy destroyed one, the other five maneuvered Tres into a position with their laser fire. Storm watched as they neared him, oblivious to their tactics. A stun blast caught him in the side, and he stopped, mid-air out of surprise. It was that moment of indecisiveness that allowed them to entrap him. "Tres," Storm said, more to herself than anyone else.
They were hundreds of yards apart from the half dozen beings. But both Storm and Angel kept their eyes locked upon Tres as one of the Sentinels grabbed him out of the air. This proved to be a tactical error on the part of the red-and-purple robot. Tres responded poorly to being captured; his body erupted, once more, with light and heat.
"Not again," Angel grumbled as the pair of X-Men was blinded..again. This time they had both reacted quickly enough to shield their eyes. Having experienced the blinding burst of power before they were better prepared to recover from it. However, turning once more back to the battle, they witnessed a now one-handed Sentinel batting a prone Tres out of the air.
"We shall divide. Sweep low to the ground, Angel, and move towards Tres. I will attain a higher altitude to gain a better perspective on situation," Storm said. Angel nodded, tucking his wings and diving low towards the ground. Simultaneously, Ororo rose, arcing above the Sentinels, preparing to strike again. However, the Sentinels all but ignored her, instead re- orienting on Tres, following him down to the street. Storm pursued.
* * * * *
Professor Xavier telepathically observed his students and their roles in the ensuing skirmish. He was disheartened by the course of events that Tres had set in motion but had confidence that the X-Men would be able to adequately handle the situation.
Storm remained fully cognizant of Tres' predicament, blinded though she was. As field commander, her leadership skills had vastly improved over the past few months. She had grown very quickly into the role, honing her natural abilities.The position suited her, Charles thought, as he 'watched' her organize the X-Men, sending the land-bound members back to the Blackbird, while she and Angel followed by air.
He had, at first, felt inclined to make several suggestions to their course of action, but then reconsidered. He reined his natural tendencies in, to see how this new team of X-Men would operate without the experience of the veteran 'first generation' to guide them. Having only been on the field by herself once before, Storm could do without my judgment, he thought to himself. She's performing well without my intrusion. Even with the unstable and unpredictable actions of Clayton Darkmoon.
He should've seen this coming, though. He shouldn't have been so preoccupied with the plight of his students that he ignored the turmoil that was going on within Tres. He could have easily 'commandeered' his thoughts but that was a last ditch measure that he would exercise only in extreme circumstances. Such circumstances had not arisen . . . yet.
Charles began the pre-flight check as Nightcrawler, Wolverine, and Colossus neared. He focused his attention on Angel and Storm as they intercepted the Sentinels that had cornered Tres. Storm dispatched one, but the resulting interplay left Charles staggering from the myriad sensations that assaulted his senses. He quickly threw up a mental shield as vertigo swept through his mind, giving him an uncomfortable sense of motion sickness. He shifted the battle away from the forefront of his mind as three of the X- Men clamored on board.
"Ready for take-off, Charley?" Wolverine said gruffly, sliding into the co- pilot's seat. Colossus and Nightcrawler strapped themselves in as the Professor began the departure procedures.
Charles tabled his annoyance at the ridiculous nickname that Wolverine insisted on using and instead focused on getting the plane into the air. He was busying formulating a plan, when Ororo's thoughts came to him. [Professor - I am nearing Tres' position. He appears to be badly hurt,] she thought to him, mild concern accompanying the empathic message.
[I understand Storm. Be careful,] he thought back to her, masking his own emotions from her. Although he already knew she was being anything but.Separating from Angel, approaching the fallen mutant from a vector that left her exposed in numerous ways. It did, however, let Storm arrive at his side more rapidly, but with scant protection.
"Herr Professor? How are Storm and Angel faring?" Kurt asked from his seat. Charles focused on his words for a second then turned his attention back on the missing members of their party.
"Storm and Angel - have not come to harm." Yet, he thought. Would he ever stop worrying about his students, Charles wondered. How many battles had they been through? How many times have their lives been in danger? And how many more times would they continue to fight the 'good fight'? Those thoughts and others flooded his mind as the Blackbird lifted off from the ground.
"Wolverine, take the controls," Charles said. "I'll need to focus my attention on Storm, Angel, and Clayton."
"You're the boss, Chuck," Wolverine replied nonchalantly. The headmaster for The School of Gifted Youngsters ground his teeth in frustration. However, he had little time to correct Wolverine and instead sank within himself as he began to 'see' the world telepathically.
Charles reached out, touching the three minds, shutting out all else - the indigenous minds of the Pittsburgh-ians that were nearby. He strengthened the rapport he maintained with all his students, keeping close contact on the physiological status of Storm and Angel. But when he came into contact with Clayton's mind, he only 'observed'. He didn't want to intrude on the privacy of the young man's mind. Such a violation could damage any possible trust that may develop between them. However, Clayton's emotional state was so disordered, that a telepathic tranquilizer might soon be the only recourse soon available to him.
Clayton Darkmoon had evinced little alarm when they were initially attacked, but Charles had felt his mind shift backwards to the past; he was obviously reliving some painful memory. He didn't bother to delve much farther than that. And as the young man was slapped around, tearing through one building and knocked into another, his own mind reeled with hurt and confusion. He firmed his defenses, slightly detaching himself from the source and sent a telepathic forecast to Storm and Angel. He waited and watched as Storm made her way to his side.
She didn't get the chance to help, though. Cornered, several of the Sentinels attacked the leader of the X-Men; a bolt of energy knocked her unconscious. He [felt] the resulting pain of the stun beam and was immediately thankful that the Sentinels were sent to incapacitate and not destroy his beloved X-Men! And then he [felt] the impact, the sting of gravel and concrete, as she hit the pavement, then nothing . . . Through his mind-link he knew that Storm was unconscious, but not dead.
From Clayton, Charles felt the internal battle, struggling against desperation, denying fear when the Sentinels cornered both he and Storm. Again Charles felt his mind time slip. It was like Clayton was caught in a dream state, his memories overlaying the scene at hand. Instead of seeing Ororo, he saw.a young blond female, her burned body lying beside him. And when Clayton thought her dead, his mind exploded in chaos and pain.
"No!" the young man roared, his tormented cry piercing the sky, seeming to reverberate around the city. There was a flash of blue-white light that dazzled the eye. Charles watched as a waving corona of flames grew up and outward, surrounding Clayton in a beautiful cocoon of translucent energy. The young man gained altitude until he was eye-level with the Sentinels. Wolverine pulled the Blackbird up close to a rooftop and engaged the hover mode while the remaining X-Men prepared to re-join the fight.
Colossus and Wolverine made their way to the door while Nightcrawler retrieved something from one of the storage lockers. Opening the hatch door, the two X-Men jumped the short distance to the building below and Nightcrawler teleported down with . . . explosives? Charles immediately understood his intention and had the circumstances not been so extreme, he would have smiled at his ingenuity. But the situation was extreme.
The mentor of the X-Men watched from the Blackbird as Tres released a powerful burst of blue-white energy. The rolling flames expanded outward from his body in a half-donut shape and swept through one of the Sentinels like it wasn't even there. He turned away, momentarily blinded by the brilliant discharge. He turned to look back, less than a minute later, waiting for his vision to clear. What he saw gave him cause to both fear and appreciate the young man's abilities.
The Sentinel has been decapitated.No, that wasn't right. The head was simply gone. Fused circuitry was exposed from the charred and blackened neck. The rest of its body - what was left of it - was covered in molten goo that reminded him of mercury. He deduced it was the remains of the head, the slag that was left over from the heat wave Clayton had released. There was a moment of deafening silence, and then the headless robot began to fall. Like a fifty-foot tall domino, it toppled over, crushing buildings, cars, and lampposts. The sound of thousands of tons of metal colliding with concrete echoed for miles around.
Charles relayed a thought to Angel. The winged man agreed, giving the still airborne Clayton Darkmoon a wide berth as he moved in close to Storm. The young man hovered defiantly, a radiant figure in the now-quiet night.
Such was the fury that Tres felt, that Charles had at first been hesitant to reach out with his mind to attempt to soothe his turbulent thoughts. He quickly overcame his initial shock at the mutant's psychological state and reached out with what he hoped would be a calming touch to his agitated mind. He sensed that the worst of Tres' emotional frenzy was over though, and that the college student was becoming lucid of the destruction he had wrought.
It was like someone had snuffed out a candle, Charles thought in retrospect. No sooner had he contacted Clayton telepathically, than did both the light and his mind simply wink out. Clayton Darkmoon plummeted to the street below. Charles only had a second to warn Angel, but years of training gave them an advantage that belied speed. Warren, having been keeping an eye on Tres while recovering Ororo, moved into position. He caught the young mutant in his arms. Charles sighed his relief, telepathically and verbally.
There was one advantage to Clayton's outburst; he drew the attention of the Sentinel's to him. His X-Men moved into position and finished off the rest of the Sentinels - swiftly and efficiently. Charles relaxed as yet another day was won - the X-Men were victorious, with only minor casualties.
[We must remove ourselves from these premises quickly,] Charles thought analytically. He was determined to remain the voice of reason through out the chaos - as always. The X-Men's SR71 jet hovered above them all, seeming to survey the damage. Charles transmitted his instructions to Angel to begin the evacuation of the injured. Then Charles waited while the X-Men boarded their plane. It took a relatively short time for Angel to complete the action, but Charles counted each second, half-expecting a much larger squadron of Sentinels to arrive and . . . He ground his teeth in determination. That will not happen, he thought positively, as Angel brought Ororo on board.
"Wolverine take the controls. We must depart," he said. He turned in his seat, his eyes drawn to the prone young man lying on the floor of the plane. "It would be unwise not to take advantage of the lapse in further reinforcements." The other man plotted in their course, while Charles tapped his fingers on the arms of the pilot's seat.
Although his concerns had been put to rest and even though they encountered no further resistance on their way back to the mansion, still.Professor Charles Xavier could not divest himself of the feeling that something had gone terribly wrong.
* * * * *
He watched the ensuing battle as if it were some TV melodrama and the X-Men were actors playing out a scene. Technically it was. The X-Men had not willingly signed up to the role of New Mutant Protectorate, but it was one they shouldered at any and every opportunity. And since he had sent the Sentinels to detain the mutants and acquire their latest "applicant for admission into the team", it was appropriate that he watched the resulting altercation. He doubted very much that they would succeed in killing or even capturing their intended, though. And if they did, it had just meant that he had not chosen wisely enough. Again, the probability of annihilation remained small, but that didn't mean he wouldn't watch. He needed to know the outcome.
Regardless of the aftermath, he would get the desired results.
Further, it would provide an excellent opportunity to observe the growth of the mutant's abilities these past four years. He had theorized that four years of non-use would have greatly increased his powers, but had yet to see them in action. The last time Clayton Darkmoon had used his abilities had been quite . . . impressive. He allowed himself a small private smile.
Should he reach those power levels again, then my presence would be critical. I will have a meeting to attend to, he thought. He looked down where a small watch-like device was strapped to his wrist. In actuality, this apparatus was a micro-detection unit; it monitored quantities of psionic energy. Currently it was listing exorbitant levels due to the presence of an Omega class telepath and two more of the world's most powerful mutants. In his other hand, he held a device that functioned as an inhibitor/psi-damper, something akin to a power suppresser except this device functioned as a psychic cage. Both were essential to tracking his guest. He only had to wait, for he was sure the battle would precipitate the arrival of his intended party.
As he predicted, the battle climaxed rapidly, resulting in the mass destruction of the Sentinels and the departure of the X-Men away from the scene. In fact, his prodigal son had been part of said devastation - which only supported his belief that the young mutant's powers had increased greatly over the past four years. Such a large burst of energy would certainly be put to good use. As if on cue, his wrist indicator began to beep ominously as it registered a massive increase in pure psionic energy. He smiled to himself, a cruel evil smile, as the first of many dread schemes began to come to fruition.