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The Second Ascension
Author: Jenskott
Summary: After of the Gathering of The Twelve the machine and the technology of Apocalypse was abandoned and forgotten in Akkaba. Suddenly the reality has changed drastically, without anybody realizing. What happened and who is the responsible? Can the X-Men stop and reassert the timeline in its path?
Notes: I'm sorry for the delay but I was waiting for some remark about the former parts. Thanks for the comments, pals, but keep on sending, please! Keep in mind I write several pages in each chapter. Hence can't be so hard draft a pair of lines with an advice or opinion in return. It's only fair, isn't it?
To Ali: I DON'T dislike me Belladonna: but she's the Gambit's ex-wife and tried kill to Remy and Rogue several times so obviously she isn't the Rogue's favorite person. I tried and reflected that, no my personal opinion. It's a Madelyne/Jean type of stuff.
I reckon I can have confused to my readers so I'll put this straight: The interludes happen in cannon comic. The events happened in them broke the timeline apart and forged an alternative reality, where Scott and Jean live in Alaska with their kids, Psylocke is alive and is Archangel's lover, Gambit and Rogue get married, Alex and Lorna live together and retired, Logan hasn't lost to Mariko... The reason behind is one person used to The Twelve to remake the universe. And in the current part we discover to the responsible. I'm sure you will be surprised.
Continuity: Comic.
Disclaimer: X-Men belong to Marvel due to some sort of cosmic disaster. And writing nonsense disclaimers to disown stuff that all know aren't yours is boring.
Feedback: To jorgisimox@hotmail.com. I can't stress enough how badly I need advice and supports. English isn't my primary language, so excuse my mistakes.
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Part Six-
Emma Frost purred with contentment while the hot rain of water droplets poured on her, soaking her skin, washing over the filthiness and the tiredness, and warming her body. Her silky hands kneaded thoroughly her slim frame with a therapeutic massage, loosening the knots of the muscles and the soreness of her limbs. Around her floated billows of vapor and mixed with her steamy breath.
The shower was her personal Heaven. They never failed in doing her feel cleansed, or in replenishing her energies after of a whole day dealing with Jubilee. God knew she needed a break from the bubbly teenager.
While she threaded one hand along her golden locks, other drifted towards the bottle of the shampoo. However she spent more seconds than usual in finding it, like if it wasn't in its usual spot. Bewildered but confided Emma disregarded the detail, attributing it to silly paranoia. She snapped the cap and tipped the container.
"Wait!" An unexpected hand suddenly grabbed her wrist with gentle firmness.
She turned surprised at her interloper. "Robert! What on the Earth are you doing in my shower? Go out!"
Bobby Drake didn't listen. Instead he snatched away her hands the cleaning product. "Have you any idea of what were about of doing to yourself?" He snarled.
Emma crossed her arms over her naked breasts and looked down on him with irresistible haughtiness. "It is named wash one's hair, Robert. It means wet the hair, in this instance my hair, apply the cleaning product, in this instance that shampoo, rub energetically and thoroughly, wash over the suds and bubbles of soap with the shower, and rinse the strands. The goal of the above-mentioned activity is clean the dirt and grease off the hair. Is it clear enough to your brain now, or you need further definition?"
"Observe carefully" Bobby stated dryly, ignoring her biting remarks. Emma blinked, surprised and flabbergasted with that level and nonchalant tone. She couldn't help pay attention to him.
Bobby turned upside down the bottle with flippant and exaggerated gestures, and let a thin stream of gelatinous mass slid at his open palm. The viscous blot of liquid soap was of a pale orange color.
The White Queen arched an annoyed brow. "What am I supposed to- Wait a moment! That color... That isn't my shampoo!"
Bobby shrugged. "Of course not. I suspected Jubilee was up to nothing good when I saw her walking at the Danger Grotto with a wicked and insanely pleased grin plastered on her face. Then I passed by the bathroom, and I figured out all when I listened to the shower noises. By luck I was in time."
"Thanks Robert" She beamed, sincerely grateful, before her countenance darkened. "Still I must slay to Jubilation. I shall need time to develop a suitable punishment thus her fate be awfully unpleasant..."
"Come on, Emma. Take pity on her." Bobby patted her left shoulder, hoping being reassuring. "She is only seventeen. She is evolving from teenager to mature grownup. And she hates that process with passion. Thus she tries proving she is the same old joker Jubilee, and you are a convenient victim to her -how did Hank put it?- teenager spirit of rebellion. It's only one phase. It'll eventually pass."
"That explains plenty things about yourself, Bobby" Emma remarked with a twinkle of her frozen-blue eyes. Apparently she had forgotten she was stark naked, and displaying her gorgeous body to him. "Confirm me one of them. Did you leave behind that phase?"
"I'm not sure I did."
She giggled. "You are absolutely hopeless, Bobby." Iceman laughed back but he ceased, puzzled when the echoing laughter ceased abruptly. Emma wasn't sniggering anymore. And her expression had turned serious and gloomy. "Thanks for helping me in the Academy, Robert. I can excel teaching, but you have with the children a comprehension and an understanding I regrettably can't claim."
Bobby fidgeted with the same uneasiness he felt whenever Emma decided compliment him. It was unnerving. "I try only helping, Emma. I am good remaining in touch with my inner child and in applying it to the real life. It isn't really anything to be thankful for..." He trailed off.
"Oh, but it IS. Without your help and your knowledge of the teenager brain I'd be rendered bald or dyed nowadays. And I am thankful, so I should reward you. You coincide with my assumption, don't you?"
Her wolfish grin turned predatory. Bobby started to squirm. She leered at him, basking in his obvious fear, loving his rattled stance.
Utterly hopeless She sent away, into his mind. That was his only warning before she grabbed roughly his shirt's lapels and pulled him roughly in her. She kissed him, shutting his squealing yelps of protest.
Eerie sparks gleamed in her eyes while she merged lips with him and tasted the sweet flavor of his mouth. He could be somewhat prankster and buffoon but he was kinder, nicer and more honest than the most of the paltry representatives of the mankind she had known so far. And he displayed cuteness in a boyish kind of way. True, he wasn't Shaw, he didn't sport that sensation of power, he didn't exude that dominance. But that was all there had ever been between the Black King and her, power games. Forever she had secretly been reluctant and cowed of the shadows lurking in his dark eyes.
She could grow fond of a goofy smile and honest eyes, without blind shutters sheltering closed spaces behind. Besides, she liked a man she could scare and frighten mindlessly.
She pulled him in the tube and slid the drape behind him. An instant later the curtain parted again, and a female lean hand tossed out several articles of clothing and two shoes.
Absorbed in theirs own business, neither of them noticed a glowing golden disc flashing mysteriously in a corner of the ceiling. Out of that shimmering torn in the spatial fabric emerged a video camera.
Meanwhile, in a darkened room, Jubilation Lee switched the monitor on and began to record the ribald images filling the video screen. An insane and satisfied grin curved her lips and she burst in wild laughter, starting to the entire pack of Generation-X, gathered around her. They were her partners-in-crime and mischief. Paige had co-created the devilish scheme, Everett had talked to the group into, Angelo had assembled the toy, Blink had teleported the camera, and Monet and Jono were shielding them psychically.
Oh, yes, this tape was worth of its weight in gold.
She regretted mournfully Bobby had busted her inoffensive plan, and the subsequent missed chance of making a prank at Emma's expense, but he remained unaware of her secondary scheme. With that tape she would exact revenge on Emma after she punished the shampoo trick. And on Drake too, for having blown up her joke and having sided with Frosty. Even if he had stood up for her, Popsicle ought to pay.
She arched back her head and cackled maniacally. Her friends and teammates edged away from her slowly.
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INTERLUDE
Nathan Summers hammered with brutal punches the sphere of immaterial energy where he was encased. His left eye glowed with the golden radiance of a suncore and erupted blistering fire. That crackling and blinding flame was a telltale hint of the force he was unleashing. The Cable's mind invoked his formidable and virtually endless supply of power and hurled it against the curvy surface, hoping his immeasurable and incomprehensible strength was enough to set him free.
He hoped in vain. Psychic flares capable of extinguishing suns crashed harmlessly in the glass-like barrier and burst in flickering smithereens of sparks.
The wall-shield quavered. Nathan might swear it was contemptuously mocking of him. Unwilling to surrender he sent other barrage of bolts as his bulky and muscular frame pulsated amber.
Beside him stood his sister, locked inside of a similar bubble of anti-force. She was literally afire, charring in her own raging flames while a rising Phoenix enveloped her shape. Her red hair danced and crackled like blazes and an unholy light shimmered on her eyeballs while she unleashed flowing tongues of fire upon the crystalline wall. She attacked her prison with an effort and stubbornness praiseworthy but useless. The globe absorbed and dispersed easily any amount of cosmic energy she could muster.
Attack like that was a pointless waste of energy and resources. Rachel realized of that futility and gave up.
Nathan glanced at her plaintively and turned at the figure that had trapped them in those energy marbles. There was something sinister and eerie in the shadows tainted the eyes and in the tantalizing twitches of the blazes licking the skin. Ravenous flames rippled, wavered and flared around of the body, shrouding it in red. Thoroughly alarmed Nathan wondered what had happened. And for first time he questioned the wisdom of his decision of breaking up with the X-Men.
"Why are you doing this?" He wheezed. Regretfully, since he didn't wish displaying weakness, but the struggle had taken its toll.
Rachel repeated his words among the sound of her sobs and her punches pummeling hopelessly the globule. "Yes! Why are you doing this? I don't understand-"
"Hush, Rachel. You likewise, Nathan. I'm doing this for both of you."
"For us?" He queried, intrigued. His voice was laced with blatant incredulity and puzzlement.
"For all of us in reality. I'm going to do it all better, but I need your help."
"Ask was too easy?" He grated balefully, twisting his lips in an annoyed curl.
A long finger was flung towards him, pointing him accusatorily. "Perhaps I would have done if I had known where you stayed! Or what she was alive for that matter! And don't dare to use that tone with me, Nathan Christopher! I'm very disgusted with you!"
Suddenly she crossed the rim of the bubble and embraced him tightly with strong and athletic arms. He blinked in confusion. First she assailed him and seized and an instant later was hugging him. Why?
"Dumb kid. Why did you run away from everyone? We could have used your help and solace. But instead you vanish without trace and wander around the entire world, making errands." A set of lips kissed tenderly his temple. "My little hero. You always were like that, even of child. A young boy with a heart so soft and big it didn't fit in your chest, a skull too tough for your own good, and a tunnel vision to change the world into a better place."
Nathan intended speaking, but she untangled their bodies and stepped towards Rachel, facing her with arms akimbo.
"Was a true and unexpected surprise finding out what you had returned from the Hereafter. When I knew was as angry as distraught at the knowledge you preferred hide instead warning us of your return. Albeit maybe I shouldn't be so shocked. Perhaps I deserve that treatment. I was never that you needed and I hurt you too many times. So many times... It's understandable you didn't want anything with me"
"You haven't hurt me!" Rachel rebuked, horrified. Appalled because she could believe such absurdity.
Crackling green eyes bored in her. They were harsh and merciless. "No? Didn't even when I repudiated you? Or when I turned you down when you were seeking love desperately? Or when I swatted you aside as a nuisance, a particularly unwanted insect? Or when I treated you as a despicable bug, someone who I wanted out of my world so my hectic and twisted life was less complicated? Don't say bullshit, child."
Distraught pain crept in the young redhead's features, but Rachel controlled hastily her expression, being more alarmed than wounded. She gazed intensely at the woman, scrutinizing her very thoughtfully. "You want me angry with you" She mouthed plainly, levelly. With words surprisingly steady and serene. "For some twisted motive you want I become angry with you. Perhaps because you think you deserve the despite. Am I mistaken?"
It was barely a strangled wheeze and a blink. A faint frowning and an imperceptible squirm. But it was enough to Rachel. The telepath shook her head. "I'm not willing fueling your self-compassion or helping you to martyr yourself" Rachel paused and stared her seriously. "Why do you want I hate you?"
"I not... I mean, I don't..." She stammered, bewildered. The biting words seemed have her touched deeply, and her semblance was mollified, gone her entire fury. By now. "Our relationship or lacking of it is so warped. I want we are sort of friends, but... Never I made the world good for you: still worse, I ignore the way, and it's immensely frustrating. When I found out you were back and here again was furious, but joyful and delighted too. And that mirth had nothing to see with my plans. But... even so I needed know the reason of your return so then I... peered into your head." She trailed off, letting the condemnatory words floated on the air. "You are disappointed, aren't you? I knew what you'd do, but just like I previously stated, I've let you down so many times... what is once more?"
The woman shook her head sadly. Misery and grief were written over it.
Rachel ogled to her, downright speechless. She sensed the blunt revulsion goes along with the knowledge of the violation of your intimacy, but no the raw fury she should feel. She was displeased and sad, but no really sick. And she knew why.
"I don't hate you" She answered. A non sequitur, but perfectly coherent. "I can't hate you. I won't. Please, drop off the gloomy act. Besides, it's obvious you aren't yourself." She blinked, recalling something else she had uttered. "What are those plans you spoke about-"
Her voice trailed off and she gasped, stunned. Her hand was brushing the flickering sphere. Her fingertips pierced the layers sinuously and reached for her. Smooth fingers caressed her cheek.
"Are precisely you accusing me of gloomy sorrow and self-immolation, my little child? I might repeat during one year you couldn't have done proudest to your mother, and you wouldn't believe me. Sweet and innocent kid" She purred. "Heir of my might and my force. You along with your brother wield a vast and limitless power is yours by right of blood and birth. My -our- legacy and your heritage. You will fill my place, little firebird. Thanks to your help I'll be strong. Strong to chase away the hurt, the heartache, the resentment and the regrets. Neither of you will bear the suffering you had endured. I'll free you of the pain. And then we shall patch up at last."
"Are you sure you are fine?" Nathan interrupted, eyeing her likeness carefully.
Flames of the darkest red, almost midnight black, obscured and concealed her frame, and cracks of lightnings traveled along it. Gorgeous physique, scantily clad with glossy jet-black leather. Undersized corset with ample cleavage squashed and flaunted the big and perky breasts. Fitting elbow-length gloves, rippling and creasing with each motion. High-heeled boots, dressing the feet and shins up to the knee. Flowing cloak flapping freely behind of her, as the wings of a vampire. A flare of crimson hair covering the cloak down to the waist and trailing behind of her.
And eyes sharp as daggers, hard as shards of obsidian, and burning as coals, smoldering with charring emerald blazes. The wrath had returned and was swallowing her alive.
She looked down, checking over her scary outfit. "Are you referring to this, Nate? Don't worry, I'm not crazy. Or perhaps I do, but truthfully it can't care me less. All in all Maddie looked get tons of boundless fun like a raving lunatic madwoman bent in her thirst of revenge, right? Maybe I should give it a try every so often. An orgiastic spree of ravaging destruction can be amusing and releasing. The super-villains always seemed enjoy delightfully with that kind of stuff. Dump moral inhibitions for once is releasing."
Nathan Summers never freaked for anything. But now she was looking steadily like Madelyne and expressing a sort of wistful longing -or even yearning or elation- for acting just like her. Oh, my.
"Jean, you can't mean-"
No more sound got out of his mouth. She had rushed onwards and had covered it with both hands. Her hands felt rough and callous and her breath was abrupt, ragged, laborious. Nathan sensed acid fury, rage swirling underneath the surface, and stared straight at her eyes. And he gasped, alarmed. They flashed and flickered wildly. Her pupils danced and drifted erratically. She was tottering on the brink of the insanity.
"Don't tell ME what I mean or not mean, Nathan Christopher. You don't know what I've put up with. You don't know what I've lived through. You don't know what shit I've endured. And you don't know because you fled instead staying with me. So don't say what you know better than me what I mean, because you don't know anything!" She spat. Embers leapt viciously, fed for unquenchable ire.
However the little fires put off abruptly, and she blinked with the sting of the tears. Her mood changed drastically. Abruptly. She was way unstable. And therefore, dangerous.
"These months have been a Hell, Nate. Back when you killed to Apocalypse we thought the nightmare was over, but not. We have suffered pain beyond of the point of return, scars beyond of healing. It hurts and aches and burns. I'm bleeding and am incapable of stopping." She gripped her left breast suddenly, and released a shuddering moan, practically a wail. She trembled during her struggle to get back her phony and cracked composure.
Abruptly her eyes glowed with blazing starlight and her scary outfit exploded in flames. Hot-melting, amber fire blossomed around her and coalesced in a tight bodysuit of gaudy colors: dazzling golden and dark crimson, giving her a shady, blaze-like appearance. A very shady and fearsome appearance.
That ferocious costume enhanced her expression. An eerie and stormy countenance, with haunted eyes gave chilly shudders when bore in someone. When she spoke, her voice wasn't deranged or grieving or choleric longer. It was booming, god-like.
"I'm very sick of this. I'm going to make it all right, and this time it shall be done to my way. And when this ordeal is over, nobody on my family will feel pain or panic. This I swear, and if I must embrace the lurking blackness dwells in me, so be it."
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Whoever guessed Jean was the culprit has been awarded with a non-prize. I bet nobody thought that she was the mind behind this. Her motives will be fully explained in the future parts (although it's pretty easy counting on the first chapter. That situation was her doing), but face it, pals: after of the events of the last three years and with the drastic increasing of her power levels her mind was liable to snap out.
In the next chapter we visit at last the X-Mansion in this time. How do the things work in this weird age? And in the interlude who will replace to Mikhail Rasputin in the crew of The Twelve? I opine my candidate is fitter than the Colossus's brother, frankly. By the way I've just given a hint of his identity.
The Second Ascension
Author: Jenskott
Summary: After of the Gathering of The Twelve the machine and the technology of Apocalypse was abandoned and forgotten in Akkaba. Suddenly the reality has changed drastically, without anybody realizing. What happened and who is the responsible? Can the X-Men stop and reassert the timeline in its path?
Notes: I'm sorry for the delay but I was waiting for some remark about the former parts. Thanks for the comments, pals, but keep on sending, please! Keep in mind I write several pages in each chapter. Hence can't be so hard draft a pair of lines with an advice or opinion in return. It's only fair, isn't it?
To Ali: I DON'T dislike me Belladonna: but she's the Gambit's ex-wife and tried kill to Remy and Rogue several times so obviously she isn't the Rogue's favorite person. I tried and reflected that, no my personal opinion. It's a Madelyne/Jean type of stuff.
I reckon I can have confused to my readers so I'll put this straight: The interludes happen in cannon comic. The events happened in them broke the timeline apart and forged an alternative reality, where Scott and Jean live in Alaska with their kids, Psylocke is alive and is Archangel's lover, Gambit and Rogue get married, Alex and Lorna live together and retired, Logan hasn't lost to Mariko... The reason behind is one person used to The Twelve to remake the universe. And in the current part we discover to the responsible. I'm sure you will be surprised.
Continuity: Comic.
Disclaimer: X-Men belong to Marvel due to some sort of cosmic disaster. And writing nonsense disclaimers to disown stuff that all know aren't yours is boring.
Feedback: To jorgisimox@hotmail.com. I can't stress enough how badly I need advice and supports. English isn't my primary language, so excuse my mistakes.
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Part Six-
Emma Frost purred with contentment while the hot rain of water droplets poured on her, soaking her skin, washing over the filthiness and the tiredness, and warming her body. Her silky hands kneaded thoroughly her slim frame with a therapeutic massage, loosening the knots of the muscles and the soreness of her limbs. Around her floated billows of vapor and mixed with her steamy breath.
The shower was her personal Heaven. They never failed in doing her feel cleansed, or in replenishing her energies after of a whole day dealing with Jubilee. God knew she needed a break from the bubbly teenager.
While she threaded one hand along her golden locks, other drifted towards the bottle of the shampoo. However she spent more seconds than usual in finding it, like if it wasn't in its usual spot. Bewildered but confided Emma disregarded the detail, attributing it to silly paranoia. She snapped the cap and tipped the container.
"Wait!" An unexpected hand suddenly grabbed her wrist with gentle firmness.
She turned surprised at her interloper. "Robert! What on the Earth are you doing in my shower? Go out!"
Bobby Drake didn't listen. Instead he snatched away her hands the cleaning product. "Have you any idea of what were about of doing to yourself?" He snarled.
Emma crossed her arms over her naked breasts and looked down on him with irresistible haughtiness. "It is named wash one's hair, Robert. It means wet the hair, in this instance my hair, apply the cleaning product, in this instance that shampoo, rub energetically and thoroughly, wash over the suds and bubbles of soap with the shower, and rinse the strands. The goal of the above-mentioned activity is clean the dirt and grease off the hair. Is it clear enough to your brain now, or you need further definition?"
"Observe carefully" Bobby stated dryly, ignoring her biting remarks. Emma blinked, surprised and flabbergasted with that level and nonchalant tone. She couldn't help pay attention to him.
Bobby turned upside down the bottle with flippant and exaggerated gestures, and let a thin stream of gelatinous mass slid at his open palm. The viscous blot of liquid soap was of a pale orange color.
The White Queen arched an annoyed brow. "What am I supposed to- Wait a moment! That color... That isn't my shampoo!"
Bobby shrugged. "Of course not. I suspected Jubilee was up to nothing good when I saw her walking at the Danger Grotto with a wicked and insanely pleased grin plastered on her face. Then I passed by the bathroom, and I figured out all when I listened to the shower noises. By luck I was in time."
"Thanks Robert" She beamed, sincerely grateful, before her countenance darkened. "Still I must slay to Jubilation. I shall need time to develop a suitable punishment thus her fate be awfully unpleasant..."
"Come on, Emma. Take pity on her." Bobby patted her left shoulder, hoping being reassuring. "She is only seventeen. She is evolving from teenager to mature grownup. And she hates that process with passion. Thus she tries proving she is the same old joker Jubilee, and you are a convenient victim to her -how did Hank put it?- teenager spirit of rebellion. It's only one phase. It'll eventually pass."
"That explains plenty things about yourself, Bobby" Emma remarked with a twinkle of her frozen-blue eyes. Apparently she had forgotten she was stark naked, and displaying her gorgeous body to him. "Confirm me one of them. Did you leave behind that phase?"
"I'm not sure I did."
She giggled. "You are absolutely hopeless, Bobby." Iceman laughed back but he ceased, puzzled when the echoing laughter ceased abruptly. Emma wasn't sniggering anymore. And her expression had turned serious and gloomy. "Thanks for helping me in the Academy, Robert. I can excel teaching, but you have with the children a comprehension and an understanding I regrettably can't claim."
Bobby fidgeted with the same uneasiness he felt whenever Emma decided compliment him. It was unnerving. "I try only helping, Emma. I am good remaining in touch with my inner child and in applying it to the real life. It isn't really anything to be thankful for..." He trailed off.
"Oh, but it IS. Without your help and your knowledge of the teenager brain I'd be rendered bald or dyed nowadays. And I am thankful, so I should reward you. You coincide with my assumption, don't you?"
Her wolfish grin turned predatory. Bobby started to squirm. She leered at him, basking in his obvious fear, loving his rattled stance.
Utterly hopeless She sent away, into his mind. That was his only warning before she grabbed roughly his shirt's lapels and pulled him roughly in her. She kissed him, shutting his squealing yelps of protest.
Eerie sparks gleamed in her eyes while she merged lips with him and tasted the sweet flavor of his mouth. He could be somewhat prankster and buffoon but he was kinder, nicer and more honest than the most of the paltry representatives of the mankind she had known so far. And he displayed cuteness in a boyish kind of way. True, he wasn't Shaw, he didn't sport that sensation of power, he didn't exude that dominance. But that was all there had ever been between the Black King and her, power games. Forever she had secretly been reluctant and cowed of the shadows lurking in his dark eyes.
She could grow fond of a goofy smile and honest eyes, without blind shutters sheltering closed spaces behind. Besides, she liked a man she could scare and frighten mindlessly.
She pulled him in the tube and slid the drape behind him. An instant later the curtain parted again, and a female lean hand tossed out several articles of clothing and two shoes.
Absorbed in theirs own business, neither of them noticed a glowing golden disc flashing mysteriously in a corner of the ceiling. Out of that shimmering torn in the spatial fabric emerged a video camera.
Meanwhile, in a darkened room, Jubilation Lee switched the monitor on and began to record the ribald images filling the video screen. An insane and satisfied grin curved her lips and she burst in wild laughter, starting to the entire pack of Generation-X, gathered around her. They were her partners-in-crime and mischief. Paige had co-created the devilish scheme, Everett had talked to the group into, Angelo had assembled the toy, Blink had teleported the camera, and Monet and Jono were shielding them psychically.
Oh, yes, this tape was worth of its weight in gold.
She regretted mournfully Bobby had busted her inoffensive plan, and the subsequent missed chance of making a prank at Emma's expense, but he remained unaware of her secondary scheme. With that tape she would exact revenge on Emma after she punished the shampoo trick. And on Drake too, for having blown up her joke and having sided with Frosty. Even if he had stood up for her, Popsicle ought to pay.
She arched back her head and cackled maniacally. Her friends and teammates edged away from her slowly.
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INTERLUDE
Nathan Summers hammered with brutal punches the sphere of immaterial energy where he was encased. His left eye glowed with the golden radiance of a suncore and erupted blistering fire. That crackling and blinding flame was a telltale hint of the force he was unleashing. The Cable's mind invoked his formidable and virtually endless supply of power and hurled it against the curvy surface, hoping his immeasurable and incomprehensible strength was enough to set him free.
He hoped in vain. Psychic flares capable of extinguishing suns crashed harmlessly in the glass-like barrier and burst in flickering smithereens of sparks.
The wall-shield quavered. Nathan might swear it was contemptuously mocking of him. Unwilling to surrender he sent other barrage of bolts as his bulky and muscular frame pulsated amber.
Beside him stood his sister, locked inside of a similar bubble of anti-force. She was literally afire, charring in her own raging flames while a rising Phoenix enveloped her shape. Her red hair danced and crackled like blazes and an unholy light shimmered on her eyeballs while she unleashed flowing tongues of fire upon the crystalline wall. She attacked her prison with an effort and stubbornness praiseworthy but useless. The globe absorbed and dispersed easily any amount of cosmic energy she could muster.
Attack like that was a pointless waste of energy and resources. Rachel realized of that futility and gave up.
Nathan glanced at her plaintively and turned at the figure that had trapped them in those energy marbles. There was something sinister and eerie in the shadows tainted the eyes and in the tantalizing twitches of the blazes licking the skin. Ravenous flames rippled, wavered and flared around of the body, shrouding it in red. Thoroughly alarmed Nathan wondered what had happened. And for first time he questioned the wisdom of his decision of breaking up with the X-Men.
"Why are you doing this?" He wheezed. Regretfully, since he didn't wish displaying weakness, but the struggle had taken its toll.
Rachel repeated his words among the sound of her sobs and her punches pummeling hopelessly the globule. "Yes! Why are you doing this? I don't understand-"
"Hush, Rachel. You likewise, Nathan. I'm doing this for both of you."
"For us?" He queried, intrigued. His voice was laced with blatant incredulity and puzzlement.
"For all of us in reality. I'm going to do it all better, but I need your help."
"Ask was too easy?" He grated balefully, twisting his lips in an annoyed curl.
A long finger was flung towards him, pointing him accusatorily. "Perhaps I would have done if I had known where you stayed! Or what she was alive for that matter! And don't dare to use that tone with me, Nathan Christopher! I'm very disgusted with you!"
Suddenly she crossed the rim of the bubble and embraced him tightly with strong and athletic arms. He blinked in confusion. First she assailed him and seized and an instant later was hugging him. Why?
"Dumb kid. Why did you run away from everyone? We could have used your help and solace. But instead you vanish without trace and wander around the entire world, making errands." A set of lips kissed tenderly his temple. "My little hero. You always were like that, even of child. A young boy with a heart so soft and big it didn't fit in your chest, a skull too tough for your own good, and a tunnel vision to change the world into a better place."
Nathan intended speaking, but she untangled their bodies and stepped towards Rachel, facing her with arms akimbo.
"Was a true and unexpected surprise finding out what you had returned from the Hereafter. When I knew was as angry as distraught at the knowledge you preferred hide instead warning us of your return. Albeit maybe I shouldn't be so shocked. Perhaps I deserve that treatment. I was never that you needed and I hurt you too many times. So many times... It's understandable you didn't want anything with me"
"You haven't hurt me!" Rachel rebuked, horrified. Appalled because she could believe such absurdity.
Crackling green eyes bored in her. They were harsh and merciless. "No? Didn't even when I repudiated you? Or when I turned you down when you were seeking love desperately? Or when I swatted you aside as a nuisance, a particularly unwanted insect? Or when I treated you as a despicable bug, someone who I wanted out of my world so my hectic and twisted life was less complicated? Don't say bullshit, child."
Distraught pain crept in the young redhead's features, but Rachel controlled hastily her expression, being more alarmed than wounded. She gazed intensely at the woman, scrutinizing her very thoughtfully. "You want me angry with you" She mouthed plainly, levelly. With words surprisingly steady and serene. "For some twisted motive you want I become angry with you. Perhaps because you think you deserve the despite. Am I mistaken?"
It was barely a strangled wheeze and a blink. A faint frowning and an imperceptible squirm. But it was enough to Rachel. The telepath shook her head. "I'm not willing fueling your self-compassion or helping you to martyr yourself" Rachel paused and stared her seriously. "Why do you want I hate you?"
"I not... I mean, I don't..." She stammered, bewildered. The biting words seemed have her touched deeply, and her semblance was mollified, gone her entire fury. By now. "Our relationship or lacking of it is so warped. I want we are sort of friends, but... Never I made the world good for you: still worse, I ignore the way, and it's immensely frustrating. When I found out you were back and here again was furious, but joyful and delighted too. And that mirth had nothing to see with my plans. But... even so I needed know the reason of your return so then I... peered into your head." She trailed off, letting the condemnatory words floated on the air. "You are disappointed, aren't you? I knew what you'd do, but just like I previously stated, I've let you down so many times... what is once more?"
The woman shook her head sadly. Misery and grief were written over it.
Rachel ogled to her, downright speechless. She sensed the blunt revulsion goes along with the knowledge of the violation of your intimacy, but no the raw fury she should feel. She was displeased and sad, but no really sick. And she knew why.
"I don't hate you" She answered. A non sequitur, but perfectly coherent. "I can't hate you. I won't. Please, drop off the gloomy act. Besides, it's obvious you aren't yourself." She blinked, recalling something else she had uttered. "What are those plans you spoke about-"
Her voice trailed off and she gasped, stunned. Her hand was brushing the flickering sphere. Her fingertips pierced the layers sinuously and reached for her. Smooth fingers caressed her cheek.
"Are precisely you accusing me of gloomy sorrow and self-immolation, my little child? I might repeat during one year you couldn't have done proudest to your mother, and you wouldn't believe me. Sweet and innocent kid" She purred. "Heir of my might and my force. You along with your brother wield a vast and limitless power is yours by right of blood and birth. My -our- legacy and your heritage. You will fill my place, little firebird. Thanks to your help I'll be strong. Strong to chase away the hurt, the heartache, the resentment and the regrets. Neither of you will bear the suffering you had endured. I'll free you of the pain. And then we shall patch up at last."
"Are you sure you are fine?" Nathan interrupted, eyeing her likeness carefully.
Flames of the darkest red, almost midnight black, obscured and concealed her frame, and cracks of lightnings traveled along it. Gorgeous physique, scantily clad with glossy jet-black leather. Undersized corset with ample cleavage squashed and flaunted the big and perky breasts. Fitting elbow-length gloves, rippling and creasing with each motion. High-heeled boots, dressing the feet and shins up to the knee. Flowing cloak flapping freely behind of her, as the wings of a vampire. A flare of crimson hair covering the cloak down to the waist and trailing behind of her.
And eyes sharp as daggers, hard as shards of obsidian, and burning as coals, smoldering with charring emerald blazes. The wrath had returned and was swallowing her alive.
She looked down, checking over her scary outfit. "Are you referring to this, Nate? Don't worry, I'm not crazy. Or perhaps I do, but truthfully it can't care me less. All in all Maddie looked get tons of boundless fun like a raving lunatic madwoman bent in her thirst of revenge, right? Maybe I should give it a try every so often. An orgiastic spree of ravaging destruction can be amusing and releasing. The super-villains always seemed enjoy delightfully with that kind of stuff. Dump moral inhibitions for once is releasing."
Nathan Summers never freaked for anything. But now she was looking steadily like Madelyne and expressing a sort of wistful longing -or even yearning or elation- for acting just like her. Oh, my.
"Jean, you can't mean-"
No more sound got out of his mouth. She had rushed onwards and had covered it with both hands. Her hands felt rough and callous and her breath was abrupt, ragged, laborious. Nathan sensed acid fury, rage swirling underneath the surface, and stared straight at her eyes. And he gasped, alarmed. They flashed and flickered wildly. Her pupils danced and drifted erratically. She was tottering on the brink of the insanity.
"Don't tell ME what I mean or not mean, Nathan Christopher. You don't know what I've put up with. You don't know what I've lived through. You don't know what shit I've endured. And you don't know because you fled instead staying with me. So don't say what you know better than me what I mean, because you don't know anything!" She spat. Embers leapt viciously, fed for unquenchable ire.
However the little fires put off abruptly, and she blinked with the sting of the tears. Her mood changed drastically. Abruptly. She was way unstable. And therefore, dangerous.
"These months have been a Hell, Nate. Back when you killed to Apocalypse we thought the nightmare was over, but not. We have suffered pain beyond of the point of return, scars beyond of healing. It hurts and aches and burns. I'm bleeding and am incapable of stopping." She gripped her left breast suddenly, and released a shuddering moan, practically a wail. She trembled during her struggle to get back her phony and cracked composure.
Abruptly her eyes glowed with blazing starlight and her scary outfit exploded in flames. Hot-melting, amber fire blossomed around her and coalesced in a tight bodysuit of gaudy colors: dazzling golden and dark crimson, giving her a shady, blaze-like appearance. A very shady and fearsome appearance.
That ferocious costume enhanced her expression. An eerie and stormy countenance, with haunted eyes gave chilly shudders when bore in someone. When she spoke, her voice wasn't deranged or grieving or choleric longer. It was booming, god-like.
"I'm very sick of this. I'm going to make it all right, and this time it shall be done to my way. And when this ordeal is over, nobody on my family will feel pain or panic. This I swear, and if I must embrace the lurking blackness dwells in me, so be it."
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Whoever guessed Jean was the culprit has been awarded with a non-prize. I bet nobody thought that she was the mind behind this. Her motives will be fully explained in the future parts (although it's pretty easy counting on the first chapter. That situation was her doing), but face it, pals: after of the events of the last three years and with the drastic increasing of her power levels her mind was liable to snap out.
In the next chapter we visit at last the X-Mansion in this time. How do the things work in this weird age? And in the interlude who will replace to Mikhail Rasputin in the crew of The Twelve? I opine my candidate is fitter than the Colossus's brother, frankly. By the way I've just given a hint of his identity.