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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:
First and foremost, I love to the villains. Magneto, Doctor Doom, Galactus, Green Goblin, Ultron... It's because that my Jean Grey's favorite version is Dark Phoenix. She is great. No force in the cosmos might possibly defeat her. Only the love of one man.
I have never got straight the powers of Mikhail Rasputin. It seems to me that he is an energy-transformer or a reality-bender. I'm not sure. Anyway I believe firmly Franklin Richards ought to have been one of The Twelve. All in all he IS one of the mightiest beings in the Marvel Universe.
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 Seven-
A soft gust swung slightly the door ajar. Shimmering sunrays filtered through the glass panes, enlightening the large kitchen and its two only occupants. A scrawny, pink-haired girl sauntered in front of the counter, all along staring warily to her blonde-haired, blue-eyed friend while she climbed deftly onto the shelf and shuffled along it.
"Have you caught it already?"
"Wait only a moment more, Sara. I nearly am."
"Are you sure you won't fall down?"
"Quite sure. At least if you quit of distracting me." Illyana Rasputin retorted bitterly as her tiny fingers clung clumsily to the knobs of the tall cupboard. While she inclined her weight forward, her hands rotated gingerly the handles and pulled open the doors, revealing the coveted treasure. Piles of candies stuffing in disarranged disorder the hideout. With an exclamation of insane glee, the Russian youngster sunk her eager fingers on the heap of wrappers, forgetting utterly her painstaking precautions.
"Yana, Look out!"
Illyana stepped back carelessly, and her joy turned fear when her foot touched thin air instead solid board. She yelped, panicked, and tried hanging on clumsily to the cabinet. Her legs staggered awkwardly onto the ledge, struggling for balancing her body, but an unlucky slip sent her plummeting downwards. She screamed in fear while her thin body rushed at the hard tiles amidst a cascade of wrappers.
A broad and semi-hard cushion halted abruptly her fall. Strong arms wrapped around her, holding her.
Illyana breathed out in relief. Her hands palpated numbly the security net, unexpected but welcome, noting a muscular frame. And acknowledging it. Her elation evaporated fully. She craned her neck, and her lopsided eyesight spotted one familiar face. One familiar face, fuming with unfamiliar annoy and severity.
"Brother!" She erupted in joy, hoping that cheerfulness masked her mortified anxiety.
"Don't try cajoling me, snowflake" Piotr snarled to show to his little sister she was in serious trouble. Unluckily the Twinkies smashed on his head and piled on his shoulders spoiled the effect and defeated the purpose. Illyana giggled while he shook off the spongy cakes with a forbidding scowl.
Meanwhile the redheaded Sara glanced stealthily at the door. Her eyes displayed a longing wish of edging away. Still she knew with no doubt Piotr would notice instantly of her attempt of ducking out.
"What were you doing raiding the Henry's candy stashes?" Colossus eyed to both solemnly and grimly.
Both teenagers squirmed, suitably ashamed. However Sara dared to step forward. "We were hungry. Still there're several hours to go till the dinner, so we thought snatch one cake. Only one to each one."
He frowned at the little ex-Morlock. "So then my sister climbed the drawers and risked her physical soundness robbing spongy calories packs because either of you were starving?" He rubbed his temples with the fingertips, feeling already the blossoming of a throbbing headache. "If I hadn't been going by, Snowflake, you might have splintered some bones. Or even worse, suffered a concussion. Don't do that foolishness ever again. You could just have asked for help. I, or either of us, had lend one hand gladly."
The Slavic child tucked nervously a golden strand behind her ear, and beamed to lighten up the situation. "I didn't dare me to bother you. You seemed pretty busy with Kitty."
He answered scoffing. "You never bother me. Besides, Katya was engaged in humiliating me using the merciless method of the chess. My pride could have used the way out."
In hearing that, the Illyana's eyes lit up and she snickered mischievously. Colossus rolled up his blue eyes, actually anticipating her mischievous gossip. "Chess? Sure you weren't doing anything else?"
He slapped his forehead and groaned. "No, sister. She and I were an item once upon a while, but it didn't work out. Now we are just good and very close friends."
"But neither of you had maintained a serious relationship afterwards, hadn't you?"
Sara nudged her. "You are conveniently passing to Callisto over, matchmaker."
"And Nereel" Piotr mused. His eyes glazed over and his mind traveled half world away, in a luscious savage land. With a blink and a start he returned to the kitchen. "Anyway you and your friend mustn't pull such dangerous stunts again, sister. If you need help with something, simply request it. It's actually quite bad to your safety that evil people can attack our home at any given moment. The last thing we need is you add your recklessness to the trouble, putting to yourselves in further danger. Is that clear?"
Both girls whispered between them and nodded promptly with whimsical, suspicious smiles. Piotr bit his lip, unconvinced of the reliability of that promise, signed by naughty and restless eleven-years.
Teenagers weren't to be trusted.
Fortunately the things were steadily quiet of late. The most of the threats and super villains were neutralized or vanquished without excessive hardships, trials or efforts, and the anti-mutant hysteria ran low. Shocking, amazing, but true. No long ago Logan stated off-handily over the phone that 'people is getting bored of hate us and fear us, bub". Maybe his former teammate was right. He would be glad of it.
Partially because there weren't many X-Men to face the danger in these days.
Nowadays Storm was the leader of a team composed of Beast, Archangel, Psylocke, Shadowcat, Nightcrawler, Banshee, Bishop, Forge and himself. It could seem an impressive rooster, a competent team, but in fact its numbers were decreased in one third. Several of the mightiest and best fighters were retired. Scott and Jean lived in Alaska and barely talked with someone, Alex and Lorna were lying low in their excavations, Remy and Rogue had moved to New Orleans after of their engagement, Logan was happily married with his old love, Mariko Yoshida, and Robert was aiding to the White Queen to train to Generation-X in Massachusetts, where studied currently Jubilee, the whirlwind of cheerfulness.
Emma had assured her students -Jubilee, Husk, M, Skin, Synch, Chamber and Blink- would be ready to be appointed X-Men shortly, reinforcing efficiently the team. But theretofore the mansion felt to him pretty empty and lonely and eerie. The tranquillity was almost excessive, the silence foreboding. Ominous. The kind of peace precedes to the storm. Some accused him of being a natural fatalist, always looking forward to the worst possible case, but he preferred call to himself a realist. And he rarely was disappointed.
Patting his unruly sister on the head, Piotr headed to the fridge to retrieve he called a frugal snack.
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INTERLUDE
Franklin Richards meandered along the shaded corridors of his home, enveloped in still silence and lightless shadows. In his restless wandering the young boy pondered he really should be tucked in his soft and warm covers and deeply asleep, snoring even (although his mother chastised him often for it, assuring polite kids don't make that). Definitely he shouldn't be lurking out of his bedroom, facing the darkness and risking triggering the alarm systems or waking up his parents. He couldn't decide what would be more perilous and death defying.
But he couldn't manage sleep or dream. He couldn't even close the eyes or lie back on the bed. And the boy knew why he was so fidgety and insomniac. Someone was calling him. A perturbation inside his head, practically one grieving plead, an entity stirring awake his thoughts and whispering faintly in his ear. So insistent, so compelling, he was forced to answer.
Usually he would shut down the voices, make his best to ignore it or call to his dad. For all he knew Doctor Doom, Annihilus or Psycoman could be luring him in a snare. Other ill advised ambush to hunt to the Richards boy and bait to the Fantastic Four in the customary deadly trap.
But the presence didn't ring evil in it. Whoever it was Franklin didn't feel the stench of evil of the Doctor Doom, fetid and rotten and terrific, but more like Namor's, arrogant and harsh but honorable and no really bad deep down. It even reminded him of Galactus -Oh, my!- but that giant wouldn't wake up a poor kid at the three o'clock in the morning. He hoped. And prayed.
And above all he felt spent-up and impatient. If someone wanted a fight or a chat, let him or her to get it.
He strode towards one window, being painstakingly careful of no activating any device, and swished open the glass. Franklin stepped gingerly onto the windowsill and leapt out unconcernedly. Unbeknownst to him, his own power kept intact the temperature and chemical composition of the atmosphere, and silenced the noise of his shuffling pace and quiet breath, thus tricking the numberless sensors of the building.
Sheer will locked again the window, and he floated freely outside of the Freedom Four Tower. His body slightest than the air drifted harmoniously, carried away for the hissing wind blow and streamed across New York. He paused few seconds to admire and gape at the beauty of nightly sky, doted with milky spots of light above and below, and hovered peacefully alongside the walls, soaring up to the roof.
He landed with an imperceptible thud, and stared ahead.
A lonely figure was hunched on the dusty ground of bricks, lit up for the glistening starlight. Or maybe shining with glowing starlight, he thought with one strange impulse.
"You can come now, Franklin" She -because the voice was feminine- uttered dimly. Softly. Her hand was tracing lazy drawings on the specks of dust. He gulped and approached with a steady pace.
As he neared the figure did no further motion or gesture, prone on the floor and drumming her fingers on the plaster. Franklin joined to the unfamiliar shape and gasped, stunned of not having recognized her before. But she didn't ripple equal to his psychic senses.
She was the woman he had known long ago, but at once wasn't exactly her. There was something odd and twisted, even wrong and dangerous in her. A passion long time repressed, after unbridled and right now quelled down. Darkness dwelled in her but wasn't her. It was like seeing to his mother changed in Malice.
Cool. That was a SCARY thought.
"Good night, Mrs. Summers" He greeted customarily, ever the polite and kind boy. She nodded with a private smile, observing his manners and approving of them.
"Good night, Franklin. You don't have to get afraid" She breathed/mumbled, perhaps reading his mind, perhaps only eyeing at his expression. "No that you were in first place. You are a very brave kid. I wish I had been just so bold at your age. Maybe I can use that force in the future to go through what I must do."
There was something amiss in the way she said 'use'. His hairs stood on theirs ends hearing that tone. "What did you call me for?"
Instead clarifying she gazed at the stars for a long while. "Tell me, kid. Do you love to you family?"
He blinked. What kind of question was that? "Of course yes!"
His voice was outraged. She disregarded it. "And would you do anything to protect them?"
Franklin lowered his head, his eyes darkening. "I have done already."
"Then you will be capable of understanding my plight." She averted down her eyesight. "One of those forces of the evil we battled regularly has injured to my husband. It has wreaked havoc in his head, and has damaged him badly. He isn't the same of always. He is destroyed and not knowing what do or how live with it. He has shut me out. It is killing him, and seeing it is killing me. He is so hurt and confused..." Her voice trailed off. She lowered her shields a tiny fraction, letting him feel her bottomless misery, awful grief and shuddering lament. Franklin shivered, chilled to the bone. "There is one way to fix everything. I can make the world better, but... I need you help, kid. Please, Franklin, help me."
He sucked air. The chilled air turned frosty of sudden. "You want my powers."
It wasn't a question, and Jean didn't answer.
"I'm so sickening tired of my powers." He muttered balefully. "All want something with them. Some want to manipulate me, others hurt me. Many people hate me or get fear of me. Even my dad and mom. I can't bear being used."
She nodded. Guilt was eating her. "I can relate. Don't give me that look, kid, I know what it is like. My husband, my children, myself... my whole family has been used since ever for people lusting for our powers. We have been used and harassed in the everlasting war between the good and the evil, pawns or puppets exploited for both sides. Goodwill or not, everyone always hoped or needed or required something in return, even if it was in gratitude of good-natured kindness. We have been pushed to give all, until there was no more left to give." She paused for a second. "My parents also hate and fear my powers, you know. They'd have liked my telepathy disappeared."
Silence pervaded the air. "And why do you want use me then, since you know what it is like?"
"Look it from this viewpoint. If someone who you love suffers, wouldn't you try to help that person? If your parents were arguing, fighting and hurting at each other the entire time with no stopping, wouldn't you want them cease? And if you had the power, the way and the will to help them and make them happy wouldn't you take it?"
She paused, letting to Franklin mulling over her words. Slowly Jean tapped her temple with the forefinger. "If you want you can see into my head what this is all about. But I don't recommend it. It can be dangerous and you can witness things no little child should contemplate or know of ever."
She took down her own shields, waiting for his decision and concealing her uneasiness. He stared at her, measuring her up and down with unreadable expression. A rash choice was done.
With a brusque and swift movement, he plunged with stalwart and bold fearlessness in her skull, and dove cautiously in her mind.
He recoiled back in his body, an amazed and horrified gasp parting his lips. He wheezed, getting back his breath, glad of being out and back there. His eyes were widely open and bulged in shock.
"I warned you it could be a bad idea. I'm sorry, Franklin."
He studied her with a pensive stare. So that was the deal. She needed a reality-bender, and the former and technically proper was in unknown whereabouts. Perhaps out of time and space. Hence she searched another to fill those shoes. And he was mightiest than Mr. Rasputin, way mightiest than anybody or almost anybody in reality.
It was weird. The ordeal of Mr. Summers reminded him vaguely of his father, trapped in the armor of the Doctor Doom, being corrupted and brainwashed by it. The difference was the process didn't finish with the removal of the mask covering him. He couldn't get rid of it. The monster kept being in his head, messing him, torturing him, breaking him, and sullying him. And he was torn apart.
He remembered dimly to Mr. Cable. He had helped to his mom against Onslaught and shortly after he had helped him to survive, summoning the hides of persons he had loved and seen die. He was right like him, differences of age aside. Chased, kidnapped and nearly killed due to whose he was son. He had been used, abused and manipulated around for people, whether good ones or bad ones, cause of powers he didn't choose posses, energies capable of turning the planet into a husk of barren rock.
He recalled more obscurely to Phoenix, the redhead lady could have been his girlfriend in other world -albeit Hyperstorm had freaked him outright-. She had been harassed too. She reminded him of Valeria, curiously. The elder girl who had turned up suddenly one day, coming from nowhere, claiming they were her family, only to get rejected among sorrowful sobs.
On the whole, Franklin understood to Mrs. Summers with a very dangerous sort of kinship. She could be very distraught, but likewise he'd be. And God knows he would be willing doing anything to save to his dad if he was suffering so much. Even use his 'gift'. Besides, still he was shuddering after of his visit into her head. Infant he was but he knew a mindscape usually revealed the state of sanity or mental illness.
And he had wafted on a sludgy morass polluted with black grief and oozing bleakness. There were pools of light still where swirled hope and joy, but they were few and the corruption was engulfing them hastily. Gaping pits and swirling whirlpools disrupted the waterline. And he had dared to peek into them.
Those pits of darkness dwelling in her frightened him. However he had been amazed when he saw one thing in her head: she was thoroughly sickened for going to him. Use an innocent boy was something turned her guts with nausea. She was wondering what she would do if he denied, since she didn't want slave him and hurt him like her own son had been. She was tempted of grabbing him anyway, but it was being squashed for her conscience. She was hesitant of what her choice would be, and it scared her.
"I can't count how many bad guys have wanted using my power. I've never been something else than a mean to an end, a weapon or an obstacle to many people, except to my parents and uncles, and they have feared me all along. You aren't the first in wanting making profit of them" He stopped, piercing her with a noncommittal peer "but you are the first in caring for my opinion. In fact I don't remember someone has pleaded or asked for my opinion in the matter ever. And less utilized 'please'."
She beamed. "Thanks"
Franklin twiddled his thumbs. He wished his father got up there to explain him the right choice, but he was alone. He could count on his judgment only. "If" He stressed the word "I collaborate with you, what will happen to my family?"
She laid a reassuring hand on top of his own and looked straight at his blue eyes, shaded on the night. "I vow you I'll not hurt them, damage, or harm ever. Actually I promise you, Franklin, I'll take care of you being together and getting along well. The Fantastic Four were our friends long before you were born. And, after all, we are family too in one very wacky, convoluted and twisted sort of way."
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In the next chapter we learn more things of the life in the mansion and the history of that time. And in the interlude, the second gathering of The Twelve, and the second clash between Cyclops and Dark Phoenix.
And in the ninth part, everything will be fully cleared and explained. Yes, I said EVERYTHING.
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:
First and foremost, I love to the villains. Magneto, Doctor Doom, Galactus, Green Goblin, Ultron... It's because that my Jean Grey's favorite version is Dark Phoenix. She is great. No force in the cosmos might possibly defeat her. Only the love of one man.
I have never got straight the powers of Mikhail Rasputin. It seems to me that he is an energy-transformer or a reality-bender. I'm not sure. Anyway I believe firmly Franklin Richards ought to have been one of The Twelve. All in all he IS one of the mightiest beings in the Marvel Universe.
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 Seven-
A soft gust swung slightly the door ajar. Shimmering sunrays filtered through the glass panes, enlightening the large kitchen and its two only occupants. A scrawny, pink-haired girl sauntered in front of the counter, all along staring warily to her blonde-haired, blue-eyed friend while she climbed deftly onto the shelf and shuffled along it.
"Have you caught it already?"
"Wait only a moment more, Sara. I nearly am."
"Are you sure you won't fall down?"
"Quite sure. At least if you quit of distracting me." Illyana Rasputin retorted bitterly as her tiny fingers clung clumsily to the knobs of the tall cupboard. While she inclined her weight forward, her hands rotated gingerly the handles and pulled open the doors, revealing the coveted treasure. Piles of candies stuffing in disarranged disorder the hideout. With an exclamation of insane glee, the Russian youngster sunk her eager fingers on the heap of wrappers, forgetting utterly her painstaking precautions.
"Yana, Look out!"
Illyana stepped back carelessly, and her joy turned fear when her foot touched thin air instead solid board. She yelped, panicked, and tried hanging on clumsily to the cabinet. Her legs staggered awkwardly onto the ledge, struggling for balancing her body, but an unlucky slip sent her plummeting downwards. She screamed in fear while her thin body rushed at the hard tiles amidst a cascade of wrappers.
A broad and semi-hard cushion halted abruptly her fall. Strong arms wrapped around her, holding her.
Illyana breathed out in relief. Her hands palpated numbly the security net, unexpected but welcome, noting a muscular frame. And acknowledging it. Her elation evaporated fully. She craned her neck, and her lopsided eyesight spotted one familiar face. One familiar face, fuming with unfamiliar annoy and severity.
"Brother!" She erupted in joy, hoping that cheerfulness masked her mortified anxiety.
"Don't try cajoling me, snowflake" Piotr snarled to show to his little sister she was in serious trouble. Unluckily the Twinkies smashed on his head and piled on his shoulders spoiled the effect and defeated the purpose. Illyana giggled while he shook off the spongy cakes with a forbidding scowl.
Meanwhile the redheaded Sara glanced stealthily at the door. Her eyes displayed a longing wish of edging away. Still she knew with no doubt Piotr would notice instantly of her attempt of ducking out.
"What were you doing raiding the Henry's candy stashes?" Colossus eyed to both solemnly and grimly.
Both teenagers squirmed, suitably ashamed. However Sara dared to step forward. "We were hungry. Still there're several hours to go till the dinner, so we thought snatch one cake. Only one to each one."
He frowned at the little ex-Morlock. "So then my sister climbed the drawers and risked her physical soundness robbing spongy calories packs because either of you were starving?" He rubbed his temples with the fingertips, feeling already the blossoming of a throbbing headache. "If I hadn't been going by, Snowflake, you might have splintered some bones. Or even worse, suffered a concussion. Don't do that foolishness ever again. You could just have asked for help. I, or either of us, had lend one hand gladly."
The Slavic child tucked nervously a golden strand behind her ear, and beamed to lighten up the situation. "I didn't dare me to bother you. You seemed pretty busy with Kitty."
He answered scoffing. "You never bother me. Besides, Katya was engaged in humiliating me using the merciless method of the chess. My pride could have used the way out."
In hearing that, the Illyana's eyes lit up and she snickered mischievously. Colossus rolled up his blue eyes, actually anticipating her mischievous gossip. "Chess? Sure you weren't doing anything else?"
He slapped his forehead and groaned. "No, sister. She and I were an item once upon a while, but it didn't work out. Now we are just good and very close friends."
"But neither of you had maintained a serious relationship afterwards, hadn't you?"
Sara nudged her. "You are conveniently passing to Callisto over, matchmaker."
"And Nereel" Piotr mused. His eyes glazed over and his mind traveled half world away, in a luscious savage land. With a blink and a start he returned to the kitchen. "Anyway you and your friend mustn't pull such dangerous stunts again, sister. If you need help with something, simply request it. It's actually quite bad to your safety that evil people can attack our home at any given moment. The last thing we need is you add your recklessness to the trouble, putting to yourselves in further danger. Is that clear?"
Both girls whispered between them and nodded promptly with whimsical, suspicious smiles. Piotr bit his lip, unconvinced of the reliability of that promise, signed by naughty and restless eleven-years.
Teenagers weren't to be trusted.
Fortunately the things were steadily quiet of late. The most of the threats and super villains were neutralized or vanquished without excessive hardships, trials or efforts, and the anti-mutant hysteria ran low. Shocking, amazing, but true. No long ago Logan stated off-handily over the phone that 'people is getting bored of hate us and fear us, bub". Maybe his former teammate was right. He would be glad of it.
Partially because there weren't many X-Men to face the danger in these days.
Nowadays Storm was the leader of a team composed of Beast, Archangel, Psylocke, Shadowcat, Nightcrawler, Banshee, Bishop, Forge and himself. It could seem an impressive rooster, a competent team, but in fact its numbers were decreased in one third. Several of the mightiest and best fighters were retired. Scott and Jean lived in Alaska and barely talked with someone, Alex and Lorna were lying low in their excavations, Remy and Rogue had moved to New Orleans after of their engagement, Logan was happily married with his old love, Mariko Yoshida, and Robert was aiding to the White Queen to train to Generation-X in Massachusetts, where studied currently Jubilee, the whirlwind of cheerfulness.
Emma had assured her students -Jubilee, Husk, M, Skin, Synch, Chamber and Blink- would be ready to be appointed X-Men shortly, reinforcing efficiently the team. But theretofore the mansion felt to him pretty empty and lonely and eerie. The tranquillity was almost excessive, the silence foreboding. Ominous. The kind of peace precedes to the storm. Some accused him of being a natural fatalist, always looking forward to the worst possible case, but he preferred call to himself a realist. And he rarely was disappointed.
Patting his unruly sister on the head, Piotr headed to the fridge to retrieve he called a frugal snack.
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INTERLUDE
Franklin Richards meandered along the shaded corridors of his home, enveloped in still silence and lightless shadows. In his restless wandering the young boy pondered he really should be tucked in his soft and warm covers and deeply asleep, snoring even (although his mother chastised him often for it, assuring polite kids don't make that). Definitely he shouldn't be lurking out of his bedroom, facing the darkness and risking triggering the alarm systems or waking up his parents. He couldn't decide what would be more perilous and death defying.
But he couldn't manage sleep or dream. He couldn't even close the eyes or lie back on the bed. And the boy knew why he was so fidgety and insomniac. Someone was calling him. A perturbation inside his head, practically one grieving plead, an entity stirring awake his thoughts and whispering faintly in his ear. So insistent, so compelling, he was forced to answer.
Usually he would shut down the voices, make his best to ignore it or call to his dad. For all he knew Doctor Doom, Annihilus or Psycoman could be luring him in a snare. Other ill advised ambush to hunt to the Richards boy and bait to the Fantastic Four in the customary deadly trap.
But the presence didn't ring evil in it. Whoever it was Franklin didn't feel the stench of evil of the Doctor Doom, fetid and rotten and terrific, but more like Namor's, arrogant and harsh but honorable and no really bad deep down. It even reminded him of Galactus -Oh, my!- but that giant wouldn't wake up a poor kid at the three o'clock in the morning. He hoped. And prayed.
And above all he felt spent-up and impatient. If someone wanted a fight or a chat, let him or her to get it.
He strode towards one window, being painstakingly careful of no activating any device, and swished open the glass. Franklin stepped gingerly onto the windowsill and leapt out unconcernedly. Unbeknownst to him, his own power kept intact the temperature and chemical composition of the atmosphere, and silenced the noise of his shuffling pace and quiet breath, thus tricking the numberless sensors of the building.
Sheer will locked again the window, and he floated freely outside of the Freedom Four Tower. His body slightest than the air drifted harmoniously, carried away for the hissing wind blow and streamed across New York. He paused few seconds to admire and gape at the beauty of nightly sky, doted with milky spots of light above and below, and hovered peacefully alongside the walls, soaring up to the roof.
He landed with an imperceptible thud, and stared ahead.
A lonely figure was hunched on the dusty ground of bricks, lit up for the glistening starlight. Or maybe shining with glowing starlight, he thought with one strange impulse.
"You can come now, Franklin" She -because the voice was feminine- uttered dimly. Softly. Her hand was tracing lazy drawings on the specks of dust. He gulped and approached with a steady pace.
As he neared the figure did no further motion or gesture, prone on the floor and drumming her fingers on the plaster. Franklin joined to the unfamiliar shape and gasped, stunned of not having recognized her before. But she didn't ripple equal to his psychic senses.
She was the woman he had known long ago, but at once wasn't exactly her. There was something odd and twisted, even wrong and dangerous in her. A passion long time repressed, after unbridled and right now quelled down. Darkness dwelled in her but wasn't her. It was like seeing to his mother changed in Malice.
Cool. That was a SCARY thought.
"Good night, Mrs. Summers" He greeted customarily, ever the polite and kind boy. She nodded with a private smile, observing his manners and approving of them.
"Good night, Franklin. You don't have to get afraid" She breathed/mumbled, perhaps reading his mind, perhaps only eyeing at his expression. "No that you were in first place. You are a very brave kid. I wish I had been just so bold at your age. Maybe I can use that force in the future to go through what I must do."
There was something amiss in the way she said 'use'. His hairs stood on theirs ends hearing that tone. "What did you call me for?"
Instead clarifying she gazed at the stars for a long while. "Tell me, kid. Do you love to you family?"
He blinked. What kind of question was that? "Of course yes!"
His voice was outraged. She disregarded it. "And would you do anything to protect them?"
Franklin lowered his head, his eyes darkening. "I have done already."
"Then you will be capable of understanding my plight." She averted down her eyesight. "One of those forces of the evil we battled regularly has injured to my husband. It has wreaked havoc in his head, and has damaged him badly. He isn't the same of always. He is destroyed and not knowing what do or how live with it. He has shut me out. It is killing him, and seeing it is killing me. He is so hurt and confused..." Her voice trailed off. She lowered her shields a tiny fraction, letting him feel her bottomless misery, awful grief and shuddering lament. Franklin shivered, chilled to the bone. "There is one way to fix everything. I can make the world better, but... I need you help, kid. Please, Franklin, help me."
He sucked air. The chilled air turned frosty of sudden. "You want my powers."
It wasn't a question, and Jean didn't answer.
"I'm so sickening tired of my powers." He muttered balefully. "All want something with them. Some want to manipulate me, others hurt me. Many people hate me or get fear of me. Even my dad and mom. I can't bear being used."
She nodded. Guilt was eating her. "I can relate. Don't give me that look, kid, I know what it is like. My husband, my children, myself... my whole family has been used since ever for people lusting for our powers. We have been used and harassed in the everlasting war between the good and the evil, pawns or puppets exploited for both sides. Goodwill or not, everyone always hoped or needed or required something in return, even if it was in gratitude of good-natured kindness. We have been pushed to give all, until there was no more left to give." She paused for a second. "My parents also hate and fear my powers, you know. They'd have liked my telepathy disappeared."
Silence pervaded the air. "And why do you want use me then, since you know what it is like?"
"Look it from this viewpoint. If someone who you love suffers, wouldn't you try to help that person? If your parents were arguing, fighting and hurting at each other the entire time with no stopping, wouldn't you want them cease? And if you had the power, the way and the will to help them and make them happy wouldn't you take it?"
She paused, letting to Franklin mulling over her words. Slowly Jean tapped her temple with the forefinger. "If you want you can see into my head what this is all about. But I don't recommend it. It can be dangerous and you can witness things no little child should contemplate or know of ever."
She took down her own shields, waiting for his decision and concealing her uneasiness. He stared at her, measuring her up and down with unreadable expression. A rash choice was done.
With a brusque and swift movement, he plunged with stalwart and bold fearlessness in her skull, and dove cautiously in her mind.
He recoiled back in his body, an amazed and horrified gasp parting his lips. He wheezed, getting back his breath, glad of being out and back there. His eyes were widely open and bulged in shock.
"I warned you it could be a bad idea. I'm sorry, Franklin."
He studied her with a pensive stare. So that was the deal. She needed a reality-bender, and the former and technically proper was in unknown whereabouts. Perhaps out of time and space. Hence she searched another to fill those shoes. And he was mightiest than Mr. Rasputin, way mightiest than anybody or almost anybody in reality.
It was weird. The ordeal of Mr. Summers reminded him vaguely of his father, trapped in the armor of the Doctor Doom, being corrupted and brainwashed by it. The difference was the process didn't finish with the removal of the mask covering him. He couldn't get rid of it. The monster kept being in his head, messing him, torturing him, breaking him, and sullying him. And he was torn apart.
He remembered dimly to Mr. Cable. He had helped to his mom against Onslaught and shortly after he had helped him to survive, summoning the hides of persons he had loved and seen die. He was right like him, differences of age aside. Chased, kidnapped and nearly killed due to whose he was son. He had been used, abused and manipulated around for people, whether good ones or bad ones, cause of powers he didn't choose posses, energies capable of turning the planet into a husk of barren rock.
He recalled more obscurely to Phoenix, the redhead lady could have been his girlfriend in other world -albeit Hyperstorm had freaked him outright-. She had been harassed too. She reminded him of Valeria, curiously. The elder girl who had turned up suddenly one day, coming from nowhere, claiming they were her family, only to get rejected among sorrowful sobs.
On the whole, Franklin understood to Mrs. Summers with a very dangerous sort of kinship. She could be very distraught, but likewise he'd be. And God knows he would be willing doing anything to save to his dad if he was suffering so much. Even use his 'gift'. Besides, still he was shuddering after of his visit into her head. Infant he was but he knew a mindscape usually revealed the state of sanity or mental illness.
And he had wafted on a sludgy morass polluted with black grief and oozing bleakness. There were pools of light still where swirled hope and joy, but they were few and the corruption was engulfing them hastily. Gaping pits and swirling whirlpools disrupted the waterline. And he had dared to peek into them.
Those pits of darkness dwelling in her frightened him. However he had been amazed when he saw one thing in her head: she was thoroughly sickened for going to him. Use an innocent boy was something turned her guts with nausea. She was wondering what she would do if he denied, since she didn't want slave him and hurt him like her own son had been. She was tempted of grabbing him anyway, but it was being squashed for her conscience. She was hesitant of what her choice would be, and it scared her.
"I can't count how many bad guys have wanted using my power. I've never been something else than a mean to an end, a weapon or an obstacle to many people, except to my parents and uncles, and they have feared me all along. You aren't the first in wanting making profit of them" He stopped, piercing her with a noncommittal peer "but you are the first in caring for my opinion. In fact I don't remember someone has pleaded or asked for my opinion in the matter ever. And less utilized 'please'."
She beamed. "Thanks"
Franklin twiddled his thumbs. He wished his father got up there to explain him the right choice, but he was alone. He could count on his judgment only. "If" He stressed the word "I collaborate with you, what will happen to my family?"
She laid a reassuring hand on top of his own and looked straight at his blue eyes, shaded on the night. "I vow you I'll not hurt them, damage, or harm ever. Actually I promise you, Franklin, I'll take care of you being together and getting along well. The Fantastic Four were our friends long before you were born. And, after all, we are family too in one very wacky, convoluted and twisted sort of way."
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In the next chapter we learn more things of the life in the mansion and the history of that time. And in the interlude, the second gathering of The Twelve, and the second clash between Cyclops and Dark Phoenix.
And in the ninth part, everything will be fully cleared and explained. Yes, I said EVERYTHING.