A/N: Yes, I am aware that in spite of my apologising about a sloppy schedule, little has been done to change it. All I can do is apologise again and give the usual reasons before the next chapter. With luck things will get back into full swing; that said, however, there will be a short delay between this chapter and the next one being uploaded as we are moving house and I don't want to rush the project, regardless as to how far behind I am.

He felt himself staring at the familiar walls. The same familiar, metallic walls that he had gradually grown to love and hate. It was the Danger Room, and he found himself staring as the four walls changed into a maze, before his legs propelled him into it without even thinking about what he was doing.

What happened next made no sense, as the labyrinth suddenly sank back into the ground, only for some of the walls to rise again, this time as an opened fence gate, with the text Xavier's Institute for Higher Learning engraved into a sign next to it.

"rising... still rising..."

What was that voice? That faint, yet familiar voice?

No, he had to ignore it. He was just imagining things. Sheepishly stepping forward now, he felt himself drawn towards the school beyond the gate, walking towards it-

- At which point he felt the bars slam shut in his face. Ghostly apparitions came into view just beyond the entrance, arms passing through and trying to reach for him, forcing him to instinctively take a step back. They weren't his friends, they couldn't be... yet there were too many similarities between the people he knew and what stood before him.

"You left us in our hour of need, Piotr," growled a warped version of Cyclops, to the jeers of his fellows. "It's now our time to abandon you in yours."

"We died because you didn't come back in time for us, bub. Do you have any idea of the lives you could have saved, if you hadn't just hid in your corner of the world like the selfish coward you are?" More hurtful comments came from Wolverine. It couldn't be him; even by his standards this was abrasive and cruel... yet not entirely unbelievable.

"When push came to shove and the lights went off, your true colours were revealed. We wasted so much time on Magneto, when you were the real threat all along..."

"heartbeat increasing..."

The small voice made itself heard again, but it was given no heed as the taunts continued, each accusing him of treachery, cowardice and failing to see the bigger picture. Gradually, the taunts degraded into mindless cursing, the apparitions becoming thinner and less visible as the whole thing went on.

Then the scream came, loud, piercing and earth-shattering. The gates collapsed backwards on the apparitions, leaving Piotr Rasputin helpless to save them, to make up for his mistakes. The mansion walls began caving in, statues and commemorative plaques all falling to the ground.

"Vitals are rising, heartbeat increasing, heartbeat increasing." The voice returned, this time speaking with a mild sense of urgency, although it seemed to be ignoring the sudden screaming that had overcome the world he stood in.

Another voice chimed in. "Vitals are getting worse. We need to do something!"

The stabbing pain suddenly went through his body, and while he desperately wanted to scream he could do little more than whimper. For a moment he was awake, staring in horror as he saw Riptide's bloodied and bruised face grinning, with Ilyana crying out at whatever cruel experiments he was performing. Then the darkness overtook him, and this time he didn't find himself dreaming.

Three hours later, Mister Sinister found himself looking at the unconscious forms of the Rasputin siblings, both asleep due to heavy sedation. Riptide's petty experiments had ultimately been worth the trouble and many new discoveries about both his new guinea pigs had come to light, although time was now running short in all likelihood. It was time to speed things along and take the helm of the project himself.

The game would soon be moving into its primary stages, and Piotr and Ilyana Rasputin would be major players.

Westchester, New York

The ice that had held Juggernaut in place was starting to show the strain, as its captive began bashing and struggling to break free. The question is this case was when Cain Marko was going to break free, not if. Already, Kitty Pride found herself preparing to drag him back into the ground, and Cyclops kept one hand on his visor, reasoning to himself that if he knocked the Juggernaut back once, he could do it again. It was mostly self-reassurance, but in battle you did whatever you could to keep your cool.

None of these happened as Juggernaut found himself being lifted into the air, with the bolts holding his helmet down being lifted and discarded to one side, his helmet following not long after. Without thinking, the X-Men took advantage of the situation and threw everything they could his way- optic blasts, powerful lightning bolts, ice projectiles, and even a telekinetic blast.

Eventually, with an audible thud that was followed by a small tremor, Juggernaut hit the ground face-first, unconscious for now. It took the assembled team a few moments to work out what had happened, although eventually Nightcrawler was first to turn around towards the source of the telekinetic blast...

...and the sight, as short lived as it may have been, was almost unbelievable.

Levitating a few feet above the ground, looking exhausted but nevertheless radiating immense power, was Jean Grey. Her gaze was frozen between disbelief and pride, for she was feeling both after having taken Juggernaut down.

A split second later, she plummeted towards the ground, landing in a heap.

"JEAN!"

The team made a collective effort to reach Jean in a vain effort to catch her, but they were seconds too late. Cyclops made a beeline to her position, pushing Nightcrawler out of the way in a panic, scooping her up.

"Jean? Come on, you were strong enough to pull through this whole catastrophe. Please, wake up, wake up!"

At this point, Beast rushed over to the pair of them, producing one of his bio-scanners and frantically tapping at it, giving it an irritated nudge when it appeared to be slowing down.

"She'll be alright, Scott. In all likelihood, she's just dealing with the shock of having used her telekinetic powers without the backing the Phoenix Force. Her vitals are all relatively normal, although her pulse is a little fast and it appears that she's depleted most of her energy reserves. She needs to get inside. Now."

Cyclops almost looked ready to argue, but instead chose to follow Beast's advice, carrying her inside the mansion and moving to the infirmary, with the doctor, Shadowcat and a limping Rogue not far behind.

"Now what?" Iceman asked.

"Now we find out why exactly Jug' here landed on our doorstep via helicopter express. Elf, take his helmet and the bolts away, I don't want to have to put down an invulnerable Juggernaut yet again. Bring a laptop back here when you're done."

With a loud BAMF, Nightcrawler disappeared from sight with the helmet in tow.

"Bobby, help me secure him down. Storm, stick with me. If this guy starts gettin' up, I want you to help me knock him down."

"You really think that's possible?"

"Honestly, Ororo, I'm doubtful I can go another round against him, the last thing I need is him buttin' his head against me. You're the best shot we have with Jean out of the picture. Let's get to work."

California, near the border with Nevada

The man sitting at the bus stop glanced briefly at the timetable next to him. None of the destinations looked particularly appealing to him, but beggars couldn't be choosers. The reality of that had been clear since a young age, but being in a position of power had caused him to forget. The bare minimum he had needed for survival had since been pushed to one side, and then replaced by the strain of leadership and the feeling of persecution.

It was almost refreshing to find himself in such a helpless position.

The rain had been pouring down for a while now, and the old, wooden bus stop no longer seemed to be doing much good. The odd drip that had previously gotten through had been replaced by the multiple droplets slipping through the cracks. How typical, that the weather here had gotten worse not long before he was due to leave.

It felt odd, travelling without his traditional garb on, but it was necessary for a man such as himself to go around incognito. To this end, he had trimmed his hair unevenly, grown out his beard and reluctantly chosen to dispose of his royal garb. His old helmet at least could have still come in useful, but the fact was that it was missing and the red and purple costume, as well as the tattered cape, weren't worth the risk. For that reason, he had opted to take some clothes from a church donation bin, binning the rest of his outfit in an alleyway.

The cargo pants, white T-shirt and torn coat provided little comfort for him, and the shoes he was wearing barely seemed to fit him. Nevertheless, it was better than what he would wear should he wind up in prison.

He raised his head, noticing the bus pulling up to the stop, desperately raising his hand in an effort to hail the bus down. Any other day, he'd have flown or simply pulled the bus over with his magnetism, but since the event unimaginatively dubbed by the media as "The Mutant Incident of New York", he'd found that his powers had weakened owing to the stress of exile and the injuries he had sustained in the battle.

Furthermore, during that time others had been out for him, although bizarrely the X-Men had not been among them. Instead, the rumours of three supervillain prison breakouts just over a month ago, combined with a fourth in a different part of New York State, had meant that SHIELD was on higher alert than before- and this time they'd been joined by heroes of their own. He doubted that they'd let their guard down anytime soon; it was time to hide and rebuild until the world at large found him uninteresting again, choosing to focus on whatever supervillain made the headlines that day.

He climbed onto the bus, fishing out the change he needed for the bus ride west and handing it over to the bus driver, who gave him a fishy look, in part owing to his disgusting smell. He didn't rise to the bait at human scum giving him such discourtesies, choosing today to be merciful and ignore it, and make his way to the back row of seats.

America was no longer a welcoming place for people such as him, Wanda's instructions to the Brotherhood and Pietro's anger had made sure of that. It was time for Erik Lehnsherr to leave, and travel to the other side of the world.

An unknown time

Charles Xavier had never considered himself an irrational or cowardly man. The various trials and tribulations he'd suffered in recent times, he dared not guess how long had passed, had proved that as far as he was concerned.

However, the sight of a cell that he'd never seen before, after having been camped outside of a city that by all rights should never have existed, in a future that shouldn't have happened, caused the nerves of steel to suddenly fail him. Where he had been sitting on ashen soil out in an open field, there was now a hard stone floor, with straw for bedding and three blank, stone walls; he now wore prisoner's clothing in place of the survival gear he had been wearing beforehand, and there were no leg braces to help him walk. He'd never forgotten how it had been to lose the use of his legs, but the comfort of the braces had made it significantly easier for him to live life, and for a while it had as if he was back in his late twenties, with all the freedom he'd once known.

Almost helplessly, he managed to pull himself back up with the use of the bar, shuffling along with the use of his arms. It would almost have been funny to him, if not for his disability. Eventually reaching a door with a clear, plastic window, he knocked and yelled in a vain effort to get the attention of anybody nearby; three guards clad in blue and grey armour briefly looked his way, but kept walking as they had before without stopping to talk to him, or even tell him to shut up.

Hoisting himself up with the support of the door, he briefly glimpsed the other cells, in the hope of seeing the other X-Men he had fought with in the future of the Sentinels. The other prisoners were certainly mutants, but he recognised none of them; the majority of their mutations were too visible in comparison.

It was at that moment that the realisation as to how he had got here hit him, and painfully. It all came back to him, every second agonising to remember.

The final fight against Master Mold had not quite ended as the old stories of fairy tale heroics would have had a younger version of him believe. At every twist and turn of the fight, their adversary had proved remarkably resilient to any and all attacks that had been thrown its way, be it adamantium claws or the electromagnetic powers of Magneto's youngest daughter. Towards the end, Master Mold had used its telekinesis to lift all mutants present into the air, and disintegrated the debris that it had lifted beforehand.

With little choice left, he had tried to pull the minds of his team into the Astral Plane. It was better that they did not experience the pain of disintegration. Unfortunately, his mind had weakened during the time in the future, and he felt himself leaving one plane of existence as the screams began. He prayed their suffering had been quick. What had happened next was a blur; one moment he was in the eye of a storm, the next he found himself in the original model of Cerebro in Westchester, New York, with the rise of the Sentinels now an alternate reality.

And now he was here; the timeline has presumably "stabilised" and this was likely the result. As he brought his mind back to where he was now, he realised that the door had merged back into the wall, leaving him surrounded by four blank, grey walls. There was no company in the cell, little to use except a cistern with water dripping in from a pipe and a dim light in the ceiling, which was flickering and obviously about to die on him.

"Where am I?"

Yeah, this chapter doesn't necessarily move as quickly as the others, but it does re-introduce various characters into the narrative, and I do actually plan to use some of these quieter moments to set up future plotlines, bigger or smaller.

If my writing plans are still feasible from when I first started them, next chapter should involve the Rasputin siblings and the X-Men again; we'll also have a new (well, familiar but probably unexpected) character introduced into the narrative. Till then, head over to the "1 Million To Save Wolverine and The X-Men" fan page on Facebook, follow Lucas Ackerman (not the driver who killed people in the US, the main guy who runs the FB page) on Twitter - Lucas_Ackerman is his handle, drop me some constructive criticism and vote on the poll on my profile! I will see you next time!