A/N: Lacked inspiration to write a proper origins one-shot for these, read a couple of old favorites, then this idea hit me. On a completely unrelated note, I want to play Magna Carta: Tears of Blood again…

A happy shout-out and massive thanks to warfolomei for co-creating the two of the three (if you include the omake) original characters here.


Crisis on Infinite Cyclops Daughters: I'm Used To It


Steve Rogers would admit that the last thing he expected to happen that day was to be assaulted, bound, and then gagged in Avengers Mansion with the rest of his Unity Squad.

Yes, the entire Unity Squad was incapacitated by some unknown female.

"Glare all you want; I'm not letting you down until I've got what I need."

What started out a peaceful morning soon degenerated into chaos as a portal opened right in their living room. His team only had enough time to register said portal before something swift blurred out and then darkness.

If he were any other man, Steve would have been appalled and horrified into a panic at the sudden turn of events but, the Avenger mused, this was just another normal day in Avengers Mansion.

That didn't stop him from trying to break free, of course.

"Look, I mean you no ill will," The intruder opened with an even tone; she didn't bother turning to face him though as her fingers continued tapping at the computer. "But I know that you will not allow what it is I'm doing even if I asked nicely."

Steve wanted to ask what it was she was doing but with the improvised ballgag in his mouth, all that came out was a nigh unintelligible "'a r 'oo 'ooing?"

As an aside, Steve made a mental note to wash his gloves regularly. Never had he tasted so foul a thing in his entire life!

"Nothing you need to know." Was her infuriating reply. Steve hated being left out in the dark. "Ideally, I wouldn't even be speaking with you. But, out of respect for what you, I guess, have done for my—have done," Steve inwardly frowned; the brunette was picky with her words which penned a clearer list of suspects in his mind, the most likely of whom would prove a grievous headache. He prayed he was wrong. "I'm explaining myself to you."

Steve's frown deepened considerably. "'en 'et e 'o."

"Negative." She still wouldn't turn to him. "Not until I got what I need."

"'oo 'ill 'eg'et 'is." The captive soldier threatened, mustering up the deadliest glare he could to compensate for his embarrassing state.

"I don't think I will." She paused typing and simply stared at the screen.

Steve tried to peer over her shoulder, but the blood rushing to his head was seriously dampening his thoughts. Where did she get the inspiration to tie him upside-down, left leg straight up to the ceiling, right leg hyperextending his hip, left arm taut to the ceiling behind him, and right arm forward. The atrocious pretzel-like folding of his body, bending and twisting his spine, made for an unpleasant experience.

No matter. If he stalled her long enough, the maybe-

"You may also stop hoping Thor or Wolverine will come save you." The intruder broke through his thoughts. "They're not coming."

Steve pressed his eyes shut and ignored her. She clearly didn't know who she was dealing with!

"Ah, damn." Steve's attention snapped back to the intruder at the sound of her disappointment. "I guess it was just wishful thinking that I'd find what I was looking for here."

The girl stood up and finally faced him.

Steve's eyes bugged out at what he saw.

The intruder was young—could not be more than seventeen by his estimate—but wore the typical bodysuit agents of S.W.O.R.D. wore, revealing taut and well-defined muscles with hardly any body fat, exalting her speed and strength. She was quite tall—her height only serving to add more to her intimidating presence.

But it was not the way she carried herself that struck the war veteran speechless, no.

It was her eyes. It was that he couldn't see her eyes, for her eyes were hidden.

Hidden by a familiar ruby-quartz visor.

It was the final hammer that nailed in the dread of his earlier suspicion.

"Summers!" The bound soldier managed to yell despite the gag in his mouth.

The intruder smirked an oh-so familiar, haughty smirk, and she threaded a hand through shoulder-length sinuous brown tresses.

"Who knows." The girl shrugged carelessly. She knew it was a futile attempt to remain anonymous—the man before her was no idiot in these matters—but it was best not to confirm anything in her case.

She had put considerable thought into this incursion.

Speaking of which…

Steve watched as the girl sharply turned to stare at something to the side. He captive soldier did not have much time to ponder her odd behavior.

A wall exploding inward had such an effect on a person.

"Steve!" A voice he quickly recognized as a worried Wanda sounded, "We're-"

SHAKOOM!

That was the most his rescuers could get before a massive wall of ruby completely engulfed them.

"I know I shouldn't take any pleasure from that, but I hate you." Her remark, while venomous, sounded somehow morose to Steve's ears.

She was trembling, Steve noted with keen eyes, and his mind struggled to piece together why while trying to regain the advantage in his situation. It was clear to him that there was a conflict brewing inside of her.

It was just too bad that she recovered quickly.

"Well," The girl returned her gaze at him. Her hand flew up to the side of her visor. Steve tensed for the impact that would soon to follow only, instead, a click sounded and the intruder extricated a rose-colored disc before storing it in one of the pouches of her utility belt and retrieving a much deeper ruby disc, placing it on her headpiece. Odd. "You don't have what I need, so I'm leaving. I know it's futile, but let me warn you at least: do not follow me. I'm not here to do anything adverse."

Steve caught the small frown on her lips before she turned, picking out something from another pocket, and threw it on the ground. Instantly, another portal opened and his intruder disappeared.

It took another ten minutes of painful waiting before his team arrived and helped him out of his embarrassing predicament. It was in those moments that Steve came to a realization.

He really hated Cyclops.

It infuriated Steve Rogers that his team was so easily incapacitated by what appeared to be a female Cyclops of all people! Steve was honestly growing frustrated that the fugitive X-Man and those alike him could so easily dismantle his team singlehandedly.

"So let me see if I've got this," Wolverine growled, slipping off his mask so he could massage the bridge of his nose; it was comforting to know that even he with his superb healing factor was not immune to a headache. "We just got trounced by a female Summers?"

"Sounds like another case of time-travel to me." Havok grumbled. The blond looked exhausted but otherwise alright; no lasting damage.

"That's what I thought, too." Steve agreed. "I've read the reports; things like this happen often."

"Rachel, Nate, Nathan, Hope, that Ruby girl,"

"Stryfe." The disgruntled Canadian added.

"I hate time-travel." The time-displaced soldier concluded.

"Who do you think is the mother?" Wanda asked in an attempt for lighter conversation.

Steve opened his mouth—he had formulated a wild guess in those ten minutes spent alone as a disfigured pretzel—before abruptly snapping it shut. It sounded ludicrous even in his head but, with the scant amount of information available, it was the only answer he could come up with.

That didn't mean he was willing to share it, though, so instead, the soldier settled for staring at the gypsy.

"What?" Wanda asked.

"I'm not sure." Steve turned to the feral mutant. "What do you think?"

"I think she uses Wanda's shampoo." He grumbled.

"Scott and Wanda?" Havok blinked before barking a laugh at the absurd insinuation. "Yeah, no. Not in this reality."

It was only after Havok's words left his mouth when he realized how stupid they were.

"Uh…"

"There's no point thinking about that now." Steve swiftly took command. "Our mansion is a mess." He pointedly ignored Wolverine's snort. "We'll need to rebuild quickly. We've got an unknown, possibly time-traveling female loose in our world and, thanks to her thoroughness at hiding her motive," The intruder had deleted the logs of whatever it was she was looking for as well as footage of the entire ordeal. In fact, the only physical evidence of her presence, apart from their dilapidated home, was the metal disc she had thrown on the ground before she left. Steve made a mental note to have Tony, Reed, and Hank Pym reverse-engineer the doohickey. "No clue as to why she's here."

"What now, Captain?" Havok asked.

Steve stared at his fellow blond squarely.

"Now? Now, I'm going to overdose on some aspirin. Or drink. Whichever staves off this headache better."

The girl was no malicious threat.

He'd deal with her when the damn headache was gone.

-0-0-0-

When Scott Summers woke up, he couldn't tell if he had a hand attached to his right arm.

Such was the grip of his strange bedfellow.

"Who?" The groggy mutant murmured and blinked behind his ruby-quartz shades.

It took a moment for his eyes to adjust, and an even shorter moment still before his brain could pick out the particular shade of hair, but those moments were merely there to reinforce what he already knew—or didn't know, depending on how one looked at his realization:

This was definitely not Illyana Rasputin, Demon Queen of Limbo, and frequent intruder of his sleeping quarters and repeat hoarder of his blanket.

How did he know that the definitely feminine body did not belong to the free-spirited Magik? Apart from the much smaller and, dare he even think of it, flatter body pressed up against his side, Scott actually had a blanket wrapped around himself. Thus, the serial blanket thief was out of his list of suspects.

So, that begged the question, who?

Emma was out of the list by default. Even with the unexpected appearance of Ruby Summers, the mutant that claimed to be their daughter from a possible future, and even though the two of them were able to reconcile after the Phoenix Force did its job, there were just too many events that happened between the both of them. It was still much too early for them to even think of getting together again—and Ruby's intrusion only served to add more confusion to the mix. And just like with Illyana, the distinct lack of womanly ah, attributes, supported the fact.

So, not Emma.

Not Ruby either because he didn't want to entertain the thought.

Briefly, Scott did wonder if this female was one of the Cuckoos simply to complete the list of blonde-haired females he knew were living in the former Weapon X facility, but he instantly crossed it out. That was a creepier thought than Illyana's habitual sleepwalking into his quarters, sharing a bed with the womanly Ruby, and most especially a petite flat-chested Emma.

Yeah. So wrong.

'Well,' Scott thought dryly after he spent ample time—all of one second—musing about the identity of his intruder. All things considered, the former mutant leader was surprisingly calm. It was not just because his nerves had been tempered by his years, no; if this person was indeed hostile, Scott doubted he'd even have this much time to think. 'There really is only one way to find out who this is.'

With his free arm, he threw the blankets off him and his intruder before resting it on her shoulder. "Hey, I asked…"

His intruder stole his breath when she gazed up at him with piercing blue eyes; he quickly suppressed the shiver that threatened to run through his body. She was like a doll; she reminded him of a seven-year old Illyana when she was less, well, Darkchilde but more Magik.

"Da, atyets?" She stated evenly while her eyes remained staring at him, sapphires wide and crystalline.

"Atyets?" Scott repeated, confusion replacing his stupor. He could have sworn he knew the term but…

"отец." Came a voice from the doorway that Scott could recognize, and he craned his head. Just as he thought, there stood Illyana Rasputin, clad in her leather attire and a triumphant gleam on her face. "It means father. I am so pleased right now."

"Did something good hap—wait, father!" Scott snapped back towards the still staring blonde girl cuddling the life out of his arm. "I'm your father?"

"Da." The diminutive blonde nodded.

Scott groaned and shot a pleading look at the smug queen. "What did you do? And how come I haven't heard of this until now?"

"Amusing as this is, I didn't do anything." Illyana answered. "She just appeared last night while you were sleeping."

"And you didn't inform me until now because…?"

"I was busy watching you while you slept."

A shiver did run down Scott's spine at her unabashed declaration.

"I—it's better if I don't ask why you were watching me, right?"

"Yes."

"Atyet," The blonde—whose name Scott still hadn't managed to get—spoke, drawing his and Illyana's attention. Her inflection seemed evidence that she hadn't grown up in her mother's homeland. "I will be staying here for a while."

"…Why?" Scott couldn't help but smile weakly. It was too early in the morning for hijinks like this!

"I am stranded."

A plausible excuse with a readily-available solution.

"It's no problem. Illyana can take you back. It's not that I want you to leave," Scott began patiently to try and bring some seriousness into the conversation. "But time-travel is not to be toyed with."

Scott didn't miss the derisive snort from the doorway.

The little girl pursed her lips and ignored reason. "I am on vacation."

Scott inwardly groaned. If there needed to be any more evidence to her maternal heritage, here it was: the conviction to do whatever they wanted without care.

"You can't possibly be on vacation." Scott denied. "You're only a child."

"I am fifteen." She stated.

The honesty in her annoyed tone ground the gears in his head to a screeching halt. "What? You can't possibly be-"

"It's true." Illyana supplied from the doorway and added after meeting Scott's incredulous look. "Ruby scanned her mind when she tried to stop me last night. It's a side-effect of her mutation, apparently."

"Da." The apparent teen nodded.

"But she's—she's tiny!"

Crack.

Scott blinked and looked down when the girl suddenly let go. Oh, he could finally feel his hand again and oh god, oh god, oh god his hand hurt like-!

"I should have probably told you that she is sensitive about her height." Illyana commented unhelpfully. "It's why Ruby isn't here right now to glare daggers at me."

"Sorry, atyets." She apologized, tone still even that it was hard to tell if she was sincere. "It was an accident."

"It's okay." Scott nodded, beads of sweat forming at the back of his neck. "What's your name?"

"Anastasia." The girl now known as Anastasia stated. "Anastasia Summers. You would call me Ana."

"Resurrection?" Scott murmured before shaking his head at such a symbolic name. He decided he'd think of what it was her name meant at a later date. "Alright. You can stay in this time. Now, Illyana, Ana, if you two would excuse me," Ana left the bed to allow her father to stand and face the day. Scott smiled gratefully and proceeded to finish his first task. "I'll speak to you two after I've got this hand fixed."

"No therapeutic screaming?" Illyana asked mischievously.

He shook his head. "No therapeutic screaming if I can help it."

"Pity. I'd love to listen." Illyana shook her head before motioning to her daughter. "Come here, Ana. I want you to tell me all about how your mother managed to seduce your father."

Scott wished he could unhear the somehow jubilant answer—it was hard to tell for her voice remained even—he heard.

"Alright."


Omake: Locked and Loaded

"How did you find our base, anyway?" Illyana asked curiously. Sure, she wasn't expecting their location to be a secret forever, but it was still weird how the girl appeared, walking casually through their front door.

"I always find atyets." Ana answered succinctly.

"Always?"

"Da." Her eyes gleamed. "Always."

Illyana felt a lone tear of motherly pride form in her eye. "Oh, my baby is going to be wonderful!"

Their discussion wasn't creepy at all…


Omake: Standard Operating Procedure

Rachel Grey grimaced at the undignified sight of an unconscious Hank McCoy sprawled atop his laboratory table with his bum raised high in the air.

"Bobby," The redhead heard the school's headmistress, Ororo Munroe, begin in a slow and firm tone, "Please stop taking selfies with Hank's jutting rear."

"Just one more!" Bobby replied and Rachel heard another snap from his smartphone.

Ororo groaned at the silliness before directing her attention to Rachel. "Do you have an inkling as to what happened here?"

Rachel rolled her eyes and gestured an arm at the disheveled lab. "Time-travel."

The former Wakandan Queen narrowed her eyes at her subordinate's flippant reply. "Explain."

Rachel shrugged before listing, "Hank, no dignity. Lab, no order. Hole," she pointed at the large hole that really couldn't be missed; Ororo felt silly for just noticing it now, but she wouldn't let it show. "In the wall. Someone came and someone left. My best guess is a time-traveler." She glanced at the room again. "Or more."s

Ororo frowned. "Then we must find this time-traveler and ascertain their intentions."

It wouldn't do to have a repeat of their last batch of time-travelers. While it did bring her Kymera, the entire debacle was simply mortifying on their group's part and Ororo, for one, would not stand for yet another serving of ass-whooping unless it was she that served it.

She'd been eating one-too-many plates of that lately.

"Yeah, you go do that." Rachel waved and made her way out of the Beast's lab.

"Where are you going, Ms. Grey?" Ororo sharply asked, the annoyance she felt at Rachel's casual dismissal showing. "We need you to operate Cerebro."

"I'm going back to my room." The time-traveler waved without sparing the headmistress a glance. "This isn't my problem and you can have Betsy scan the globe."

"Elizabeth isn't here." Ororo wondered where it was that the body-swapped mutant disappeared to lately.

It was almost as bad as Logan.

"Then Quire." Rachel paused at the door and threw a look over her shoulder, eyes gleaming with vindictive delight. "You trust him, don't you?"

"Rachel-!"

The woman slammed the door before Ororo could say anything more.

Taking out her phone, Rachel whistled a happy tune as she wrote her message.

:.: Here comes a new challenger. Do what you do. :.:

-0-0-0-

Nathan Summers paused and read his sister's message.

Nathan Summers scratched his head.

Nathan Summers decided to wash his hands clean of this impending mess and just wait for the hilarity to appear on TV.

The son of Madelyne Pryor hit the forward button, took out a subzero can of Royal Dutch, and became the epitome of kicked back and relaxed.

"I know I'll be in the blasting zone of this one." He took a sip and sighed happily. "But for now, I'll throw up, pass out, wake up, and then go drinking once again."


Omake: Damn you Summers!

It was her eyes. It was that he couldn't see her eyes, for her eyes were hidden.

Hidden by a familiar ruby-quartz visor.

It was the final hammer that nailed in the dread of his earlier suspicion.

"Damn you, Summers!" The bound soldier managed to yell despite the gag in his mouth. "How dare you turn this into a win!"

"I couldn't even manage a frothing in the mouth?" She shook her head and mourned. "Father will be so disappointed..."


A/N: I was going somewhere with this, I think.I tried a similar idea in the Dissidia section; it didn't work too well 'cause I tackled it seriously. This, well, it's crack. Hah.