There's hole in the sky...
This is a new, refreshed version of the story "There's Hole in the Sky…" which tells adventures of the Genoshan Excalibur team in a strange parallel universe. Besides Magneto's team the story features Xavier and his allies trying to uncover the mystery behind the Excalibur team's disappearance.
World: Marvel
Time: After "Reload"
Main characters: Magneto and the Excalibur from Genosha.
Chapter 1: Down the rabbit hole
Erik Lehnsher stood on the terrace of a ruined mansion, his gaze fixed on the desolate, somber landscape. Rolling hills of crimson sand, born from scorched earth, stretched into the distance. Rising from that barren expanse were the broken skeletons of skyscrapers, their former grandeur reduced to slowly decaying ruins. Before him lay the shattered remnants of Hammer Bay, the capital of Genosha — a nation he had once ruled, a sanctuary that was supposed to be the promised land for all mutants.
Years ago, as Magneto, he had forced the United Nations to cede control of the island. His heart had pulsed with hope. He believed he had finally created a refuge, a place where his kind could live free from fear and persecution. In the beginning, the dream seemed real. Mutants from every corner of the globe came to settle in Genosha, and the nation flourished, envied and feared by others.
But utopias are only ever fleeting dreams. The machines of Cassandra Nova descended without warning — ruthless, unstoppable. They marched through Hammer Bay and the other great cities, leaving carnage in their wake. In mere hours, millions were dead. The magnificent city crumbled like a house of cards. His dream had died once again.
The wind stirred Erik's hair as tears gathered in his eyes, unbidden but heavy with pain. Lost in his thoughts, he didn't notice the approach of another figure. Charles Xavier, his long-time friend and adversary, now sat beside him. The bald man guided his wheelchair quietly into place, his gentle eyes resting on Erik.
"Back here again, old friend?" Charles asked softly.
"I am watching the smoldering ruins of my dream," Erik replied.
"Don't forget," Xavier said, "this is as much my failure as it is yours. I wonder — if we had not parted ways all those years ago, would we have been able to prevent the tragedy that befell these people?"
Magneto turned his back to him, silent. His hands gripped the terrace railing, and the scattered fragments of metal strewn around began to tremble. The sound of metal-on-metal, a faint, ominous melody, filled the air.
"Your naïve dream of peaceful coexistence brought us to this," Erik whispered, his voice laced with a fury. "If we had been stronger — if we had imposed our will on the world — our children would still be playing in the green gardens of Hammer Bay. If we had united long ago to stand against their hatred…" His eyes glowed with an eerie, electric blue light.
"Erik, calm yourself." Xavier's voice was firm but steady as he reached out telepathically. "You know that hatred never leads to salvation. Perhaps if you had not attacked Cape Citadel all those years ago, humanity's fear of us would not have burned so brightly."
Magneto's breath hitched, his rage momentarily quelling into silence.
"They feared us first," he whispered.
Erik Lensherr clenched his fists, and a blue aura flickered to life around his body. His knees wobbled as a wave of weakness washed over him. He gripped the railing tightly to steady himself. Sensing his turmoil, Xavier reached into his mind with a calming telepathic touch.
"We must leave the past behind, Erik," the Professor said gently. "We'll build a future for Genosha together. A new hope for those who survived. We owe it to them — and to the ones we lost — to rebuild this nation."
The aura surrounding Lensherr dimmed, fading into nothingness. His eyes, once radiant with unnatural power, returned to their human shade. His face was drawn, exhaustion etched into every line. Xavier observed his friend with quiet concern, careful not to betray his worry.
"Erik, these episodes have been happening more and more frequently. You need to be examined. Perhaps Henry McCoy could take a look…"
"Go back to America?" Erik's voice, sharp with bitterness. "After what that lunatic impersonating me did? They're all waiting for an excuse to fry me in the electric chair — your X-Men included!"
"I meant our McCoy," Xavier clarified, his tone calm but firm.
Erik blinked, genuinely surprised. "You trust him, Charles? I didn't think…"
"Of course I don't trust him," Xavier interrupted softly. "But we need every ally we can get, whether we trust them or not."
Before Erik could respond, the sound of footsteps drew their attention. A woman entered the terrace, her silhouette sharp against the waning light. A black leather outfit clung to her wiry frame. A patch covered one eye, and her hands, mutated into sinuous green tentacles, flexed as she approached.
"I hate to interrupt your heartfelt conversation, Charles," Callisto said, her voice dry, "but we have a situation downstairs. The kids are restless. Rations are running low, and tensions are about to explode."
"Thank you, Callisto. I'll speak to them." Xavier guided his wheelchair toward the exit but paused, turning back to Erik.
"Will you join us?"
"No…" Magneto said quietly, his gaze fixed on the distant ruins. "I prefer my own company for now. They'll listen to you. Some of them still can't bear the sight of me."
Xavier nodded. Without another word, he and Callisto left the terrace, their figures vanishing into the dim corridors below.
"You've earned that reputation, old friend," Xavier thought to himself.
The wind grew colder. Erik leaned heavily on the railing, but another wave of pain surged through him. His grip tightened until his knuckles whitened. The blue aura returned, brighter, fiercer than before, swirling around his frame like a storm barely contained.
Professor Xavier and Callisto appeared in the marketplace before the ruins of the mansion. The square was small, its cracked pavement worn and broken. A dried-up fountain stood at its center, flanked by scattered wooden crates serving as makeshift seats. Survivors of the Genoshan massacre — what remained of a nation of mutants — had gathered there.
Perched atop one of the crates sat a dark-haired girl dressed in black, with heavy boots and a scowl that dared anyone to approach. Her name was Wicked. Beside her, Freakshow, a pale-haired boy with shapeshifting abilities, shifted uneasily from one foot to the other. Shola Inkosi, a bald, muscular man with eyes simmering with anger, leaned against a doorway. On the edge of the dry fountain crouched Hub, a young, black mutant who had recently joined Xavier's group. Karima Shepandar, a woman whose body fused humanity with Omega-class technology, stepped forward with a measured expression.
"Professor, morale is crumbling," she said. "If we don't solve the food shortage soon, some will take matters into their own hands."
"We're hungry, we're sleeping in the dirt. This life is killing us," Shola added, his voice tight with frustration. Xavier turned to Hub.
"McCoy mentioned a supply depot. Have you checked the location he spoke of?"
Hub narrowed her eyes. "I'd love to, but that hairy ape hasn't been around for two days. He didn't bother to tell us where it was before he disappeared."
"He probably ditched us for something more comfortable," she muttered bitterly.
"Or something got him," Wicked added darkly, her lips curling into a smirk.
Freakshow raised his hand hesitantly. "Actually… we wanted to talk about something else, Professor"
"I'll say it straight!" Wicked cut him off, leaping from the crate. Her voice cracked like thunder in the tense air. "We're starving and dying out here while kids in your school live in comfort and safety! Maybe it's time you called the X-Men to get us out of here!"
Xavier sighed. "Wicked, this place is your home. Building a new future for Genosha should matter to you—"
"Home?" She looked away, her voice breaking. "My parents, my friends… they're all dead. There is no home here. Just a graveyard."
"Nothing ties us to this place anymore, Professor," Freakshow said softly.
"I understand your pain," Xavier began, "but there are other reasons—"
"Charles." Callisto approached the bald man. "You're rebuilding Genosha for him, aren't you? Not for these kids."
Xavier blinked, surprised by her bluntness. "I didn't expect that from you, Callisto."
"That's why the X-Men aren't coming," Hub murmured to her friends, her words dripping with quiet resignation. "The professor doesn't want them to know who he's working with."
Meanwhile, Magneto began to gather more and more energy around him. It grew so intense that a glowing blue aura surrounded his body. Sweat glistened on Erik's face, and it was clear he was struggling to control the power surging within him. Metal objects, once few, now spiraled in the air around him in a chaotic whirl. The number of flying metal fragments grew by the second. At one point, as if in a trance, the man leaped over the barrier. He floated slowly down toward the square where the others had gathered. The swirling debris of metal seemed endless.
"Wicked, look!" Freakshow pointed at Magnus. "Magneto!"
"Erik, what are you doing?!" Xavier shouted.
A metal pipe shot toward Hub at breakneck speed. Instinctively, the girl teleported away, and the pipe crashed in the shattered fountain. A large metal sheet fell directly onto Wicked. Freakshow instantly morphed into a four-armed beast, using his superhuman strength and speed to rescue the girl from certain death.
"Erik, calm down!" Xavier tried to reason with his old friend. He used his telepathy, attempting to enter his mind and soothe him from the inside. But it was in vain.
"Charles! Try to put him to sleep!" Callisto yelled.
"I've already tried!" Xavier responded. "I can't get through! He's in some kind of trance… he probably doesn't even know what's happening to him!"
A piece of metal framework shot toward Professor Xavier. Callisto leaped forward, using her tentacles to knock him out of his wheelchair and roll him to safety. The structure slammed into Xavier's chair, destroying it in an instant.
"I'll try to calm him down," Karima said, rising into the air.
"No!" Xavier reached out.
It was too late. A surge of electrical energy from Magneto struck Karima, frying her electronic systems. The unconscious woman fell to the ground with a heavy thud. Shola used telekinesis to protect the others from the flying shards of metal. Magneto, now standing on the sidewalk, began to accumulate more and more energy. The power built to overwhelming levels, and suddenly the space around him tore open — a true wormhole appeared. Magneto was sucked into it, along with Karima, who had fallen nearby.
"Erik!" Xavier looked on in horror, unable to act.
The hole widened, pulling in Wicked, Freakshow, Shola, and Hub one after the other.
"What are you doing?!" Xavier cried out as Callisto rushed toward the rift.
"I can't leave these kids with that psychopath!" she shouted. "Don't worry, Charles. I'll bring them all back."
"Callisto, no!" Before he could stop her, she leapt into the rift.
When she disappeared, the rift snapped shut. The air was pierced by the deafening crash as the remaining metal fragments fell to the ground. Xavier was left alone. His heart heavy with disbelief. It was hard to process what he had just witnessed.
Electrical discharges in the ionized air lit up the pitch-black sky, which was heavily cloaked in dark clouds. Towering structures reached skyward from the depths of the darkened space below, their foundations likely buried hundreds of meters beneath the city's surface. Their countless lights replaced the stars that had long since ceased to be visible from that place. The city pulsed with life. Between some of the buildings, suspended walkways allowed sleek, modern trains to race across, while here and there, flickering points of light indicated the passage of airborne vessels. Amidst the sprawling skyline, one building loomed above all others —a monumental structure that dwarfed even the tallest skyscrapers, making them appear like tiny matchboxes. Its surface was darker than the surrounding sky, and though no lights illuminated its form, it was veiled in a faint purple glow, giving it an eerie, ethereal quality. Below this towering monolith, on one of the lower residential towers, vast terraces sprawled out, adorned with lush, meticulously tended gardens. The trees within them were swayed by the wind, their leaves torn free and drifting across the stone pathways that meandered through the gardens.
The air around one of the terraces began to shimmer. A blue light flared, and soon a subspace corridor materialized, identical to the one that had swallowed Magneto and his companions earlier. The man emerged from the glowing rift, still radiating power, his form distorted by the overwhelming force he had just endured. Moments later, his companions followed, stepping into the city's strange reality.
Erik rose a few meters higher, still holding the unconscious Karima in tow. His energy was spent, the power draining from him like water from a cracked vessel. As his body lost control, his strength gave way to exhaustion, and he fell, his unconscious form crashing onto one of the lower terraces. Karima, still limp from the trauma, landed heavily beside him, her mechanical body paralyzed from the catastrophic damage to her systems. The prolonged exposure to Magneto's energy had rendered her diagnostic systems unable to cope with such severe malfunctions. Despite her advanced technology, she was nothing more than a broken shell, unable to repair herself.
The rest of the group landed on a terrace two floors below. As the last member of the team was expelled from the spacetime rift, it sealed itself up, closing behind them. Hub instinctively teleported, landing on the soft grass near a large tree. Freakshow transformed into a huge, orange beast and caught Wicked, attempting to cushion her fall. The dark-haired girl seemed completely detached from reality, as if her mind had been switched off. Callisto, hurled out of the tunnel with immense force, managed to grab hold of a tree's trunk at the edge of the terrace just in time, saving herself from falling. Meanwhile, stones and patches of grass she had struck flew hundreds of floors down. Shola created a telekinetic blast that shattered the rock blocking his path, allowing him to land relatively softly. The noise caused by their landing awakened the tower's inhabitants.
Wicked crouched on the ground, her head buried in her hands. The boy standing next to her shifted back to his human form, noticing how pale she had become, her body trembling with uncontrollable shakes. He touched her shoulder, which felt ice-cold to the touch.
"What's wrong with you?" he asked.
"They're gone!" the dark-haired girl screamed.
"Who?" he asked, trying to understand.
"They're gone!" she repeated, this time louder.
The blonde boy turned her face toward his. In her eyes, he saw an overwhelming sense of fear, as if her mind had shattered.
"Who's gone? What happened to you?" he asked. Wicked began screaming in terror. The boy tried to calm her down, but couldn't. He held her tightly, trying to stop her from breaking free and hurting herself.
Callisto looked around, trying to assess the situation.
"Where the hell are we?" she asked, her voice full of confusion.
She noticed a disoriented Hub, Shola getting up from the ground, Freakshow, and Wicked. She had no idea where the others were.
"Magneto?" Shola asked, approaching the woman.
"I don't know… Maybe he didn't survive passing through that rift… And Karima is gone too," she answered. Without saying a word, Hub pointed to the terrace above, where a blue light was flickering.
"Magneto," she whispered softly.
"I see, Hub. For now, we need to pull ourselves together and find out what's going on there," Callisto responded.
The glass doors leading out to the terrace opened, revealing the silhouettes of several people. A dark-haired man armed with a strange-looking rifle, a white-haired woman with blue eyes and pointed ears, and a little girl, almost identical to the woman, standing beside her.
Callisto looked up at the sky, noticing red lights approaching rapidly, a sign of imminent trouble. Soon, from the darkness of the night, vehicles resembling flying motorcycles appeared, ridden by men dressed in gray military uniforms adorned with blue lines running from the collars down to their leather belts. One of them pulled out some kind of weapon, ready for action.
"Must be rebels!" shouted one of the men standing in the doorway to the garden.
"Then they must die on the spot," replied another man, completely bald, his face expressionless and cold. Callisto quickly realized there was no chance of reasoning with them.
"We need to act," she said firmly.
"Should I attack them?" Shola asked.
"No, we don't know what we're up against. Besides, we're too weak."
The woman approached Hub, placing her tendrils on her shoulders.
"Listen, you need to teleport us all out of here. Over there." She pointed towards the abyss beyond the terrace fence.
"But I don't know how high we are! I might end up in a rock, or inside a building! If that happens, we'll all die!" The girl was terrified, unable to control her panic.
"We'll teleport in steps. Eventually, you'll feel the ground, and when you do, you can safely set us down."
"But what if I can't make it in time? We'll smash to pieces!" Hub's panic was palpable. Callisto's frustration flared.
"Listen! You're our only hope right now. If you teleport us, we might die. But if we stay here, we'll die for sure! You have to take the risk!"
Hub nodded, though still uncertain. Shola led Freakshow and Wicked closer to her. The dark-haired girl, still in shock, seemed unable to snap out of it. The men on strange scooters were closing in, circling the mutants. Above them, a tall man with long white hair, blue eyes, and pointed ears appeared, wearing an identical uniform to theirs. His cloak billowed in the wind as he levitated beside his subordinates.
"Look at them," the black girl gestured to the balcony above. "What about them? What about Magneto and Karima?"
"We'll come back for them. We'll find them and save them if they're still alive," Callisto replied, not fully believing her own words. Hub gathered her resolve, using her powers to teleport the team out of the enemies' reach. The soldiers, surprised, landed their vehicles on the terrace. Soon, their long-haired commander joined them. The apartment owner, visibly distressed, stood on his property, confronting him.
"It's an honor to have you visit, we didn't expect to be rescued..."
The soldier silenced him with a raised hand. "Are you sure they were rebels? They clearly had powers..." the long-haired man inquired.
"They appeared out of nowhere, General!"
"General! There are two here, unconscious!" one of the soldiers guarding Magneto shouted. The commander smiled, ascended two floors, and landed on the terrace where Eric and Karima lay. One of the soldiers was scanning them with some kind of device.
"Interesting... this older man radiates a very strange energy. He might be dangerous. As for his companion... she's a fusion of human and machine! Where could such technology come from?"
"Take her to the Science Center, and the man to our guest quarters," the white-haired commander ordered, before flying off into the night sky.
"Yes, General Kanzar!" the soldiers responded in unison.
After several trial jumps, Hub managed to teleport the entire team to the lowest level of the city, as far as she could. They were engulfed by an even deeper darkness, amplified by the towering skyscrapers looming above them, blocking out all light, both day and night. Before them stretched an abandoned city, its buildings, once impressive, now seemed dwarfed by the more modern structures that dominated the skyline. The buildings were damaged, many windows were shattered, and the walls were covered in graffiti in various languages, some of it looking like it had been there for years, long forgotten. The emptiness surrounding them was overwhelming — there were no artificial lights, suggesting that electricity had long been cut off in this part of the city. Here and there, burning barrels illuminated the streets with weak, flickering light, hinting at the presence of a few locals. Rusting car wrecks lined the streets, and trash and scraps of metal littered the ground, a stark reminder of the decay that had taken hold of the place. The entire area seemed forgotten by time and people. In the several closest blocks no living soul was visible.
The team was too disoriented to pay much attention to the grim surroundings they found themselves in. Hub, immediately after finishing the teleportation, fainted, and only Shola's quick reflexes kept her from collapsing onto the cold street. Wicked staggered a few steps away, vomited, and soon lost consciousness as well. Callisto glanced at the two men.
"They might need medical help. I'll take a look around here. Stay!" she said calmly.
"Maybe someone should go with you?" Shola asked, concerned.
"No. You two are much stronger than I am. If any trouble arises, you'll protect the girls. Besides, I'm used to these kinds of places," she smiled, trying to reassure them. She pulled a knife from her belt and walked off, vanishing into the darkness.
Freakshow and Shola laid their unconscious companions in the most comfortable positions they could manage, sitting close by, keeping watch.
"Listen… There's something wrong with Wicked… something really wrong," the blond guy said, rubbing his temples.
"She probably reacts badly to teleportation. She'll be fine in a little while," Shola replied, trying to calm his friend down.
"No, it's something else. Earlier, she screamed as if someone were peeling her skin off... Where the hell are we?" The blond guy covered his face with his hands, overwhelmed by anger and frustration.
"We don't even know if any of this is real... It could be some sort of trick. And besides, Magneto's here. He won't lose a single mutant. If it comes to it, he'll destroy this city to find us and save us," Shola said, trying to sound confident.
"Except he might already be dead," Freakshow concluded. He stood up and took a few steps away, as if trying to distance himself from the overwhelming situation that seemed beyond his control. Shola approached him, keeping his gaze on the unconscious girls.
"Listen, what's your name?" he asked quietly, trying to break the silence.
"You know it," the guy replied without lifting his gaze.
"I mean your real name."
"In Genosha, we used our names, our aliases," he answered, avoiding the question.
"And you don't have another?"
"I do... Michael…"
"That's good. I felt stupid calling you Freakshow," the bald man said, patting his friend on the back.
Callisto moved cautiously along the main street, her steps light as she navigated past rusted car wrecks. The vehicles, their frames corroded and glass shattered, hadn't been driven for many years. She stopped at an intersection, her sharp eyes studying a towering building across the way. A large entrance with shattered glass hinted at its former life as a bustling shopping center. Her heightened senses picked up the lingering metallic tang of burnt-out neon signs, their twisted shapes forming Japanese characters, now barely discernible through grime and decay.
"We're in a massive metropolis," she thought. "Somewhere in Japan — or maybe the version of it that exists in this world."
Near the supermarket entrance, clusters of barrels stood like sentinels, some still flickering with fire, casting long, wavering shadows. The presence of these makeshift beacons suggested life within. She tightened her grip on her blade, slipped into the shadows, and crept inside, pressing her back to the cold, cracked walls. The interior had long been stripped bare. Empty shelves stood like skeletal remains, looted of everything they had once held. A dank corridor stretched before her, lined with shattered glass and the remnants of forgotten displays. Her single, sharp eye darted upward, scanning the upper floors for signs of movement.
Something shifted. The sound was faint but unmistakable — feet scuffing against debris. She spun sharply, her senses attuned to the sudden presence. Across the wide expanse of the ruined market, figures lurked in the gloom: three men and a woman, concealed among overturned racks and scattered debris. The men wore tattered, greenish-gray uniforms, relics of a bygone era. One had a thick beard; the other two were clean-shaven with cropped hair. The woman, draped in a green cloak, had wild, curly brown hair that cascaded down her shoulders. Her hand clutched a weapon resembling a spear, while the men gripped battered rifles.
"Who is she?" the bearded man asked, his voice rough.
"No idea. I've never seen her before," the woman replied, her eyes narrowing as she studied Callisto.
"Look at those tentacles — disgusting."
"Another reject from the Institute of Science. Tossed out when the experiments failed," one of the clean-shaven men sneered.
"No…" The woman's gaze sharpened. "The ones they cast aside are scared, always running, always hunted like prey. But this one… she's no victim. She's a hunter."
"Yes. Look at how she moves, how she assesses the terrain… like she's searching for someone."
"Or hunting someone," the woman concluded darkly.
"Maybe she's a trick from those above. A trap to find Natalie," the bearded man said grimly.
The woman nodded. "Ready your weapons. We confront her now."
Callisto's sensitive ears caught the click of rifles, the shallow breaths of her opponents, and the frantic thump of their hearts. She understood the danger but also knew her best chance lay in disarming them before attempting diplomacy. With a swift, fluid motion, she dove behind a row of empty shelves.
"There!" the woman shouted.
Gunfire erupted, bullets shredding the dilapidated shelves into splinters. Dust and debris filled the air, a storm of chaos. When the cacophony subsided, two of the men moved forward cautiously.
"Stop," the woman commanded, raising her hand. "One of you will go. We won't risk more." She turned to the bearded man and another soldier. "Aaron."
The soldier nodded grimly. He advanced, rifle ready, weaving between the wreckage. He grinned when he saw the shredded remains of the shelving, believing his quarry to be dead — only to recoil in shock when he found no body.
Callisto burst from a side shop, a blur of speed. Before Aaron could react, she drove her foot into his stomach, snatched his rifle, and hurled it far behind her. A brutal punch followed, sending him sprawling into unconsciousness. The bearded man leveled his weapon at her. His finger twitched on the trigger, but she was faster. In one fluid motion, she drew a knife from her boot and hurled it with deadly precision. The blade sliced past his head, close enough to whip the air against his cheek. Disoriented, he staggered, buying her precious seconds. Callisto bolted up a broken escalator as gunfire chased her, rounds sparking against the steps and railing. She moved like a phantom, too swift for their aim. Two soldiers gave chase. She vanished.
The men froze, their eyes darting wildly. The silence pressed in, thick and suffocating. A plastic figure loomed nearby, a forgotten mascot of a long-lost children's game — a bright-eyed fox with a cheerful grin. Callisto melted from behind it, her tentacles unfurling like serpents, each holding a gleaming knife. The blades flew, a blur of silver. The soldiers dove instinctively, the knives missing by mere inches. She had thrown to disarm, not to kill. The woman at the base of the escalator watched with calculating eyes. She began her ascent slowly, her mind working furiously to decipher the mutant's intent. Callisto slipped through an open doorway, her footsteps deliberately audible.
"She's luring us in," one man muttered.
"Stay sharp," the woman warned.
One soldier followed into the yawning darkness. Rows of broken chairs stretched before him, and a massive, tattered screen loomed above. It had once been a theater. Now it was a tomb of shadows. His heart thundered. His knuckles whitened around the rifle's grip. From the darkness behind him came a whisper of movement.
She struck. Tentacles coiled around him, lifting him effortlessly before slamming him down. He crumpled into unconsciousness with a gasp. The bearded man rushed in, breath ragged, rifle trembling. Seeing his fallen comrade, he fired blindly into the dark, bullets ricocheting off unseen surfaces as he panted and sweated, desperation overtaking reason. And in the heart of the shadows, Callisto smiled.
"Where are you, you bitch?! Show yourself!" the man roared, his voice echoing through the dimly lit space. The metallic click of an empty magazine was his only answer. He cursed, throwing the rifle aside and drawing a knife that gleamed in his hand. Callisto watched from the shadows, her single eye narrowing. She sighed softly and stepped into the light.
"Listen," she began calmly. "I don't want trouble. I just need help."
He spun around, his wild eyes fixing on her.
"Help?" he sneered. "Then why are you skulking around down here?"
"I'm not from this place. I don't know anything about it. My companions are wounded. I need help."
The man's lip curled in a cruel smile. "Oh, I'll help you, all right. I'll help you bleed out, bitch!"
He lunged, the knife darting forward. Callisto moved faster. Shadowy tendrils unfurled from her back, wrapping around his wrists like iron shackles.
"I just wanted to talk," she said, her voice low and steady.
She yanked him off his feet and slammed him into the wall with brutal force. The impact echoed as he crumpled to the floor, unconscious.
Without a second glance, Callisto stepped into the hallway. A tall woman with long, dark hair stood waiting for her, the last opponent still standing.
"I hope I can actually talk to you," Callisto muttered.
The woman tilted her head slightly. "You defeated my people. I can't take any chances," she replied. She shrugged off a green cloak, revealing a snug brown outfit that outlined her toned, athletic figure. In one swift motion, she brandished a spear and attacked.
The spear sliced through the air. Callisto barely dodged it, the blade grazing too close. She stumbled back, slamming against the edge of the wall with a grunt. The woman seized the advantage, thrusting again.
This time, Callisto ducked. The spear buried itself in the bricks. She reacted instantly, driving a vicious kick into her opponent's stomach. The woman gasped and fell hard onto her back.
"I don't know how I got here!" Callisto's voice broke with frustration. "I don't know what this place is! I only want help for my friends!"
"People like you don't have friends!" the woman spat. "You're leading me into a trap!"
With a snarl, she knocked Callisto to her knees. The spear came down, striking her once, twice, three times. Blood trickled to the floor. Pain and fury surged through Callisto. She snarled, her tendrils snapping out to seize her foe's arms, pinning them tight. With an enraged growl, she hurled her into the wall.
"If I were what you think I am," Callisto hissed, "you'd already be dead. You and your people. Those knives on the ground?" She gestured toward the scattered blades. "They could have been in your hearts."
The truth in her words silenced the woman. Her breath came quick and shallow.
"Maybe I believe you..." she whispered.
Callisto tore the spear from her grip and tossed it aside.
"Rose. Rose Gardner," the woman murmured.
"Callisto," she replied. Her tone darkened. "But I'm not letting this." She touched her bruised nose.
Before Rose could react, Callisto's tentacle hit her face. The blow was fierce, knocking her onto her stomach. Blood dripped from Rose's split lip, and her jaw throbbed with pain. Callisto crouched beside her, smiling coldly.
"Now," she said softly, "we'll have a proper conversation."
She reached down, offering a hand to help her adversary to her feet.
Erik Lehnsherr regained consciousness. Slowly, he opened his eyes, blinking against the soft glow that filled the room. His gaze swept across his surroundings. The chamber was small, round, and almost barren. A simple white bed supported his weight, and a tiny table stood beside it. There were no windows, no visible doors, and no other furniture. Above him, a sphere of white light hovered near the ceiling, casting a gentle glow that served as a lamp.
He pushed himself upright, fists clenched as he focused his mind. He reached out with his powers, willing the walls to yield, to crack and crumble beneath his electromagnetic force. Nothing happened. Something was blocking his abilities. Or perhaps… he was simply too drained. The effort of creating a wormhole — and traversing it — had nearly broken him. But how had he managed it? That kind of power wasn't his domain. Manipulating spacetime required forces far beyond mere mastery of electromagnetic fields. Had someone else created the phenomenon? Had they used it to banish him, to cast him into some other dimension and rid Earth of him forever? The questions swirled in his mind, but Erik shoved them aside. Speculation wouldn't free him. He had a mission. He had to escape, find out what had become of the others, and protect them. Whatever it took, he would bring them home.
He rose, his feet steady on the cold floor as he paced the room. He ran his hands over the smooth walls, testing them for weakness. A faint hum broke the silence. Suddenly, the outline of a door shimmered into existence. Its oval shape pulsed as it slid open. Erik tensed, ready for anything.
A young woman stepped through. Her hair was stark white, her skin pale as porcelain. Pointed ears peeked from beneath her silken locks. She carried a bundle in her hands.
"Fresh clothes for you," she announced in a soft, neutral tone.
"Who are you? Where am I?" Erik's voice was calm but cold.
"This is the palace of Lord Kanzar. I serve him," she replied without hesitation.
"Can I leave?"
"No. That would violate Lord Kanzar's direct orders."
"Then I'm a prisoner." His eyes flared with a sudden, icy blue glow.
"You are a guest of Lord Kanzar," she corrected. "He will meet with you when he is ready."
Without another word, she turned and vanished beyond the doorway, which sealed shut behind her.
Erik exhaled slowly and looked down at the garments she had left on the bed. Gray. Plain. Uncomfortably similar to the uniform worn by General Kanzar's soldiers. For now, he would play their game. He would observe. Learn their weaknesses. Their strengths. These people might be his only chance to locate the young mutants lost in this alien world. And when the time came, he would be ready.
Callisto, alongside the woman she had defeated just moments ago, approached her younger companions. From a distance, she noticed that Hub had regained consciousness and was perched atop a pile of broken concrete slabs. Shola stood nearby, while Mike knelt vigilantly beside the still-unconscious Wicked.
"That's Rose... one of the locals. She's agreed to help us," Callisto said.
The black man rushed to meet them, his eyes burning with urgency. "What is this place? Where are we?"
"Calm down. First things first," Callisto said soothingly.
Rose knelt beside Wicked, lifting the girl's head gently. She listened to her breathing, felt for a pulse at her neck and wrists, then carefully laid her back down on the pavement.
"She's completely drained. I can't do much more… unless I had proper equipment."
"Equipment? Here?" Callisto raised a skeptical eyebrow.
"In the subway station where we live, we have generators. We've managed to set up a small hospital and even stole some of the High Ones' devices…" Rose hesitated, her expression darkening.
"I'll accept any help you can give us," Callisto said. "I have no idea where I am or which way to go."
Rose's eyes narrowed suspiciously.
"What do you mean, you don't know where you are? Are you from the North American Kingdom? The Great Egyptian Empire?" She paused. "Or maybe… the Ocean City?"
"None of those names mean anything to me," Callisto admitted. "It'll be hard for you to believe this, but… I'm not from this Earth."
Rose backed away, alarm flashing across her face. Shola took a step forward, ready to act, while Freakshow hovered protectively over Wicked.
Rose took a deep breath, regaining her composure. "Your eyes… your ears… You're not like them."
"Them?" Callisto pressed. "Who are you talking about? What's that city towering over this place? Was there ever a Japan here? What happened to this world?"
Rose's voice turned bitter. "That's a long story. I'll take you to our camp. You can rest there, and someone will answer your questions. But how did you get here?"
"That's a long story, too. Ever heard of parallel universes?"
"There were theories about them… but even the High Ones never proved they existed."
"Maybe you're looking at proof right now," Callisto said with a faint smile.
Suddenly, a piercing scream shattered the night. From the ruins of a supermarket, where Rose's unconscious soldiers lay, a bearded man stumbled into view. His face was drained of color, eyes wild with terror.
"Sentinels! The Sentinels are coming! They killed Rudolf and Aaron! Murdered them!"
Rose's face went ashen.
"Damn it! It must be past Zero Hour! Or they've changed patrol patterns again!"
"Who are these Sentinels?" Callisto demanded.
Rose's eyes were cold. "Death."
Before anyone could respond, shadows stirred in the darkness. Soldiers in gray uniforms rode in on hovering bikes, their arrival heralded by the hum of engines. One of them had hands wreathed in an eerie, burning energy.
"They're probably tracking us," Callisto whispered, the memory of the earlier screams still fresh in her mind. She turned to her comrades. "Shola, Freakshow — can you fight?"
"Yes," Shola confirmed.
"I think so," Freakshow added.
"That one with the burning hands… he's dangerous," Callisto warned.
"Got it!" Shola extended his arms, and a surge of telekinetic energy blasted forward. It slammed into the soldier with the fiery hands, destroying his bike. The wreckage crashed to the ground, erupting in flames.
"Anointed ones?" gasped the bald soldier, his eyes widening in disbelief.
"Resistance fighters must've stolen one of the Redeemers' weapons!" sneered his long-haired companion. "Anointed ones, my ass. I'll show you what they really are!"
He drew a weapon but never had a chance to fire. A second wave from Shola sent him hurtling into the pavement. The bald soldier wheeled his bike around and activated the boosters.
"He'll escape! He'll bring reinforcements! The High Ones!" Rose's voice trembled with fear.
"No, he won't," Mike growled.
He shifted into a hulking, yellow creature. Snatching a long, jagged metal rod, he hurled it with incredible force. The makeshift spear struck the fleeing soldier's engine, sending the bike speeding into a crumbling building. Rose and the bearded man watched, frozen in shock.
"You have the gift! The gift!" the bearded man cried. "You must come with us! Marcus has to see you!"
Meanwhile, in a parallel reality, Charles Xavier sat on the terrace of a ruined mansion in Genosha. His eyes were closed, his face a mask of deep concentration. Using his telepathic abilities, he stretched his mind outward, searching tirelessly for Magneto and the mutants who had accompanied him. He expanded his range farther and farther — scanning the nearby surroundings, the entire city, the island, the continent. But even his extraordinary powers could not pierce through to another dimension, where his old friend now resided.
Standing nearby, a stout woman with blonde hair and thick glasses held a steaming cup of coffee. She watched him quietly, waiting. When Xavier finally exhaled and relaxed his posture, she stepped forward and offered the cup with a gentle smile.
"Thank you, Mildred," Xavier said, his voice calm but weary.
"You're welcome, Professor," she replied softly. "That's why I'm here. I just wish I could be more useful…"
"You already are," he reassured her.
"Any progress?"
Xavier shook his head slowly. "No. They aren't anywhere within thousands of kilometers. In fact, I don't believe they're on this planet at all."
Mildred's brows knit with concern. "Does that mean they're… dead?"
"If they had perished entering the wormhole, I would have felt it," Xavier explained. "Instead, it's as if their consciousnesses simply vanished. They could be at the other end of the galaxy — or a thousand years in the past."
Mildred walked to the edge of the terrace, her gaze distant. She took a deep breath and spoke in a quiet voice. "This is all so far beyond me… I'm just a librarian."
"Everyone has a part to play," Xavier said kindly.
"Shouldn't you… inform the X-Men?"
A shadow passed over Xavier's face. His eyes darkened as he considered the question.
"I can't involve them in this." He whispered.
"Because of Magneto." Book asked.
"Yes."
Mildred looked skyward and squinted as a dark shape appeared on the horizon. A sleek, black aircraft was descending rapidly toward Genosha. Her pulse quickened as it approached.
"The Blackbird…" she told quietly.
Xavier, startled, recalled the appointment. Representatives from his X-Corporation were arriving to retrieve and interrogate prisoners — those responsible for attacking Xavier's people weeks earlier, as well as the attempted bombing of the X-Corporation's headquarters.
The Blackbird landed smoothly, its engines humming as the aircraft touched down near the ruins. Xavier turned to Mildred. "We must greet them."
"Of course, Professor." She answered with a smile.
"Remember," Xavier said gravely, "say nothing about Magneto. Nothing about what happened here."
"I understand. But what about the girl? Doesn't she—?"
"Monet is a telepath, yes. But my barriers are beyond her reach. Your mind, fortunately, is naturally resistant to telepathy… as are the minds of our prisoners." Xavier assured her.
A moment later, Xavier stood waiting on the courtyard. The Blackbird's doors hissed open, and two figures emerged. Monet, a tall, dark-skinned woman with flowing hair, led the way, followed by Thunderbird — a young man with a guarded expression.
"Welcome, Monet. Neal," Xavier greeted them with a nod.
The former students exchanged brief pleasantries before casting curious glances at the surroundings.
"What a dreadful place," Monet muttered, wrinkling her nose.
"How could anyone have done something so horrific?" Neal added, his eyes hardening as he surveyed the devastation.
"We're doing our best to rebuild," Xavier said. "To ensure this never happens again. This is Mildred, Book. She's assisting me."
Monet eyed the woman skeptically. "You two are handling all this alone? Where is everyone else?"
"They're… engaged in rescue missions across Genosha. They won't return for at least two days." Xavier lied to her.
"Then we'll meet them another time," Neal said with a shrug.
Xavier seized the opportunity to shift the conversation. "How's Lifeguard?"
"Recovering," Neal replied. "She was seriously hurt, but her condition's improving."
"I'm relieved to hear it. Any leads on the attackers?" Charles asked.
Monet adjusted a strand of hair behind her ear.
"We hope your prisoners will shed some light. So far, we've only recovered one body — just a low-level thug. Someone clearly hired them to target both you and the X-Corporation."
Xavier sighed. "I've learned little. The two leaders claim they were common thieves hoping to scavenge whatever remained of Genosha."
Monet's eyes narrowed. "I'd like to speak with them."
"Of course. Book will take you to them." Xavier gestured toward Mildred before turning away abruptly. Monet's gaze followed him, her eyes sharp with suspicion.
"That's not like him…" She took a step forward. "Professor—"
"I have many matters to attend to," Xavier said, cutting her off. His voice was distant, almost distracted. He disappeared into the shadows of the ruined mansion, leaving Monet and Thunderbird standing in uneasy silence.
The prison cells were buried deep beneath the ruins of the old police precinct. A heavy, suffocating darkness filled the cramped space, carrying the stench of mildew and forgotten decay. Cold seeped through the stone walls, pressing its chill into the bones of anyone who lingered too long.
Monet stood rigid before one of the iron-barred cells. Behind the bars, a young woman with vivid pink hair stared back, her dark eyes full of disdain. Tattoos of serpentine dragons curled across her slender arms, and multiple piercings adorned her body. She watched Monet with a sneer, radiating confidence that bordered on arrogance.
"Are you going to cooperate?" Monet's voice was calm, almost a whisper.
Appraiser's grin widened as she stepped closer to the bars, her eyes glittering with malice. "No. Because soon, I'll be gone. My partner and I have plans."
"That's where you're wrong," Monet replied, her voice sharper now. "We're taking you to the X-Corporation headquarters. There, you will talk. Unless you want this to be much more unpleasant."
Appraiser laughed — a grating, mocking sound that grated on Monet's nerves. Her hands clenched into fists. The temptation to rip the bars from their hinges and wipe that smirk off the prisoner's face surged through her. But she held herself back.
"You still don't get it, do you?" Appraiser whispered, leaning even closer. "I've already completed my mission. I'll be gone before you even realize what's happening. You don't know a damn thing."
"What mission?" Monet demanded, her composure cracking. "What did you do?"
Appraiser's smile grew sharper. "Ask your beloved professor. Ask him who disappeared a few hours ago. Who lived here, under his protection, but isn't here anymore."
"That's not my concern right now," Monet shot back, her eyes narrowing. "What is my concern is your role in the attack on our organization's headquarters."
"Role? You think that was the main event? No, darling — it was just a diversion. A way to get closer to the true prize, The Master of Magnetism."
"Magneto?" Monet spat. "He's dead." Her certainty wavered as the words left her mouth.
"Ask Xavier," Appraiser whispered.
"I'm done wasting time on you." Monet spun on her heel. "Get ready. We're leaving."
Appraiser's mocking laughter followed her as Monet ascended the stairs. She clenched her jaw, furious that she had let the prisoner unnerve her. But a sliver of doubt twisted in her chest. There had been truth in Appraiser's words, a truth she didn't want to face.
Outside, a stocky woman with a determined expression waited alongside Neal. The two stood by the precinct's entrance. Monet grabbed the young man's arm. "Come with me to the Blackbird. We need the restraints. We're taking them now."
As they moved, a flash of light erupted in the underground cells.
Three figures emerged, clad in ornate plate armor that gleamed like polished metal. Their helmets, shaped like inverted bowls, concealed their faces entirely. Each suit of armor was covered in intricate, swirling patterns, and each bore a distinct hue — red, blue, and green. The figure in red touched a control on his gauntlet, and the iron bars of the cells dissolved into nothing. Appraiser's eyes gleamed with triumph. "You kept your promise!" she crowed, racing to their side.
From the adjacent cell, Stripmine — her partner — stepped into view. His long hair cascaded over his shoulders as he moved with predatory grace. From the other cells, trolls shuffled forward, their eyes glowing with malevolent hunger. The green-armored warrior raised his hand, and with a flick of his wrist, the trolls vanished into thin air. With freed prisoners in tow, the armored trio strode toward the exit.
"Stop right there!" The voice belonged to the stout woman blocking their path. Her wide stance radiated unwavering determination. "Those are prisoners!" The invaders didn't slow.
Mildred gritted her teeth and drew her weapon. Memories of Xavier teaching her to shoot flooded her mind. She had hoped that knowledge would never be necessary. She squeezed the trigger, her eyes shut tight. Bullets ricocheted harmlessly off the crimson armor. Mildred escaped. Monet and Neal arrived just in time to witness the chaos. At the sight of Monet, Appraiser's grin returned. "Didn't I tell you?"
Thunderbird unleashed twin streams of solar plasma at the red knight, but the heat dissolved against the impenetrable armor. Monet shot into the air, aiming for a devastating strike. The blue knight raised his hand, swatting her aside with a single, effortless blow. She crashed into a crumbling wall, the impact rattling her bones. Neal sprinted to her side. Monet gasped as he touched her waist. Pain exploded through her ribs. "Damn it…" she muttered through gritted teeth. "I think he broke something."
Neal's eyes widened with disbelief. "Your bones are like steel. How…?"
Monet leaned against the wall, breathing heavily. Her limbs felt leaden, her strength draining away. Three armored strangers, together with freed prisoners dissolved into thin air, teleporting somewhere far away.
After a while, Professor Xavier arrived, his wheelchair pushed by Book. "Who were they?" he asked.
Monet's lips twisted into a grimace. "Look inside my mind and see for yourself."
Xavier closed his eyes, delving into her recent memories.
"We have to find them," Monet said, forcing herself upright.
"First, you need a hospital," Xavier murmured.
"I don't have time for that," she snapped. She took a step, her breath ragged, then another before her knees wavered.
"Neal," she muttered, "get me to the Blackbird."
With a resigned sigh, Thunderbird helped her back to the ship.
As they boarded, Xavier's voice echoed telepathically in Neal's mind.
"Take her to the nearest X-Corporation base. She needs immediate care. I'll handle the fugitives myself."
Neal nodded. "She won't go down without a fight."
In the Blackbird's cabin, Monet collapsed onto a reclined seat.
"I'm not quitting," she whispered. Her eyes glimmered with fierce resolve.
Thunderbird managed a weary smile. "I figured."
"Stop thinking so loudly. I can hear you even through this damned pain."
He chuckled, powering up the engines.
Xavier and Book watched as the Blackbird lifted off. The aircraft roared into the sky, stirring up clouds of dust that rolled across the desert floor. Book shielded her face with her arm, squinting against the grit in the air. Her eyes remained fixed on the professor, whose expression was distant, as if his thoughts drifted far beyond the horizon.
"You didn't send them away just because of that girl's injuries," she remarked, her tone thoughtful.
Xavier's gaze lingered on the spot where the jet had disappeared.
"No, I didn't," he replied quietly. "I'm convinced that the two prisoners — and those who helped them escape — are connected to Erik's disappearance. That's why we must find them."
Book's eyes narrowed with interest. "Before X-Corporation does, I assume?"
He nodded. "Exactly. We can't afford to be outmaneuvered again."
She crossed her arms, tilting her head slightly. "And how do you plan to do that? Alone?"
Xavier paused, stroking his chin thoughtfully. A contemplative silence stretched between them.
"No," he finally said, a faint smile forming on his lips. "Not alone. I believe I know just the right people for the job. The perfect ones to help me find Magneto."
For a brief moment, a flicker of certainty passed over his face, a glimpse of hope hidden beneath layers of caution. His mind was already working through the next steps.
"Ms. Mildred," he addressed Book gently, "please escort me to my private quarters. I need rest. There's a long, difficult path ahead."
Book watched as he turned away. She knew Xavier was not one to act impulsively, yet there was something in his eyes this time — something more. A secret he wasn't ready to share.