"I don't think I'll be taking lessons on morality and soverignty from the members of the Facist Five." It would be safe to say Tony didn't mirror Emma's dismissive lack of attention, although the dark expanse of his psy-damping glasses prevented his careful study of her from appearing anything truly lecherous. Just because the plant was poisonous didn't meant you couldn't admire the flowering. "Consider me America's babysitter to make sure you all don't start snorting Phoenix Dust and thinking yourselves Gods again."

It was textbook Stark, his lips moved, delibertaly aggrevating those present while his mind kept track of a thousand other details. It worked in the boardroom, and for all their atom-granted power, it worked on mutants as well. How many times had he got the up on someone who should have been far more capable, far more powerful, than him simply because they were trying to imagine his many painful deaths while he multi-tasked the solution? It was hard not to view these people as enemies, they were certainly rivals, and their actions had endangered more than even he could claim, but for now at least their interests seemed parallel. Not aligned though, he would have to remember that.

"I think a whole lot of us are going to be asking questions there are no comforting answers to." The tap-tap of Tony's suit-clad fingers sounded along with his words, the activity of his mind expressed in the coping mechanism of pressing each digit to another in turn. It helped hone a man who had never really mastered sitting still. No longer distracted by the calculating sway of Miss Frost's hips, Tony's focus was free to roam among them all, taking in each of them in turn. Despite his earlier words, Tony's strongrest sense of distrust twinged not towards the members of the Phoenix Five, but to the furred form of Beast. His instincts were often wrong, which was a shame, he'd at least been polite.

Tony stood as the bird touched down, rising with what should have been the most intensive aspect of flying, his suit's dampners easily accounting for the motion, and if it had not, mag clamps in his soles would have no doubt activated. As the access ramp began to descend, the iron helm of his suit shifted over his features once more, the eyes lighting up as he briefly turned back to face his fellow passengers, walking backwards towards the growing light of day.

"What is it you say? 'To me, My X-men." With the line delivered, he turned in full, stepping out of the jet and into the danger of another day yet to be Avenged.

Events were transpiring in a chaotic sequence. Even given the variables, of which there were near infinite here, this was, as Ben Grimm would say, a shit show. Johnny warned them about the circus being in town even before they touched down. Reed was well aware of the situation on the ground, but it was good Johnny was alert and acting as perimeter already. Ben and Sue were reminiscing about the first time they meet the X-Men, while Reed engaged the automated systems for landing and responded to the demanding voice on radio comms.

"This is S.H.I.E.L.D. Field Command, please identify yourselves."

Reed found himself merely raising an eyebrow, before depressing the button on the side of the microphone he had brought near his mouth. "S.H.I.E.L.D. Field Command, this is Reed Richards of the Fantastic Four," his tone remained neutral, despite his desire to ask them why S.H.I.E.L.D. Field Command couldn't recognize a version of the Fantasticar when it touched down in front of their eyes. The response of the voice began to come through before a shriek pierced through the signal, his ears, and from the judge of it, everyone else's ears.

"Reed!"

Sue's voice was clear to him, leaving him...curious. His neck stretched three feet and craned to the right, looking at the systems monitoring display at the auxiliary station of this reconfigured and more subtle-looking Fantasticar. "The decibels of that noise were off the charts."

"Then if fire is hot, why aren't we burning?"

Ben just looked confused. "...it ain't warm in here, Susie..."

Reed understood her. "If the sound was that loud, and if our sensors measured it correctly, why can we hear? Why aren't our eardrums burst and bleeding? What makes a sound that doesn't follow the scientific laws of nature? Was it the sound? Was it another force at play?"

Sue's head stopped, entranced out the window. "Um."

Reed rotated his neck and stretched the extra five inches in length to get a close view of the front window. "Oh. Ben?"

The first one out of the Fantasticar was Ben Grimm, out the lowered back ramp of the more unified and streamlined design. The orange-brown of the Thing's stone exterior was quickly painted red with laser light as he reached the bottom of the ramp, his only reaction a slow raise of his right hand to take the stub of a cigar burning cherry red as he inhaled one last time, before taking it between two of his stony digits, and flicked it in the general direction of all the armed S.H.I.E.L.D. meat bags. "Heh. You fellas forget what side we're on, or you jus' forget yer manners?"

Sue and Reed were quickly next to Ben, as Johnny landed in full dazzling fiery splendor. "Johnny," was all Sue said. A beat of their hearts later, and the blonde Johnny Storm in dark blue white trimmed Fantastic Four uniform stood where the Human Torch had.

"Relax, everyone, stand down," the red targeting lasers of over a dozen S.H.I.E.L.D. response team members diverted from the Thing when Steve Rogers stepped out of the swirling red-gold energy of a portal conjured by the Sorcerer Supreme that walked just behind Captain America, immediately ignoring the commandos in favor of the giant energy dome that dominated the horizon around them.

"Captain, something is different..." Steven Strange sounded concerned, which made Reed Richards more concerned than he already was. It was never good when Dr. Strange was concerned. Now all that was missing was Valeria calling in with the Future Foundation's analysis to the issue of the Phoenix and Jean Grey. Missing that, Reed just focused on the fact that weapons were still trained on the Fantastic Four and two members of the Avengers who had just shown up. On Captain America. Something was very wrong.

"STAND. DOWN." The command was barked with the full weight and fury of angered authority. Reed recognized the man immediately, though it was noteworthy that Clint Barton was back with S.H.I.E.L.D. in a manner that gave him authority over commando teams. Red dots disappeared and the formation of the fire teams were broken. "Sorry, Cap," Clint and Rogers shook hands, before Clint gave a nod to Strange and turned to face them. "Sorry, Reed. The Acting Director of the National Security Agency is inside that."

That didn't match. "Theodore Bailey is a Deputy Director, Clint."

"Yeah, he was, until the Director was assassinated today and Bailey was next in line. The U.S. is angry and there are serious thoughts the mutants may be playing some 4-D Chess."

Reed couldn't help hide the disappointment in his voice, "Clint, they seriously think the mutants are controlling what's going on here?"

"MUTANTS!"

The shout came from one of the S.H.I.E.L.D. men, the Blackbird of the X-Men came almost silently swooping in from overhead--maybe thirty feet over Reed's head--for a landing adjacent to the Fantasticar. Of all the people Reed expected to see descend from the Blackbird, the very last of those expected was the one Reed ended up seeing. Chaos, indeed, Reed thought to himself as Iron-Man came down the ramp of the Blackbird ahead of a group of overly capable mutants.

The S.H.I.E.L.D. team put every red dot Iron-Man and the mutants. Barton stepped in behind their line of knelt and standing gunmen. "S.H.I.E.L.D. has jurisdiction here, X-Men."

"We are not here as X-Men, Clint Barton," Storm's voice came first as she stepped from behind Stark, eyes sparking and glowing with the brilliant white of lightning, "we are here as Krakoans. Multiple mutants have been trapped within."

"We know," was all Clint gave her, before a slight shake of his head and a look that was sympathetic, "but this is still our jurisdiction."

"Hawkeye, she's IN there, you're not stopping us from being here," the man said, sadly, and with a fanatic's truth behind it.

Clint's face hardened as it looked up to the top of the Blackbird's ramp and regarded Cyclops. "It's about the mutants trapped inside, or a God for mutants Cyclops? Because gotta be honest with you, man, getting kind of tired of this whole firebird cosmic god thing with mutants."

The S.H.I.E.L.D. team re-balanced their weight so they all stood, and threw their weapons at the foot of the Blackbird's ramp, their eyes glazed over with tell-tell emptiness of a mind-controlled by a telepath. Emma Frost's hands rested on her hips as she came to join Cyclops at the top of the Blackbird's ramp. "Jean Grey is no God, you scared silly fool of a man, just an irritating basic American bitch--but she is a mutant, and we ARE staying to ensure the safety of her and all the other mutants present. Do what you must to deal with this reality. Stark? Remove yourself from our ramp. You're leaking on it."

"Mr Stark, shall I deploy countermeasures?" The sweet song of F.R.I.D.A.Y's voice chimed within Tony's helm as the dots of light danced across his armour, mechanical systems whiring within as the artificial intelligence responded to the percieved threat. Not that it was situation worth spiting present company, but he waited a solid view moments before dimissing the prompt with a flick of his eyes. Not today, Friday."

His suit almost hummed with disappointment as he stepped forwards off the ramp, surverying the camp they had ditched down in while Clint bickered with the mutants, rolling his metallic shoulders as his onboard sensors ctoninued to attempt to decipher the situation.

"Jury is still out on whether god and basic bitch are mutually exclusive terms." From behind the mask TOny's tone didn't quite have the previous scathing tone to it, but it was still clear his attention was mostly not on the traded barbs between parties, instead the gleaming eyes of his helm settled on Reed, a like mind, of sorts.

"Picking up any galaxy ending power flares?" Of course, he'd also know by now if there were, but it was always a good way to bring up a conversation, the metallic tread of his suit carefully avoiding stepping on any of the discarded guns without obviously appearing as if any effort was made to do so. "Try to put their minds down more gently." He offered backwards to Miss Frost. Much as he was one to enjoy the suffering of the suits at her hands, it did a very good job of representing why any state might be concerned with the sudden arrival of mutants like these, let alone Jean Grey, and let alone the promises Krakoa had forced out of them all.

"But lets for a moment put aside the frankly, very silly, idea that his is a mutant plot from start to finish, and brainstorm our ways to something close to a solution we can all stomach, without starting a war. That would be great." Trusting the mutants enitely might have been a few steps too far for Stark in this situation, but he couldn't pinpoint what they would have to gain from this display. Sure, they would no doubt do their best to end out on top and not care too much how that impacted the average human in their wake, but that was very different to a deliberate mastermind, and treating them as such only put them all in greater danger. "So lets not play Cyclops Bullseye, Clint."

The dome of light faded out over the timing of a two minutes. It was exactly the time, one hundred and twenty seconds, that she dictated in the back of her mind to the universe. Her appearance had changed only in the clothing that she wore; gone was the White Crown of the Phoenix in terms of the white and gold. All that was left were an old well worn and tight fit pair of pale blue jeans, a white tank top hiding underneath an oversized flannel shirt that was only just long enough to hide her midriff. It was too big for her body, but it was just long enough to cover her to her waist--naturally the shirt belonged to Logan. Something she had stolen from the Academy room they were just minutes ago in.

Theodore Bailey trailed behind, as did Jubilee, both trailed behind Logan who was just behind Jean herself. By the time the field of light actually truly faded they were walking right up to the assembled group. Cyclops was a blur, throwing his arms around the redhead and hugging her close and tight, nodding with a small smile to Logan.

"Is it you?"

"It's her," Emma Frost sighed, sounding somewhere between bored and disappointed.

Clint Barton looked relaxed, the S.H.I.E.L.D. commands behind him followed suit. The Fantastic Four weren't so relaxed, but Sue did quietly mention the status of the Celestial Host: they were going away from the solar system. They were doing so quickly.

"I told them to leave."

Reed stared, even he wasn't quite sure what to make of those words from Jean Grey in this moment. "I see..."

The tone of his voice and the way it trailed suggested more than a few follow-up questions on Reed's mind, and she didn't have to be a telepath to sense that. Quietly she told Scott and Logan to give her a minute, as she passed across the grassy field surrounded by trees on most side, and a country road on the farthest side, to the base of the ramp of the Fantastic Four's craft. There Reed, Sue, and Jean huddled. Quiet, intense, words were spoken between the three. The only sounds were Emma sighing, Clint telling his crew to head back, and Scott turning to Logan once more.

"Oh, sure, you'll come to Krakoa if she's there..." There was a tease in his tone, accentuated by the wry little smirk harbored at the corners of his mouth, under the ruby quartz visor. "It's good to see you. Dakken, Laura, and Gabi ask about you. We'll have to do a B-B-Q to celebrate. Still more into the beef, or you feeling pork ribs?"

"Deputy Director," Clint stepped in front of Teddy, and nodded, "we need to debrief, sir, I'm not sure w--"

"--he will have to come with us."

The way Emma Frost said the words, it was as if she were simply reading a number, an objective fact so obvious and indisputable that questioning her would make a man sound mad. Or stupid. Clint didn't seem all that bothered by sounding stupid, "Why is that? He's human, he's a high ranking government official, and not of your government."

"He's a mutant."

It was Bailey who answered first, stepping right past Barton both literally and vocally, "I'm what? No I'm not."

"Tell that to Cerebro. Xavier is certain."

It was obvious on Clint's face; he regretted sending his men back now. He needn't worry, Ben Grimm slow thundered up next to him, behind Bailey, staring at the mutants still on the ramp. The Thing's voice rumbled deep and harsh, skeptical. "Hey Ol' Canucklehead, whadda you guys pullin' 'ere? Whadda ya do to this man?"

The conversation caught the attention of the three off to the side. Reed said something to Jean, and Jean's face seemed to sink with realization. "Everything in the reality we were just in, that the Phoenix Force created to keep me...you weren't in that memory if you weren't a mutant."

"Can you change it back?"

Now Jean felt every eye in the field on her. Her mutant fellows, the Fantastic Four, Barton...and most of all Bailey himself, minutes away from being racked with grief. Once more she didn't need to be a telepath to know what his thoughts likely were: He has a family. He's worried what this means for his family, for his life. She could feel her heart start to break, even if she still held out hope. "Reed, I just walked away from Godhood. I don't have enough left to reverse that."

"But you do have some 'Godhood' left?" Clint couldn't help but ask, even if he was ignored.

"Fuck, Jeanie."

The next words that broke the silence rumbled forth from rural Canadian tones of the Wolverine, Logan watching Bailey with palpable regret. He wasn't like some of the mutants, who would no doubt consider what Jean had done in the throes of godhood as some practically divine blessing on the man. He saw the hurt first of all, the very real emotional hurt of his changed life, for him and his family. Would they even be his family anymore after this? With the death of Xavier's first dream the situation had changed, mutants and humans pulling apart from the idea of co-habitation. His brief moment of friendship with Summers interrupted by the magnitude of the unknowing injustice done to this man who had just been doing his job.

This really was a fucking mess.

It didn't take long for the loudest voice present to vocalise that.

"That is some real absolute horseshit." It was actually unusual for Stark to be so directly crass, the mechanical voice of the Iron Man adding a particularly surreal element to the blunt terminology. Servos wined within the suit, doing anyone knows what, but surely to prepare for whatever might be immediately thrown the way of the accusing Avenger, watching those assembled. "You do understand how that looks? We're all obviously here to make sure Miss New England isn't about to become the new fiery Queen of the World and melt us all in our beds, and the first thing that happens when she walks out of the Light is you point at a man who fetched your buddy and say he's yours now?" There was a certain incredulity to Tony's tone which suggested he really was shocked, and not simply announcing what he considered to be the latest overstep from the Mutants. It was a concern that certainly bled from the other humans assembled as well, they just perhaps weren't so keen on voicing it at that exact moment.

"She'd turn him back if she could." Logan rumbled, his voice still aching with hurt for the man he had barely known. For a suit he hadn't been so bad, and he thought the man likely believed in the best aspects of his role. It wasn't a particularly useful contribution, but the absolute lack of politics in it gave even Stark pause, his attention turning to Wolverine for the moment. He might have been a mutant and fought alongside the others, but he had also been an Avenger, and many of those assembled knew that Logan had some of the same misgivings they had about the mission Summers and Frost stuck so closely to.

"Be that as it may, it's his decision no? Or is Krakoa the new North Korea?" The beat was barely missed before Tony spoke again, albeit with somewhat less volume, as if he was directing the his words to Logan alone. He had personally been involved in breaking up many of North Korean repatriation rings, which amounted to barely more, and often far worse, than the wider scourge of human trafficking which had plagued the modern world.

"Should be." Logan simply rumbled in response, with a nod, approaching Bailey, but not quite closing the distance, instead turning on spot, putting himself between the man and both the other mutants and the human representatives. It was a misconception that Logan didn't care for people, his isolation had always been because he valued the unit more than the whole. Already the others viewd the man as a chit, a commodity to fight over, grand principles to address, but all he saw was a man who's world was crumbling, and who needed allies, not an overlord.

The moment of tension hung in the air, and only seemed to worsen.

When Bailey behind him frowned in concern, trying to fight through some interference, that was when Logan realised it wasn't just his heightened perceptions for the moods of others, the air really was building with tension. To Logan it was already some physical, a whine building in the air, the others reacting moments behind. Then reality tore itself apart.

A searing mote of light erupted in the air some distance from the group, a blazing infinitely small point that hurt to gaze upon, existing only for a moment before it spread outwards, consuming the view of the school grounds behind it. What once had been light, darkened, a skein of darkness which bled into the world, sweeping outwards until it was twice the height of a man in both directions, the pool of darkness spotted with flashes of dark green. In an instant the source was recognisable, even before the figure strode forth from within to confirm.

"Speak now." Where the voice from Tony's suit was entirely artificial, modified to sound like his own, the metallic grind of this voice was inflicted by the echo alone, the voice within the metal shell of true human origin, strained nightmarishly by the death mask of its wearer. "Explain now, to Doom, why the mutant witch still breathes." The cosmic darkness behind the armoured form of Doctor Doom flashed once more, before disappearing, as his withering gaze spurned all but the slender form of Jean Grey, a gaze that bore only contempt and hatred.