Current
Those times in every writer's life, when they read over something they'd written in time's past and go: "What was I *saying*?!"
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9 days ago
Anyone else who uses Wix: If you ever duplicate a post then start editing the copy but don't finish, make sure you publish it *before* reverting to draft. Don't let what happened to me, happen to you.
1 mo ago
It can be so painfully frustrating how much my reach exceeds my grasp.
And then there are those times when it SUDDENLY HITS YOU. A MAJOR FLAW in the logic of a detail in your story. You don't know how it didn't jump out at you before, and you sorely wish it had.🤦♀️🔧
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Bio
It all never happened ~ but in your mind! It all never happened ~ but in your mind!
Aspiring Screenwriter. Imagination whiz jumping between many 🌎s. Self-taught Pic/🎶 Editor, VFX Coordinator & Mixer. Independent student of 🎞; ever learning.
'The Reality Is: X-Men woke something up in me. 'The Reality Is: X-Men woke something up in me.
The Reality Is: It's getting me through.' The Reality Is: It's getting me through.'
The comic book world is such a rich sandbox! Perhaps none richer than the X-Men -mutations to mix, slice-of-life elements to turn into anything but ordinary -the lines are drawn but the colours exceed them ~care to embark on the eXploration with me?
*cue 🎶X-Men Animated Series theme🎼swelling into Fox Movies theme🎵*
Jean had been intending to search the facility for rooms unseen when she'd received Xavier's message about the injured guards. She'd changed course, but soon it became apparent someone had already had the mind to go check on them; a direction from Becker, possibly, following the radio disturbance.
Jean had decided then to return to medical to aid with the treatment of the guards when they were brought back. Besides a responsibility towards human life, she wanted to see what other damage the girl had caused and what she might further be able to infer about her from the guards.
Given her medical experience, she also didn't want to be missed. If she was going to go looking for places she wasn't meant to be, she wanted to be sure no one would be looking for her.
Ahead of that, however, Jean saw the director himself back in the hallways. She had tried to speak with him, but his impatience was clear despite his feigned accommodation -he apologized for keeping her in the dark, yet simply had too much to attend to after that mass technology glitch to go into anything more about it now. If she had spoken with Xavier on the details Becker had divulged to him, which it seemed she had, then that was really all Becker could say at this time.
He'd cited privacy again when Jean expressed wanting at least to know this girl's name.
The guards were back in the building at that point, being taken to the Medical Centre, and Jean had fell in line.
There wasn't anything of operative note from them, either, and as Jean assisted with treating their injuries, she'd reflected on the non-conversation with Becker. Jean preferred not to tap people's minds unpermitted, or without dire cause. There was more variance to this rule when it came to enemies, however, and Becker was giving off a certain vibe....She'd thought she might catch a stray thought. It was clear the safety of anyone who encountered this girl was at risk, and through extension the girl's own safety. They weren't sure what all she had planned -if escaping and existing outside the facility was the extent of it, or if she had something else in mind.
All that took precedence over certain privacy. The girl's and Becker's. However, Jean had found Becker's mind, your could say, shaded. She was sure with a little more time to concentrate she could see something through it, but that hadn't been afforded. She decided to try again after conducting her search of the facility. Gain an advantage by knowing more than he would expect and more of what he held in his mind.
The basement of Umbra Biogenetics had been conveyed as a place for old equipment; an office and research space no longer used since a new wing had been built two years ago; generally a place of no matter.
And that's exactly what Jean Grey had found when she went there now, for the first time.
She may not've found the hidden elevator shaft to the sub-basement, had it not been for the psychic signature she'd been following. An emanation which grew acutely perceptible from the top of stairs, and stronger with every step down.
Finding the shaft became a game of Hot and Cold, with the voice directing her taking the form of psychic imprints; like a handprint somewhere dust has settled.
The existence of this other basement in and of itself didn't register too strongly to someone who, back home, was used to having a hanger full with one or two aircraft at any given time, a war room, medical room and lab, an amplifier for telepaths, and of course where limitless simulations could exist in a limited-size room, all housed beneath your regular 18th century mansion. But the X-Men were open about it within their own walls. Their elevator opened onto a main floor hallway students may tread down in their day-to-day.
As Jean descended down this shaft, it was like walking into increasingly humid air; a growing weight pressing down on her perception.
When she came upon Ryder's room, it didn't feel like one where someone lived, but where they merely survived; the affect poignant. The psychic signature here, like no where else, added on an emotional weight. There was nothing more to be gleaned from this space. Jean moved on.
She next came to a research room, where her eyes moved over devices not unlike what were used above, or back at the X-Mansion, yet these ones felt deceptive in their familiarity. Jean flinched as someone with a headache may at a sudden noise.
Then she'd found the audio logs. . . .
While she listened, it was as though what they detailed came to life for Jean, at least in terms of the sensation she was experiencing; dialing up. But the mind working as it can when a person is concentrating deeply, or determined to finish something, the sensation was swept to the back of her mind until the point where it crashed back to the front, unable to be ignored any longer; the point when you realize you should've been paying attention to what your body was trying to tell you.
She managed to get out of the room, back up the shaft, to the main basement's stairs. Then she had to pause. Crouching down with a hand on the wall.
If the recurring experience before had been like psychic nausea, this was like being drugged. Any processing her mind had to do happened as though through a warped lens: the psychic signatures hanging in the air like pieces of broken mirror, distorting the room; thoughts from the people above freely entering her head, but coming as though from a malfunctioning radio in an echo chamber. Jean closed her eyes. Even her own thoughts felt disembodied.
Her mind shifted to Scott, her hand -in the psychic space of her mind- clutching the handle to "their door", yet it was as though she couldn't get a hold on herself -couldn't manipulate the handle to gain access.
And there was another...a certain sensation that had grown on her, within her, now feeling like cascading wind chimes drifting further apart. She could feel them still connected, still well, yet their sound was beyond her reach.
Opening her eyes, Jean determinedly stood up.
She had been hesitant to attempt stairs feeling like this, when someone else could be affected by a misstep. But she knew the sensations were all mental; she was capable physically. She just had to concentrate on her body instead of her mind for a few moments; had to get out of here.
Managing once more, Jean drew a breath at the landing; then made a beeline for her quarters.
At some point along the way, she vaguely registered Becker down another hallway -he probably saw her- but there was no way she could make a second attempt at him now.
Locking the door once inside her room, Jean drew more collecting breaths, but had to delay hitting the bed to first place another long-distance telephone call.
That done, she curled up with the distress of all she'd just learned and the disturbance of the lingering sensation: Her mind feeling like a PC made to process something it didn't have the hardware for, while other applications and programs were open. Its performance so hampered that even everyday tasks were met with a stall; impossible for anything to get done prior to a reboot.
Jean knew she wouldn't be able to communicate with Xavier or Scott until then.
While both bodies experienced the startle reflex, and both heads turned in her direction, the girl hadn't exactly achieved her intended effect. Alert described Cyclops and Professor Xavier's present state rather than scared. The two sitting watchfully, yet still.
Xavier even answered calmly. "I'm pleased to see you're still lively. In truth he knew she shouldn't be exerting herself, but he would follow her lead for the moment. As for where we came from, that would be a school I run in North America, for gifted young people such as yourself. I have made it my life's work to help those with strong powers out of troubled circumstances. As I once did for my friend here, Scott Summers." He gestured towards him, thinking it may help this young mutant to know that the two before her had, perhaps, some level of understanding on what she was going through. "He now assists me in the running of the school, and along with a select group of my other grown pupils fights to protect those who require it. My name, is Professor Charles Xavier. Perhaps you could tell us yours?"
Cyclops was questioning Ryder's choice of destination. Why plan so long to escape Umbra just to return to it? If she wanted to flatten the place, it sounded pretty clear she could've done that already, when she had initially escaped.
He didn't buy it. Something was up. Either she was going there for a different reason than she'd stated -something she realized she needed that wasn't tech related; she didn't have remote access to? Or she wasn't going there at all.
It did occur to him that their mini-X-jet was parked some distance in a clearing of the forest beyond the other side of Umbra. Could she have figured that out and wanted to steal their ride?
His sense of direction remained acute, though the more they travelled the more he lost ground on Ryder. He had the impulse to hurry -- he still had the advantage of size and could take much longer strides than she. But he knew better. Hurrying in this terrain at this time of day would only serve to set him back even more.
That's when he felt the ground shake beneath him, heard a sound like something being ripped from the earth at the same time, then heard the first scream, followed by gunfire.
"What the Hell?!"
Things became oddly clearer some distance up ahead, and Cyclops registered it was because trees had fallen out of view. 'Is she uprooting the forest, or...?' For all he knew this could be another mutant. The worst case scenario was it was an innocent local acting our of fear.
More sounds echoed -- quieter and less directly than if they hadn't been in a forest, but enough that Cyclops had a sense he'd be coming up on some sickening scene -- then came the shriek. It brought his mind back to the parking lot when Ryder had been injured. He was sure she'd just been again. This was not good.
Cyclops did hurry now -- recovering his footing fast each time he lost it. Pain was swept aside as adrenaline flooded in. He needed to get to the scene before -- He froze. Eyes widening behind his visor as mangled screams replaced by something worse registered through his auditory system.
His basic human instincts said to stay firmly planted where he was, but the rest -his X-Men instincts- took over; charging towards danger being just part of the protocol. Moving on, he practically felt what he was hearing, as though his body knew what his mind couldn't possibly. Some distance away in two separate places, two others were feeling the carnage as well, though decidedly more viscerally.
She'd been making her way to them since the failed communication, sensing he needed her, and now, Jean Grey screamed, clutching at her head as she felt multiple minds die horrifically in succession, then at once. She didn't even realize she'd fallen until she made herself open her eyes -- going against her instinct to shut out the world by shutting her eyes; she needed to see the space of the world in front of her which was devoid of decimation. But it was no use.
She registered no pain from the fall -- registered nothing but the concoction brought on by her mutant telepathy and natural empathy.
Xavier had gone back to the roads, planning on influencing a mind just enough to have himself driven back to the facility. He had come across a few vehicles indicating the arrival of more townspeople without any current occupants, when he, too, felt the pain of cerebral death on repeat. "AA-AH-AHHH!" His hands, too, clutching at his head.
Separately, the telepaths fought through the pain as though physically sifting through the bodies to try and locate one in particular.
He couldn't be among them -- he couldn't be. The townspeople were bold, but not that bold. If the gruesome sounds coming from the altered forest weren't enough, the insane amount of gunfire certainly was.
They weren't joining this fray.
One, however, perhaps with the panicked thinking of 'is it following me?!', perhaps by sheer accident, or perhaps getting off a calculated shot before turning tail to collect their quarry another day, fired off another of those enhanced net guns.
This one did ensnare Cyclops, who went down painfully, an unsettling warmth bubbling out in all the places where he'd been shot before by Ryder, indicative of the stitching and packing no longer holding. Only he wasn't registering that just now. He had something else to worry about.
The netting had managed to bind one hand tightly in the very position required for his visor to engage. After a few scarce seconds of blasting apart the earth Cyclops shut his eyes, having to act blind until he could extricate his hand.
The good news was: he had blasted apart some of the net, as well.
The bad news was: the blasting of the already disturbed earth saw to the felling of another tree.
It CRASHED down onto another, branches breaking. A thick one SLAMMING into an incline below -- one Cyclops had only minutes before came down in a scarcely controlled skid -- the branch now careening down it.
If that branch had merely rolled from the higher elevation, he could've heard it and blasted it away. As it came with the noise of coniferous impact and breakage, however, he couldn't sort out what he was hearing in time.
Cyclops had managed to stand up. This was one time he should've stayed down.
A yell was cut off as the air rushed out of his lungs -- the branch had slammed into him -- slammed him back into the thick trunk of another tree, and a series of tell-tale CRRRKKKKHHs resounded.
The branch fell away and so did he, finding himself in a lethal cycle --body desperate for air, but every breath CUT, the pain SEARED, breathing felt perversely like the absolute WRONG thing to do --that he would tear his lungs to ribbons if he expanded them against his splintered chest.
But he was so in need.
He lay literally gasping for his life.
His mind clouded over....
And as it would happen, so did the surrounding area.
Fog permeated the woods so if any foolhardy or militant souls were left, they'd be absolutely blind. The fog was oddly sectional, however, and where bodies lay it was clearer.
Cyclops, no longer blasting, had a vague, visual registration of the scene before his faculties fell further away.
....Jean. He'd thought of her. He'd seen her.... No. She shouldn't have been there. No where near this. He felt his lungs fill with a breath he hadn't taken. They filled gradually, deeply, painfully. Yet they didn't shred. Another... ...Familiar lips on his.
* * * * Three Weeks Later
"I still say, it doesn't matter who she is. That scene in the forest looked like a scene I would've left. Only worse. I know how you two feel about this sorta' thing, but you let Xavier put blocks in your mind when your power was only considered too dangerous. I mean come on -Scott was nearly among those in the pile out there." concluded the gruff voice of Wolverine.
Jean didn't need to be reminded -of the scene or how close she came to losing Scott. Truly his only saving grace might've been that he hadn't been right there when it all went down; there was no entertaining the idea that Ryder would've discriminated. "That carnage was a reactionary result," Jean pointed out in a quiet, yet authoritative voice, "Ryder felt cornered. Threatened. She's been a lab experiment all her life. If either myself or Charles try anything in her mind, she might react on an instinctive level to the exact result we're trying to avoid."
"She's been unconscious. And the longer we wait the less she's probably gonna' stay that way."
"We're not waiting, Logan."
"Right. We've just been having regular round table discussions about how exactly we should act. Same difference."
"Not to forget, she may not be quite as unconscious as she's seemed," came the reasoning voice of X-Men's most hirsute; The Beast, "though, as far as we are aware, he has been proceeding without evidential certainty on the matter, Charles has been proceeding on that thought, none-the-less. So far the place hasn't come crashing down around us."
"So far. If you ask me, Chuck is too close to this to base anything around. . .At least he's sound enough on the subject to keep her in the Danger Room."
And so that's where Ryder had been since the X-Men arrived on the unspeakable scene and jetted her, Cyclops, Jean Grey and Xavier back to the Mansion. The Danger Room, some distance down the basement hallway from the Ready Room where the X-Men were having yet another meeting on the matter of "Ryder Xavier".
Despite Ryder's extensive injuries, she hadn't been housed in the Medical Lab for a moment. It was deemed too risky, especially as Cyclops would be recovering there. Not only was the Danger Room the most fortified of the entire building, being that the X-Men could train at realistic intensity, but the simulation technology it contained could also be utilized -and was- to make the environment appear more welcoming.
The very last thing they wanted was for Ryder to think she had just traded one captive situation for another.
They made the room look like one of the Mansion's bedrooms, complete with a window. That being said, they didn't want the gesture to be misconstrued as some ulterior motive illusion, and so they lowered the realism of the sim so it did appear, more or less, holographic. Ryder would be able to grasp her setting was manufactured, and they would be agreeable to changing it if she didn't appreciate their aesthetic.
They didn't delude themselves either --knowing full well once she was awake, it likely wouldn't take long for her to get a technic read on the place and be able to adjust the simulation at will. But at least anything she could do with it would be contained within this space. Beyond it, they had removed anything they thought she could use as a weapon, going analog where possible.
A return trip had also been made to Umbra within these past three weeks, with the intent to shut the place down. They were unable to locate Becker, and the only hidden rooms they found were the ones Jean already came across. But they had seen to absorbing the young charges into Xavier's institute, and had recovered some things, including -thanks to Beast's eye for advanced technology- a bit of the material the guards had had which blocked Ryder's powers. Beast had what amounted to an educated idea that's what it could do, anyway, and was currently in the midst of understanding it so he could do something with it himself.
In the meantime, Xavier had been making regular visits to the Danger Room to visit his daughter. And for at least the past week, he had been making mental visits, too. Even in true coma, a mind was still active where the body wasn't.
He took it slow. Like a new neighbour making themselves known in no greater way than merely being outside, doing things in their own yard. Smiling when they'd catch your eye, but not making an attempt to draw you into conversation.
Today, Xavier decided to knock politely on the door, as for the first time the curtains hadn't been drawn. He had been able to see a few scenes within the mental "house" -Ryder seemingly going over her days at the Mansion so far.
They hadn't consisted of much beyond what care someone in her state would require, which was mostly carried out by Jean both because, despite the odd sensations she'd experienced, they felt she was best suited power-wise to be in such a position -a decision Cyclops couldn't argue, though he felt uneasy about each time Jean went in- and because from what Jean understood from the facility, it never seemed like Ryder was dealt with by anyone but males. They thought Jean would feel like a less hostile presence to her. As well, Jean had her level of empathy gained from the knowledge of Ryder's life.
Her husband's discomfort notwithstanding, Jean took the position willingly and, truth be told, had made similar "visitation attempts" to Xavier's, from a place of wanting to understand this girl. Both her pain, and how she could manage the degree she inflicted on others. That scene in the forest was the very embodiment of blind rage, and Jean wondered how Ryder's mind was processing that; if it even realized. But she had been treading even more carefully than Xavier.
Xavier was cognizant of Jean "stepping" here, like noticing remnants of footprints on the sidewalk. He had to smile at this. Though, he didn't perceive she had gotten as far as he now had.
This apparent fact pleased him all the more.
Cool. Reserved.
Scott Summers a.k.a. Cyclops, leader of the X-Men, was often misunderstood as not caring when in fact he cared deeply. So serious all the time because nothing was a throw-away to him; everything mattered.
Chief among it all, Jean Grey. The center of his world.
She had seen something past his dour exterior, had been open enough to receive him that he could open up to her; show a side to her few, maybe only she, knew.
Had. Knew.
Everything was changed now. All of their history ceasing to exist in Jean's mind, from a series of seemingly insignificant actions which turned into a majorly significant circumstance.
Sometimes Scott felt his entire life was defined this way.
Four people climb into a cockpit. Strap in. Take off. . . The next thing he knew he was living as a brain damaged, unwanted orphan.
Three kids get into a fight. One never gets up. One can never go back. . . Next thing he knew he was a mutant, and that defined everything about his life going forward.
Was that why. . ?
Two X-Men undertake a mission. Patrol a sector. Cross an invisible line. . . Next thing, he was waking up in the Med Bay, his head feeling. . .strange.
And Jean woke up feeling he was a stranger.
She hadn't recognized the X Mansion, yet somehow had vague memories of Charles Xavier, and fractionally remembered the others. Ororo Munroe, Hank McCoy, Logan, etc. somehow she knew them, yet not Storm, The Beast, Wolverine -the X-Men as a whole, her place as one.
Was that why she remembered nothing of Scott Summers? He didn't know who he was if not Cyclops, leader of the X-Men. But with Jean. . . Was this proof he wasn't, in fact, anything else?
Taken with everything, that couldn't make sense.
Jean had no memory that she was even a mutant, but it wasn't as simple as saying she lost all memories pertaining to that, if she still recalled everyone else in some way. . . .none of them she would've met had she not been a mutant. Scott needed things to make sense, and so little of this did.
What had even happened? The other X-Men had been patrolling other sectors. No one saw.
They had to have been hit by something. . .
A subsequent probe of the area with Cerebro bore no residual signature of another mutant, no device had been located and with the aforementioned absence of signature, no one could've come to dispose of one.
. . .Xavier worked out they had in fact encountered something, something that existed on a psychic plain- explaining why Jean was affected so drastically and Cyclops, comparatively nil.
So what was it? What was this? Coincidental? Planned? Scott's money was on the latter, but then who was behind it? Was this their intended result? Or was there more to the plan he needed to watch out for. . ?
He sighed as he finished crossing the hallways. It was already taking a toll, what he had to deal with in his head. . . .that strange sensation growing stronger.
Which is why Scott now stood outside the presently closed door to Xavier's office. And the voices he heard inside is why he now stood paused outside that door.
Underway inside, rather, sounding like it had just concluded, was another of Xavier's psychic therapy sessions with Jean. So far there'd been no breaththroughs. . .it didn't sound like one was made this time, either.
. . .Scott couldn't help eavesdropping.
He was finding it difficult figuring out how to be around her now. Where to start over. Scott didn't want to get in Jean's way of remembering "herself". Desperate though he was for her to remember "them", he didn't want her to feel pressured to prioritize that. . . .Events had a sequence. It wasn't for him to jump the line.
That's what he partially convinced himself of, anyway. But there was also the matter of. . . . .
X-Men Envisionings: one passionate fan's riff on the FOX X-Men franchise. Call it a fanfiction, call it what you will, but don't miss out!!
Part 2of 2nd Edition Now Released! Part 3of 2nd Edition Now Released!
Location: New Orleans - Botanical Gardens Skills: Power Mimicry - Chlorokinesis
A glance at Perry; OfAll was unconvinced they were past the words working stage. Chrysi added to this uncertainty as she proceeded to simply sit down inside the bubble Edus had erected.
Though looks can be deceiving. . .
Following a combined telepathic attempt of some sort, Guin and Annie collapsed while Rogue seemed somewhat jolted. Chyrsi had either definitely reacted, or this was some kind of "firewall" that did the job automatically. Considering what other entity they were dealing with, that firewall could be literal. . .Which then, might not even be a Chrysi thing after all.
This situation was complex.
OfAll could see Guin and Annie's chests rising with breath, so she knew they were alive, yet if they had just been burned mentally--
Her concerned brow furrowed at Chrysi's response to her. OfAll hadn't exactly been asking for Chrysi to explain her reasonings -- more OfAll was trying to see if she understood what Chrysi was after, making this feel like a person holding someone for ransom responding to an officer's question of "is this what you're after?" with "I don't have to tell you".
Now OfAll questioned to herself: was Chrysi even after anything except, maybe, her idea of a good time?
Pietro spoke, introducing the concept of her teleporting. Was that really another thing here?
Another idea was building in OfAll's mind. . .it was something she realized she should've asked before this point.
Edus' confident statement of what happened to Guin and Annie was both assuring and supporting to the concept of Chrysi doing more than she appeared, yet still. . .
"How much do we know about Chrysi?" OfAll addressed the X-Men at large. "Disassociated personalities typically result from trauma. Is she actually protection for Mary in some way?" A warped way, surely. Though that was the quiet part OfAll didn't say out loud. "Mary could be feeling burn-out while misconceiving she can't take a break or even let on because she's leader. I don't know what that helps here. . ." OfAll realized, her eyes falling from the others.
But if Chrysi were some way of helping Mary, then maybe. . .maybe the X-Men needed to shift their focus here. ". . .Maybe Chrysi can cope with the Phoenix better," OfAll added, almost like she was processing her thought out loud more than introducing a further one to the group, though she did raise her gaze back to them.
Cyclops eyed the feed Ryder had just engaged as he -and Beast, likewise- initiated the landing sequence - the urgency was understood without words; all on the same wavelength.
While they were coming down and disembarking, Cyclops spoke: "Ryder, listen. Back with the sentinels you could've left me, but you didn't. That's how the X-Men are -we may not see eye-to-eye but we're a team, and you're part of that now. When we leave here, I'd like it be with at least as many of us alive as who came. And in case it needs to be said, that includes you; no matter what goes down from this point."
If there was one thing Ryder was, it was anything but stupid. The existence of a contingency "handle Ryder" plan likely wasn't lost on her, should they hit the worst case scenario of her reaching --being pushed to-- some level beyond carnage. But it still wouldn't be a matter of her life and death where the X-Men were concerned. At least not by any intent.
Presently they were striding into the facility when- 'Scott. Get to the nearest communications room. Have Storm supply the power. We need to get a message out.'
Though the telepathic communication was directed towards Cyclops, Ryder and the rest of the X-Men were able to hear it as well.
It left Cyclops especially curious, though he obeyed without debate - even as Jean added: 'I'll need to speak through you.'
Through use of night vision specs -a visor setting in Cyclops' case- the X-Men could navigate through the now void-like darkness of the facility. Ryder knew the place like the back of her hand and the floorplan had also been studied - in short, they came to the ground floor communications room directly.
On the way they encountered only two personnel -- knocked out by a couple of optic blasts before they could realize if the sound of approach was from friend or for.
"Wolverine, Beast, sentry positions please." The two named X-Men stationed themselves outside the room facing opposite ends of the hall, while Storm sent a controlled shot of electricity into the control panel.
'Go ahead, Jean.' Cyclops gave his consent, and over the facility's comms his voice spoke Jean's words: "To all Umbra personnel, this is a message from the X-Men. . .When you were at Graymalkin, you experienced pain and brutality, though only in your minds. It's all in your heads -the threat you take us mutants for, the danger we represent, all only as real as you make it. For some of you that mentality may run deep. For others, it was put inside your minds in a far older, far more human way. We've come for the person who's cultivating it. You can resist, or stand down; it's not too late to think differently. . .and make a new reality."
Once Jean let go of her control of him, Scott had a thought for her. Like hers previously, it could be heard across the X-Men's private channel: 'Now stay careful with your connections - keep your safeguards in place.'
He knew Jean would be keeping her mind out for any of Umbra who might now open theirs to hers -remove their psi-blocking helmets- in a dealing-with-psychics version of waving a white flag. But anything could happen. And for those who did choose to resist. . .pain could still be felt even if thoughts couldn't be read.
Jean would feel any loss of life enough the "normal" way on debrief, she didn't need to while it was happening; didn't need to establish more than a passing connection with the agents.
'Jean, that's an order.'
'Heard, Scott.' Scott wasn't typically one to coddle her, even over these past several months, so Jean could forgive his unnecessary order -only a passing sharpness detectable in her initial tone of thought; gone by her closing: I'm fixed only on all of you. So you all better stay safe.'
Ryder seemed to gloss over the idea that it could be dangerous for her to get close to these guys again if there was something about what was in her brain even she didn't know about. It seemed to Cyclops that "vulnerability" wasn't even a word in Ryder's vocabulary when it came to herself, though he got what he needed from her answer all the same - "That's not how it works", meaning Ryder probably had as intimate of knowledge of the cerebral device as she did of anything else of Umbra's, which had been proven to be more than her captors ever gave her credit for.
So there went the easy excuse to keep Ryder back from the action.
The X-Men would really be working with two threats at once, and the biggest was "on" their side. . .
When Beast and Storm returned from Moira's, they relayed what they'd learned. It wasn't much.
Yes, Moira had heard of Umbra and even had exchanges with them in the past. Nothing she could provide was of any value to their present endeavour, to hear Beast say it. But there was a subtle something to that statement that didn't go completely unnoticed.
Before they headed out, while Xavier was establishing the psychic link with Ryder, Cyclops approached Beast about it.
"There is something else Moira knows. She's certain it wouldn't aid use presently, though it seemed deeply personal. A point of regret, if I were to suppose, and something to do with Ryder."
"What?"
"I don't know. Moira didn't know anything of her existence, and I don't know what it is she's carrying as it was in that moment I suggested she not unburden herself at this juncture. I figured heading into a situation such as we are, it would be prudent not to have any kindling in our minds which could serve to further stoke a psychic's fire, if you will. What we don't have, one can't read."
"I see your point. Something for when we're on the other side of this."
"I'm looking most forward to seeing us all there," Beast concluded with a sense of uneasy hope. Something felt not for the first time before the undertaking of an X-Men mission.
To ensure they could coordinate something between themselves should they need to -in other words, should they need to counter Ryder- Jean would be opening up her and Cyclops' private channel to the rest of the X-Men for the duration of the mission. Between the intimacy of theirs, and the link with Xavier that would be occupying Ryder's mind, they felt adequately secured about it.
And Jean, even with the state of her telepathy lately, felt confident she wouldn't accidentally psychic-jolt anyone through it. In fact, Cyclops noted she seemed suddenly steadier despite the details surrounding this mission.
"I can't explain it. . .Maybe I'm just leading with how I'd like to feel."
"I will come back to you. Both of you."
". . .you know that kind of promise isn't really in our control. Feels even less so than usual. . ." She managed a small smile on looking up into his silenced face, "I'll still hold you to it," tenderly laying a hand aside it as they shared a parting kiss. "Stay safe."
"You too." Even though she wouldn't be joining them physically, psychic participation still came with its risks.
And that was that. Just another departure to just another work day. Then they were here.
Beast was co-piloting.
Storm was ready to conduct a calculated condensation of the air a.k.a. lay down a fog to cover their landing.
Wolverine was ready to let loose.
Cyclops presently acknowledged Ryder with as much of a glance as he could, given their positioning in relation to each other. He knew she was concentrating on doing something and just hoped it was on-plan.
"Lemme' know when we've got the advantage," was all he said. When she had control of the tech, in other words. Ensuring their smooth entry into the facility. . .
Location: New Orleans - Botanical Gardens Skills: Power Mimicry - Chlorokinesis
OfAll glanced in the direction of Guin, who spoke ahead of Chrysi answering the question herself. When Chrysi did, she punctuated her answer with an attack of fire--something OfAll's manifestation of chlorokinesis wasn't going to help against--
--she regretted not going with Edus' powers and for a second when she saw the bubble form around her, she thought she might've unconsciously manifested them after all--no, it was Edus himself, and for a sickening moment afterward, OfAll thought she was about to witness Edus getting roasted in exchange for her protection--
Her breath released when the glow of the amulet subsided to show he was as unharmed as she.
Annie, too, though others weren't so lucky. Namely Bethany.
It was by the grace of counter-telekinesis that that assault was extinguished. OfAll felt bolstered to have the safeguard of the old guard with them.
Edus could heal Bethany; she'd be alright. OfAll looked over at Chrysi.
Like Annie, OfAll thought something else was going on besides what Chrysi stated. She followed on the heels of Annie's offer with a supposition of her own: "You said you've been in control for a whole month, yet you didn't mess with any of us then." OfAll at least hadn't heard of any peculiar goings-on at the Mansion, so she felt sure that was true. "Would you just like. . .a turn of your own? Not only one -I mean going forward. Not to have Mary or anyone fight you and not to be separated from what, for all intents and purposes, is your body too, but to authentically share it? Be accepted in it?"
Location: New Orleans - Botanical Gardens Skills: Power Mimicry - Chlorokinesis
Jaclyn reverted her attention when she heard Mary/Chrysi speak, and if the tone-shift wasn't enough to do it, the confirming red of the eyes was; Jaclyn felt like an uncomfortable bolt of electricity had just shot through her nervous system, followed by her temperature draining away. She actually found herself shaking--just ahead of the earthquake which drowned out her own shakes with the ones it caused.
She questioned how Chrysi was doing this when the answer came in the form of black vines practically erupting from the dirt. By reflex Jaclyn assumed a ready fighting pose, anticipating having to fight against the vines' snare, but they didn't go that far--yet. If they had, she might've missed the other pieces of foliage that seemed to be creeping closer like botanical soldiers.
Then the vines did advance--specifically towards Guin, Annie and Perry; Chrysi's active adversaries.
Jaclyn watched Edus attempt at a shield fail. 'Get it together,' she admonished herself. If her reaction time was faster, maybe she could've manifested Edus' powers and augmented his shield. Fortunately the team's #1 fast-reactor addressed that issue.
Again Jaclyn's attention turned back on Chrysi who continued to speak. It could seem as though Jaclyn's focus was set on her, and technically it was, though she was dedicating part of such to trying to manifest her/Mary's powers.
Something of a slight, grounding calm washed over her body when she realized she was successful, at least to some degree: feeling the plants as though she'd just connected to the mycorrhizal network. If she had to put it into more techy terms, she didn't feel like she had full bars, though she was sure there was some connection; hopefully enough. It actually just gave her an idea for something to try later, if she could communicate it. For right now she was of a more basically defensive mind. . .and a troubled one.
Chrysi's words sinking in, Jaclyn's heart went out to Mary who had basically been missing in her own mind for the past month? Her trouble deepening as she wondered to what extent "Mary's not exactly here anymore" meant.
She heard Annie's line of questioning and was appreciative for it; it seemed like the correct first response to this. And also indicated that at least Annie didn't feel like Mary was that gone yet.
'She can't be,' Jaclyn determined to herself. 'In any case, keep ready.'
For if Chrysi attacks with the plants again, Jaclyn to try and create resistance by "pulling back" on the same plants Chrysi is "shooting out", and/or block them with others.
Though taking in what Ryder further explained, Cyclops focused on the answer she'd given to his question. "Alright, so you're your own Cerebro. And apparently the carnage you left as a parting gift wasn't enough for them to give up on whatever they designed a living supercomputer infiltrator for. Makes sense given how much time they put into you. Yet to have come here lookin' for trouble was foolish. And that's without you having even been here for it. . .
"This has been a very patient project of theirs up until now." He unfolded one of his arms, turning over his palm, "why such a rush then to try and reclaim you that they came seemingly no more prepared for the job?" He refolded his arms. It makes me think they're either working with a deadline or they're worried about something. Like more of their secrets being revealed. . .We don't have a definitive answer on the function of that device in your brain."
"We have considered it might be a built in failsafe for this exact scenario. A kill switch. And they either want to be sure they can't still salvage their plan, or it has a limited-range detonator. Either situation, it would be worth considering if getting near them again could be dangerous for you."
So you can find this adventure OG on the site I made specifically for it: X-Men Envisionings Where you can read the Parts a few days earlier than I'll be posting here, as well as xperience xclusive content like thought pieces and playlists. (I have it formatted a touch better there, too, ngl).
Otherwise, enjoy the adventure below!
🧬🌐🧬
Compelled by the realistic world building of the original X-Men movies and those versions of Cyclops & Jean Grey, X-Men Envisionings is one fan's text adaptation of that iteration of the mutant world and its characters; riffing off from the events and continuity of the first two movies plus
So at an early point in my Envisionings journey, I came across an interview with Mike Dougherty, one of the credited writers for X2 on what the third X-Men movie may've been had he and the original director* worked on it.
*I do not support abuse of any kind. I'm just responding to the art. A movie is a work of many.
Search for Slashfilm interview "Filmcast: After Dark - Ep. 73 - Making Tirck 'R Treat" and skip to timestamp 24:55 for that.
I also came across a concept, mentioned by X2 writer Dan Harris, for a version of Emma Frost. Search "Sigourney Weaver Was Going to be Emma Frost - SuperHeroHype" for that.
I found that take on Emma interesting and Mike Dougherty's idea for X3 infinitely more captivating than X3: The Last Stand (not to mention smoother and more interesting to work off from).
This is what I've taken to calling "X3: Unseen" as a reference shorthand.
From there, inspiration filled in details to where I also have my take on X3:Unseen, which for reference to readers of Envisionings is as follows:
-Emma Frost is a (closeted mutant) therapist who uses her powers in her sessions, unbeknownst to her clients. -Xavier, aware of her (though with a false idea of what her powers are) arranges for Cyclops to see her to help with his grief and guilt over the loss of Jean Grey. -Cyclops is unreceptive to the therapy, until the end (with Emma Frost discovering she can't even find his emotions to touch -a first for her- until that point)
(Note: a video by youtube channel Bullets and Blockbusters describes additional details regarding Emma Frost's role in X3 Unseen. I'm not aware of what their source material is on that and I actually find certain details less compelling, so considering them I would also have the adjustments of:
-no romantic history between Xavier and Emma, placing her more in the age range of Cyclops -any manipulation of Jean Grey by Ms. Frost it not realized by the X-Men).
With that explanation set, I hope you'll enjoy joining the ride of my Envisionings.
X
with further inspiration drawn from the comics, The Animated Series, and their storytelling principles.
Ideally this will be a web comic, but as I don't have those skills, for now it's a text adaptation. If the idea inspires you and you'd like to be the artist for it, shoot me a PM here or DM on Discord (un: techtraplex | dn: 🎬TechtraPlex👓)
Taking a "never or now" approach, this series is a work-in-progress, releasing unfinalized drafts.
"...The creature will still go through a few more mutations ... always adapting to new ideas in the hopes of making it better. Stronger. The evolution continues.
Quote by Michael Dougherty & Dan Harris on the script of X2, April 20th 2003.
For your open mind and your time: thX 🧬 Cychtra
🎼Cue X-Men Movie Theme🎼
☄️🔄
We see pockets of water and plant life, at once familiar and otherworldly.
Though also noxious and blighted -it's clear, despite the alien quality of this ecosystem, that it isn't as it should be.
Then we watch as it gradually starts on fire. Instead of everything burning, we see the vegetation and water anew, -renewed, as the fire is swept -as though pulled- away.
The species of this planet look up towards a bright light in the sky, a light which appears closer than a sun. Their faces represent a mix of emotions; gratitude, relief, humility, apology.
Then we hear the echo of a strong, compassionate voice: "Remember. What's in the past can also be in the future. It's in your hands, now."
The sky turns suddenly dusky as the near light moves away. . . .
. . . .and we come to join it as it soars throughout the cosmos, from one galaxy to another, seeking out a familiar planet; the third from its sun.
[Caption Box (/Voiceover - Charles Xavier) "As mutants, from the instant we discover who we truly are, impossible realities become the way of our lives. . ]
We move in on a scene on the grounds of Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters. Ororo Munroe A.K.A. Storm, is teaching an environmental class.
Utilizing her weather powers, Storm demonstrates two possible outcomes on a micro-scale: draining the moister from the air and earth to reduce a patch of grass to drought-like conditions, while with another she increases the agreeability of its immediate environment, eliciting rich growth.
A young First Nations girls can be seen clearly holding the information in her head, rather, her hands, as images of a healthy, wild patch of nature, and a desolate plot appear above her palms.
Her classmates observe the two scenes until Professor Munroe begins commenting.
We can't hear what's said, but the girl's projected imaginings disappear as soon as she comes to attention.
Far off on another part of the grounds, Marie A.K.A. Rogue and Bobby Drake A.K.A. Iceman are conditioning themselves with some basic training; running track. Like before, we don't have full sound on the scene, but some good natured teasing seems to be going on -Rogue, the mutant who can't safely touch another living person, pretends she's about to remove one glove and grab Iceman in a playful threat that he better run faster.
He does her one better, making an ice track in his lane that he now slides swiftly down.
In Professor Charles Xavier's office, Logan A.K.A. Wolverine, in a new X-Men uniform, and Kurt Wagner A.K.A. Nightcrawler in one of his own, seem to be finalizing details with Professor X on an impending mission. Each is wearing a pack.
Wolverine extends his adamantium claws from between his knuckles, breaking in his new gloves. Nightcrawler sets a three-fingered hand on his shoulder and the next moment,
*BAMFS* himself and Wolverine away.
And so too do we leave, to see glimpses of existences beyond this singular place-
Through the skylight of a New York apartment, a man with red lensed sunglasses sitting on a couch, talking with a red-haired woman. The moment possibly intimate; certainly amicable.
-we travel on, a star visible in the day-sky across these scenes, though largely missed by the subjects:
Mutants,
Non-Mutants,
their interactions; such as they typically are.
[Caption (V/O)CONT'D . .Perhaps that is how we can go on in a world which feels, so often, incompatible with us. .]
Finally we circle back to look down on the man we saw before, now treading towards a headstone. .
. .We see both by their shadows as, with the soft sound of crunching grass, he comes to stand in front of it.
The shadow of his arm rises.
We hear a gentle kissing sound before seeing his hand come to lay on top of the stone.
". . .not a day will go by. . ."
We follow this man, Scott Summers A.K.A. Cyclops, as he returns to the school,
walking past a dedication to Jean Grey.
Later, in what had been their room, Scott stands, ready for bed, in front of the open wardrobe. On one side we can see his clothes. What's on the other side isn't visible to us.
He holds a book in his hands, where we see a more private dedication; an inscription in the front cover: To my dear Jean. I hope the words in this book will do in place of what I can't express. Love Scott.
Scott gives the book of poetry pensive regard,
before placing it in, or returning it to, the unrevealed side of the wardrobe.
The close of a day. .
[Caption(V/O)CONT'D ". .As we understand that what we know to be reality, is only what we know now."]
. .brings us back out to the cosmos, where a fantastic release of power takes place.
A celestial body descends on the Grounds like a meteor, yet there's no impact. Instead, as it comes to land at a certain spot, the fiery tail drifts back towards space, like a cape let go in the wind -or a bird taking flight.
From the perspective of an individual, we're now reentering the X Mansion.
We walk through the presently unoccupied halls, passing the dedication once again, we know exactly where we're going, and come to stand outside a familiar door.
A female hand is placed on the knob. .
. .and once inside, gently rouses Scott.
He looks at her as if she's a dream. "You're on my mind a lot today, dear--!"
Having reached out, he comes suddenly to full alertness; sitting up. "-Jean?!"
His hand -both hands, move about her in gentle confirmation: this is no lucid dream.
"How?"
"It's, complicated to put into words. . ."
Though she manages to find some: "I left things unfinished."
Jean meets his "eyes".
". . but everything we went through. . .Why it had to happen. . -"
"We won't have to worry about that."
Scott's brows knit together. He's disturbed.
A figurative step back to explain: "You released me- . .released my power, from a place it couldn't be." Getting up from the bed, Jean moves towards the window.
Scott watches her until she continues: "I reclaimed that place. . ." Jean brushes her hand over her arm . . turning, after another moment, to definitively conclude: "But nothing else is reversed."
"You're powerless?" he rises out of bed, taking a step closer.
"Not exactly. I still carry an active X-Gene. But my power is no where near the point it was, or could ever come to again." A statement or a vow?
Both stand staring, as if reading each other. Jean steps closer. "I wanted you to be the first to kn- the first I let know that I'm back. . .
I know this is a lot."
They don't come to close the distance between them completely; assessing this new circumstance. . . .
[Caption Box (/Voiceover - Jean Grey) "Across these past two years, I've experienced new life. Reconciliation of other beings; it is possible. No matter how far I'd gone, I never stopped wanting this for my family. .]
Cont'd into our next scene, where we see Jean is now speaking not only to Cyclops, but to the rest of the X-Men presently on-site -Colossus, Kitty, Iceman, Rogue, Storm, and Professor X. All gathered in a Staff Room:
". .When I realized how I could return, it felt like ego not to. Like I would only be part of the problem if I stayed away. That being said I know what everyone went through because of me. . .I considered keeping away from this place. . .though I can't do what I intend to from behind the scenes, and I didn't want to add confusion to everything else once you found out I was back."
Storm: "You count as well, Jean. We no sooner can expect you to stay away from what is still your home."
Jean smiles like that means so much. "Thank you, Ororo," the smile fades. "Even still, as much as I'd like to do what I came to alongside all of you again, if it's too much for anyone," his eyes linger just a noticeable amount longer on Scott, "I'll make a fresh start of my second chance."
Xavier: ". . .Well I don't think I need to be psychic to know the consensus of the room."
He smiles deeply. "Welcome back, Jean Grey."
The following day.
Jean comes down a hallway to see the same First Nations girl we saw in Storm's Environmental Studies class now watching her with polite interest.
Jean greets her warmly. "Hello."
"Hi."
"I have the feeling there's something specific on your mind?" She's paused in front of her.
The girl smiles. "You could just tell without asking, couldn't you?"
"Yes, but I prefer to ask."
The girl seems to like that. "Did you really go to space, by yourself? I mean..."
she thinks of the correct question. "By your own powers?"
"Sort of." Jean seems reluctant to say more on this subject.
"What was it like out there?"
It's now Jean considering a correct answer.
"A lot of it. . .it would be hard to describe. And likely unbelievable."
"I have a good imagination." Smiling anew, the girl allows a projection to form above her head. It's an outdoor scene, with all the living things appearing at once familiar and other-worldly.
Jean watches the imagining for a moment, smiling herself. "I can see that. So you must be Holo."
The imagining disappears as the girl is surprised, though her expression soon turns to reflect self-awareness: "You've already heard about me?"
"About some of the new students."
"Yeah. . .I tend to leave impressions. I don't mean to mostly, but I also don't mind. Mostly." She laughs a little. Then, seeing she still has Jean's attention, she resumes her projected imagining of outer worlds.
Jean returns to that conversation: "If I'm being honest, since I've come back a lot of what I experienced out there feels. . .more like a dream than a part of this life. Not quite, though."
"Dreams are kind of like going out to other existences," Holo answers thoughtfully.
Gradually, the imagery evolves --no longer just above Holo's head, it seems to surround her and Jean, blending in a grotesque way with the hall. In fact, it's as though we're seeing this part of the Mansion through a kaleidoscope, yet with differences to the reflected image; more or less subtle depending on the section.
Jean closes her eyes. "That's a bit much now, Holo."
Holo: "Hm?"
Opening her eyes, Jean manages to discern the scenescape above Holo's head fading, though the distorted imagery remains. She squints, trying to bring the hall into correct focus
--then suddenly, it is.
"Dr. Grey?"
Her eyes still on the hall, Jean clarifies: "That wasn't all you?"
"Uhm. . ." Holo looks where Jean seems to be. "I was only focusing on the one spot. . . I guess I might've spilled out." She doesn't seem sure what Jean's referring to.
Jean shakes her head after a moment. "I think I'm having a case of intergalactic jet leg."
This makes Holo laugh again.
Jean: "I'll see you around."
Holo nods, happily watching Jean go.
While Jean's expression, obscured from Holo's view as she passes her, reflects puzzlement and concern; Jean's eyes shifting as she continues, as if watching for the halls to distort again. They don't in the least.
No time to give further thought to this, Jean has a meeting to get to.
We're back in the Staff Room, this time joined by one more individual.
Xavier: "I feel the need to reintroduce you to someone.
Jean, this is Dr. Henry McCoy."
Hank extends a large, blue-furred hand: "As last we knew each other was pre-acquisition of my hirsute, savoy patina, I would agree with Charles."
Jean smiles: "You should've let me guess. I would've known it was you as soon as you spoke."
Hank's smile broadens: "'One superlatively important effect of wide reading is the enlargement of vocabulary which always accompanies it' -H.P. Lovecraft."
Jean's smile deepens. "It's great to see you here again, Hank. I'm glad you'll be joining us for this."
"On that, by all means, let us commence." He takes his seat around the long table.
Jean begins hesitantly -not out of lack of confidence on what she's saying, but the intricacies and personalness of the subject matter- casting a reverential look to Xavier: "This school has always served its purpose well. A place for young mutants to learn about their powers safely, and about themselves away from judgement. A safe haven."
Xavier nods in reception of her feelings.
"You teach us the control we need to continue to live anonymously when we return to the wider world," Jean shifts to addressing the room in general, "but it remains a world that necessitates that anonymity. What's waiting for our students beyond these walls continues to be discrimination, and with seemingly few exceptions it's only us mutants who seem interested in building an equal life."
Her eyes close as she figuratively travels back to the unbelievable space she's been: "As Phoenix, I saw many existences. . .As beings we're all still very young, with much to learn." Her eyes open. "I can no longer just witness what's still happening here, and it doesn't take Phoenix power to make change. We need to continue -to broaden digging up future issues before they take seed. Hatred runs deep. But it's taught, no one is born with it. I think we need to take steps to directly foster compassion and eventually comradery in the younger generation of non-mutants."
Hank: "'If we are to teach real peace in this world, and if we are to carry on a real war against war, we shall have to begin with the children' -Mahatma Gandhi."
A soft smile crosses Jean's lips. "Maybe I should've lead with that."
Storm: "Indeed it is a noble idea. What steps do you propose, Jean?"
Jean: "That's why we're all here. We need suggestions. Though focusing on youth is only part of it. We'll also need someone to be our voice on the street. Many who make their opinions about us do so from secondhand information at best. If a mutant is involved in property damage for instance, it's never the mutant who is spoken to. All anyone hears about is the result, not all of the factors involved in causing it."
Xavier: "I've thought the same for a long while. We may finally have such a connection through a friend of another graduate." He sports at once a telling yet unrevealing smile. "He had hoped to join us today though had to postpone."
By the looks exchanged across the table, most seem to know to whom Xavier is referring.
Jean is pleasantly intrigued, but lets that name go unsaid. Living as an "all-knowing adjacent" being for the past while, a little mystery is welcomed.
Scott: "How about a camp? We could create an even ratio by having as many of our students attend as non-mutants sign up."
Storm: "I like that too, though cannot see many parents wanting to sign their kids up for a couple weeks with mutants."
"Well, we wouldn't advertise it so explicitly."
Jean: "I don't know, Scott. It's the right idea but it can't come off as deceptive."
Scott: "In general brochures don't state the type of campers that'll be there unless the camps are made for a specific demographic. Kids signed up for any camp could find themselves interacting with mutants, the difference with ours is it'll be by design and we'll actually care that those interactions are positive."
And so the meeting continues. On its close, as everyone is filing out, Jean pauses, taken over by another strange sensation.
This time she sees no distortion, though the clarity of her vision is more dream-like; the edges of the room blurred, the room itself not so clear. Voices coming to her ears as though Jean's not as present as they are --or are they coming from another place?
Jean brings her fingers to the side of her head. Far off as they sound, the voices aren't foreign. Beast, Iceman, Cyclops. . .that tracks. . .
"Jean?. .Jean?"
She finds Scott standing in front of her.
"Sorry, were you saying something else?"
"No. I noticed you weren't with us. Are you okay?"
". . .It's just a lot, I guess."
"Yeah, I guess it would be."
They both seem unsure. Unsure regarding this present moment and for their own, additional reasons.
Jean lowers her hand, finding an explanation: "I didn't get much sleep last night. I can't even remember if I've eaten anything."
"You did. At least I'm pretty sure. You came late to lunch but I saw you getting something."
"That's right. I saw you too, before you had to go. . ." Their unsurety persists. "It's been strange," Jean confides. "I'm having to readjust to things I didn't even think about -sleep, hunger. Even time."
Scott's brows raise like he hadn't thought of that. He keeps focused on Jean with a listening look.
"I know I should try and resist, to get back to a regular schedule, but I think I'll go see if I can catch up on some rest."
"Oh-" he quickly masks a dashed hope for more of a conversation, "-I'll see you later, then."
She affirms and leaves. Scott heads for the door a moment leader.
Later, Jean wakes in her room to the sound of voices. Muffled though they are by the closed door, they're still loud enough, sounding like they're coming from right outside it.
"C'mon guys. . ." she says in a low tone not likely to carry, while she gets up to cross the room to it, "if you need something just knock alr--"
No one is on the other side.
Jean glances down the hallways, but no one is sight, either.
In fact, only now do a small group of students turn down this way. A couple looking to her as they pass by. Though their lips seem to be forming familiar words, what comes out of them doesn't sound like real language to Jean. She stares uncomprehendingly, but they've already turned away; moved along.
Jean massages her head.
Checking the time, she decides to head to the kitchen to fix herself an early dinner.
Afterward, from the perspective of Cyclops coming down the hall, we spy Jean getting into the elevator.
She's gone down to the Danger Room. A new addition to the X Mansion since last she walked these halls.
In fact, an addition directly related to her departure.
She's in the Control Room portion, leafing through a manual when we hear Scott's voice: "Interested?"
"How could I not be," lowering the manual, she meets him with an impressed look, "I almost can't believe you built this."
Scott smiles unpretentiously.
"I was going to see what it could do but I don't know the passcode."
"It's Five-U-R-V-One-V-Four-Seven."
Jean takes on an air of play: "So does knowing it mean I'm part of some elite few?"
"You already were. All the X-Men are told."
She grows subdued; looking down. "Then maybe I shouldn't. . ." she runs her hand across the control panel, "that part of me is in the past."
Scott doesn't think so. "You came back with a mission, benefitting human and mutantkind. It's like what you said about change; you don't need awesome power to be an X-Man."
A quiet smile crosses Jean's face, her voice to match: "That's true."
". . .If you'd like to see it in action, Danger Class is in session tomorrow."
"Danger Class?"
"Well after. . everything that happened before you ascended, many of the students expressed interest in wanting to learn how to use their powers proactively. If not to graduate to be X-Men some day at least to feel less vulnerable in unpredictable situations."
Jean looks understanding of that.
"At first I wasn't sure about it." Scott looks out through the control room window to the Danger Room proper, "this place came out of unhealthy obsession. . .But you know, I actually agree with Logan on this one; it beats the old method."
Jean's smile broadens some. Their earlier awkwardness long given way to a more comfortable presence. "How is he, by the way?"
"He's Logan."
Jean laughs somewhat.
"He's struck up an odd friendship with Kurt, though."
"Odd how?"
"Well if I were to bet on which person Logan would actually wanna' spend his time with, Kurt would've been my forth choice, at best."
Jean looks like she's thinking over what his choices may be. She eyes him. "So when does Danger Class start?"
Next Day - Danger Class
From the control room, Scott works the panel, programming a sim. "This disengages it instantly if something goes awry," he points out. "The sim does function on select voice commands from inside, however there are situations which can fetter that. Best to have a failsafe. Usually I'll assign someone. . ." He meets her eye with a small smile, "I thought I'd give you the option of taking that position today."
Jean smiles. "I'd like to."
So, as Cyclops joins his class in the Danger Room proper, the sim gets underway. Jean is able to watch via the observation window turned into multiple screens, covering the action from different angles. Most display the fully simulated environment, though a couple show the action without the virtual reality overlay.
While she takes in the action, Jean's fingers begin to move restlessly. The movement
is almost absentminded, though soon Jean is checking her level of engagement.
And soon after that, she has to check something hasn't malfunctioned with the display. Suddenly everything is too high of contrast; the colours are unreal. Jean looks to the section of the control panel she was shown works the monitors, and realizes the control panel itself looks unreal.
The sensation has grown overwhelming -it's auditory as well as visual. Jean's on the cusp of leaving when she thinks to disengage the sim before she does so.
Inside, everyone looks around as the sim arrests and fades around them.
Cyclops: "Wait here."
He walks back to the control room expecting to ask Jean what's up. Well he sort of gets his answer: she's gone.
He goes to the door, but she isn't in the hallway either.
One of the students hasn't "waited there".
"Is class already over, Cyclops?"
". . .No. Go rejoin the others." They do, while Cyclops returns to the control panel. He speaks to them over comm: "Alright we're gonna' run this one from the top. And guys, take this one seriously."
We find Jean back upstairs on the dorm level, looking disturbed. More so as finds herself outside Scott's -formerly hers and Scott's- room, instead of the one she presently occupies; as if she's walked here without thinking.
From down the hall comes a voice. "Ah, there you are."
"Jean?"
She turns to find- "Oh- Ororo. Sorry. I had something on my mind. . ."
Storm acknowledges whose door they're outside. "Or someone?"
"Or something else."
"Well if you are looking for Scott, right now is his Danger Class-"
"-I know, actually I just came from watching some of it. . ."
"Well I am glad you did not linger. I wanted to ask if you would like to talk about whatever we desire over a cup of tea, as we used to?"
At this, Jean's disturbance falls away. "I'd love that."
The weather master selects leaves from a particular plant. "I have recently cultivated this one. I think you will find the tea it produces somehow invigorating yet relaxing, like inviting a fresh breeze in to clear out old air."
Jean: "Sounds like just the thing I need to clear my mind, right now. . .or anytime, I guess," she reflects. "Even when my telepathy's fully modulated, so often I still have more going on in it than what's comfortable."
Ororo: "For that reason, I actually came to think of this as 'Jean's Plant'."
While Ororo goes about brewing the tea, Jean takes a closer look at the plant.
It's obviously been treated with tenderest care.
Ororo continues: "I would feel closer to you when I would tend it or drink its tea, yet regretful. Could a simple thing have made any difference two years ago? Was there something I missed."
Jean turns, laying a comforting hand on her friend's arm, and giving a subtle, significant nod.
Ororo lays her hand over hers. "I know. But the mind goes where it will, and it felt like an avenue not to avoid entirely."
"I can understand that." Jean glances around the space. "A lot has grown since I've been away, hasn't it?"
Ororo watches while her soul sister takes in more of the plants, coming to pause at a blighted one.
"One of the students brought that to me, hoping I could revive it. The blight is stubborn."
Jean moves her hand through the air around the leaves, as if trying to work magic. Of course, the leaves remain in the state they were.
Ororo: "So what avenues has your mind taken you?"
Jean smiles somewhat: "Big question."
"Is home feeling like the alien plain?"
Jean has moved on to other plants, presently touching the leaves of one.
She smiles deeply. "No. Home feels just the same." Though gradually, her expression shifts. "Mostly."
Ororo regards her with interest: "What is different?"
". . .I don't know -it's hard to explain. Sometimes I think I'm not seeing what's really here."
Even as she says it, are the plants turning alien before her eyes?
"Wanting things to be more unchanged than you've found them?"
Jean comes back to attention. "Silly, right? Considering I've come back to make change."
"So much about living exists outside of harmony," Ororo reflects as she goes about pouring the tea, "which is why I try to cultivate it in any way I can."
Jean smiles again, stepping away from the plants to join her. "You've always had a good head, Ororo." She sits down opposite her with her tea: "So enough about me for a while. Spill it."
At the close of their visit.
Jean: "Thanks for this, Ororo. It was just what I needed."
Storm: "No matter what else may be going on in our lives, let us not be strangers to such moments."
In complete agreement, Jean hugs her "sister" before heading for the staircase.
Back on the dormitory floor, Jean soon comes on Bobby and Rogue sharing a moment -and a laugh- down one of the halls. She's about to move on another way when they do, and Jean observes an odd sight as Bobby walks past a window in which sunlight streams.
It's as though his body's suddenly become made out of the light, or. . . Some sort of trick of it off his ice powers? Had he even just used any?
Distortions of the hallways follow.
Down the hall Jean had been about to go, we see Scott now walking up. Noticing her at the junction, he closes the distance. He's been looking for her.
"Jean. What happened before?"
Just ahead of his speech, Jean turns her head at the movement. She sees him yet almost not recognizably -his appearance is off. When his voice comes, it's like an auditory kaleidoscope, akin to the visual one from before -Split, yet not mirrored; the patterns don't line up:
"Jean. 'Jean! What is it?' What happened before?" 'What's happening to you, Jean?''Jean -what's wrong?!'
When Jean makes the effort to speak through the mire, her own voice rings in her ears likewise:
"I need to see Xavier." ' ... But I'm afraid-' 'Scott- help me. I can't stop it.'
Medical Bay Jean is laying on the examination table while Xavier finishes his telepathic probe.
"We can all rest assured, no one else has been in your mind. What you've been experiencing are a kind of sensory seizure."
Scott: "What's causing them?"
"At this time, I can't be certain. I suspect they're a side-effect of Jean's return. Your mind needing to reacclimatize to living-"
Jean (air of irony): "-a regular life?" She sighs. "So long as my mind isn't being infiltrated I can deal with this. But if the seizures grow any more frequent I won't be able to function."
Xavier: "You've been back not even a week. Perhaps you'll only have to consider yourself a convalescent for a few days for this to sort itself out. If not, you could try anti-seizure medication, though given the mutational origins that might not be effective."
By now sitting up on the exam table, Jean takes that in; perturbed.
"If I'm going to be convalescing, I think I'd prefer to in my own room."
She shifts off the table.
Scott: "I'll walk you there."
Jean seems about to decline, but accepts.
Outside Jean's room.
"Thanks." She reaches for the handle of the door, but her hand pauses on it. Jean sighs again; bothered. ". . .trouble is the last thing I wanted to bring back with me."
Scott regards her quietly for a moment, before tentatively bringing his hand to hers.
Jean slips it into his with an appreciative squeeze, and smile. "I'll see you later."
She lets go and heads in, leaving Scott on the other side of the door with his own troubled look.
Following day, Ororo joins Jean in her room with breakfast.
Jean: "If I'm being honest, after how I've been living. . .free from the confines of any physical space. . .the thought of limiting myself to this room for even a few hours has me feeling stir crazy. Of course, I'll try anything to get on top of the seizures."
Ororo: "I have always thought 'recouping' should not involve being 'couped up'. Why not free yourself of what confines you can?"
The remainder of their breakfast is taken on the grounds, where afterward a walk is enjoyed. First together, then Jean on her own as Ororo goes off to her tasks for the day. Spending nearly all of hers in the fresh air, and seizure free, Jean returns to the Mansion at night feeling more optimistic, and quite ready for sleep.
However. . . .
She wakes in the night, seeming disoriented in her own room.
In Scott's, he's awoken by semi-distant sounds of clunking. Instinctively, he goes to check on Jean.
Pausing outside her door, it takes less then a minute for him to hear something else clearly coming from inside -something sounding like a collapse.
He goes in at once: "Jean?"
"Scott?"
He's found and turned on the light switch, though Jean -down on the floor next to an overturned piece of furniture- looks around as though she can't see, speaking in a moaning tone: "I don't know where I am -I don't know what's solid ground."
"I'm here, I've got you," he's gotten down with her, holding her openly.
Jean at once looks at and past him, eyes wide: ". . .What is this place. . ?"
Back in the Medical Bay
Once again Jean is laying on the exam table; eyes closed.
She opens them for only a second before shutting them again. When she speaks, at least she sounds back to herself: "Every time I open my eyes it's like I'm seeing through someone else's, though it's not like I'm not in another's mind. . . what could be going on?"
Even before the question Xavier reacts as though something's been set into place for him.
Scott: "What are you thinking, Professor?"
"I have been building a theory. With your current experience, Jean, I feel it has now been confirmed."
Xavier begins to explain:
"In going beyond this world, namely as a mutant rising to something celestial, your mind was expanded across a vast space. . .far more worlds, more minds, even possibly, more realities. . .You said you left your higher power behind, yet I believe you are still connected, and that residual connection is causing a fragmentation."
Jean (still laying with eyes closed): "So how can I make my separation complete? At least complete enough to stop this."
"I believe with the aid of Cerebro, I can go in and defragment your mind. In essence, untangle and collate the pieces of your proper reality, while pruning away the branched awarenesses. But such a procedure will be intense. Less for my mind, being only the operator, than for yours through which everything will run. Years cycling through in moments, the contrast and volume of your life dialed up as they go. . .It may well be too much for one mind to bear."
"Is there a chance it could still level off just with time?" Jean tries opening her eyes again, though it's clear she's still working to see straight.
". . .there's more likely a chance, given it's pattern thus far, that time will result in severing the connection to your singular awareness. . ."
Scott looks between them, heavily disturbed. He grasps- "a chance, so waiting it out is still an option."
"It is. Though reinstalling would be a different matter than resetting. The line between these matters could be crossed suddenly, and at full disclosure, Jean, I feel less confident of success with the former."
Jean (frayed): "So I risk losing myself completely, meanwhile being a disruption. No, Scott- I don't like those odds or circumstance. I'll have to trust my mind can handle the reset procedure."
Some graveness giving way to encouragement, Xavier just starts to say "If any mind can-"
when Scott -his own concern giving way to thought- cuts in: "-what if you had a second mind to run the process through?"
Jean catches on: "Like a second engine."
"Exactly."
Xavier turns this idea over in his mind. He sees the possibility (yes): "That could work."
"But wait- what would the risk be to Scott's mind?"
Scott looks like that isn't his priority, though he doesn't cut-in.
"Technically the same as to yours. In fact if it were almost anyone else, I wouldn't consider it. But given your history. . .your unique psychic rapport and what amount of your life you've shared, I feel strongly that risk would be negated."
So we begin. A second exam table has been placed beside Jean's, on which Scott now lies.
Apparatus like electrodes on each of their temples.
Jean reaches across the short distance, finding Scott's hand.
Xavier has moved to where he'll be conducting the procedure - Cerebro.
We see the process as a splash panel. We see Jean, her mind: there are "bubbles" of moments, events, timelines, of her past -their past, her present -theirs, the future? On Earth, in the cosmos, it's just as Xavier described: boldcolours, some bubbles fade away while others come into sharper relief.
Focus-on/closer-on Jean in a series of inset panels various micro expressions intermittently cross her face,
Discordant mixture of sounds -- flashes like electricity gradually the sounds subside, the electrical activity falls into a natural rhythm,
until finally....
finally...
..Presentness
Jean opens her eyes.
Sitting up she looks around. Not like she's waiting for distortions to appear; she knows she can trust the stillness now. Even in this limited space, she's seeing her world anew.
She shifts her attention to Scott, their hands still linked.
Scott (somewhat groggy): ". . .okay?"
"Are you?"
He sits up carefully. "Only a really bad headache. I've still had worse."
Xavier rolls in, smiling: "I have a tea that can help with that."
"Thanks. If no monitoring needs to happen, I'd just prefer to lie down-"
Jean: "-in your own room?" She sports a soft, knowing look.
Xavier: "No monitoring necessary. I observed no damage before I came out. By all accounts the procedure was a success."
They remove the electrodes from the sides of their heads and get off the tables.
Jean reciprocates Scott's care from earlier: "I'll walk you there."
Unlike Jean had been, Scott isn't reluctant to accept.
As they pass Xavier, Jean bends down to embrace him. "Thank you, Professor."
Hallway - Outside Scott's Room.
"I'm positive I'll be fine."
"That's a relief."
"I'm glad the procedure worked."
"It might've gone differently without you. . ." Jean looks at him directly, speaking in a soft, meaningful tone of voice, "your devotion's always meant so much to me, Scott. I hope you've known that." There's something in her disposition. She's treading carefully.
It takes Scott a moment to respond. Slowed perhaps by his headache, or something else weighing on his mind. . .Then, only a small smile before he turns towards door.
Jean looks like she'd been anticipating something else. Just as well. "Good night. Or good morning, I guess."
"Right. You too."
Jean turns to leave.
One step inside, his hand still on the handle, Scott's paused. ". . .Jean." He steps back to look at her. "Later, when this headache's subsided, can we talk?"
". . .Sure. I'll see you then."
On that, he goes in. While Jean goes on.
The new dawn comes with a refreshing rain.
Taking up Xavier's offer of tea, we see Jean's joined him in his office.
"I returned by choice, but also from. . ."
Xavier (lightly): "A magnetic pull?"
Jean gives a hum of a laugh. "Maybe if I was Magneto."
She finds her wording: "In some way, I feel there's some purpose to my being here. Beyond my own, I mean."
"I always knew you would become more than you ever saw yourself being."
Another hum, thinking back: "More than mutant?"
Xavier turns more sober: ". . .on a basic level, I can understand why so many fear us.
We are living reminders that anything is possible, and 'anything' can be intimidating."
"When I stop to think of our potential, even I feel afraid. . .I think most of us do."
Xavier (renewed content): "I would feel more afraid if you didn't."
Transition to. . .
Scott laying on his bed, the window partially opened to the cleansing air.
We ease-in on his ruby-quartz glasses. . .easing-out on his visor. No longer do we see him laying in repose in a familiar room, but suspended and enervated in one unseen --he, and us, kept in the dark.
⛓👁
Flashes
A family in a cockpit,
Cyclops and Jean Grey in one.
The mother instructs her sons: "Hold onto each other!"
Cyclops: "Hold tight!"
The parachute fails, young Scott slows their descent surprisingly, by blasting for the first time in his life.
Jean's telekinesis failing, adult Cyclops blasts measuredly to slow their descent.
But the landing doesn't go as planned
if the plane's destruction hadn't lit the parachute....
If the jet's destruction hadn't knocked them apart....
"ALEX!" A brother lost.
"JEAN!"
...."Scott...."
Blackout.
. . . .when Cyclops comes back to full consciousness, he's still in darkness. Is it the room or his eyes? He can't tell. It doesn't feel like anything but his visor is over his eyes.
Though something is off him --the jacket of his uniform. Feels like the arm of his undershirt has also been torn or cut away.
In fact, something's off --the jacket of his uniform. Feels like the arm of his undershirt has also been torn or cut away.
He realizes he's on his knees; his hands are shackled behind him, and the shackles seem connected to chains in the wall behind him.
Gradually, he tries to stand. He's actually not restricted so much that he can't, though he learns the extent of his restraints when he's arrested within the distance of one stride. By the way he felt the pull on his wrists he can tell he's in a corner --and the chains seem crisscrossed, his left hand connected to the wall to his right and vice-versa.
Suddenly he becomes cognizant of nearing footsteps.
The sliding-open of some mechanized door answers one question for him: it lets in just enough light to see.
Whether from some trick of the light itself or the oxidation of time, his metal contained chamber is revealed to have an eerie green patina.
A figure stands shadowed in the threshold.
Cyclops fixes them with a glare: "Where's Jean?"
"Hold that thought."
The voice sounds like it's coming from a point further back than the visible figure, who presently closes the short distance between himself and Cyclops and forces him back down onto his knees by way of force applied to one of his shoulders.
Another figure has come in, clad identically to the first in what appears to be a black lab coat. Cyclops notices the pockets of this one are bulging.
He tries to see with what as the second figure comes to stand behind him, but the first forces him to face front. He can just discern the shadow of someone else still standing outside the room. The enigmatic figure speaks again: "Best not try to seek anyone while your eyes must hide."
Cyclops feels his visor being removed. Keeping his eyes shut, he listens.
There's a sound like the door opening, except smaller and closer-by.
Something else is set around his head, over his eyes. It feels like a construct of thin metal. The front part actually sits right over his eyelids.
Enigmatic Voice: "Now, what was your question?"
". .What have you done with Jean?"
"Would you like to see?"
Horror sets in--"NO-!"--no use--
--KKZK-ZHOOOOOM!!!!
The contraption has forced his eyes to open--at the same time his handler has forced his head down-- --he's blasting into a hole roughly 10x10" that's been revealed in the floor-- --though all Cyclops can make out of what's inside is a screen which appears to be absorbing his blast.
It isn't another containment room. It isn't Jean.
After a decided length of time, the contraption is reversed; forcing his eyes closed. Cyclops breathes in a settling way.
Enigmatic Voice (enjoying this): "Baseline established. Time for Test # 1. Perish?"
Cyclops hears someone else enter the room, but only just; unlike the others this one seems to have stopped some distance in front of him.
Then things get strange. . . his body slackens as it feels like the power to his muscles has been shut off. "Uhn--" he feels the scientists holding his body in a certain position, then he feels next-to-nothing at all--only extremely dulled, residual sensations where the scientists have their hold on him.
He even can't hear--some foggy, wavering tone being all he can discern of the Enigmatic Voice speaking again.
Has his positioning changed? It's hard to tell. Now he's blasting again--evidenced only by a rushing that sounds more like it's coming from inside his own head than from the greater discharge of his blast--which he also can't see, save for a distant wavering light. Like watching a light show through closed eyes, except less vivid.
That tone of the Enigmatic Voice again; some different kind of nearly-lost sensation concentrated at a minute spot in Cyclops' arm, tone again.
What gradually follows. . . . . .is the return of his muscle function.
One of the scientists eases off as Cyclops regains the ability to hold his own body up.
His senses soon follow-- --in almost blinding and deafening relief as he's kept blasting for a moment or so more. Then,
Enigmatic Voice: "That will do-"
-as it will for our current scene as we transition to one far away in distance, and a littler earlier in time-
Professor Xavier: "-do for now."
From the Danger's Room's Control Bay, he watches as the members of the X-Men involved in the day's training filter out, until only their leader remains.
Xavier moves to join him in the main room.
"You seemed somewhat unfocused, Scott. Most unlike you."
Cyclops turns to him: "In a real situation, I wouldn't have divided the team that way."
Xavier (matter-of-fact): "Circumstances don't always allow for such choice, which you've undertaken enough real missions to know. . .Is there something else?" Xavier checks in, "perhaps we scheduled this session too soon*?"
*Too soon after what, you may be smartly asking yourself? Stay turned and such details will be filled in! -Tra
Cyclops sighs. "No. . .I'm feeling optimum." Though Cyclops' tone of voice and stance -hands on his sides, staring down- belies optimal feelings. As if he were standing in question to himself: 'That being true, why didn't this go better?'
Xavier eyes perspicaciously a moment, then: "In any case, I'll expect to read what was the principal factor against your success in your after-action report."
Repositioning himself in the direction of the door, Professor X wheels out.
Cyclops broods a little longer.
Meanwhile, away from Westchester Country, a meeting is underway between the New York Police Department and The Association for the Betterment of Mutant Citizens. In attendance, NYPD's Chief Grymholt, ABMC's Warren Worthington III A.K.A. Angel, Dr. Hank McCoy A.K.A. Beast, and Jean Grey, who presently address the chief:
"The way your department's new focus on getting mutant criminals off the streets is being presented, makes it sound as though criminals are exclusively mutants."
"Have you been on the streets lately, Ms. Grey? The demographic has certainly become mutant heavy. Mutant youth in particular continue to prove themselves to be degenerates!"
"Isn't it more accurate to say, Chief Grymholt, that these mutants continue to exemplify the environment in which they presently live? Their powers manifest and more often than not they become ostracized. Some even by their own families. Their educational paths become compromised while any prospect to make a decent living vanishes, if they're not also thrown out of their homes."
"Isn't it more accurate to say, Chief Grymholt, that these mutants continue to exemplify the environment in which they presently live? Their powers manifest and more often than not they become ostracized. Some even by their own families, and nearly all of them by their schools and potential places of work. Their educational path becomes compromised while any prospect to make a decent living vanishes, if they're not also thrown out of their homes."
"So they have the right to commit these crimes?"
"That's not what I'm saying. But when the rights they should have are denied them, how else are they to live?"
Warren: "I've been able to review the case files of your recent detainees, Chief Grymholt, and their crimes are petty in nature.
Beast: "If I may share my two cents on the matter, hard time hardly seems the rational response to purloined provisions."
"I understand your sympathies," -Beast and Warren, both obvious mutants, exchange a look- "but," the chief gives a mirthless chuckle, "try telling the storekeeper who's dealing with structural and inventory damages that the crime was 'petty'."
Jean: "In any case, these are people who require help, not incarceration. If that can be provided it'll be shown these are members of society, not menaces.
He fixes her with a rather skeptical stare: "So exactly what are you proposing, Dr. Grey?"
"A halfway house for mutants," -there's that mirthless chuckle again; the chief shakes his head while Jean continues- "with resources in place to redirect them away from criminal activity."
Beast (you know...): "With opportunity for gainful employment, reimbursement can begin on those damages you mentioned before."
Fixing a stare on Beast, then shifting it between them with all the personality of a driver reluctant to yield to coming traffic, Chief Grymholt turns this over in his mind a minute. "I'll concede to reasonable points. Yet just where and how would you propose getting such a facility? There are many other, more well-founded places the city has to put its money, and space doesn't grow on trees."
Warren smiles like he was waiting for this question: "The money and space are already taken care of. My family owns a vacant building, purchased some time back as an investment which was given over to me. It's already adequate enough, requiring only a few modifications which can be completed concurrent with occupancy."
Well they seem to have thought of everything, haven't they? "...Very well. The responsibility of the mutant detainees will be considered yours. Assuming you can keep them under control long enough to see reason; they can keep the collars for transport but after that, well, Trask Industries' contract is only with law enforcement for the present."
For the first time all meeting, Beast, Warren and Jean are thrown.
Warren: "What do you mean 'the collars'?"
The chief is surprised: "How do you think we've come to collar all these mutants? By literally collaring them. Trask Industries latest technology -Power-Inhibiting."
Beast: "My stars! We're not animals."
Off Jean's disconcerted face, we cut-back-to the Mansion.
Scott is now on his way to a certain location, papers in hand, when a familiar young voice pauses him: "Professor Summers. Hi. Are you busy?"
"Well that depends." He glances from Holo to down the hall, where the door to Professor Xavier's office is presently closed.
She gets it. "Oh- I just want to ask you something."
"Then you've got me." He holds his hands behind his back in an unhurried manner.
Smiling, Holo tries not to delay even so: "I was just wondering some things about your powers? If you don't mind answering. After -well -you know. Everything*..." she hurries past that, "I kind of got really interested in learning how everyone's mutation works for them. You know Dr. Grey's been showing me some of her X-gene work.."
*Now what is Holo referencing? Different question, same answer: You'll find out if you stick with the adventure! ~EffeX
Scott nods, indeed aware of this fact.
"Well she told me about yours, after I asked," Holo seems a little embarrassed to admit that, but goes on, "and so, you absorb energy from the sun like a plant? I mean Dr. Grey didn't say it THAT way."
Scott smiles a little at Holo's manner. "Well I suppose it's something of a similar process to photosynthesis, though more like an engine with the fuel being certain photons; not strictly sunlight."
"Right," her embarrassment returns, "Dr. Grey said that. I think it's fascinating anyway how you absorb stuff that gives heat, but your blasts don't. And so um, behind your glasses or visor you're like, shooting all the time, right?"
(unfortunately) "Yes."
"So then, aren't you like, spending more energy than you're getting? Since there's less of that photon stuff in the dark, right?" Her brow furrows, like she doesn't understand 100% about "that photon stuff", but in any case- "Or even if there isn't and you're getting something all the time, you're also shooting all the time, so shouldn't that balance out into no blasts?
"Smart question. Presumably it isn't a 1-to-1 ratio. Simplified, think of it like every one particle supplying me with enough energy for ten blasts.
Holo nods, looking like she understands that much.
Scott adds: "We're also not sure if my mutation developed all at once. The absorbing part of it might've occurred well ahead of the blast part, giving me a head start."
"Oh yeah! Like you had -or have some, um, what is it called...."
"Energy reserves?"
"Yeah, in reserve."
While we hear a door open, Scott smiles at Holo. "You have a good head for this."
Holo beams. "Professor Grey said we'll start figuring out my powers soon."
"Good," he starts to shift towards Xavier's office, "a deeper understanding of your own powers is a good thing to have."
Pleased, Holo departs with a wave.
And turning properly, Scott finds who just exited Xavier's office-
"Hi, Emma."
"Goodbye, Scott."
"You're leaving early today?"
"I'm leaving full stop. We'll have to take our sessions up back at my practice. That is," she glances back at Xavier, "if you still trust them after your professor fills you in." Reverting attention to Scott, she seems contented by his 'why wouldn't I?' expression.
She strides off towards the entryway before he can verbalize the question, if he was going to, and Scott walks up to Xavier; now also out of his office observing the departure. "What just happened, Professor?"
"Emma Frost's empath abilities not only allow her to read others' emotions but to manipulate them. She was doing so on some of the students -innocuously, if that can be said, though any such practice can not be tolerated."
Staring towards the door, Scott's both in complete agreement and disbelief.
"I'm positive she never tried that in any of our sessions."
Xavier gives a "hm" as though making a note of that, or merely finding it interesting.
On her way out, Emma almost collides with Jean on her way in.
Jean: "Oh- excuse me."
"Telepathy on the fritz today?" the blonde quips.
"What?"
"Well, Scott knows where to find me if you ever do require a mind adjustment." She suddenly seems discomfited--though only for a second. Mysteriously smiling in the next. "Maybe a couples session? Until then."
"Goodbye, Emma." Jean's not sure what to make of her. More so, Jean's still affected by the events of the meeting.
Scott (as she walks up): "Let me guess, it didn't go well."
"Worse."
The trio reconvenes in Xavier's Office.
"...we told him we definitely won't be making use of the collars. We're trying to remove restrictions on mutants, not introduce more."
These new developments have them all disturbed.
Scott: "How do the collars inhibit mutant powers?"
Jean: "Right now only Trask Industries has that answer. Warren wants to meet with them, while Hank is seeing if he can borrow one from the police to analyze. We're not even sure how many they have."
Scott: "I knew there had to be something behind NYPD's latest enterprise."
Xavier: "Addressing this is certainly a priority. However, there exists another matter I was hoping you two would undertake."
They're all ears.
"There is a new anomaly I've noticed through Cerebro. An area with curious mutant signatures, though also a recurrent psychic disruption that is preventing me from getting a clear read. I know you're still tentative* towards standard missions, Jean, but your telepathy will be necessary for pinpointing the sources of each."
*For reasons relating to no longer wishing to use her powers in combative situations. At least not typically. ~EffeX
Jean nods. "That's fine."
"When do we head out?"
Cut-to Cyclops & Jean Grey in the cockpit of the X-Jet, soaring through the skies.
"Jean?"
"Oh -sorry." Having suddenly been inattentive to her co-piloting duties, Jean brings herself back to them.
Cyclops finishes something on his side before setting his attention back on her. "You're nervous?"
Drawing a breath, she looks out the window, not really seeing: "Things that seem straightforward can turn out to be the opposite. . . .I just don't want to be caught in another compromised position."
Scott is silent at first, thinking everything over. . .
"We'll do what we can."
Not missing his use of "we", Jean "meets" his gaze; finding reassurance in both. A soft smile crosses her lips ahead of a recomposing breath being drawn.
A few moments pass before Cyclops hears her state: "I've missed this."
Glancing over again, he finds her actually looking out the window. "Still compares to views you've seen?"
She turns another smile his way. "I couldn't see those with you."
Getting it now, Cyclops smiles back before turning his own attention out the window; sharing the view. . .But soon, his face goes solemn. ". . .what was it like, knowing you could 'look in', anywhere, anytime. . ? I can't think there was too much you missed." His attention seems divided, and not just by piloting. It's as if he's bringing Jean into some conversation he's been having with himself.
Jean: ". . .It wasn't how you're thinking. I wasn't all-seeing. I still needed to know where to look, and focus."
To illustrate this point, the shot, depicting Jean staring out the cockpit window from a perspective as if we're looking at her from the other side, will first have Jean in focus and Cyclops, in the background, out of it.
Then, the focus will shift, and we'll be able to see how intently Cyclops seems to be taking this in; staring a moment before his head shifts somewhat downward, as if back to his own thoughts.
And the silence brings Jean's focus back to him. Regarding him concernedly before speaking: ". . .I haven't asked you how the training session went?"
Cyclops' answer comes at length. ". . .it was different -difficult. .using the Danger Room as intended again. It-" his voice catches. He swallows. ". . .I wish it'd happened almost anywhere else."
He wishes more than that.
Jean looks down at her hands, turning one over. "If I had the power. . ."
He knows.
. . .Jean reaches her hand across the aisle. He moves his to meet it.
Though shortly, she shifts as though distracted by something.
This doesn't go unnoticed by him. "What is it?"
". . I think we're here."
That doesn't sound right; Cyclops checks the dash. "We shouldn't be coming up on the coordinates yet for another--"
--Suddenly they hit turbulence --worse!
"We've been hit by something!"
He doesn't mean physically -all of the electronics of the Jet have shut down,
--as though by an EMP!
"Manual controls are also down--" their attempts to still pilot are met with futility; including Jean's try at telekinetically operating the system.
She shifts power concentration to outside the jet, trying to lift it in order to slow their now rapid descent "--I don't have it!"
Cyclops attention has whipped to the altimetre "--forget it--we're ejecting!"
Jean looks to him to see how he means--
--VZHOOOM--KRRSSSHHHH!!!!
--Cyclops blasts them a calculated exit, then reaches across to Jean with one arm while preparing to disconnect his seatbelt with the other.
Jean does the same; reaching towards him. With a nod, they perform the action in sync--and Jean manages at least to use her powers to ensure they don't lose each other as they're sucked clear out into the sky.
Holding fast to each other, Jean now concentrates on trying to use her powers to slow their own descent--little difference --it's telekinetic turbulence!
"Hold tight!" Cyclops holds tighter with one arm at the same time he brings a hand to his visor, countering their rate of descent with his blast; his plan from the get-go
--but it's not over yet!
Shrapnel from the now crashed jet takes them off guard --and out of each other's arms!
Separately they go down.
Blackout.
The Story will continue beginning first week of February
Location: New Orleans - Botanical Gardens Skills: Power Mimicry
OfAll turned her attention back to Peitro, who clearly had taken on the manner of a bickerson. That is, she knew responding to him with the fact that saying what he did wasn't the problem so much as being here at all with that mentality, wasn't likely to cause anything else than a back-and-forth. Which in her experience was one of the most grating things to have going on in the background when you had something going on in your own head.
Which brought things back to Guin, as OfAll could tell he was half focused on her. That settled it - something more was going with their acting leader. How could things already feel so sideways when they only just got here?
OfAll had just had the new idea to suggest Pietro go out and around the surrounding area of the Gardens, to make sure there wouldn't be a bunch of locals coming around -or within a danger radius, though who could say what that could be- but that now fell into the category of what she didn't think he'd take to, right. With his speed anyway, he could always accomplish the task after things fell over completely.
Which fortunately, didn't seem to be happening. They seemed to be righting just a smidge, in fact. OfAll's attention following the thoughtful action of Guin asking Mary if they could try something, and Mary responding in the affirmative. The eye colour flashed OfAll's mind back to Asteroid M. She'd noticed the full shift in Mary's eyes then and questioned to herself if it was the Phoenix. That hadn't quite fit...now she had that piece of the puzzle. Despite this trace of Chrysi, OfAll could feel -not in any uncanny way- a little less tensity in the air as her eyes shifted back to Perry at Mary's concern for her.
She wasn't sure if that had something to do with it - Mary's caring emotion working like putting a stone on the "calm" side of the scale? At least it meant they were treading okay so far.
Given their proximity, OfAll heard Antoinette explain her plan to Guin, and OfAll herself resumed her visual in-take of the Gardens' contents, while also thinking of a Plan 2. If not Mary's powers, which would be best to manifest? She wasn't going to add herself to the number of telepaths. Though OfAll could show remarkable skill for a power she wasn't familiar with, touching someone's mind without a lot of experience was way too dicey to chance here.
Maybe Edus's power? OfAll looked back at where he was standing near Jean, and got the impression he was doing his own kind of in-take and problem-solving.
That felt like an apt term to describe any of the team right now: problem-solvers for the greater good -of Mary, their team, and a whole lot more. She had a thought for how the others were getting along, far far away.
Location: New Orleans - Botanical Gardens Skills: Power Mimicry
What Guin didn't appear to realize is that her attempt to stop anyone from seeing her fear was exactly what tipped off an observant eye like OfAll's, who caught the self-harm action. Immediately OfAll regretted suggesting Guin as a possible best choice to approach Mary first. OfAll knew Guin had been off since their last mission, but who of them hadn't been affected? OfAll had a sudden sense she was missing some bigger picture here.
As Guin and Pietro exchanged about Annie using her powers gently, OfAll second guessed having brought the idea up at all. She hadn't realized Annie's powers fell into the category of what Mary would be able to feel --not that it would happen to matter one way or the other, what with Gambit deciding to go forward just then, without waiting for Annie's Intuition.
While he did that, OfAll spoke in a low tone to Pietro -a gentle reprimand: "Pietro, what did we agree on -that's not how we should be approaching this situation." She was referring to his "ticking time bomb" mentality.
"Maybe you should take something of a second line position further back, since you can get here in an instant anyway. Guin," she had just turned her eyes towards Guin, thinking to tactfully suggest she go with him, when OfAll heard Bethany's voice.
What had their team agreed on?
Next came Perry's collapse and firm confirmation they shouldn't be collectively approaching her right now --OfAll didn't know if that meant even Gambit should move back. She only addressed the others: "Let's all move ourselves back," still speaking in a low tone. Mild, yet no-nonsense.
As Perry was currently grounded, OfAll didn't step much more away than where she and Annie were, though suited her actions to her own words that far.
Antoinette's thought seemed sound -if only OfAll wasn't now having a sense of reservation towards Guin's own emotional state. Though surely Annie or Perry could perceive that, too, yet perhaps not without expressly focusing on Guin, and/or not with what must've felt like the noise of Mary's emotions around them. "If that seems best. . ." OfAll started, briefly meeting Guin's eyes in a gentle "cue" of assessment, certain the last thing Guin would want is to be counterintuitive to her best friend's safety --and everyone else's through extension, "try and have her focus on that space with all her senses," OfAll was back to addressing both Guin and Annie, "the feel of it, the sound. That can help ground someone out of their head sometimes."
For her own part, OfAll started to glance around, taking in the flowers and foliage around them. Not to remember the scenery while she still could, but out of a potential plan to manifest Mary's botanical powers again to possibly cancel hers out if she tried to attack them. OfAll had been most comfortable with those of all powers manifested over the course of their last mission. She just needed to get familiar with what specific plants were nearby so she could best utilize them. No doubt Mary already that advantage over her -at least.
Cyclops took in every image Ryder displayed and every word she spoke as if he were a student studying for a test. One which would be timed, with the grade scale relating to more than just basic success rate. Coming out with a "90%" might mean you lost "10%" of who you came in with. That would be a fail.
The student analogy persisting, Cyclops did also find this material interesting. Interesting, though largely disconcerting.
Behind his visor, he shifted his eyes towards Ryder at her firm statement of Andrew Becker being hers. That bridge could be crossed when they came to it, and that fell under the part of the plan that would be his to make alone.
Right now, he actually had something else on his mind. "Do you know of anything across Umbra like Cerebro? Something which could connect your mind to technology to the same extent Cerebro allows for standard telepathic connection?
Xavier arrived at his office some minutes after Jean, finding she'd made use of his tea maker; presently setting a cup down for him on his desk.
Xavier made no move towards it however, and did not speak. In fact, he'd paused between the now closed door and the desk, looking lost in the matter that brought them here.
Jean, her own cup of tea in her hand, broke the silence: "I'm sorry. Ever since Umbra something's been off with me. I should've gone to the Disaster Shelter with Hank-" her voice lowered, "I never should've placed myself in a position where any of that could've happened."
Xavier: ". . .perhaps."
Jean regarded him anew, realizing: "That's not what's on your mind."
"Perhaps it should be. Though presently I find myself unable to think of anything other than. . ." A heavy sigh escaped Xavier's lips. He stared at nothing, shaking his head subtly.
Jean waited patiently for him to continue, thinking she knew now what -or rather who- the subject was.
Though Xavier's next words came as a question: "How many children have I helped throughout these years?" He looked her way yet didn't appear to be focusing on her. "Youths who found safe haven, for the first time, within these walls. Who were told nothing was wrong with them, for the first time, by me. . ." His voice grew stronger yet with a slight waver to it, as he came from the past back to the present: "Yet, to my own daughter, I've given only the impression that I desire to fix her."
Jean's answer was thoughtful: "Ryder's only known captivity, with zero meaningful interaction. At least not positive. We can't expect her to recognize our intentions for what they are."
"So am I naive then, to have hoped for certain progress? Some has been made. Only not with me."
"You've spent your life encouraging others to see from your perspective. For a lot of us, that's what we needed. But I don't think you'll get anywhere with Ryder if you don't make your starting point hers." Jean's eyes shifted from Xavier then, as if her words had hit on some breakthrough in her own mind -some thought suddenly coming to her. Though it was gone before she'd had the chance to actually see it, like the flit of a shadow across a blind. What had it been?
Xavier didn't catch this shift. "Ryder's perspective. . .Ryder's mind. . .A vastly foreign land even to someone like myself who has traversed through many. I find myself divided between the feeling I will never have the privilege of seeing it for what it truly is, unguarded, I mean, and the feeling that I never should. . ." He closed his eyes. "Though in either case, likewise, I find myself wanting to. More than any other mind I've had the responsibility of knowing." His eyes opened; seeing the paradox clearly now.
[center][i][sub][h3] [color=slategray]It all never happened ~ but in your mind![/color]
[color=black]It all never happened ~ but in your mind![/color][/h3][/sub][/i][/center]
[center]Aspiring Screenwriter. Imagination whiz jumping between many 🌎s.
Self-taught Pic/🎶 Editor, VFX Coordinator & Mixer.
Independent student of 🎞; ever learning.[/center]
[center][b][i][sub][h3][color=#E5E4E2] 'The Reality Is: X-Men woke something up in me.[/color]
[color=#7393B3]'The Reality Is: X-Men woke something up in me.[/color][/h3][/sub]
[sub][h3][color=#E5E4E2]The Reality Is: It's getting me through.'[/color]
[color=#7393B3]The Reality Is: It's getting me through.'[/color][/h3][/sub][/i][/b][/center]
The comic book world is such a rich sandbox! Perhaps none richer than the [i]X-Men[/i] -mutations to mix, slice-of-life elements to turn into anything but ordinary -the lines are drawn but the colours exceed them [i]~care to embark on the e[i]X[/i]ploration with me?[/i]
[center][i]*cue 🎶X-Men Animated Series theme🎼swelling into Fox Movies theme🎵*[/i][/center]
[hr]
[b][sub][h2][color=red]Interest Checks:[/color]
[color=white]Interest Checks:[/color][/h2][/sub][/b]
[url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/topics/191820-deoxys-a-next-gen-x-men-comic-superhero-rp/ooc][b]DeoXys:[/b] A next gen[i] X-Men[/i]/Comic Superhero RP[/url]
[url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/topics/190866-a-cache-of-x-men-interest-checks/ooc][b]Cache of other[/b] [i]X-Men[/i] concepts.[/url]
[hr]
[hider=Writing Sample 1: from X-Men: GenetiX][i]Jean had been intending to search the facility for rooms unseen when she'd received Xavier's message about the injured guards. She'd changed course, but soon it became apparent someone had already had the mind to go check on them; a direction from Becker, possibly, following the radio disturbance.
Jean had decided then to return to medical to aid with the treatment of the guards when they were brought back. Besides a responsibility towards human life, she wanted to see what other damage the girl had caused and what she might further be able to infer about her from the guards.
Given her medical experience, she also didn't want to be missed. If she was going to go looking for places she wasn't meant to be, she wanted to be sure no one would be looking for her.
Ahead of that, however, Jean saw the director himself back in the hallways. She had tried to speak with him, but his impatience was clear despite his feigned accommodation -he apologized for keeping her in the dark, yet simply had too much to attend to after that mass technology glitch to go into anything more about it now.
If she had spoken with Xavier on the details Becker had divulged to him, which it seemed she had, then that was really all Becker could say at this time.
He'd cited privacy again when Jean expressed wanting at least to know this girl's name.
The guards were back in the building at that point, being taken to the Medical Centre, and Jean had fell in line.
There wasn't anything of operative note from them, either, and as Jean assisted with treating their injuries, she'd reflected on the non-conversation with Becker. Jean preferred not to tap people's minds unpermitted, or without dire cause. There was more variance to this rule when it came to enemies, however, and Becker was giving off a certain vibe....She'd thought she might catch a stray thought. It was clear the safety of anyone who encountered this girl was at risk, and through extension the girl's own safety. They weren't sure what all she had planned -if escaping and existing outside the facility was the extent of it, or if she had something else in mind.
All that took precedence over certain privacy. The girl's and Becker's.
However, Jean had found Becker's mind, your could say, shaded. She was sure with a little more time to concentrate she could see something through it, but that hadn't been afforded. She decided to try again after conducting her search of the facility. Gain an advantage by knowing more than he would expect and more of what he held in his mind.
[hr]
The basement of Umbra Biogenetics had been conveyed as a place for old equipment; an office and research space no longer used since a new wing had been built two years ago; generally a place of no matter.
And that's exactly what Jean Grey had found when she went there now, for the first time.
She may not've found the hidden elevator shaft to the [i]sub-[/i]basement, had it not been for the psychic signature she'd been following. An emanation which grew acutely perceptible from the top of stairs, and stronger with every step down.
Finding the shaft became a game of Hot and Cold, with the voice directing her taking the form of psychic imprints; like a handprint somewhere dust has settled.
The existence of this other basement in and of itself didn't register too strongly to someone who, back home, was used to having a hanger full with one or two aircraft at any given time, a war room, medical room and lab, an amplifier for telepaths, and of course where limitless simulations could exist in a limited-size room, all housed beneath your regular 18th century mansion. But the X-Men were open about it within their own walls. Their elevator opened onto a main floor hallway students may tread down in their day-to-day.
As Jean descended down this shaft, it was like walking into increasingly humid air; a growing weight pressing down on her perception.
When she came upon Ryder's room, it didn't feel like one where someone lived, but where they merely [i]survived[/i]; the affect poignant. The psychic signature here, like no where else, added on an emotional weight. There was nothing more to be gleaned from this space. Jean moved on.
She next came to a research room, where her eyes moved over devices not unlike what were used above, or back at the X-Mansion, yet these ones felt deceptive in their familiarity. Jean flinched as someone with a headache may at a sudden noise.
[b]Then she'd found the audio logs. . . .[/b]
While she listened, it was as though what they detailed came to life for Jean, at least in terms of the sensation she was experiencing; dialing up. But the mind working as it can when a person is concentrating deeply, or determined to finish something, the sensation was swept to the back of her mind until the point where it crashed back to the front, unable to be ignored any longer; the point when you realize you should've been paying attention to what your body was trying to tell you.
She managed to get out of the room, back up the shaft, to the main basement's stairs. Then she had to pause. Crouching down with a hand on the wall.
If the recurring experience before had been like psychic nausea, this was like being drugged.
Any processing her mind had to do happened as though through a warped lens: the psychic signatures hanging in the air like pieces of broken mirror, distorting the room; thoughts from the people above freely entering her head, but coming as though from a malfunctioning radio in an echo chamber. Jean closed her eyes. Even her own thoughts felt disembodied.
Her mind shifted to Scott, her hand -in the psychic space of her mind- clutching the handle to "their door", yet it was as though she couldn't get a hold on herself -couldn't manipulate the handle to gain access.
And there was another...a certain sensation that had grown on her, within her, now feeling like cascading wind chimes drifting further apart. She could feel them still connected, still well, yet their sound was beyond her reach.
Opening her eyes, Jean determinedly stood up.
She had been hesitant to attempt stairs feeling like this, when someone else could be affected by a misstep. But she knew the sensations were all mental; she was capable physically. She just had to concentrate on her body instead of her mind for a few moments; had to get out of here.
Managing once more, Jean drew a breath at the landing; then made a beeline for her quarters.
At some point along the way, she vaguely registered Becker down another hallway -he probably saw her- but there was no way she could make a second attempt at him now.
Locking the door once inside her room, Jean drew more collecting breaths, but had to delay hitting the bed to first place another long-distance telephone call.
That done, she curled up with the distress of all she'd just learned and the disturbance of the lingering sensation:
Her mind feeling like a PC made to process something it didn't have the hardware for, while other applications and programs were open. Its performance so hampered that even everyday tasks were met with a stall; impossible for anything to get done prior to a reboot.
Jean knew she wouldn't be able to communicate with Xavier or Scott until then.[/i]
[hr]
While both bodies experienced the startle reflex, and both heads turned in her direction, the girl hadn't exactly achieved her intended effect.
Alert described Cyclops and Professor Xavier's present state rather than scared. The two sitting watchfully, yet still.
Xavier even answered calmly. [color=#7393B3]"I'm pleased to see you're still lively.[/color]
In truth he knew she shouldn't be exerting herself, but he would follow her lead for the moment.
[color=#7393B3]As for where we came from, that would be a school I run in North America, for gifted young people such as yourself. I have made it my life's work to help those with strong powers out of troubled circumstances. As I once did for my friend here, Scott Summers."[/color] He gestured towards him, thinking it may help this young mutant to know that the two before her had, perhaps, some level of understanding on what she was going through. [color=#7393B3]"He now assists me in the running of the school, and along with a select group of my other grown pupils fights to protect those who require it. My name, is Professor Charles Xavier. Perhaps you could tell us yours?"[/color][/hider]
[hider=Writing Sample 2: from X-Men: GenetiX]Cyclops [i]was[/i] questioning Ryder's choice of destination. Why plan so long to escape Umbra just to return to it? If she wanted to flatten the place, it sounded pretty clear she could've done that already, [i]when[/i] she had initially escaped.
He didn't buy it. Something was up.
Either she was going there for a different reason than she'd stated -something she realized she needed that wasn't tech related; she didn't have remote access to?
Or she wasn't going there at all.
It did occur to him that their mini-X-jet was parked some distance in a clearing of the forest beyond the other side of Umbra. Could she have figured that out and wanted to steal their ride?
His sense of direction remained acute, though the more they travelled the more he lost ground on Ryder. He had the impulse to hurry -- he still had the advantage of size and could take much longer strides than she. But he knew better. Hurrying in this terrain at this time of day would only serve to set him back even more.
That's when he felt the ground shake beneath him, heard a sound like something being ripped from the earth at the same time, then heard the first scream, followed by gunfire.
[color=#0096FF]"What the Hell?!"[/color]
Things became oddly clearer some distance up ahead, and Cyclops registered it was because trees had fallen out of view. [color=#0096FF][i]'Is she uprooting the forest, or...?'[/i][/color] For all he knew this could be another mutant. The worst case scenario was it was an innocent local acting our of fear.
More sounds echoed -- quieter and less directly than if they hadn't been in a forest, but enough that Cyclops had a sense he'd be coming up on some sickening scene -- then came the shriek. It brought his mind back to the parking lot when Ryder had been injured. He was sure she'd just been again. [i]This was not good.[/i]
Cyclops did hurry now -- recovering his footing fast each time he lost it. Pain was swept aside as adrenaline flooded in. He needed to get to the scene before --
He froze. Eyes widening behind his visor as mangled screams replaced by something worse registered through his auditory system.
His basic human instincts said to stay firmly planted where he was, but the rest -his X-Men instincts- took over; charging towards danger being just part of the protocol. Moving on, he practically [i]felt[/i] what he was hearing, as though his body knew what his mind couldn't possibly.
[hr]
[i]Some distance away in two separate places, two others were feeling the carnage as well, though decidedly more viscerally.[/i]
She'd been making her way to them since the failed communication, sensing he needed her, and now, Jean Grey screamed, clutching at her head as she felt multiple minds die horrifically in succession, then at once. She didn't even realize she'd fallen until she made herself open her eyes -- going against her instinct to shut out the world by shutting her eyes; she needed to see the space of the world in front of her which was devoid of decimation. But it was no use.
She registered no pain from the fall -- registered nothing but the concoction brought on by her mutant telepathy and natural empathy.
Xavier had gone back to the roads, planning on influencing a mind just enough to have himself driven back to the facility. He had come across a few vehicles indicating the arrival of more townspeople without any current occupants, when he, too, felt the pain of cerebral death on repeat. [color=#7393B3][i]"AA-AH-AHHH!"[/i][/color] His hands, too, clutching at his head.
Separately, the telepaths fought through the pain as though physically sifting through the bodies to try and locate one in particular.
He couldn't be among them -[i]- he couldn't be.[/i]
[hr]
The townspeople were bold, but not that bold.
If the gruesome sounds coming from the altered forest weren't enough, the insane amount of gunfire certainly was.
They weren't joining this fray.
One, however, perhaps with the panicked thinking of [i]'is it following me?!'[/i], perhaps by sheer accident, or perhaps getting off a calculated shot before turning tail to collect their quarry another day, fired off another of those enhanced net guns.
This one [i]did[/i] ensnare Cyclops, who went down painfully, an unsettling warmth bubbling out in all the places where he'd been shot before by Ryder, indicative of the stitching and packing no longer holding. Only he wasn't registering that just now. He had something else to worry about.
The netting had managed to bind one hand tightly in the very position required for his visor to engage. After a few scarce seconds of blasting apart the earth Cyclops shut his eyes, having to act blind until he could extricate his hand.
[list]
[*]The good news was: he had blasted apart some of the net, as well.
[*]The bad news was: the blasting of the already disturbed earth saw to the felling of another tree.[/list]
It [b][i]CRASHED[/i][/b] down onto another, branches breaking. A thick one [i][b]SLAMMING[/b][/i] into an incline below -- one Cyclops had only minutes before came down in a scarcely controlled skid -- the branch now careening down it.
If that branch had merely rolled from the higher elevation, he could've heard it and blasted it away. As it came with the noise of coniferous impact and breakage, however, he couldn't sort out what he was hearing in time.
Cyclops had managed to stand up.
This was one time he should've stayed down.
A yell was cut off as the air rushed out of his lungs -- the branch had slammed into him -- slammed him back into the thick trunk of another tree, and a series of tell-tale [i][b]CRRRKKKKHH[/b]s[/i] resounded.
The branch fell away and so did he, finding himself in a lethal cycle --body desperate for air, but every breath [i][b]CUT[/b][/i], the pain [i][b]SEARED[/b][/i], breathing felt perversely like the absolute [i][b]WRONG[/b][/i] thing to do --that he would tear his lungs to ribbons if he expanded them against his splintered chest.
But he was so in need.
He lay literally gasping for his life.
His mind clouded over....
[i]And as it would happen, so did the surrounding area.[/i]
Fog permeated the woods so if any foolhardy or militant souls were left, they'd be absolutely blind. The fog was oddly sectional, however, and where bodies lay it was clearer.
Cyclops, no longer blasting, had a vague, visual registration of the scene before his faculties fell further away.
[i]....Jean.
He'd thought of her. He'd seen her....
No. She shouldn't have been there. No where near this.
He felt his lungs fill with a breath he hadn't taken.
They filled gradually, deeply, painfully.
Yet they didn't shred.
Another...
...Familiar lips on his.[/i]
[center]* * * *
[i]Three Weeks Later[/i][/center]
[color=yellow][i]"I [u]still[/u] say, it doesn't matter who she is. That scene in the forest looked like a scene [u]I[/u] would've left. Only [u]worse[/u]. I know how you two feel about this sorta' thing, but you let Xavier put blocks in [u]your[/u] mind when your power was only [u]considered[/u] too dangerous. I mean come on -[u]Scott[/u] was nearly among those in the pile out there."[/i][/color] concluded the gruff voice of Wolverine.
Jean didn't need to be reminded -of the scene or how close she came to losing Scott. Truly his only saving grace might've been that he hadn't been [i]right there[/i] when it all went down; there was no entertaining the idea that Ryder would've discriminated. [color=#DAA06D][i]"That carnage was a [u]reactionary[/u] result,"[/i][/color] Jean pointed out in a quiet, yet authoritative voice, [color=#DAA06D][i]"Ryder felt cornered. Threatened. She's been a lab experiment all her life. If either myself or Charles try anything in her mind, she might react on an instinctive level to the exact result we're trying to avoid."[/i] [/color]
[color=yellow][i]"She's been [u]unconscious[/u]. And the longer we wait the less she's probably gonna' stay that way."[/i][/color]
[color=#DAA06D][i]"We're not [u]waiting[/u], Logan."[/i][/color]
[color=yellow][i]"Right. We've just been having regular round table discussions about how exactly we should act. Same difference."[/i][/color]
[b][color=#4169E1][i]"Not to forget, she may not be quite as unconscious as she's seemed,"[/i][/color][/b] came the reasoning voice of X-Men's most hirsute; The Beast, [b][color=#4169E1][i]"though, as far as we are aware, he has been proceeding without evidential certainty on the matter, Charles has been proceeding on that thought, none-the-less. So far the place hasn't come crashing down around us."[/i][/color][/b]
[color=yellow][i]"[u]So far[/u]. If you ask me, Chuck is too close to this to base anything around. . .At least he's sound enough on the subject to keep her in the Danger Room."[/i][/color]
And so that's where Ryder had been since the X-Men arrived on the unspeakable scene and jetted her, Cyclops, Jean Grey and Xavier back to the Mansion.
The Danger Room, some distance down the basement hallway from the Ready Room where the X-Men were having yet another meeting on the matter of "Ryder Xavier".
Despite Ryder's extensive injuries, she hadn't been housed in the Medical Lab for a moment. It was deemed too risky, especially as Cyclops would be recovering there. Not only was the Danger Room the most fortified of the entire building, being that the X-Men could train at realistic intensity, but the simulation technology it contained could also be utilized -and was- to make the environment appear more welcoming.
The very last thing they wanted was for Ryder to think she had just traded one captive situation for another.
They made the room look like one of the Mansion's bedrooms, complete with a window. That being said, they didn't want the gesture to be misconstrued as some ulterior motive illusion, and so they lowered the realism of the sim so it did appear, more or less, holographic. Ryder would be able to grasp her setting was manufactured, and they would be agreeable to changing it if she didn't appreciate their aesthetic.
They didn't delude [i]themselves[/i] either --knowing full well once she was awake, it likely wouldn't take long for her to get a technic read on the place and be able to adjust the simulation at will. But at least anything she could do with it would be contained within this space. Beyond it, they had removed anything they thought she could use as a weapon, going analog where possible.
A return trip had also been made to Umbra within these past three weeks, with the intent to shut the place down. They were unable to locate Becker, and the only hidden rooms they found were the ones Jean already came across. But they had seen to absorbing the young charges into Xavier's institute, and had recovered some things, including -thanks to Beast's eye for advanced technology- a bit of the material the guards had had which blocked Ryder's powers. Beast had what amounted to an educated idea that's what it could do, anyway, and was currently in the midst of understanding it so he could do something with it himself.
In the meantime, Xavier had been making regular visits to the Danger Room to visit his daughter.
And for at least the past week, he had been making mental visits, too. Even in true coma, a mind was still active where the body wasn't.
He took it slow. Like a new neighbour making themselves known in no greater way than merely being outside, doing things in their own yard. Smiling when they'd catch your eye, but not making an attempt to draw you into conversation.
Today, Xavier decided to knock politely on the door, as for the first time the curtains hadn't been drawn. He had been able to see a few scenes within the mental "house" -Ryder seemingly going over her days at the Mansion so far.
They hadn't consisted of much beyond what care someone in her state would require, which was mostly carried out by Jean both because, despite the odd sensations she'd experienced, they felt she was best suited power-wise to be in such a position -a decision Cyclops couldn't argue, though he felt uneasy about each time Jean went in- and because from what Jean understood from the facility, it never seemed like Ryder was dealt with by anyone but males. They thought Jean would feel like a less hostile presence to her. As well, Jean had her level of empathy gained from the knowledge of Ryder's life.
Her husband's discomfort notwithstanding, Jean took the position willingly and, truth be told, had made similar "visitation attempts" to Xavier's, from a place of wanting to understand this girl. Both her pain, and how she could manage the degree she inflicted on others. That scene in the forest was the very embodiment of blind rage, and Jean wondered how Ryder's mind was processing that; if it even realized. But she had been treading even more carefully than Xavier.
Xavier was cognizant of Jean "stepping" here, like noticing remnants of footprints on the sidewalk. He had to smile at this. Though, he didn't perceive she had gotten as far as he now had.
This apparent fact pleased him all the more.[/hider]
[hider=Writing Sample 3: from Our Mind's Shadowed Hallways]Cool. Reserved.
Scott Summers a.k.a. Cyclops, leader of the X-Men, was often misunderstood as not caring when in fact he cared deeply.
So serious all the time because nothing was a throw-away to him; everything mattered.
Chief among it all, Jean Grey.
[i]The center of his world[/i].
She had seen something past his dour exterior, had been open enough to receive him that he could open up to her; show a side to her few, maybe only she, knew.
[i][b]Had[/b][/i].
[i][b]Knew[/b][/i].
Everything was changed now. All of their history ceasing to exist in Jean's mind,
[i]from a series of seemingly insignificant actions which turned into a majorly significant circumstance.[/i]
Sometimes Scott felt his entire life was defined this way.
[i]Four people climb into a cockpit. Strap in. Take off. . .[/i]
The next thing he knew he was living as a brain damaged, unwanted orphan.
[i]Three kids get into a fight. One never gets up. One can never go back. . .[/i]
Next thing he knew he was a mutant, and [i]that [/i]defined everything about his life going forward.
[i]Was that why. . ?
Two X-Men undertake a mission. Patrol a sector. Cross an invisible line. . .[/i]
Next thing, he was waking up in the Med Bay, his head feeling. . .[i]strange[/i].
And Jean woke up feeling he was a stranger.
She hadn't recognized the X Mansion, yet somehow had vague memories of Charles Xavier, and fractionally remembered the others. Ororo Munroe, Hank McCoy, Logan, etc. somehow she knew them, yet not Storm, The Beast, Wolverine -the X-Men as a whole, her place as one.
Was that why she remembered nothing of Scott Summers? He didn't know who he was if not Cyclops, leader of the X-Men. [i]But with Jean. . .[/i]
Was this proof he wasn't, in fact, anything else?
Taken with everything, that couldn't make sense.
Jean had no memory that she was even a mutant, but it wasn't as simple as saying she lost all memories pertaining to that, if she still recalled everyone else in some way. .
. .[i]none[/i] of them she would've met had she not been a mutant. Scott needed things to make sense, and so little of this did.
What had even happened? The other X-Men had been patrolling other sectors. No one saw.
They had to have been hit by something. . .
A subsequent probe of the area with Cerebro bore no residual signature of another mutant, no device had been located and with the aforementioned absence of signature, no one could've come to dispose of one.
. . .Xavier worked out they had in fact [i]encountered[/i] something, something that existed on a psychic plain- explaining why Jean was affected so drastically and Cyclops, comparatively nil.
So what was it? What was this? Coincidental? [i]Planned?[/i] Scott's money was on the latter, but then who was behind it?
Was this their intended result? [i]Or was there more to the plan he needed to watch out for. . ?[/i]
He sighed as he finished crossing the hallways. It was already taking a toll, what he had to deal with in his head. .
. .[i]that strange sensation growing stronger. [/i]
Which is why Scott now stood outside the presently closed door to Xavier's office.
And the voices he heard inside is why he now stood [i]paused[/i] outside that door.
Underway inside, rather, sounding like it had just concluded, was another of Xavier's psychic therapy sessions with Jean.
So far there'd been no breaththroughs. . .it didn't sound like one was made this time, either.
. . .Scott couldn't help eavesdropping.
He was finding it difficult figuring out how to be around her now. Where to start [i]over[/i].
Scott didn't want to get in Jean's way of remembering "herself". Desperate though he was for her to remember "them", he didn't want her to feel pressured to prioritize that. .
. .Events had a sequence. It wasn't for him to jump the line.
That's what he partially convinced himself of, anyway.
[i]But there was also the matter of. . . . .[/i][/hider]
[hr]
[center][b][i]X-Men Envisionings: one passionate fan's riff on the FOX[/i] X-Men [i]franchise.
Call it a fanfiction, call it what you will, but [u]don't miss out[/u]!![/i][/b][/center]
[center][sub][h2][color=#DAA06D][b]Part 2[/b][/color][color=#0096FF] [i]of 2nd Edition[/i][/color][color=#DAA06D][b] Now Released![/b][/color]
[color=#0096FF][b]Part 3[/b][/color][color=#DAA06D] [i]of 2nd Edition[/i][/color][color=#0096FF][b] Now Released![/b][/color][/h2][/sub]
[b]https://telkjplang.wixsite.com/xmenenvisionings/post/envisionings-1-2nd-edition-part-3[/b]
[sub][h3][color=#DAA06D][i] Back and[/i][/color][color=#DAA06D] [i]better than ever![/i][/color]
[color=#0096FF][i]Back and[/i][/color][color=#0096FF] [i]better than ever![/i][/color][/h3][/sub][/center]
[center][sub][h3][color=#E5E4E2][b][i]Consider becoming an X-Envisioner yourself:[/i][/b][/color]
[color=#7393B3][b][i]Consider becoming an X-Envisioner yourself:[/i][/b][/color][/h3][/sub]
https://telkjplang.wixsite.com/xmenenvisionings/post/seeking-collaborators[/center]
[hr]
[center][b][sub][h3][color=blue]The [i]X-Men[/i] continues to be this e[b]x[/b]cellent odyssey[/color]
[color=yellow] The [i]X-Men[/i] continues to be this e[b]x[/b]cellent odyssey[/color][/h3][/sub]
[sub][h3][color=blue] [i]Where ever it takes me.[/i][/color]
[color=yellow][i]Where ever it takes me.[/i][/color][/h3][/sub][/b][/center]
[center][i][b]X-Men Envisionings[/b], a sector of [/i]
[i][sub][h2][b][color=silver]TechtraColour[/color][/b]
[color=hotpink]Te[/color][color=chartreuse]cht[/color][color=cyan]raC[/color][color=purple]olo[/color][color=hotpink]ur[/color][/h2][/sub][/i]
https://trytrip3.wixsite.com/techtracolour
=================[/center]
<div style="white-space:pre-wrap;"><div class="bb-center"><span class="bb-i"><sub><div class="bb-h3"><font color="slategray">It all never happened ~ but in your mind!</font><br><font color="black">It all never happened ~ but in your mind!</font></div></sub></span></div><br><div class="bb-center">Aspiring Screenwriter. Imagination whiz jumping between many 🌎s. <br>Self-taught Pic/🎶 Editor, VFX Coordinator & Mixer. <br>Independent student of 🎞; ever learning.</div><br><br><div class="bb-center"><span class="bb-b"><span class="bb-i"><sub><div class="bb-h3"><font color="#e5e4e2"> 'The Reality Is: X-Men woke something up in me.</font><br><font color="#7393b3">'The Reality Is: X-Men woke something up in me.</font></div></sub><br><sub><div class="bb-h3"><font color="#e5e4e2">The Reality Is: It's getting me through.'</font><br> <font color="#7393b3">The Reality Is: It's getting me through.'</font></div></sub></span></span></div><br><br>The comic book world is such a rich sandbox! Perhaps none richer than the <span class="bb-i">X-Men</span> -mutations to mix, slice-of-life elements to turn into anything but ordinary -the lines are drawn but the colours exceed them <span class="bb-i">~care to embark on the e<span class="bb-i">X</span>ploration with me?</span><br><br><div class="bb-center"><span class="bb-i">*cue 🎶X-Men Animated Series theme🎼swelling into Fox Movies theme🎵*</span></div><br><br><hr class="bb-hr"><br><span class="bb-b"><sub><div class="bb-h2"><font color="red">Interest Checks:</font><br> <font color="white">Interest Checks:</font></div></sub></span><br><a href="https://www.roleplayerguild.com/topics/191820-deoxys-a-next-gen-x-men-comic-superhero-rp/ooc"><span class="bb-b">DeoXys:</span> A next gen<span class="bb-i"> X-Men</span>/Comic Superhero RP</a><br><br><a href="https://www.roleplayerguild.com/topics/190866-a-cache-of-x-men-interest-checks/ooc"><span class="bb-b">Cache of other</span> <span class="bb-i">X-Men</span> concepts.</a><br><br><hr class="bb-hr"><br><div class="hider-panel"><div class="hider-heading"><button type="button" class="btn btn-default btn-xs hider-button" data-name="Writing Sample 1: from X-Men: GenetiX">Writing Sample 1: from X-Men: GenetiX [+]</button></div><div class="hider-body" style="display: none"><span class="bb-i">Jean had been intending to search the facility for rooms unseen when she'd received Xavier's message about the injured guards. She'd changed course, but soon it became apparent someone had already had the mind to go check on them; a direction from Becker, possibly, following the radio disturbance.<br><br>Jean had decided then to return to medical to aid with the treatment of the guards when they were brought back. Besides a responsibility towards human life, she wanted to see what other damage the girl had caused and what she might further be able to infer about her from the guards. <br><br>Given her medical experience, she also didn't want to be missed. If she was going to go looking for places she wasn't meant to be, she wanted to be sure no one would be looking for her.<br><br>Ahead of that, however, Jean saw the director himself back in the hallways. She had tried to speak with him, but his impatience was clear despite his feigned accommodation -he apologized for keeping her in the dark, yet simply had too much to attend to after that mass technology glitch to go into anything more about it now. <br>If she had spoken with Xavier on the details Becker had divulged to him, which it seemed she had, then that was really all Becker could say at this time.<br><br>He'd cited privacy again when Jean expressed wanting at least to know this girl's name.<br><br>The guards were back in the building at that point, being taken to the Medical Centre, and Jean had fell in line.<br><br>There wasn't anything of operative note from them, either, and as Jean assisted with treating their injuries, she'd reflected on the non-conversation with Becker. Jean preferred not to tap people's minds unpermitted, or without dire cause. There was more variance to this rule when it came to enemies, however, and Becker was giving off a certain vibe....She'd thought she might catch a stray thought. It was clear the safety of anyone who encountered this girl was at risk, and through extension the girl's own safety. They weren't sure what all she had planned -if escaping and existing outside the facility was the extent of it, or if she had something else in mind.<br><br>All that took precedence over certain privacy. The girl's and Becker's.<br>However, Jean had found Becker's mind, your could say, shaded. She was sure with a little more time to concentrate she could see something through it, but that hadn't been afforded. She decided to try again after conducting her search of the facility. Gain an advantage by knowing more than he would expect and more of what he held in his mind.<br><br><hr class="bb-hr"><br>The basement of Umbra Biogenetics had been conveyed as a place for old equipment; an office and research space no longer used since a new wing had been built two years ago; generally a place of no matter.<br><br>And that's exactly what Jean Grey had found when she went there now, for the first time. <br><br>She may not've found the hidden elevator shaft to the <span class="bb-i">sub-</span>basement, had it not been for the psychic signature she'd been following. An emanation which grew acutely perceptible from the top of stairs, and stronger with every step down.<br><br>Finding the shaft became a game of Hot and Cold, with the voice directing her taking the form of psychic imprints; like a handprint somewhere dust has settled.<br><br>The existence of this other basement in and of itself didn't register too strongly to someone who, back home, was used to having a hanger full with one or two aircraft at any given time, a war room, medical room and lab, an amplifier for telepaths, and of course where limitless simulations could exist in a limited-size room, all housed beneath your regular 18th century mansion. But the X-Men were open about it within their own walls. Their elevator opened onto a main floor hallway students may tread down in their day-to-day.<br><br>As Jean descended down this shaft, it was like walking into increasingly humid air; a growing weight pressing down on her perception.<br><br>When she came upon Ryder's room, it didn't feel like one where someone lived, but where they merely <span class="bb-i">survived</span>; the affect poignant. The psychic signature here, like no where else, added on an emotional weight. There was nothing more to be gleaned from this space. Jean moved on.<br><br>She next came to a research room, where her eyes moved over devices not unlike what were used above, or back at the X-Mansion, yet these ones felt deceptive in their familiarity. Jean flinched as someone with a headache may at a sudden noise. <br><br><span class="bb-b">Then she'd found the audio logs. . . .</span><br><br>While she listened, it was as though what they detailed came to life for Jean, at least in terms of the sensation she was experiencing; dialing up. But the mind working as it can when a person is concentrating deeply, or determined to finish something, the sensation was swept to the back of her mind until the point where it crashed back to the front, unable to be ignored any longer; the point when you realize you should've been paying attention to what your body was trying to tell you.<br><br>She managed to get out of the room, back up the shaft, to the main basement's stairs. Then she had to pause. Crouching down with a hand on the wall. <br><br>If the recurring experience before had been like psychic nausea, this was like being drugged. <br>Any processing her mind had to do happened as though through a warped lens: the psychic signatures hanging in the air like pieces of broken mirror, distorting the room; thoughts from the people above freely entering her head, but coming as though from a malfunctioning radio in an echo chamber. Jean closed her eyes. Even her own thoughts felt disembodied.<br><br>Her mind shifted to Scott, her hand -in the psychic space of her mind- clutching the handle to "their door", yet it was as though she couldn't get a hold on herself -couldn't manipulate the handle to gain access.<br><br>And there was another...a certain sensation that had grown on her, within her, now feeling like cascading wind chimes drifting further apart. She could feel them still connected, still well, yet their sound was beyond her reach.<br><br>Opening her eyes, Jean determinedly stood up.<br><br>She had been hesitant to attempt stairs feeling like this, when someone else could be affected by a misstep. But she knew the sensations were all mental; she was capable physically. She just had to concentrate on her body instead of her mind for a few moments; had to get out of here.<br><br>Managing once more, Jean drew a breath at the landing; then made a beeline for her quarters.<br><br>At some point along the way, she vaguely registered Becker down another hallway -he probably saw her- but there was no way she could make a second attempt at him now. <br><br>Locking the door once inside her room, Jean drew more collecting breaths, but had to delay hitting the bed to first place another long-distance telephone call. <br><br>That done, she curled up with the distress of all she'd just learned and the disturbance of the lingering sensation:<br>Her mind feeling like a PC made to process something it didn't have the hardware for, while other applications and programs were open. Its performance so hampered that even everyday tasks were met with a stall; impossible for anything to get done prior to a reboot.<br><br>Jean knew she wouldn't be able to communicate with Xavier or Scott until then.</span><br><br><hr class="bb-hr"><br>While both bodies experienced the startle reflex, and both heads turned in her direction, the girl hadn't exactly achieved her intended effect. <br>Alert described Cyclops and Professor Xavier's present state rather than scared. The two sitting watchfully, yet still.<br><br>Xavier even answered calmly. <font color="#7393b3">"I'm pleased to see you're still lively.</font> <br>In truth he knew she shouldn't be exerting herself, but he would follow her lead for the moment. <br><font color="#7393b3">As for where we came from, that would be a school I run in North America, for gifted young people such as yourself. I have made it my life's work to help those with strong powers out of troubled circumstances. As I once did for my friend here, Scott Summers."</font> He gestured towards him, thinking it may help this young mutant to know that the two before her had, perhaps, some level of understanding on what she was going through. <font color="#7393b3">"He now assists me in the running of the school, and along with a select group of my other grown pupils fights to protect those who require it. My name, is Professor Charles Xavier. Perhaps you could tell us yours?"</font></div></div><br><div class="hider-panel"><div class="hider-heading"><button type="button" class="btn btn-default btn-xs hider-button" data-name="Writing Sample 2: from X-Men: GenetiX">Writing Sample 2: from X-Men: GenetiX [+]</button></div><div class="hider-body" style="display: none">Cyclops <span class="bb-i">was</span> questioning Ryder's choice of destination. Why plan so long to escape Umbra just to return to it? If she wanted to flatten the place, it sounded pretty clear she could've done that already, <span class="bb-i">when</span> she had initially escaped. <br><br>He didn't buy it. Something was up.<br>Either she was going there for a different reason than she'd stated -something she realized she needed that wasn't tech related; she didn't have remote access to? <br>Or she wasn't going there at all.<br><br>It did occur to him that their mini-X-jet was parked some distance in a clearing of the forest beyond the other side of Umbra. Could she have figured that out and wanted to steal their ride? <br><br>His sense of direction remained acute, though the more they travelled the more he lost ground on Ryder. He had the impulse to hurry -- he still had the advantage of size and could take much longer strides than she. But he knew better. Hurrying in this terrain at this time of day would only serve to set him back even more.<br><br>That's when he felt the ground shake beneath him, heard a sound like something being ripped from the earth at the same time, then heard the first scream, followed by gunfire. <br><br><font color="#0096ff">"What the Hell?!"</font><br><br>Things became oddly clearer some distance up ahead, and Cyclops registered it was because trees had fallen out of view. <font color="#0096ff"><span class="bb-i">'Is she uprooting the forest, or...?'</span></font> For all he knew this could be another mutant. The worst case scenario was it was an innocent local acting our of fear. <br><br>More sounds echoed -- quieter and less directly than if they hadn't been in a forest, but enough that Cyclops had a sense he'd be coming up on some sickening scene -- then came the shriek. It brought his mind back to the parking lot when Ryder had been injured. He was sure she'd just been again. <span class="bb-i">This was not good.</span><br><br>Cyclops did hurry now -- recovering his footing fast each time he lost it. Pain was swept aside as adrenaline flooded in. He needed to get to the scene before -- <br>He froze. Eyes widening behind his visor as mangled screams replaced by something worse registered through his auditory system.<br><br>His basic human instincts said to stay firmly planted where he was, but the rest -his X-Men instincts- took over; charging towards danger being just part of the protocol. Moving on, he practically <span class="bb-i">felt</span> what he was hearing, as though his body knew what his mind couldn't possibly.<br><hr class="bb-hr"><br><span class="bb-i">Some distance away in two separate places, two others were feeling the carnage as well, though decidedly more viscerally.</span><br><br>She'd been making her way to them since the failed communication, sensing he needed her, and now, Jean Grey screamed, clutching at her head as she felt multiple minds die horrifically in succession, then at once. She didn't even realize she'd fallen until she made herself open her eyes -- going against her instinct to shut out the world by shutting her eyes; she needed to see the space of the world in front of her which was devoid of decimation. But it was no use. <br><br>She registered no pain from the fall -- registered nothing but the concoction brought on by her mutant telepathy and natural empathy.<br><br>Xavier had gone back to the roads, planning on influencing a mind just enough to have himself driven back to the facility. He had come across a few vehicles indicating the arrival of more townspeople without any current occupants, when he, too, felt the pain of cerebral death on repeat. <font color="#7393b3"><span class="bb-i">"AA-AH-AHHH!"</span></font> His hands, too, clutching at his head.<br><br>Separately, the telepaths fought through the pain as though physically sifting through the bodies to try and locate one in particular.<br><br>He couldn't be among them -<span class="bb-i">- he couldn't be.</span><br><hr class="bb-hr"><br>The townspeople were bold, but not that bold.<br>If the gruesome sounds coming from the altered forest weren't enough, the insane amount of gunfire certainly was. <br><br>They weren't joining this fray.<br><br>One, however, perhaps with the panicked thinking of <span class="bb-i">'is it following me?!'</span>, perhaps by sheer accident, or perhaps getting off a calculated shot before turning tail to collect their quarry another day, fired off another of those enhanced net guns.<br><br>This one <span class="bb-i">did</span> ensnare Cyclops, who went down painfully, an unsettling warmth bubbling out in all the places where he'd been shot before by Ryder, indicative of the stitching and packing no longer holding. Only he wasn't registering that just now. He had something else to worry about.<br><br>The netting had managed to bind one hand tightly in the very position required for his visor to engage. After a few scarce seconds of blasting apart the earth Cyclops shut his eyes, having to act blind until he could extricate his hand. <br><br><ul class="bb-list" style="white-space: normal;"><li>The good news was: he had blasted apart some of the net, as well.</li><li>The bad news was: the blasting of the already disturbed earth saw to the felling of another tree.</li></ul><br><br>It <span class="bb-b"><span class="bb-i">CRASHED</span></span> down onto another, branches breaking. A thick one <span class="bb-i"><span class="bb-b">SLAMMING</span></span> into an incline below -- one Cyclops had only minutes before came down in a scarcely controlled skid -- the branch now careening down it.<br><br>If that branch had merely rolled from the higher elevation, he could've heard it and blasted it away. As it came with the noise of coniferous impact and breakage, however, he couldn't sort out what he was hearing in time.<br><br>Cyclops had managed to stand up.<br>This was one time he should've stayed down.<br><br>A yell was cut off as the air rushed out of his lungs -- the branch had slammed into him -- slammed him back into the thick trunk of another tree, and a series of tell-tale <span class="bb-i"><span class="bb-b">CRRRKKKKHH</span>s</span> resounded.<br><br>The branch fell away and so did he, finding himself in a lethal cycle --body desperate for air, but every breath <span class="bb-i"><span class="bb-b">CUT</span></span>, the pain <span class="bb-i"><span class="bb-b">SEARED</span></span>, breathing felt perversely like the absolute <span class="bb-i"><span class="bb-b">WRONG</span></span> thing to do --that he would tear his lungs to ribbons if he expanded them against his splintered chest.<br><br>But he was so in need.<br><br>He lay literally gasping for his life.<br><br>His mind clouded over....<br><br><span class="bb-i">And as it would happen, so did the surrounding area.</span><br><br>Fog permeated the woods so if any foolhardy or militant souls were left, they'd be absolutely blind. The fog was oddly sectional, however, and where bodies lay it was clearer.<br><br>Cyclops, no longer blasting, had a vague, visual registration of the scene before his faculties fell further away.<br><br><span class="bb-i">....Jean.<br>He'd thought of her. He'd seen her....<br>No. She shouldn't have been there. No where near this.<br>He felt his lungs fill with a breath he hadn't taken.<br>They filled gradually, deeply, painfully. <br>Yet they didn't shred.<br>Another...<br>...Familiar lips on his.</span><br><br><div class="bb-center">* * * *<br><span class="bb-i">Three Weeks Later</span></div><br><br><font color="yellow"><span class="bb-i">"I <span class="bb-u">still</span> say, it doesn't matter who she is. That scene in the forest looked like a scene <span class="bb-u">I</span> would've left. Only <span class="bb-u">worse</span>. I know how you two feel about this sorta' thing, but you let Xavier put blocks in <span class="bb-u">your</span> mind when your power was only <span class="bb-u">considered</span> too dangerous. I mean come on -<span class="bb-u">Scott</span> was nearly among those in the pile out there."</span></font> concluded the gruff voice of Wolverine.<br><br>Jean didn't need to be reminded -of the scene or how close she came to losing Scott. Truly his only saving grace might've been that he hadn't been <span class="bb-i">right there</span> when it all went down; there was no entertaining the idea that Ryder would've discriminated. <font color="#daa06d"><span class="bb-i">"That carnage was a <span class="bb-u">reactionary</span> result,"</span></font> Jean pointed out in a quiet, yet authoritative voice, <font color="#daa06d"><span class="bb-i">"Ryder felt cornered. Threatened. She's been a lab experiment all her life. If either myself or Charles try anything in her mind, she might react on an instinctive level to the exact result we're trying to avoid."</span> </font><br><br><font color="yellow"><span class="bb-i">"She's been <span class="bb-u">unconscious</span>. And the longer we wait the less she's probably gonna' stay that way."</span></font><br><br><font color="#daa06d"><span class="bb-i">"We're not <span class="bb-u">waiting</span>, Logan."</span></font><br><br><font color="yellow"><span class="bb-i">"Right. We've just been having regular round table discussions about how exactly we should act. Same difference."</span></font><br><br><span class="bb-b"><font color="#4169e1"><span class="bb-i">"Not to forget, she may not be quite as unconscious as she's seemed,"</span></font></span> came the reasoning voice of X-Men's most hirsute; The Beast, <span class="bb-b"><font color="#4169e1"><span class="bb-i">"though, as far as we are aware, he has been proceeding without evidential certainty on the matter, Charles has been proceeding on that thought, none-the-less. So far the place hasn't come crashing down around us."</span></font></span><br><br><font color="yellow"><span class="bb-i">"<span class="bb-u">So far</span>. If you ask me, Chuck is too close to this to base anything around. . .At least he's sound enough on the subject to keep her in the Danger Room."</span></font><br><br>And so that's where Ryder had been since the X-Men arrived on the unspeakable scene and jetted her, Cyclops, Jean Grey and Xavier back to the Mansion. <br>The Danger Room, some distance down the basement hallway from the Ready Room where the X-Men were having yet another meeting on the matter of "Ryder Xavier".<br><br>Despite Ryder's extensive injuries, she hadn't been housed in the Medical Lab for a moment. It was deemed too risky, especially as Cyclops would be recovering there. Not only was the Danger Room the most fortified of the entire building, being that the X-Men could train at realistic intensity, but the simulation technology it contained could also be utilized -and was- to make the environment appear more welcoming.<br><br>The very last thing they wanted was for Ryder to think she had just traded one captive situation for another.<br><br>They made the room look like one of the Mansion's bedrooms, complete with a window. That being said, they didn't want the gesture to be misconstrued as some ulterior motive illusion, and so they lowered the realism of the sim so it did appear, more or less, holographic. Ryder would be able to grasp her setting was manufactured, and they would be agreeable to changing it if she didn't appreciate their aesthetic. <br><br>They didn't delude <span class="bb-i">themselves</span> either --knowing full well once she was awake, it likely wouldn't take long for her to get a technic read on the place and be able to adjust the simulation at will. But at least anything she could do with it would be contained within this space. Beyond it, they had removed anything they thought she could use as a weapon, going analog where possible. <br><br>A return trip had also been made to Umbra within these past three weeks, with the intent to shut the place down. They were unable to locate Becker, and the only hidden rooms they found were the ones Jean already came across. But they had seen to absorbing the young charges into Xavier's institute, and had recovered some things, including -thanks to Beast's eye for advanced technology- a bit of the material the guards had had which blocked Ryder's powers. Beast had what amounted to an educated idea that's what it could do, anyway, and was currently in the midst of understanding it so he could do something with it himself.<br><br>In the meantime, Xavier had been making regular visits to the Danger Room to visit his daughter.<br>And for at least the past week, he had been making mental visits, too. Even in true coma, a mind was still active where the body wasn't.<br><br>He took it slow. Like a new neighbour making themselves known in no greater way than merely being outside, doing things in their own yard. Smiling when they'd catch your eye, but not making an attempt to draw you into conversation. <br><br>Today, Xavier decided to knock politely on the door, as for the first time the curtains hadn't been drawn. He had been able to see a few scenes within the mental "house" -Ryder seemingly going over her days at the Mansion so far.<br><br>They hadn't consisted of much beyond what care someone in her state would require, which was mostly carried out by Jean both because, despite the odd sensations she'd experienced, they felt she was best suited power-wise to be in such a position -a decision Cyclops couldn't argue, though he felt uneasy about each time Jean went in- and because from what Jean understood from the facility, it never seemed like Ryder was dealt with by anyone but males. They thought Jean would feel like a less hostile presence to her. As well, Jean had her level of empathy gained from the knowledge of Ryder's life.<br><br>Her husband's discomfort notwithstanding, Jean took the position willingly and, truth be told, had made similar "visitation attempts" to Xavier's, from a place of wanting to understand this girl. Both her pain, and how she could manage the degree she inflicted on others. That scene in the forest was the very embodiment of blind rage, and Jean wondered how Ryder's mind was processing that; if it even realized. But she had been treading even more carefully than Xavier.<br><br>Xavier was cognizant of Jean "stepping" here, like noticing remnants of footprints on the sidewalk. He had to smile at this. Though, he didn't perceive she had gotten as far as he now had. <br><br>This apparent fact pleased him all the more.</div></div><br><div class="hider-panel"><div class="hider-heading"><button type="button" class="btn btn-default btn-xs hider-button" data-name="Writing Sample 3: from Our Mind's Shadowed Hallways">Writing Sample 3: from Our Mind's Shadowed Hallways [+]</button></div><div class="hider-body" style="display: none">Cool. Reserved.<br><br>Scott Summers a.k.a. Cyclops, leader of the X-Men, was often misunderstood as not caring when in fact he cared deeply. <br>So serious all the time because nothing was a throw-away to him; everything mattered. <br><br>Chief among it all, Jean Grey.<br><span class="bb-i">The center of his world</span>.<br><br>She had seen something past his dour exterior, had been open enough to receive him that he could open up to her; show a side to her few, maybe only she, knew.<br><br><span class="bb-i"><span class="bb-b">Had</span></span>.<br><span class="bb-i"><span class="bb-b">Knew</span></span>.<br><br>Everything was changed now. All of their history ceasing to exist in Jean's mind,<br><span class="bb-i">from a series of seemingly insignificant actions which turned into a majorly significant circumstance.</span><br><br>Sometimes Scott felt his entire life was defined this way.<br><br><span class="bb-i">Four people climb into a cockpit. Strap in. Take off. . .</span><br>The next thing he knew he was living as a brain damaged, unwanted orphan.<br><br><span class="bb-i">Three kids get into a fight. One never gets up. One can never go back. . .</span><br>Next thing he knew he was a mutant, and <span class="bb-i">that </span>defined everything about his life going forward.<br><br><span class="bb-i">Was that why. . ?<br><br>Two X-Men undertake a mission. Patrol a sector. Cross an invisible line. . .</span><br>Next thing, he was waking up in the Med Bay, his head feeling. . .<span class="bb-i">strange</span>.<br><br>And Jean woke up feeling he was a stranger.<br><br>She hadn't recognized the X Mansion, yet somehow had vague memories of Charles Xavier, and fractionally remembered the others. Ororo Munroe, Hank McCoy, Logan, etc. somehow she knew them, yet not Storm, The Beast, Wolverine -the X-Men as a whole, her place as one. <br><br>Was that why she remembered nothing of Scott Summers? He didn't know who he was if not Cyclops, leader of the X-Men. <span class="bb-i">But with Jean. . .</span><br>Was this proof he wasn't, in fact, anything else?<br><br>Taken with everything, that couldn't make sense.<br><br>Jean had no memory that she was even a mutant, but it wasn't as simple as saying she lost all memories pertaining to that, if she still recalled everyone else in some way. . <br>. .<span class="bb-i">none</span> of them she would've met had she not been a mutant. Scott needed things to make sense, and so little of this did.<br><br>What had even happened? The other X-Men had been patrolling other sectors. No one saw.<br><br>They had to have been hit by something. . .<br><br>A subsequent probe of the area with Cerebro bore no residual signature of another mutant, no device had been located and with the aforementioned absence of signature, no one could've come to dispose of one.<br><br>. . .Xavier worked out they had in fact <span class="bb-i">encountered</span> something, something that existed on a psychic plain- explaining why Jean was affected so drastically and Cyclops, comparatively nil. <br><br>So what was it? What was this? Coincidental? <span class="bb-i">Planned?</span> Scott's money was on the latter, but then who was behind it? <br>Was this their intended result? <span class="bb-i">Or was there more to the plan he needed to watch out for. . ?</span><br><br>He sighed as he finished crossing the hallways. It was already taking a toll, what he had to deal with in his head. . <br>. .<span class="bb-i">that strange sensation growing stronger. </span><br><br>Which is why Scott now stood outside the presently closed door to Xavier's office.<br>And the voices he heard inside is why he now stood <span class="bb-i">paused</span> outside that door.<br><br>Underway inside, rather, sounding like it had just concluded, was another of Xavier's psychic therapy sessions with Jean. <br>So far there'd been no breaththroughs. . .it didn't sound like one was made this time, either.<br><br>. . .Scott couldn't help eavesdropping.<br><br>He was finding it difficult figuring out how to be around her now. Where to start <span class="bb-i">over</span>.<br>Scott didn't want to get in Jean's way of remembering "herself". Desperate though he was for her to remember "them", he didn't want her to feel pressured to prioritize that. . <br>. .Events had a sequence. It wasn't for him to jump the line.<br><br>That's what he partially convinced himself of, anyway.<br><span class="bb-i">But there was also the matter of. . . . .</span></div></div><br><hr class="bb-hr"><br><br><div class="bb-center"><span class="bb-b"><span class="bb-i">X-Men Envisionings: one passionate fan's riff on the FOX</span> X-Men <span class="bb-i">franchise.<br>Call it a fanfiction, call it what you will, but <span class="bb-u">don't miss out</span>!!</span></span></div><br><br><div class="bb-center"><sub><div class="bb-h2"><font color="#daa06d"><span class="bb-b">Part 2</span></font><font color="#0096ff"> <span class="bb-i">of 2nd Edition</span></font><font color="#daa06d"><span class="bb-b"> Now Released!</span></font><br> <font color="#0096ff"><span class="bb-b">Part 3</span></font><font color="#daa06d"> <span class="bb-i">of 2nd Edition</span></font><font color="#0096ff"><span class="bb-b"> Now Released!</span></font></div></sub><br><span class="bb-b"><a href="https://telkjplang.wixsite.com/xmenenvisionings/post/envisionings-1-2nd-edition-part-3" title="https://telkjplang.wixsite.com/xmenenvisionings/post/envisionings-1-2nd-edition-part-3" rel="nofollow noopener" target="_blank">telkjplang.wixsite.com/xmenenvisionin…</a></span><br><sub><div class="bb-h3"><font color="#daa06d"><span class="bb-i"> Back and</span></font><font color="#daa06d"> <span class="bb-i">better than ever!</span></font><br><font color="#0096ff"><span class="bb-i">Back and</span></font><font color="#0096ff"> <span class="bb-i">better than ever!</span></font></div></sub></div><br><br><div class="bb-center"><sub><div class="bb-h3"><font color="#e5e4e2"><span class="bb-b"><span class="bb-i">Consider becoming an X-Envisioner yourself:</span></span></font><br> <font color="#7393b3"><span class="bb-b"><span class="bb-i">Consider becoming an X-Envisioner yourself:</span></span></font></div></sub><br><a href="https://telkjplang.wixsite.com/xmenenvisionings/post/seeking-collaborators" title="https://telkjplang.wixsite.com/xmenenvisionings/post/seeking-collaborators" rel="nofollow noopener" target="_blank">telkjplang.wixsite.com/xmenenvisionin…</a></div><br><br><hr class="bb-hr"><br><div class="bb-center"><span class="bb-b"><sub><div class="bb-h3"><font color="blue">The <span class="bb-i">X-Men</span> continues to be this e<span class="bb-b">x</span>cellent odyssey</font><br><font color="yellow"> The <span class="bb-i">X-Men</span> continues to be this e<span class="bb-b">x</span>cellent odyssey</font></div></sub><br><sub><div class="bb-h3"><font color="blue"> <span class="bb-i">Where ever it takes me.</span></font><br><font color="yellow"><span class="bb-i">Where ever it takes me.</span></font></div></sub></span></div><br><br><div class="bb-center"><span class="bb-i"><span class="bb-b">X-Men Envisionings</span>, a sector of </span><br><span class="bb-i"><sub><div class="bb-h2"><span class="bb-b"><font color="silver">TechtraColour</font></span><br> <font color="hotpink">Te</font><font color="chartreuse">cht</font><font color="cyan">raC</font><font color="purple">olo</font><font color="hotpink">ur</font></div></sub></span><br><a href="https://trytrip3.wixsite.com/techtracolour" rel="nofollow noopener" target="_blank">trytrip3.wixsite.com/techtracolour</a> <br><br>=================</div><br><br></div>
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