Scarlet Starlight | By : DarthMeow504 Category: zMisplaced Stories [ADMIN use only] > Spiderman Views: 35790 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 3 |
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[Author's Note: In this continuity, House of M didn't happen and thus when the Superhuman Registration Act was passed there was a mutant population in the US that didn't take too kindly to it. Warning, this gets quite dark towards the end. X-Men characters are copyright Marvel Comics.]
Interlogue 2: Fire and Ice
The first time Jean Grey had died and been reborn, it was as the Phoenix. It had been appropriate, then, that this last time had been back to herself without the entity within her. Or at least mostly... there was a small spark of it within her still, there always would be, but it was only that. The Phoenix itself had taken her template once more, again wishing to experience life through an individual form, and hers was one it knew well. This time though, it didn't remain on earth but instead took to the stars, seeking to explore the cosmos. It got the chance to do just that by becoming a Herald of Galactus, and even now it flew the spaceways under the World Devourer. The fact that the Phoenix was an entity on par with great Galactus himself, and thus was able to be more to him than simply a Herald, was not lost on Jean. She wished them well.
Since her return, Jean had taken the name of an old, departed friend with the permission of his widow and was now the Guardian. Her new powers were much like her old ones had been, mostly telekinesis with only a little telepathy. Still, she was stronger than before, and had learned to project her telekinetic field around her body as a form of psychic exoskeleton, both armoring her and granting her the effective strength to stand toe to toe with the strongest supermen on earth. And unlike them, she could project that strength and protection over a distance, and fly and levitate herself as well, making her an ideal fit for the "strongman / brick" role on any team. Her residual telepathy worked best as a form of warning sense that kept her abreast of incoming attacks, able to know when and where to defend to most effectively shield her teammates and also when and where to best counterattack, and served to make her quite useful to have around in a fight. In uniform, she wore much what she had as the Dark Phoenix, the red and gold color scheme suiting her well. The main difference was that the phoenix emblem on her chest had been encased in a shield, making it akin to a heraldic symbol she wore rather than a direct expression of identity. It fit her.
And so it was that she was surprised to find herself floating in astral form in low earth orbit, sheathed in Phoenix flame. Above her, the sky was red and bled through with millions of red stars, and below the bright white lights of human habitation --no, she realized, she was seeing human minds-- were specked with slowly spreading spots of red light. She had no idea what it meant, but she knew that she was dreaming but this was also real. She realized that by altering her focus, she could zoom in on them, and those she knew especially by thinking about them. Thus, she was able to look in on both friends and enemies both and be reasonably sure that what she was seeing reflected reality. She wasn't sure why or how she'd been given this ability, but she felt it wouldn't last past her waking and was loathe to waste the opportunity.
And thus, she first went to those she was closest to in the world, the group of former X-Men led by Storm and Kat Pryde. They'd worked with Magneto during the war that had erupted in the wake of the Registration Act. Magneto had pegged it as the precursor to a roundup of mutants akin to that of the Jews he had experienced in Nazi Germany, and Storm and others of their group had reluctantly agreed with his assessment. Storm, Psylocke, and a few others had worked directly with Magneto as a strategic strike force against pro-Registration forces while Kat along with others mostly including former New Mutants used the Blackbird to run an underground railroad that smuggled mutants and other threatened superhumans to safe asylum out of the country. Together, and with Jean's blessing, they had used the name X-Factor. That had ended in the ashes of the event called World War Hulk, when Magneto had publicly appeared to sacrifice his life taking down the force shield that sealed in Manhattan and prevented help from getting in. That he lived on in the empty shell of his daughter Lorna Dane, the green haired mutant Polaris, was not something anyone needed to know especially as his sacrifice had led to such an uptick in mutant-human relations and helped form the impetus for the softening of the Registration Act that had allowed it to become a force for positive organization of the superhuman community without the draconian elements that had so tainted the first incarnation of the law.
Since the end of the war, the group had returned to the underground heroism role that had marked most of their existence under Storm's leadership, and continued to provide safe haven for persecuted mutants and to strike against both mutant threats and threats against mutants. After all, Magneto reasoned, the better they police their own the less excuse the humans would have to police them. On the other hand, it was just as important to forcefully oppose anti-mutant forces and strike fear into those who would harm the innocent merely over the status of their birth. It was a dual role Storm knew well, as was an underground existence. Most of Storm's tenure as leader of the X-Men had been under similar or worse circumstances, doing much the same as they were now, and so this was nothing new for her or for those who still followed her. She'd even returned to the leather-and-mohawk look she'd worn during the time they were underground before, so this was in many ways like old times come again.
As Jean zeroed in on them, she saw mostly what she expected to see, and was pleased to know they were doing well. A purple psychic glow from one room intersprsed by virtual flashes of lightning told her that Storm and Psylocke were making love, and she smiled softly and passed that room by, resisting the urge to peek in on them and enjoy the surely beautiful erotic display. In another part of the base, Magneto (in Lorna's body but wearing a version of his old outfit) was going over status reports and discussing strategy with Sage, his advisor. In this role, they functioned much like Xavier had for the older incarnations of X-Men, they gathered information and made strategic decisions and gave the resulting missions to the field team led by Storm. Unlike those older X-Men teams, though, Storm held veto power and choice of what missions she and her team would and would not carry out, and reserved the right to choose her own missions as well. She valued the pair's strategic input, and frequently went with their assignments, but she wouldn't ever simply accept their orders without question. In the end, the power to take or leave or modify any mission was hers. Storm refused to operate any other way. Jean wholeheartedly approved.
Moving on, she found Kat and Illyana engaged in of all things a religious discussion bordering on argument with of all people Ben Grimm, the Thing of Fantastic Four fame. Concernedly, she listened in for a time to make sure things were under control, and she was pleased to hear Kat's impassioned arguments for religous freedom and Illyana's love and protectiveness over her. If anyone was in danger it was Grimm, not the two young women, and Illyana was seeming to restrain herself for Kat's sake alone as she simmered in anger. When Rachel, the alternate future daughter of Jean and her ex-husband Scott, came in Jean sighed in relief knowing for certain they were safe then. Rachel alone was more than enough of a handful for anyone to try to fight, even a powerhouse like the Thing, and her presence reassured Jean that things would stay peaceful or else. Grimm seemed to realize it too, and ratcheted down his tone to at least some degree as he sensed he was on dangerous ground. The man might be a hothead, and stubborn as the rock he was seemingly carved from, but he wasn't stupid. He'd mind his manners now, and any danger had passed. With a small smile and a silent word of encouragement to Kat, Jean moved on once more.
She quickly realized there was little left to see here, everyone was fine and there was nothing to worry about. Well, at least nothing immediate, they all faced danger every day just by being mutants, but that was nothing new and there wasn't anything she could do about it anyhow, and so she flew up and out once more. There was one other place she wanted to go while she still had time and it would be decidedly less friendly.
As she got up high enough to get a clear outline of the nation and thus orient herself, she zeroed in on an area north of the brilliant cluster of lights that was New York City. Zooming in low over the countryside, she found the landmarks she needed to reach her destination, the grounds of the Xavier's (in name only) School. As she came within sight, she drew up short at something she knew she'd see but still hadn't truly been prepared for: Sentinels patrolling the grounds of Xavier's. Supposedly placed there to "protect the mutants" by the government during the war, Jean had no illusions that they were there for anything but to be a symbol of government power and to keep the mutants on the grounds from getting any ideas about switching sides or causing trouble. The oppressive presence of the Sentinels made the school and supposed safe haven for mutants a bare few steps above a concentration camp, and just the sight of them made her blood boil with rage. It was an effort of will to resist the overwhelming temptation to tear them apart and litter the landscape with the pieces in the name of mutant freedom, but she contented herself instead with reaching out with her power and rewriting the sign that read "Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters" to a much more appropriate "Frost's Obedience School for Domesticated Mutants".
The worst part about the Sentinel presence, the part that made her truly sick, was that they weren't there against the will of the leadership there. Oh no, it had been agreed to. Emma Frost, the new headmistress (rarely had a term been more appropriate) had cut a deal with Tony Stark to register every mutant on the grounds, whether they agreed to it or not, and accept the Sentinel squads that now regularly patrolled the grounds. Supposedly these were better because they were human piloted --as if that made a difference! As if humans had never killed mutants before, only machines had, or that professional soldiers never killed or abused or oppressed others at the command of their government. Allowing the Sentinels there was a sellout so egregious that it could only be described as an abject betrayal, a complete surrender of everything they'd stood for. And Scott had gone along with it. Of course he had. The blonde bitch had him so pussywhipped he'd drink her piss and call it champagne. It turned her stomach now to think she'd once loved him, that she'd ever let him touch her. She swore softly to herself, as she had many times, that he never would again.
They were there, of course. She could sense their minds, in the master suite that had once belonged to Xavier himself. Emma's idea, surely, as when Jean had left Scott still used their room in the X-Men's wing of the mansion and had left Charles' suite untouched. She'd been such a rotten influence on him, and she was certain there was more to it than simple pussywhipping. When she'd known Scott, he was a stiff, often restrained and socially awkward but basically good man who had a reputation as a hardass but in truth drove himself twice as hard as anyone else. Since Emma had got her icy claws in him, though, he'd become her quisling and little more. This then was the Hellfire Club's victory then, Xavier gone and their White Queen in control of his heir. And through him, his property and the people who had been under his care.
She hadn't destroyed Xavier's dream, though. It lived on, in Storm and Kat's group, and though the X-Men might be corrupted and compromised, X-Factor still carried the torch. And it was time for that torch to burn a certain Ms. Frost.
Without bothering to announce herself or to pause before entry, she flew directly into their shared bedroom, and became enraged at what she found there. It wasn't that they were having sex, she expected that. It wasn't even that they were playing some bizarre bondage game where Scott was playing the submissive, she couldn't be surprised at that either. In fact, Scott looked positively ludicrous wearing the corset and panties of a Hellfire Club woman, in his preferred shade of blue with a slave collar and leash and little pixy boots on his feet, and under other circumstances she should be overwhelmed with laughter at his ridiculous getup. In fact she was sure that later on in retrospect she'd have herself a good laugh at his expense. No, what was infuriating was what Emma was wearing.
Red wig. Red outfit, with gold phoenix on the front. The bitch was cosplaying as HER, with her former husband. It was enough to make Jean want to mindflay the bitch where she stood. If she didn't have better plans for her, she just might.
Instead, she simply manifested herself in all her Phoenix glory in the psychic mindspace in which they played, fortunately for Jean that they were already on the psychic plane so they could see her and she could interact with them. They probably did it so that Emma could get inside Scott's mental defenses and worm her influence into him, but now it worked in Jean's favor. Ordinarily, Emma would be more telepathically powerful than she was especially here in her own mindscape, but Jean had the Phoenix behind her now. With that power backing her, Emma's psychic might was like the strength of a toddler against a champion powerlifter. The blonde bitch didn't stand a chance.
"EMMA!" she cried out, her roar of anger shaking the room with it's fury. Emma's cry of surprised terror was joined by a startled psychic attack, which flowed off Jean's shields like a splash of water, and she gripped the woman in a psychic claw of pure Phoenix-flame, shaking her until the wig fell from her head and she cried out for mercy. Jean might ordinarily have shown her some, even in her outrage and righteous fury, she wasn't the sort to be cruel or to harm a defeated foe. But her eyes were glowing now with another force, the Phoenix Force that fueled her psychic form, and with it stoking her fires all bets were off. The Dark Phoenix had joyfully destroyed an entire inhabited star system once, billions of lives and an entire culture snuffed out, and there was more than a bit of the Dark Phoenix glowing in Jean's eyes now. Emma knew it, too, as her eyes widened in abject terror and she made a strangled whimper of frozen horror.
Scott rose to his feet to defend his mistress, of course, trying his best to peel her free of Jean's psychic fist, and then failing that, tried desperately to shake Jean to dislodge her from concentrating on her assault on Emma. She turned on him then, and his eyes widened behind his ruby quartz glasses as he realized just how much trouble he was in. Part of her was as heartbroken as the rest of her was disgusted to see what the man she'd once loved had been reduced to, a mere puppydog for an alpha bitch. But that's what he'd let himself become, and bad puppies get slapped. Her backhand slap was so forceful it tossed him to the ground like a ragdoll, and when he got to his feet, there was blood on his lips.
"I'm sorry, Jean..." he said as his hand went to his glasses and then the room turned red as he unleashed the fury of his optic blast with a force that could destroy a main battle tank.
It too splashed against her defenses like a water hose against a riot shield, and he gasped in horror as he felt his glasses pulled back down over his eyes telekinetically. He was helpless, and rather certain he was about to die.
Instead of attacking him though, Jean merely frowned at him like a disapproving parent. "Get out, Scott. Just get out of my sight."
Realizing there was nothing whatsoever he could do, he simply sank to his knees and watched desperately to see what would happen to his beloved Emma. With a scowl, Jean picked him up with her telekinesis and tossed him out the door, slamming it shut behind him and melting the lock fused. Then she turned her attention back to Emma, who was getting light-headed in the strong grip of that Phoenix fist. Jean dropped her, where she barely managed to keep her feet by leaning hard against the wall as she struggled to clear her head.
Jean stalked to her then, and Emma was sure she would die. She didn't expect it to be merciful or swift, either. What she didn't expect was for Jean --no, the Phoenix now, those eyes had gone to complete white glow with no trace of humanity behind them-- to lift her chin and look into her eyes like she was examining her soul, and indeed she felt the being look straight through her into her mind and memories as if she were completely transparent and her defenses were nonexistent. Part of the woman-creature grinned in easy triumph and sadistic glee, and part of her simply gazed over and through her with a detached, alien curiosity. With a small gesture of the being's head, Emma's outfit was torn from her body in a thousand shreds and those shreds burned to ash, leaving her as exposed physically as she already was mentally. Again, the woman-entity merely looked her over with that coolly curious gaze, like she were a unique specimen of experimental animal. She, or more accurately it tilted her head to the side, regarding Emma as if trying to decide exactly what to do. And then, suddenly, that contemplation turned to action.
The psychic entity that had been Jean Grey took Emma's lips in a burning, passionate kiss that filled her entire being with icy fire, as she felt hot fingers jab unceremoniously deep into her suddenly hot wet cunt just as the being's tongue pushed into her mouth. She found herself overwhelmed, filled to bursting with desire, pleasure, want, need, even... love. Addicting, all-consuming passion that overflowed and tossed her like a blade of grass in a tsunami. Jean, the Phoenix was her star and she was but an icy flower begging for the light and warmth she needed with every fiber of her being.
And then, suddenly, that light and warmth was gone from her, plunging her into cold darkness as the Phoenix pulled itself abruptly away, streaking into the sky and leaving behind only shellshocked emptiness. As Emma's heart shattered, bereft of the object of her sudden,, overwhelming and all-consuming devotion, she curled into a fetal ball and sobbed uncontrollably, inconsolably. Death would have been kinder, but part of her already knew that she would be denied the relief of suicide. The Phoenix's implanted command had made certain of that. She didn't even care when she heard the room door shatter, when she was showered with the splinters or when she heard him call her name and she felt his touch, desperately trying to reach her. He didn't matter. Nothing mattered but what she had lost, and her soul cried in icy agony in it's emptiness.
-----
As the Phoenix breached the atmosphere in a fiery streak, it's hawklike shriek of triumph and glory echoing in the sky, Jean felt herself separated from it and tumbling down, back towards the west coast where her sleeping body lay. As the ground raced up to meet her, she felt the icy grip of fear as that black wall closed in to fill her vision and every instinct screamed that she would die.
Instead, she sat bolt upright in her bed as her awakening scream echoed off the walls of her room. Slowly, as the entirety of the dream and the sure fact that it really had happened settled into her, she curled up in horror at what she --no, it, the Phoenix-- had done. It had given her what she had wanted but would never have dared to do, acting on her behalf and fulfilling her darkest desires without the slightest shred of the restraint or remorse or mercy she would have shown. Ruthless and inexorable like the force of nature it was, with none of her morality or compassion to hold it back. Jean would have never... no, never, no matter how much Emma Frost deserved it. But the Phoenix would, and it did.
Slowly, Jean pulled herself from her bed and into a robe, and then down to the kitchen to make coffee and face the cold light of dawn. She had a feeling it would be a while before she could sleep again.
-----
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