Chapter 12

  Arc 1 - Ch 12: Aftermath

  Date: Sunday, June 6, 2010.

  Location: Xavier Institute, Scarsdale, New York

  Monit equipment beeped and hummed as Tyson y motionless in the bed, surrounded by an array of maery. IV lines snaked uhe this, steadily administering fluids and medications. The steady beep of the EKG provided a faintly reassuring ce, indig his heart still beat, albeit weakly.

  Jubilee sat vigil by his bedside, her vivacious personality dampened by worry. She had shed her signature yellow jacket, draping it over the back of the chair. Her face was etched with , brown eyes fixed on Tyson's unscious form, willing him to wake. Absentmindedly, she twisted one of her hoop earrings between her fingers as she spoke softly.

  "e on, Tyson," she pleaded, a quiver in her usually upbeat voice. "You've got to pull through this."

  She reached out aly csped his hand in both of hers. She'd added a pair of matg yellow gloves to her outfit for this very purpose, hoping that her touch might stir him.

  The room was filled with pensive silence, interrupted only by the rhythmic beeps of the monitors. Then, a faint flicker of movement. Tyson's fiwitched ever so slightly. His eyelids fluttered, and a soft groan escaped his lips. Jubilee's breath caught ihroat as she watched his chest rise and fall more noticeably. Her breath caught ihroat as Tyson began to stir, the steady beeping of the monitors quiing ever so slightly. She leaned forward, hope and apprehension warring within her.

  "Tyson?" she whispered, giving his hand anentle squeeze.

  His head turoward her, reition flickering in his amber eyes as they struggled to open. Tyson's strong brow furrowed as he awoke, apanied by a grimace.

  Jubilee smiled encingly despite the in her warm brown eyes. "Hey," she said, keeping her voice soft and soothing, "you gave us quite the scare, you know."

  Though relief washed over her at the signs of his awakening, she could see the lingering disorientation and paiched into the hard lines of his face.

  Tyson's amber eyes were gzed and unfocused. He blinked slowly, taking in the medical recovery ronition dawned on him as his gaze settled on Jubilee, who sat vigintly by his bedside. Her eyes, usually so full of mischief, were now shimmering with relief, the tracks of tears visible on her cheeks.

  "Jubilee?" he croaked, his voice rough. Panic fred in his chest as memories of the battle came rushing back; being bound helpless in Mago's metallic grasp, the searing pain as the spikes pierced his flesh.

  "Damn... he got you too? I hoped I'd distracted him enough that you and Jean would be safe."

  Jubilee let out a ugh, a mixture of relief and disbelief. She gave his hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze. "No o me, Tyson. We are safe. At the institute. You beat him."

  Her words slowly sank in through the haze of fatigue that clouded his mind. "Didn't feel like I beat him," he muttered bitterly. In his memory, Mago had seemed an unstoppable force.

  "It doesn't always have to feel like a victory to be one," Jubilee said softly.

  "Yeah, guess you're right," he admitted. Already he could feel some of his fideurning.

  Her eyes regaiheir familiar sparkle. "Always am," she quipped with a pyful wink.

  Despite the lingering aches in his body, Tyson huffed out a quiet ugh. Trust Jubilee to be able to lift his spirits. He tried to piece together the fragmented memories of the past few hours. Shifting in the infirmary bed, the crisp white sheets rustling, he turned his attention back to Jubilee.

  "So," he said, trying to i some humor into his voice, "what did I miss while I was out cold?"

  "Oh, you know, just the usual around here. Epic superpower showdowns, dramatic rescues, primetime news drama. For us, it retty typical weekend." Her tohen shifted, being more somber. "When you didn't show up for dinner, Illyana got worried. She went straight to the Professor, saying you two had some kind of telepathik?"

  "We don't have a link, not that I know of. I thought I had a det resistao telepathy, and Illyana's no telepath..." He trailed off, making a mental o ask Illyana about it ter.

  Jubilee tinued, "Well, y fight with Mago made the evening news! But they've got it all wrong. They think you're some demonic vilin, especially after witnesses reported you attag that blue shapeshifter dy. By the time the X-Men arrived on the se, you and Mago were both out cold."

  Tyson's eyes widened as realizatio in. "Wait, so everyone saw me like... that?" His mind raced, imagining what chaos his demoniust have caused.

  "Yeah. People are freaking out, g it's a sign of the end times or something. Mago's in jail, but there are already activists rallying to free him." She swallowed hard, raw emotion in her eyes. "You told me to keep Jean safe, so I carried her off the train at the stop. Professor Ororo found us waiting at the station."

  "Good thinking," Tyson said, relief evident in his voice.

  Jubilee let out a soft ugh, shaking her head. "At first, when I saw the Professor, I thought she was that shapeshifter again. I was ready to fight her off to protect Jean, especially after everything that went down. But then I saw Colossus was with her, and figured if he trusted her, I should too."

  Tyson chuckled, picturing the se. "Sounds like you had quite the evening too."

  Jubilee fidgeted with the silver bracelet on her wrist, the metal links king together as she anxiously rubbed her fingers over them. She bit her lower lip, gathering her ce before the words spilled out in a hushed whisper. "I'm sorry."

  "Sorry? For what?"

  She exhaled a shuddering breath, struggling to articute the guilt that had been gnawing at her. "For not helping. When Mago attacked... and Mystique..." Jubilee's voice caught ihroat. "I just froze. I was useless. I didn't do anything."

  "Do you know what happened after I jumped out of that train car?" he asked gently.

  Jubilee shook her head, uears glistening in her eyes. "Not really. The Professor only told us it was bad."

  "Mago did unspeakable things," Tyson began, his voice quivering slightly at the memory. "He used metal to bind me, coils that ed around and pierced into my body. It was like being caged in a medieval torture device." He paused, inhaling a shaky breath as he relived the torment. "Holy Jubilee, I don't know how I survived it. And I never, ever want to see you, or any of my friends, endure anything close to what I went through."

  Horror dawned in Jubilee's eyes as she imagihe unthinkable agony Tyson had suffered. "But I could have helped!" she cried. "If I hadn't been so useless, so weak, I could have-"

  "No," Tyson interrupted, his tone firm but kind. "When you're outmatched like that, if you see a ce to get away, you take it. Promise me."

  "But Tyson, I-"

  "Promise me, Jubilee," he insisted.

  She nodded relutly, tears spilling down her cheeks. "Okay, I promise."

  Tyson's expression softened. He reached out and took her small hand in his, engulfing it in a gentle grip. "Good. Remember, there is bravery in knowing when to fight and when to run. You did the right thing. And look at us now, safe and sound."

  Jubilee stared down at their iwined hands, pting his words.

  "I know you're strong, Jubilee," Tyson tinued gently. "But until you have the proper training and backup, it ges things." He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. "Someday you'll be ready. But until then..."

  She yearned for the day when she could prove herself and show that she was more than just a young mutant still learning to trol her powers. "Until I'm ready, I'll be careful," she promised.

  Tyson's lips curved into a smile, relief rexing the tension in his features. "That's all I o hear."

  After Jubilee left, Tyson stood slowly, testing his legs. The lingering aches and pains had faded, it seemed his healing factor had repaired the damage from the battle. He began peeling off the flimsy hospital gown, revealing his muscur, sculpted physique underh.

  Just then, the door swung open and Illyana strode in. Her blue eyes widened slightly, taking in the se of Tyson's naked form standing in the middle of the room. A hint of amusement flickered in her gaze.

  "Well," she drawled ihick Russian at, "you are certainly ier shape than the rumors suggested."

  Tyson didn't rush to cover himself, unashamed of his body. After their st tense enter, he wasn't sure where he stood with the feisty blonde. Her ued arrival had caught him off guard.

  "A little warning would have been nice, Illyana," he stated evenly, grabbing his clothes.

  As Tyson finished fastening his pants, Illyana's expression softened. "I just came to see how you were doing," she admitted, a touch of vulnerability in her usually brash tone.

  Now fully dressed, Tyson allowed a wry smirk. "Well, from the looks of it, you got to see everything," he joked, hoping to break the lingering tension.

  Illyana's lips held the fai hint of a real smile. She was relieved at his easy humor; it seemed that it was his attempt at creating some camaraderie between them, shattering any awkwardness from his nudity and their st tentious frontation.

  Illyana sauntered forward, the sway of her hips deliberately alluring as she closed the distaween them. Leaning in, she pced her hands on her hips, the posture atuating her figure. He towered over her and her positioyson's gaze to her ample cleavage. The low-ee of her blouse revealed smooth, abaster skin that disappeared tantalizingly into the hints of a ce bra. Tyson's eyes lingered for a moment too long, uo resist the tempting view.

  Catg his admiring gnce, Illyana asked, "Like what you see?" her lips curled into a ile that yful and challenging. "Not so modest are you mister, peeking down my shirt during css."

  "Well, that's hardly a fair trade. A little peek doesn't pare to you catg me in nothing but my birthday suit."

  Illyana quirked one golden brow, intrigued. "Oh? And what would you sider an even exge?" she asked, leaning in closer. Tyson could deteotes of jasmine and brimstone in her st.

  Adopting a mock thinking pose, Tyson looked upward as he tapped his in faux ption. "Hmm, let me think. Maybe if, ime we're in Limbo, I happen to catch with say… just your sword… then I'd say we're square."

  To Tyson's surprise, she gave a slow nod in agreement. "Alright, deal," she agreed.

  Blinking, Tyson raised an eyebrow. "Really?" he asked, not having expected her to accept.

  Illyana's grin turned wicked, dangerous, and alluring all at once. Leaning in until he could feel her breath, she purred, "On one dition."

  Tyso her gaze unflingly, excitement thrumming through him at her proximity. "What's that," he challenged.

  "ime we're in Limbo, you help me clear out the demons," she proposed. "Do that, and you'll get a show."

  Tyson allowed his fangs to extend, a wicked smile spreading across his face. His pupils narrowed into predatory slits, elig a moment's hesitation from Illyana as she sehe primal danger he radiated. He could smell her fear, and it was intoxig.

  "Deal."

  But Tyson reined in his savage instincts, retrag his fangs as his eyes returo normal.

  Seeking to lighteension after his shift, he decred dramatically, "A quest! To save the princess of Limbo and sy the demons hauntihe prize? The hand of the princess herself."

  Illyana arched an eyebrow, amusement dang in her eyes. "Hand? I think not. No toug allowed... that would be too dangerous with you." She winked, refereng his life-draining touch.

  Tyson chuckled. As Illyana turo leave, Tyson called out, "Hey, I've been hearing things about some kind of e between us. But holy, I've never sensed anything like that."

  Illyana paused, and for a moment her challenging gaze dimmed, repced by an uncharacteristic vulnerability. When she spoke, her voice was soft, almost wistful.

  "Limbo is a part of me. There's this lingering resonance of the dimension that never fully leaves me." Her eyes grew distant, as though peering into a hidden realm only she could see. "For some reason, wheurned from our battle with Azazel, I seraces of Limbo ging to you. From the momeepped onto that basketball court, it was there." She refocused on Tysoone ptive. "I don't know if it's because of the time you spent in Limbo, ht with Azazel, or something else entirely. But during dihat e faded. I couldn't sense you anymore, and I knew you had gohat's why I told the Professor."

  Tyson's brows furrowed as he processed this ued boween them. "Thank you for telling him, Illyana," he said early. "If you hadn't noticed, I might not be alive right now."

  For a fleeting moment, Illyana's steely facade softened. "You're wele," she responded, her voice warmer than usual. As she turo leave, Tyson caught a hint of satisfa in her eyes and a subtle swing in her hips.

  Illyana smiled privately to herself as she walked away.

  — Rogue Rept —

  Huddled together on Jean's bed, Jubilee and Jean's faces reflected a mixture of awe and unease as they watched the shaky video footage. It depicted the epic battle between Tyson, disguised in demoni, as he dueled with Mago. Though the video quality was grainy, it clearly dispyed Tyson suspended mid-air, radiating power.

  "That's... that's gotta be my ability he's using," Jean whispered. Her fingers drifted to the s as if she could reach through and grasp the raw energy on dispy. "But how? He seems so much strohan I've ever been."

  Jubilee leaned in, squinting at the pixeted images. Her yellow jacket was draped haphazardly over the back of the desk chair, fotten in their absorption. "Maybe he touched Mago at some point and borrowed his abilities? Coulda happened off camera."

  Jean slowly shook her head, red hair spilling over her shoulders. "Even if he did, look at how he's flying. And it's more than just trollial. He seems to be maniputing everything around him." She furrowed her brow. "I 't fly, or exert that level of power and he's doing both at the same time."

  Jubilee chewed her bottom lip as she studied the incredible dispy of Tyson's abilities. “Uh Jean, I heard about you kinda floating the other day on the basketball court during gym css.” She said. Still, seeing Tyson and such raw force left her awestruck. "So what does this mean? Is he getting way stronger or something?"

  Jean took a deep breath, closing the ptop. She met Jubilee's ed gaze. "I don't know."

  Jubilee responded, "Maybe there's still a lot about your powers we still don't uand."

  — Rogue Rept —

  Mago's cell was sterile, every surface molded from thick panels of transparent pstic. Devoid of even a scrap of metal, the room was desigo isote his abilities, rendering the master of magism helpless. The minimalist furnishings; a cot, table, and chair were all made of hard pstiers.

  Yet Mago carried himself with unbowed dignity, his posture ered authoritative. His hair was ly groomed, and his eyes stared defiantly at the walls of his enclosure. But even his stoic demeanor could not pletely mask the occasional wi the pain that hrough his leg. A heavy pstic cast encased his femur, purple bruising visible beh its transparent shell, a lingering reminder of his ferocious battle with the mutant Tyson. The youth's raw pootential lurked in Mago's thoughts. Tyson had proven a worthy adversary, giving Mago a challenge he had not experienced in some time.

  Leaning back, Mago brooded, ign the throbbing of his leg. His injuries would heal. What ed him more was the world outside this cell. Their fight had been too public. Tyson's abilities would stir things, ge them, and open new possibilities. Fo, this meant opportunity.

  Outside, the guards monitored their prisohrough security feeds. The pstic prison roof of the fear Mago provoked, despite his current helplessness. Now, to the guards, he was just an old man in a cast, lost in ption.

  With a gentle hum, a bridge extended from the wall, allowing Professor Charles Xavier access to the cell, rolling in a pstic wheelchair. Onside, the two locked eyes, their shared history rippliween them.

  "Erik," Xavier greeted solemnly.

  "Charles," Mago replied, his toinged with irony, "I wasn't expeg pany. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

  Xavier exhaled heavily, "I came to speak with you about your methods, old friend. The violehe anger... it isn't the solution."

  Mago chuckled mirthlessly, "Ever the idealist, Charles. But the world is not as bd-white as you perceive it."

  "It's because there is so much gray that we must lead with passion," Xavier tered, "Uanding and unication achieve what force ot."

  Mago shifted, leaning forward slightly and wing as pain fred in his injured leg. The movement pulled at the still-healing bone, again reminding him of his ret defeat at the hands of the very boy at the heart of their discussion.

  "Do you remember when we found Jean?" he asked, his voice tinged with nostalgia. "The raw, untamed power within her? It was...magnifit. But you took that and dimmed it, smothered it behind your walls and teags. You made her less than she was meant to be."

  "I helped her trol it, Erik. So she wouldn't hurt herself or others."

  Mago waved this off impatiently. "trol. Always trol with you. That boy, Tyson, possessed the same power, but uered by your restraints. And what happened when he unleashed it? The world trembled beh that power. But you..." His voice took on a mog lilt. "What will you do? Shackle it? Diminish it as you did with Jean?"

  Xavier met his old friend's zealous gaze steadily, his voice calm but resolute. "What happened was hundreds of is suffered. You caused millions of dolrs in damage and turhe Bronx into a war zone. You're fortuyson maintained his guise as Azazel. His deception painted you as a hero to the publistead of someorying to abduct a minor. And you're even luckier he didn't kill you." Xavier paused, inhaling slowly to maintain his posure.

  "I will guide him, teach him to uand himself, and his p this world."

  "And if the boy does not fit ly into your little boxes, Charles?" He gestured sardonically to the pstic prison surrounding them. "Will you try to cage him too?"

  "He deserves a ce, Erik. Just as you did. Just as we all did." Xavier's voice rang with quiet vi.

  Mago's expression hardened, all traohe world has ged, old friend. Power is the only nguage it uands. And the boy Tyson... he speaks it fluently."

  Xavier met his old friend's steely gaze unflingly. "Then I will teach him to use that voice food."

  Mago barked a harsh, mirthless ugh. "Our definitions of 'good' have always differed, Charles. But by all means, try. It will be...eaining to watch."

  Xavier sighed heavily, realizing this visit likely would not bear the fruitful reciliation he had hoped for. "Remember the man you were, Erik. Before the world tried to make you believe you had to bee someone else."

  Mago held Xavier's ear gaze for a long moment before looking away. "Some memories are best left buried in the past."

  As Xavier silently rolled his chair down the corridor, he couldn't help but wonder if some small part of the old Erik, the friend he onew, still lingered deep within, buried beh the yers of pain and icism life had fed.

  — Rogue Rept —

  The grand trophy room was shrouded in somber stillness, the air heavy with the musty st of aged wood and worher. Along the walls hung the severed heads of predators that stared down with gssy, lifeless eyes, lions, tigers, and other beasts frozen in timeless ses of savage moments.

  At the room's ter sat a rugged man atop a luxurious leather chair, its deep mahogany hue trasting his tanned skin and the white lion fur draping his broad shoulders. With one hand clutg a vodka bottle and the ss, his muscur arms rested on the armchair like a king overseeing his kingdom. Deep wrinkles carved from years of intense expeditions crisscrossed his weathered face. Dark hair, streaked with gray, was slicked back from his high forehead, framing intense eyes that once burned bright with the thrill of the hunt but now stared, empty and disillusioned.

  With each sip, not for pleasure but for escape, his restlessness grew. The world's deadliest beasts had all fallen before him, leaving a haunting void. Tilting the bottle, he refilled his gss aed, "Is there nothihat challenge me?"

  Seeking anything to spark i, he turo his puter and browsed the news. One headline caught his eye.

  'Mutant Battles Demon in the Bronx.'

  Out of curiosity, he clicked the article from New York City. A shaky video loaded, showing chaotic ses of a mutant locked ied bat with a red-skinned figure, its arrow-tipped tail shing through the air.

  He scoffed, muttering, "A hoax. Tricks of lighting and camera."

  Yet as he scrolled, more videos appeared, each from different angles, all depig the same.

  The demon was real.

  The heavy wooden doors creaked open, and a striking woman strode into the room. She was tall and slender, with smooth cocoa skin. Her almond-shaped eyes were dark and pierg, framed by long shes. The woman wore a figure-hugging forest green dress, slit provocatively up ohigh to reveal a toned leg decorated with swirling tribal tattoos. Her mass of raven curls cascaded down her back, with a few loose tendrils framing her sharp, elegant facial features.

  An intricate gold neckce adorned her neck, its blemstone pendant pulsing with an inner fire. Golden bangles chimed softly on her wrists and ankles as she moved with predatrace. Her full lips were painted a deep crimson. Everything about the mysterious woman whispered of faraway nds, a rituals, and supernatural allure.

  The woman's lilting voiterrupted the man's thoughts as she draped herself zily over his shoulder.

  "What has you so intrigued, my love?" she purred.

  He gestured wordlessly at the puter s, where shaky footage showed a horned, red-skinned figure battling wildly above the streets of New York. When he finally spoke, his voice was tight with newfound i.

  "A demon. In New York City."

  The woman leaned closer, studying the blurry images. A genuine smile crossed her face for the first time in months. If chasing this supposed demon was what it took tnite his passion, she weled it.

  "Perhaps this is the challenge you've been seeking," she mused, trailing long nails lightly across his shoulders.

  A familiar spark fred in his eyes as a wolfish grin spread across his face.

  "If this demon is real, I will be the oo hunt it," he decred.

  The woman's smile widened, pleased that the man she loved had rediscovered his thirst for the hunt. Together, they would uhe truth behind this supposed demon and finally end his restless boredom.

  Author’s Note

  If you're reading this story after September 2024, the first Arc dated to improve crity, and adjusted for some minor insistencies and pints readers had. Arc 2 and 3 are still rough, but will be updated over the several weeks. Arc 4 more accurately reflects the quality of the current story. One criticism of the early parts of this story is that not much ges from . This is true, but the small ripples grow as the story progresses. Thanks for reading!

  Behind the ses

  One of the main reasons I started writing this story, besides the fun, was to practice character development. I chue because she has strong inner flict by default. For the X-Men arc, Rogue/Tyson’s inner flict is their power harms ahey toud they desire to overe it. This flict is Rogue’s defining trait in the ics, and in this arc, Tyson is unsuccessful in overing it. There are several external flicts, Sabertooth, Illyana, Azazel, Mago&Mystique. Which Tyson is generally successful with. One major sideration is, if Tyson kills someoh his touch, he absorbs their life force. It is a solution to aernal flict, but it exacerbates the internal struggles.

  Many may look at internal flid think that noone cares about that, but sider Tony Stark. The MCU (phases 1-3) is basically his story. His inner flicts are what define him, determine his course, and ultimately make his character iing and lovable. He is a on maker who thinks he isn’t responsible for how his ons are used. Then he experie firsthand and o ge (Iron Man 1). He almost dies saving New York during an alien invasion and realizes there are rger threats to the world. He bees obsessed with his suits and tries to use his iions to protect the Earth. (Avengers, Iron Man 3, Age of Ultron.) His obsessioo Ultron and Sokovia, and he and all the other heroes o be held atable. (Civil War). He fully accepts the burdens of the choice he made to protect the Earth in ‘The Avengers’ and sacrifices himself to stop Thanos (Endgame).

  While this story is undoubtedly a power fantasy, it's a slower burn, not instant gratification. Tyson should always feel powerful, but there should always be external threats that challenge him and create a sario where they feel like gehreats. And the internal struggle of trolling his powers and taming his inner voices will not be easily or quickly overe.

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