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Chapter Text

Random Set-Ups for Adoption

Star-Jammin'

Christopher "Corsair" Summers really was never going to win the title of Greatest Father of All-Time. As if it wasn't enough that he disregarded searching for his two sons after escaping the Shi'Ar Empire—to pursue a life of piracy in space, no less!—now, much to Scott's incredulity, he found himself tied to an alien via a marriage contract Corsair signed to barter for goods.

And now, said betrothed alien was looking to collect.

His respect for his swashbuckling father only plummeted lower with the realization that Corsair pushed the deal through without any intention of fulfilling it—what with the pirate believing Scott dead at the time he dotted his I and crossed his T.

There was something to be said about Corsair, a man who used his presumed-dead son in a trade deal that Scott willfully ignored.

His eyes swept from silently cursing the heavens and back to the woman before him.

She was still staring at him, proving that she was not an illusion.

Great. Just great.

She was real.

This wasn't just him having a nervous breakdown.

Or—or further symptoms of brain damage.

How was he moving forward with this?

A/N: Basically, an excuse to pair Cyke with non-earthbound women. I had originally planned for at least 3 one-shots featuring Cyke with Starfire, then Soranik Natu, and then Tyke with Lala Satalin Deviluke. Yes. That Lala.

-0-0-0-

The Glitch

The first sign the young Nathan Summers got that his plan didn't quite go perfectly was when, after helping send the time-displaced younger version of the Original Five squad back to their proper place, his father remained gone.

His gut bubbling with anxiety, Nathan quickly returned to his father's gravesite, where he had previously implanted a, for all-intents and purposes, pacemaker that used the Phoenix Force to resurrect him.

The sun was at its highest when he arrived but, as expected, there was nobody around. Most likely, the mutants were too busy licking their wounds, mourning their fallen, and possibly celebrating yet another lease on life.

But not him.

He was on a mission.

Gloved hands grasping tightly around the shaft of the shovel, Nathan began the laborious process of digging up his father's casket. Again.

Each strike against the ground came by more and more frequently as urgency pulsed through his veins. He hoped all was still well.

When at last he hit hardwood, his heart stilled, and he suddenly remembered to breathe.

"Please be there." He prayed to Mother Askani out of habit.

He tore open the lid and gasped.

His shovel fell on the empty casket with a hollow thud.

"No."

The body of Scott Summers was gone.

Frantically, his eyes took in every detail.

Clues. There had to be clues.

Who could have done this?

As he continued his frantic search, it would be much later when he noticed the soot from the lightly charred material of his father's resting place, and much later still when he pieced the puzzle together.

His father was gone.

A/N: If it wasn't obvious enough, the Phoenix Pacemaker malfunctioned. It revived Cyke but it also swallowed him whole, sending him hurtling to wherever reality. I guess this still can be used for Isekai!Cyke stories?

Would you believe I planned to use this as a premise to ship Cyke with Spider-Gwen? It was supposed to start with Gwen bumping into Cyke, who is trapped in the nexus between dimensions, while she was traversing through realities. Then somehow spins off from there.

-0-0-0-

Hank McCoy is Irresponsible

Hank McCoy was not proud of himself. In fact, he knew perfectly well he was being vindictive—but he reasoned his intention was well-meaning.

He was trying to avert the genocide his wayward former-friend, Scott Summers, was about to unleash. To do this, Hank deduced that bringing their past selves and making them confront the present Cyclops—to remind him of younger, simpler, and much less-bloody ideologies—was the best course of action. It was not foolproof, but he had no other choice.

He was desperate.

He was dying.

Unfortunately, something happened at the tail-end of his grand quest to make a mark in history.

Something that chilled him past his blue fur and straight to his weary bones.

"Hank," The young, and progressively livid Jean Grey spoke his name with far more venom than he could ever remember. Beside the powerful teenage psychic were her equally furious teammates—all remaining three of them. "Where is Scott?"

Hank felt a cold sweat drape down the fur of his back. He turned to his younger counterpart for support but, alas, his glare remained.

"Where indeed, I wonder…?" He trailed off with shameful cluelessness. He would have piteously laughed had it not been completely inappropriate. Not for the first time was he humbled by how little he actually knew; it still was not an easy pill to swallow, though.

Inwardly, he cursed himself for being so weak as to give in to desperation. Above all else, though, he cursed Scott Summers for all the trouble the man gave him.

It was the last thought he made because he never realized that the young Jean Grey before him already gained her telepathic abilities and, catching the stray curse towards the dear friend this reckless, irresponsible version of Hank McCoy lost, became even more enraged.

Enraged, enough, to blast the adult Beast straight through hard steel and concrete.

That was when all hell in the Jean Grey School broke loose.

A/N: This started as an excuse to throw Tyke into the DC Universe, back when I considering being a fan of the character and planned to pair him up with Kara Zor-El. I suppose it can be repurposed into an Isekai!Tyke story.

-0-0-0-

Tinder Heart

Amadeus, Sam, and Miles briefly exchanged looks before pointing at each other.

"It was him!" The three accused at the same time.

Kamala palmed her head. "Boys…Just, run me from the beginning."

"Yeah, Amadeus." Sam quickly took the opportunity to shift the blame. "Why don't you tell her how it started?"

Amadeus scowled. "Coward." He muttered.

"Well?" Kamala interjected before they started bickering again.

"I don't think it's a bad thing."

"You do realize he's going to leave at some point."

"So is a foreign student but you still see them on the market."

"By leave, I meant go back to his time."

"I got that." Amadeus huffed, lightly offended that she felt the need to clarify. "But my point still stands."

Kamala groaned. "Miles, help me out here." She pleaded him. "I'm not the only one that sees this is a bad idea, right?"

Miles was silent for a moment as he composed his thoughts before finally replying, "I do think he needs to see someone. I mean—have you really, really seen him?"

"The guy writes unsent letters to a girl that's rejected him, dated his best friend, sent him mixed signals, and then rejected him again. And again." Sam pointed out.

"Really? That's sweet."

"It's pathetic." Sam scoffed.

"It's wasting paper." Amadeus added.

"I feel bad for the guy." Miles chimed in.

"But can't you see? It's proof they're meant to be together!"

"And maybe they will be." Miles placated. "But that doesn't mean he can't see someone else before they do get together."

Kamala thought about it. "But… he wouldn't know the first thing to do dating a girl from this time. You remember his idea for a Halloween costume?"

"I think that's just how he is. A dork." Amadeus pointed out. "On the bright side, someone's bound to take pity on him."

"He's not that bad." Kamala defended before finally sighing. "Alright. But if this hurts him…"

"He'll get over it." Sam shrugged nonchalantly. "I don't get why you keep on babying him."

"Because she's a hardcore shipper." Amadeus commented.

"No." Kamala quickly denied, but the embarrassed flush on her face said otherwise. "It's because people might attack him for, you know, being Scott Summers?"

"Then we'll make sure he's safe." Miles assured.

Sam folded his arms. "I'm not babysitting him."

"Not it, either." Amadeus followed.

Kamala looked at Miles, who returned with a sheepish smile at his rhetoric shot down so quickly. "I'll help when I can?"

"You guys…" Kamala slowly shook her head. "…so, how are you setting up his profile?"

"Viv has a lot of pictures." Sam quickly pointed out. At Kamala's questioning look, he clarified, "Rather, she takes a lot of pictures of all of us."

"And his phone?"

Miles held it up. "Right here."

"I already know his password." Amadeus added with a smug grin.

"Alright." Kamala sighed. "I'll- I'll explain it to him. Just—at the first sign of things going bad…!"

"We'll be there. And we'll stop."

"Alright." Kamala repeated, more for herself. She looked outside where Scott was conversing with Viv, who had taken the role of distraction while they had their meeting.

She sighed and stretched out her hand.

"Give me the phone."

A/N: If it wasn't too obvious, the Champions decided Scott needs more experience with girls, so they signed him up for whichever dating app/site. Basically, an excuse for Tyke to be paired with someone.

I had a similar idea for Cyke, where instead of the Champions, it'd be the students making the account to keep him busy so they could avoid training.

-0-0-0-

Put a ring on it

Scott checked himself in the mirror.

Appearing in this world—this reality—had been a last-second gambit for him. As he felt his mind slip during the Avengers' final assault on him and Emma, Scott willed the Phoenix Force to transport him to a world that could stop him.

And it did.

His memories were hazy and it was difficult for him to distinguish what was real and what was a Phoenix Force-induced hallucination, but he remembered being flown into the Sun where he had duked it out with the Kryptonians before, finally, falling—with the Phoenix Force lying dormant inside of him, recovering.

The Justice League had had him under lock-and-key for a week after he had nearly ended the planet as the Mad Avatar of the Phoenix Force. It surprised him that it only took that long to convince them, but he supposed having two of the three members of their Trinity helped.

As well as their rich history with reality-hoppers, possessed friends and metahumans, apparently.

That he spent most of the time wrapped around Diana's lasso of truth while the Batman questioned him helped convert the skeptical man into a partial-believer, at least.

Regardless, he had been released. On probation, of course, with several volunteers of their superhero community taking turns watching him.

Honestly? Scott just wanted to find a way back. He didn't want to willingly dip himself into their affairs, but he had also conceded that the best way to repay all the damage he had caused, as well as find his way home, was to join them.

Which lead him to his image reflecting back at him.

Cleanly shaven and hair trimmed, with a new suit, Scott gave a mighty sigh.

He knew the uphill battle ahead of him. Getting back home would be no easy task.

Fortunately, he was nothing if not stubborn and determined.

He just had to make sure he didn't have too many distractions.

"Just focus on the task at hand, Scott." He muttered to the mutant in the mirror.

He made a mental checklist of the things he had to accomplish:

Step 1: Find a way home.

Step 2: Help the League.

Step 3: Avoid all distractions.

Satisfied, he made his way to the door to this brave, new world, and opened it…

…only to immediately find himself face-to-object with a floating yellow ring.

[Scott Summers of Earth. You have the ability to instill great fear.] The glowing ring declared. [Welcome to the Sinestro Corps.]

Scott stopped.

Scott groaned.

Scott palmed his head.

Well, he just failed step 3.

He was definitely off to a promising start.

A/N: And then, Scott and Soranik Natu have kinky patient-doctor sex that calls into the question the ethics of a patient-physician relationship. Among other things.

Hey, it was a toss-up between this and pairing up Scott with Mercy from Overwatch!

Chapter Text

Part 1: EXtermination

He stood in an all-encompassing darkness.

Confusion immediately set in—where was he? There was nothing as far as his eyes could see, and nothing his arms could reach.

He attempted to call out, but no sound nor rumble would spill forth.

Irritated, he reached for his lenses and took them off.

Nothing.

He could feel his power manifest, but no light brightened the darkness.

He struggled—he reached out his mind to call for anyone.

Everyone.

Jean.

Something stirred.

In the vast darkness, two glowing eyes opened.

His eyes narrowed and he growled out a question—where was he? Who are you?—but just as before, nothing came out.

It was as if the darkness drowned everything.

Everything…except those two glowing eyes.

"Not you."

Something pulled.

His eyes widened and he renewed his efforts. Power surged—more power than he has ever brought out before. He channeled all he had at those two oppressive eyes.

But it was for naught.

The darkness swallowed him whole.

"Not you."

-0-0-0-

The tension in the air was palpable.

It seemed everyone had woken on the wrong side of the bed—or it was just one of those days when something life-changing was about to happen.

The time-displaced Scott Summers sincerely hoped it was the former, even if his shoulders remained squared from the unusual nightmare that started his day.

"Not you…" Scott murmured, trying to figure out what those two words meant. He had half the mind to brush it off—to call it mere paranoia or his subconscious. Knowing his luck, however, he had a feeling it was something that held meaning.

He glanced to the side from his perch on the windowsill.

And his eyes were soon caught by the narrowed greens of Jean Grey.

"Yes?" Scott asked, inwardly wondering what it was that he had done wrong.

"You had that dream." She accused.

That snapped him out of his stupor and gained his full attention. "Get out of my head, Jean."

Jean was not intimidated by his harsh tone. "I was just concerned." The redhead stated, "You were not responding, and—more importantly, you were projecting."

"So you probed deeper?"

"What part of 'projecting' don't you understand?" It was her turn to spit fire. "Just because we're telepaths doesn't mean we always snoop inside people's heads."

Scott's lips flattened and he glared at his teammate. Realizing she had a point—maybe he was projecting, and it wasn't her fault—Scott reigned in his temper and breathed out a deep sigh. "Sorry." He apologized, though there was still tension in his tone. "Not your fault."

Another moment passed and the heat in Jean's green gaze lessened. She tilted her gaze away to stem off the awkwardness between them. "…I'm sorry too. I shouldn't… I shouldn't have been so forceful."

Not this early.

Not when they were all this tense.

"You were saying?" Scott asked, his tone soft and inquisitive. "You had my dream, too?"

"'Not you'." Jean parroted in wonder. Her eyes flashed—pain and confusion shimmered in them. "Scott, I'm—I'm scared. I fear I know what is coming."

He pulled her into a one-armed hug and Jean, on instinct, nestled herself against his shoulder. "I know, Jean." Scott murmured reassuringly. He wanted to hold her closer, but he hadn't the strength to support himself. Still, he kept his chin up—kept his jaw squared for the inevitable. "I know."

Jean gazed up at him. "I saw fire."

Scott's eyes widened behind his lenses.

The darkness was all-consuming until even nothingness was gone.

"Guys…?" Bobby's voice interrupted and drew their attention.

Abruptly, Jean pushed away from Scott's embrace, and Scott tilted his head questioningly.

"What happened, Bobby?" Scott asked while Jean regained her composure.

Looking between the two of them, and seeing Jean's nod of assurance, Bobby continued. "Something's happening in Central Park."

"Central Park? As in, where Professor K and mansion are?" Jean clarified.

"Yeah." Bobby nodded. "And I think they're in trouble."

-0-0-0-

Ocean winds swept past the lone grave on the cliff.

He never liked that spot. In his opinion, it was the worst place to honor his fallen comrade.

Then again, that may have been the point.

The dead, after all, were not the ones that chose their grave.

"Why are you here?" Magneto asked as he descended from the skies, standing behind the blonde woman with diamond skin. "You and I both know this is an empty grave."

"Hello, Erik." Emma Frost greeted, but her focus remained on the tombstone. "I'm surprised you hadn't tried to kill me."

The old mutant scoffed. "I am in no rush—and you are no threat."

"Arrogant as ever." She tilted her head, gazing at him with lazy eyes before returning her attention forward. "That had always been your weakness."

"The question, Miss Frost." Erik reminded and folded his arms to show his impatience.

Emma seemed to think on his demand before, finally, she turned to give him her attention. His brow twitched when she casually leaned against the tombstone of Scott Summers.

"Was that really a question, Erik?" The woman taunted with a disarming smile. "You must have felt it, too. It is why you are here."

Magneto was uncannily perceptive like that. It spoke volumes of the old mutant's experiences that he, without a connection, could feel it coming—like a sixth sense.

"Where is he?"

"He is not here."

"I know that." Erik growled, and the metal from his gauntlets detached and molded into numerous pikes.

Emma was not intimidated in the slightest and it showed in how her posture remained relaxed. In the same sedate tone, she continued, "He is not there, either. He is nowhere to be found."

"Impossible. You were to keep watch."

"Yes, well—something happened. Someone took him while my eyes were averted."

"How long ago?"

"Not long. It has yet been a week." Emma patted the stone beneath her. "But knowing what is coming, his disappearance is worrying."

"Do you think it's coming for him?"

"Who can really tell?" Emma countered. "But do I think it is likely? Yes. There is too tight a connection between him, his blood and our guest."

"What game are you playing, Frost?"

"I am flattered, Erik, that you believe me capable of such cosmic design." Emma laughed heartily, "But alas, my cards are gone. I merely wish to see where this ends. Who can predict its actions? Certainly not I."

"Then we must put our differences aside and act." Magneto extended his hand. "We must warn the others."

It was too soon for fire to come.

-0-0-0-

Alex Summers was reasonably certain this was yet another day in the Big Apple.

The scarred Havok had planned to put all heroics behind him. Especially after his brother died.

Still, when people spontaneously combusted in an explosion of power, the former X-Man and retired Avenger knew something was up. Cloned mutants appearing out of the woodwork only served to identify the week's latest villain.

Spotting his niece in the fighting below, Havok leaped and unleashed hell upon the unprepared clones.

"Where is he?" Havok asked.

"Alex! You're alive!" Rachel brightened at seeing a familial sight. "Where is who?"

"Look around you, Rachel. Tell me what you see."

She glanced around. "Clones."

"Sinister." Havok concluded.

Rachel's eyes widened in alarm.

"Stay alert, Ray. You know how he is with our bloodline." He turned around and started walking.

"Where are you going?" She immediately called.

"To where Scott would go in a time like this."

"There are civilians here!"

Havok paused. His tired gaze glanced at her from the corner of his eyes. "You're the hero here, Ray. Me?" Power surged around him. Anger- he'd been feeling a lot of that, lately, and he knew more than anyone that anger was best externalized. "I've got a reunion to attend."

It was up to him to finish Scott's work.

-0-0-0-

"What do you gain from this?" Katherine Pryde growled up at the seated mutant. Her mind raced—their forces were dispersed across the city when the bombings happened, and not soon after the chaos started, the pale mutant appeared.

Naturally, they had attempted to repel him.

With the full might of all the mutants remaining in the institute… they had lost.

It was not to Sinister's clone army that they fell.

Neither was it to Sinister's latest abomination nor his newfound ability to convert them into himself.

It was to Sinister's latest trump card—he had full control of their will and their powers.

Katherine glanced to the dying form of the older Logan.

Not again. She inwardly cursed, but she was knelt before Sinister's throne—powerless, incapable of movement.

And she could not figure out how he had done it.

"You've beaten us, Sinister." She goaded him. The man was arrogant—a little prodding and he would give enough information for her to find a way out of this mess. "What more do you want?"

Calmly, the mutant on the throne stared at her. "It is the endgame." He began, his voice sedate but nonetheless resolute. "You see, Scott and I have been at this game for a long time. Today—it all ends."

"You're eight months too late." She snidely remarked. "He's dead."

"And you, my dear deserter, have such little faith." There was something in his smile. It was that of one that knew something everyone else did not. Knowing Sinister, that assessment was unnervingly accurate. "You ask what I gain? I gain satisfaction. You all are my pawns—my barbed shields. I shall perish today knowing that I my influence will remain. Mine legacy will be eternal—both in his conscience and in your shame."

For the first time in a while, fear gripped her heart. The realization was like ice flowing through her veins, and her mind raced with panic.

Nathaniel Essex did not expect to leave them alive.

And there was no foe more frightening than one with nothing to lose.

Abruptly, blue light and hellfire lit up the skies, drawing the attention of the egoistic mutant.

"What was that?"

Katherine grinned and silently thanked all their lucky stars. While unplanned, she would take every miracle as they came.

Setting Sinister with an indomitable grin, she declared proudly.

"Our wildcard."

Sinister arched an amused brow at her. "Well, it seems there is still some fight left in you lot. I supposed I'll just have to beat it out."

He stood from his throne.

-0-0-0-

Truth be told, today was not her day.

After sensing a disturbance in reality, the idle but curious Illyana Rasputin set off to investigate. What she found was a trap—a humanoid being clad in darkness, not unlike the Elder Gods she had vanquished, but one quite possibly more fearsome—and she had spent the better part running.

Minutes—but truthfully, it felt like decades—into their skirmish, Illyana had realized a peculiarity among the latest harbinger of Earth's destruction.

Through bloodied limbs and tattered clothes, through the sheer determination that kept her alive all this time, she managed to do the unthinkable.

"What the devil did you do?"

She glanced, willing her gasps to still and failing, at the approaching form of Nathaniel Essex. Grinning wildly, Illyana planted her sword on the ground to help her stand tall.

"I sensed it stir." She wheezed. Her lungs burned and her heart thumped its protest against her breast. Strangely, despite the heaviness of her body, she never felt invincible. She knew what was coming. "That was you, wasn't it? Prodding and taunting in the astral plane. Didn't you know that the dead should be left alone?" She chided the pale mutant. "It didn't like that. Scott didn't like that."

"It should have torn you to pieces." Sinister muttered, his walking cane raising- its dark coat shining with an ominous light. His gloved knuckles tightened around it.

Magik couldn't care any less.

"You overestimate it—and underestimate me." That was always how it went. Only one man had truly seen her. And this Ублюдок had dared defile him. "You see, your eyes have always been focused on Scott and his bloodline that you failed to understand me."

"You are chaos." Sinister scoffed. "Girl, what did you do?"

How did she not perish during the encounter?

"I showed him where you hid her body. It is there, mourning—" Illyana's breathing stilled and she knew she was invincible. "—long enough for me to destroy you."

"A delay, then." Sinister nodded in understanding before declaring with certainty. "Ten minutes. He will arrive in ten minutes—and you will rue bringing him here."

All was still according to plan—only this time, he would dirty his hands to vanquish the demon.

"The way I see it, we're all damned either way." Raising her sword, burning with the souls of the fallen, Illyana crouched in a ready stance. "So let's be damned together."

-0-0-0-

The abyss cradled her corpse in its arms. It had lost sight of the blonde demon it had been chasing—too focused it was on her corpse.

This was she.

This was she.

It brushed a dirty strand of red aside.

Someone dared touch her.

Someone dared defile her.

Even through the haze that clouded it, it knew this was wrong.

Dark tendrils erupted from its sides and it threw its head backwards.

A mighty wail tore through the landscape, sending tremors all around him ripping through the stone and steel like paper.

It was in some kind of facility—some place where abominations were created.

Instantly, it knew.

Its mind searched—and it found him.

His hated foe; the source of his agony.

Reality warped around it and it found itself amidst trees and fields.

And directly below it were the yellow demon and its pale prey gazing up at him.

-0-0-0-

Katherine Pryde stared in horror as the mansion was torn asunder by the beast's roar.

Her worried eyes found the culprit—truthfully, the being was hard to miss.

Darkness was the only word to describe it. Pure darkness.

All light appeared to be sucked in by the beast. It had no features save for its glowing red eyes; only a silhouette, a distortion in space itself.

A void.

"It was him!" Illyana shouted with a wild grin, thrusting her sword at Sinister's direction. "He is who you want!"

A dark tendril whipped at Magik before she knew what was happening, managing to snag her by the leg before she could dodge. A thunderclap sounded and Illyana was instantly flung against a tree.

"Well, well, old chap." Sinister greeted, clapping his hands slowly in admiration. "Brutal; cold. I see the underworld taught you a few lessons."

Instantly, another tendril lashed out—cleanly cleaving the gloating mutant in half.

"No witty comebacks?" Another Sinister stepped out from the corner. "This is our final battle. I would have wits traded."

Another inhuman roar sounded, and an obsidian wall erupted from its eyes, eradicating the newest Sinister from existence, and only then, with its head thrown back, did Kitty Pryde see.

It was Scott Summers—or some hellspawn version of him.

And cradled in its arms, tenderly even, was the corpse of Jean Grey.

"Sinister…" The Jewish mutant whispered, horror and disbelief etched across her face. Idly, she noted that she was once more able to move. "What have you done?"

"It would have happened eventually." Yet another Sinister strolled forward. "Did you honestly think it would have allowed Scott to remain dead?"

Kitty opened her mouth to respond, but the ground suddenly began to rumble. Glancing around, she saw a mass of bodies rushing towards the clearing.

Not just bodies—Sinister's entire army.

Her gaze returned to the newest Sinister-Prime. "You're not planning to—"

He drew a sword from his staff. "Slay the beast? It is not my style, but there is a certain romance to the act." Smirking—the smirk of a man facing his doom, Nathaniel Essex charged. "Strike, abominations—and show the world our genius!"

Kitty turned, "Everyone down!"

The mutant horde began to glow before, as one, they reached the abyssal beast and exploded.

-0-0-0-

Part 2: EXistence

It took several more seconds after Sinister's mass suicide bombing before her eyes could see again.

Kitty was bewildered that she was still alive.

Gaze shifting to where she had last seen the Sinister army, her eyes widened when she recognized a multi-layered telekinetic field a split second before it faded, allowing the dust cloud it contained to wash over them.

Quickly drawing a mental list of their telekinetics, she scanned the area to assess the damage.

The first she noticed was Hellion passed out close to the blast zone; she wasn't sure exactly why he strayed so near the battle, but she didn't have the luxury to ponder for the moment. She spotted an unconscious Psylocke and Quentin Quire—as well as, much to her confusion, the fast approaching and harried forms of her once-students, the Original Five—where had they come from, exactly?

She spied the young Scott carrying the young Jean in his arms and she realized the girl must have helped contain the blast.

"You alright, kid?" A familiar gruff voice called.

Turning to the aged Logan, Kitty was relieved to see he was looking far better than just a few moments previous. It seemed his healing factor was once more kicking in—implying…

"Can you stand?" She asked her once-mentor.

"I can fight." Came the Wolverine's reply. His tone was hard and ready.

While their powers returning was a good sign, it didn't mean they were in the clear just yet.

There was still the matter of the Void Beast, Scott Summers.

As if reading her thoughts, a loud roar echoed throughout the field, instantly dissipating the dust cloud around it.

There, floating above them, with its body seemingly eating away at all the light, was the Void Beast. In its arms remained the corpse of the older Jean. They were both unscathed, and Kitty guessed that this must have been Sinister's master plan to kill them all.

"Martha?" She murmured and thought hard. "Martha, can you hear me?"

She needed a telepath.

"Mindee, Phoebe, Celeste?" She tried when no reply came.

"Professor K!" Scott—the younger one—called when they finally reached. "We just arrived—Jean is—she's hurt!" The boy looked frantic as he raised Jeen's unconscious form. Blood streamed from her nose, but it wasn't the first time Kitty had seen this so she wasn't too worried. Especially when something much more urgent was happening. "What is that thing?"

"It's The Void."

The gathered snapped towards Illyana, who had suddenly appeared. She looked haggard; her dark armor was in tatters. Her left eye remained closed as blood continued to stream despite the pressure she applied on to the deep cut on her forehead. She was down on one knee and leaning on her soulsword for support—but it was clear that, despite looking beaten, Illyana would stand and fight if she asked.

Kitty was unsure if she had the heart to do so.

"How do we stop it?" Tyke asked as he gingerly lowered Jeen. His body was tense—Kitty was reminded of how the older Scott would sound before every cataclysmic battle. He was ready to give his life for any Hail Mary.

"We can't." Illyana said. "The last time we fought the void, Scott was barely able to imprison it in his mind—and that was just a sliver of the real thing. It took the full might of the Avengers, the Asgardians, and pretty much everyone you can think of just to stop true the Void—and even then, the Sentry was holding it back." Illyana's tone was grim—and Kitty was suddenly unnerved as the Illyana she knew was never like this. "This? It's a mindless, will-less beast."

"Alright." Scott nodded. "So how do we stop this?"

Illyana grinned wildly and pushed herself up. She would have chuckled if she wasn't trying to conserve as much energy as possible. "The old fashioned way."

"That's what I wanted to hear." His visor's flashed with a deadly glint.

"Guys?" The young Bobby cut in. "When you're finished thinking up a battle plan, mind filling us in quickly?" He raised his hand and pointed at the Void.

Its gaze had settled upon them.

The young Iceman swallowed nervously. "I don't like the way it's looking at us."

-0-0-0-

It could feel the hated one was still alive.

The hated always had a way of clinging to life.

A sliver of worry—its gaze found her in its arms—and a sigh.

She was unharmed.

It roared its anger.

The hated must perish.

It would consume all, for it could sense the hated was everywhere.

The hated was in every living thing.

And thus, all that was living will be consumed by the void.

-0-0-0-

They were going to die.

Their battle plan was simple—evacuate the wounded while the heavy hitters would delay the fight long enough for help to arrive.

Seconds into the battle, and Kitty wasn't sure if they'd last long enough.

Logan, Colossus, and Warren were down. The two Bobbys were doing all they could to just keep out of reach. None of Storm's lightning seemed to faze the beast. Even the mystic arts of Illyana and the young Hank—when did that happen!—did little more than a breeze would against it.

In fact, the Void remained floating in place—even against their onslaught, it remained still.

But that wasn't to say the Void wasn't trying to kill them.

Kitty's eyes widened and she leapt to the side, narrowly escaping a decapitating tendril. Earlier on in the fight, she had attempted to use her powers to get near the beast and bring the battle to a swift and decisive end—if not for a blast of dark energy that knocked her immaterial self aside.

Not willing to take a chance—she had seen how those tendrils thrashed Logan and Piotr like ragdolls, Kitty wasn't planning on getting caught.

"Ororo!" Kitty screamed as a blast of energy finally caught the weather witch, knocking her out cold and out of the sky.

She ran to catch her friend—or would have, had not another tendril caught her leg. Her eyes widened—horror gripped her as she watched Ororo's rapid descent, head-first.

"Catch her!" She screamed even as she was flung backwards. Her head impacted on the ruined cobblestone wall of their once proud school, sending stars and dark spots of pain into her eyes, but all she could see was Ororo falling.

She barely registered the threat to her own life as the Void's gazed in her direction. Dark energy cackled in its eyes.

Storm was going to die.

They were going to die.

Everyone was going to die.

"God," She gasped, silently. She wasn't normally one for prayer, but in that moment… "Please… save us."

If I must, Mrs. Quill.

Kitty's heart leapt out of its cage at the unmistakable infuriating voice.

Someone stood in front of her and absorbed the blast.

"Scott!" Her mysterious savior shouted. His voice was gruff and pained, but nonetheless familiar. "Scott—get ahold of yourself!"

"Alex, darling," Emma Frost's condescending drawl came from her side. A bulb lit up in her head as recognition set in. "He won't hear you with this ratchet. Be a dear and help your niece keep him busy."

It occurred to her that a streak of red flew around the beast, parrying each dark tendril with a telekinetic field. Rachel was surviving—but for how much longer, Kitty was hesitant to say.

Her savior—Havok, growled a response before nodding his head and charging forward. Streaks of dark and cosmic energy cackled around him like lightning before he unleashed all manner of mayhem on the beast just as Rachel cleared a path.

The beast responded with another animalistic roar.

"How are you feeling, Mrs. Quill?" Emma asked as she filled her vision.

"Pryde." Kitty rasped. Everything hurt, but she would never give Emma the chance to look down on her. "I got my name back."

Emma rolled her eyes. "Millennials these days…"

"Why are you here?" She asked suspiciously before her eyes widened. "Ororo! Ororo- is she-"

"She's fine." Emma said dismissively. "Erik caught her. Still, seeing as your goody-two shoes remains intact, I suppose you're not at risk of expiring in the next few minutes." She crouched. "Would you prefer to hide or to stay here?"

"Why are you here, Frost?" Kitty narrowed her eyes.

"A front row seat it is, then." Emma stood up and turned her back. She did not look bothered at the slightest. "Be mindful, however. The front row is known to become a splash zone."

"Frost!" Kitty raised her voice as much as she could. Her lungs burned—she hoped she hadn't punctured anything, but she could taste blood in her mouth. Still, she needed to know. "Tell me why you're here!"

What game was she playing at this time?

The last thing she wanted was to trade one manipulator for another.

And after finding out that Magneto was still alive…!

Emma paused, and all Kitty could see from her profile were curious blue orbs that gazed at her from the corner of her eyes. The woman appeared to contemplate something, and she could not figure out what—only that, whatever the White Queen would say next was likely venom and deceit.

Kitty's eyes widened.

With a smirk, Emma Frost turned into diamond and calmly walked towards the battlefield.

Without so much as another word.

-0-0-0-

It threw its gaze up.

The hated one was finally found.

Wounded, clinging to life—and replenishing its army.

It scoffed, even as it absorbed yet another blast of energy.

A man was shouting its name. It could feel a tug—it should know the man, but it was uncertain.

It felt a probe into its mind—a familiar touch, like an old lover.

Confused—but only momentarily, for it refocused.

In its arms remained eternity.

And it knew where her desecrater was licking his wounds.

It roared, loudly, before it enfolded upon itself.

A blast of red attempted to keep him in place, but it felt nothing.

An instant later, and it floated above the stunned eyes of the hated one.

It smiled.

-0-0-0-

Part 3: ResurreXion

"You were all ridiculous." Emma Frost pointed out. Her arms were folded to express her disappointment at the recovering mutants of the school. "Attempting to combat the Void head-on? I thought you lot were all about the power of love and friendship. Wits and words, you illiterate imbeciles. Not all power comes from the mutant gene."

"Fat lot your words did, Frost." Kitty Pryde fired back. Her head pounded and Emma's nonsense was hammering her harder. "Besides, I seem to recall you charging in as well."

"He's gone." Rachel interjected as she landed between the two bickering women. "My dad-"

"The Void." Emma swiftly corrected.

Rachel shot a glance at the blonde telepath, who returned her incredulous look by raising an amused brow. Clearing her throat, Rachel continued, "The Void. It's gone. I can't sense him."

"It." Emma sing-songed, drawing amusement from the glares she received. "Ladies, get it through your thick skulls. That wasn't Scott—it was the Void commandeering Scott's body."

"Whatever it is doesn't matter." Old Man Logan gruffly pointed out. The old timer looked far worse than a man with a healing factor should look. He was seated on the ground, legs crossed, as Ororo Munroe's unconscious head rested on his lap. "What matters is where it went. And how we can end it."

"So eager to kill, Logan?" Erik Lensherr spoke up from where he remained hovering above them—standing guard over the chanting Magik, who was attempting to locate their prey through the mystic arts.

Below him, the awakened but still injured Psylocke glared hard at the Master of Magnetism. He remained nonplussed. Erik chuckled. "I suppose nothing really changes."

"That thing nearly killed all of us. And now it's gone." Logan leveled his gaze at the gathered crowd. "I don't think we're lucky enough that that thing is simply smelling daisies right now."

Murmurs of agreement coming from the school-based mutants followed the Old Man's statement.

"Hello? Am I the only one wondering why Emma Frost is here?" The time-displaced Tyke pointed out. "There's something strange about the fact that she's here."

"Run along now, little one." Emma shooed him. "The grown-ups are talking."

"She's plotting something." Tyke exclaimed and pointed an accusing finger at her. "And she's distracting us from that fact!"

Rachel's head suddenly snapped to the side. "Uncle? Where are you going?"

Alex Summers glanced behind him, suddenly realizing that his quiet escape was botched by his niece. With an annoyed glare, the blond mutant gruffly answered, "Where else?"

"And how do you plan to locate him?" Emma asked, her tone far more civil than when she spoke with the other mutants.

Alex shrugged before pointing at something in the sky. "By commandeering that."

Everyone followed his finger to a very familiar plane that was rapidly approaching. Collectively, they all sighed as they realized the cavalry was, as usual, late.

The Avengers were coming.

-0-0-0-

Jeen could feel it.

For several weeks now, she dreamed of fire. Every night, she could feel the fires caress her skin; could hear the fire cackled and caw, calling for her.

The Phoenix was coming.

What she did not expect was that something else came first.

As the gathered mutants and Avengers bickered amongst themselves on the next course of action, she turned towards her teammate.

"You holding up alright?"

Scott—her Scott—craned his head up at her. "Yeah." He looked like hell to her. If everyone else were to be believed, then he really did go through hell fighting that… beast. "Did they finally stop bickering?"

Jeen turned to the adults. They all seemed to be confused about the presence of Emma and Magneto, more so about the former. The White Queen, for her part, was leaning against a broken pillar, eyes closed. She looked a mix of boredom and irritation as she rubbed her temples with one hand.

"I think it'll be a while longer."

"We're wasting time here." Scott pointed out. His tone was sharp and ready, and Jeen's heart thundered with worry.

He was eager to return to battle.

"Can you feel it?" She probed, taking the seat next to him and placing a hand on his shoulder.

Scott shook his head. "It wasn't looking for me."

Jeen frowned. He was very tense.

"Scott…" She started, trying to find the correct words to tell him, when she noticed somebody approach them.

"Break time is over, kids." Illyana Rasputin announced with a wild grin. "Emma found them. It's time to go."

Scott stood up before Jeen could protest.

-0-0-0-

"You really are at fault, you know." The pale mutant remarked seconds before he was severed in half.

Sinister had briefly considered fleeing to fight another day. However, given how quickly the Void Beast had tracked him, he knew this was going to be his last stand.

And in all honesty? Things were going according to plan.

He and his other bodies charged at the abomination, only to be dealt with a swift end.

The beast growled again as more came.

"You just had to grow, didn't you? Our fun and games have finally ended." Sinister chided as legions of Marauders charged. "Do you recall how this all started, Scott? It was a little over a century, in London, when we first met, didn't we?"

Tendrils tore through the clones. Blood and gore spilled over the large underground bunker, but Sinister paid it no mind.

A sad smile curled on his lips as he reminisced.

"You and Jean were lost. I was lost, too." He murmured. The beast turned in his direction and he caught a glimpse of red hair. "I supposed it is fitting that this is where we end. Just us three again."

The world once more turned into white as he detonated all of his nuclear generators. All one billion megatons ergs of it.

And it still was not enough.

The Void Beast howled and swallowed the energy of the sun.

It glared at the last of its hated one.

"No words at all?" Sinister asked, saddened. "This is why I dislike transcendents. It's all roars and growls without a single ounce of wit."

He looked around at the destruction—or lack thereof as the beast consumed everything.

There was a twinge on his chest that his hand could not heal.

Was this what it was like to finally feel?

"Well, old chap. This is the end. You've grown—and will continue to grow beyond what you are now. Just remember—it was I that set you down this path, just as you did me. It was I that orchestrated your perfection. It is I that is your true patriarch."

Not that irresponsible space pirate.

Not that anachronistic telepath.

And not that megalomaniac Jew.

Nathaniel Essex stared into the red orbs of the abyss and smiled.

"Give my regards to the wife. Tell her that death was never a good look on her."

Dark tendrils stabbed through him.

The first pierced through his chest.

Then his heart.

Then his eye.

Then his leg.

More and more, they stabbed.

And as nothingness approached, he felt it.

A tug.

It extinguished his soul.

The Void Beast howled its supremacy.

And its growing hunger.

Bright blue disks opened around it as more fresh souls offered themselves to it.

-0-0-0-

It was like a prison.

He rattled and railed against the metal bars but none would answer. His body—its body moved against his will.

His shouts and his pleas were drowned.

Drowned by the darkness and its red eyes.

He watched, helplessly, as familiar figures were violently struck.

The blonde—she was precious, too—was trying to touch his mind.

He wanted so desperately to reach out to her.

But it growled, and its tendrils sought out to strangle her diamond form.

Stop.

He needed to stop.

Why wouldn't it stop?

He wept.

Why was this happening?

Why couldn't it let him rest?

He redoubled his efforts to form—form?

What was he creating again?

His consciousness swam in a haze.

He felt her mind touch his.

It growled angrily.

By pure chance, its gaze lowered, catching the precious one in its grasp.

Jean.

Yes, the precious one had a name.

Help me.

The emptiness was consuming him.

A shrill cry rang through the void.

-0-0-0-

"PHOENIX!" Jeen screamed as fire erupted in the space between them and the beast, forming a familiar raptor that haunted her dreams.

"The Phoenix is here!" She heard someone announce and felt the collective dread of both the mutants and the Avengers.

This—this could get very ugly, very soon.

"What now?" Someone else asked, panicking.

"Nobody move!" Another answered—Alex.

Jeen could not tell for sure—she was too transfixed by the burning figure in front of her.

A mad howl reverberated through everyone's hearts—reminding them that the beast was still untamed.

The Phoenix approached the Void.

Tendrils that swallowed the light met wings of pure fire.

A battle of cosmic titans; a reckoning that could easily split the Earth asunder.

And that was when everyone saw it.

Before everyone's eyes, they saw fire envelope the corpse of Jean Grey-Summers that the Void had been cradling. Her body burned—but rather than turn to ash, it began gaining form. What once was bone became flesh; what once were strands of red hair grew into a sea of flames. The purest of white and the richest of gold adorned her.

She gasped.

Jean Grey-Summers opened her eyes once more to the world.

The Void Beast howled—but for the first time, it was not angry, and the Phoenix sang in triumph before embracing its one true avatar.

Gingerly, she reached up to palm the cheek of the beast.

"It is time for you to wake as well, my love." Her voice echoed through everyone's minds.

Gradually, the darkness and the emptiness receded until it formed a man with brown hair and glowing red eyes.

Jean floated, righting herself so that she could wrap her arms around the shoulders of her beloved, drawing his gaze onto herself with her own.

"Breathe, Scott. Breathe life and contain the Void as only you can."

And he did.

The new avatar of the Void was reborn.

"They're alive." Ororo gasped in disbelief.

"What the hell is going on!" Logan growled in confusion.

"Everybody stand down!" Alex commanded once again.

"Captain, tell your men not to move!" Emma added.

The couple ignored everything around them.

Instead, light and darkness swirled around them, engulfing them.

"Come. We have much work to do. A little blue girl has run away and we must find her before a very evil man uses her again."

And with that, they were gone.

The Epilogue

"Isn't it rather petty—even for you—to be stealing a ship?"

Emma Frost needn't look behind her to see the frown on the young Scott's face. She felt him creep behind her—honestly, the boy had much to learn before he became as proficient as her man—but she did acknowledge his nerve to sneak aboard the ship with her.

"I see you share Scott's keen powers of observation." She replied, a mocking smirk twisting her lips.

"And I see you're sneaking out. That's just like you." He took the seat next to her, and a cursory glanced showed that his fingers were near the control to his visor.

Cautious.

How delectable.

"Witless insults. I would say it's child's play, but with you? Apt." Emma waved at him dismissively. "Now, is that all?"

Slowly, the young Scott's hands settled on his lap. "…you don't know how to fly." He murmured.

"Speak louder, darling." Emma drawled as if talking to her son. Now wasn't that simply Oedipal in the most bizarre way? "Words are tasteless when unheard."

The boy scowled. "I said you don't know how to fly a ship. Let alone this one."

"I was in a room filled with those that do know." Emma pointed out. "If you're smart, you would connect the dots."

"…"

"That was your cue to exit." She prompted him.

"I'm coming with you." He declared. "I've had my share of navigating in space."

"Darling, I don't need you." Emma tucked a blonde hair behind her ear haughtily. "You're better off here playing hero with the people that do."

"Yeah, well, you don't know me—us, that well." It was an incredibly loaded statement and she needn't use her powers to understand what he meant. His was an unnecessary presence. "I want to go."

"We don't all get to have what we want."

"But isn't that why you take? Isn't that what you're doing now?" The young Scott persisted. "And let's face it—you and I both know you'll never last long out there chasing them. You and I both know that you need me."

"And me as well." Another voice chimed in.

Both turned to see Rachel Grey enter the pilot's cabin. The red-haired telepath crossed her arms defiantly. "Don't even think of getting rid of me, Frost. This ship doesn't belong to you."

"Does your financier know you've snuck away?"

"My parents have decided to go on a galactic road trip." Rachel remarked. "I don't think the school will mind my disappearance."

"And here I thought you'd run away again." Emma's blue eyes twinkled with laughter. "After all, the Phoenix is involved."

Rachel refused to take the bait. "I'm here to bring them home. Same as you."

"Me, too." The young Scott confirmed.

Emma sighed. Begrudgingly, she knew she was better off with company.

Even when the ship had autopilot, someone had to push the button.

But that didn't mean she had to look happy about this arrangement.

"Is this everyone?" Emma asked snidely.

Blue light erupted as two more figures entered the scene.

The reality-displaced Rachel and the time-displaced Scott pointedly ignored the scowling Emma Frost, who had thrown her hands up in defeat. "It was a rhetoric!"

"You've got room for two more." It was a statement instead of a question, and Emma scowled as a familiar scarred blonde made his presence known.

Beside her, the demon smirked and rested her sword lazily on her shoulder.

"Illyana…" Emma drawled before her gaze settled on her companion. There was no point figuring out what Illyana wanted; the demon was likely doing this for her amusement alone.

"Alex…" Emma's brows crossed as a headache came over her. She had half the mind to tell him off, but she was too tired to rehash the same spiel she had given her other two stragglers. "I take it there is no way to convince you against chasing after your brother?"

Alex folded his arms and stared at her stonily. "I've lost Scott more times than I can count because I was never there for him. This time—with him off saving the galaxy, I plan to be right there with him."

Emma rolled her eyes. "It was a simple 'yes' or 'no'; not an invitation for a sentimental speech." Looking at the gathered mutants, Emma's frown deepened. "This is turning out to be a Summers family reunion." She said, before adding. "Plus one Grey."

"And one Rasputin." Illyana cheerfully added while to her side, the redhead frowned.

"I'm a Summers too." Rachel corrected. "If anything, it's a Summers plus one Rasputin and one Frost."

"I deeply regret telling my girls to stay." Emma groaned. "Scottie, be a dear and close the hatch now. The longer it remains open, the more we invite stragglers."

"Who made you captain of this ship?" Tyke frowned but nonetheless complied.

"I commandeered this ship and you lot are stowaways."

"I can port her out." Illyana stage-whispered to the time-displaced Cyclops. "Say the word and she'll be in the Savage Land without her heels."

"Settle down, Illyana." Alex mediated. "We're not throwing Emma off at least until we've escaped the atmosphere."

Emma rolled her eyes.

"And here I thought spacefaring had class. I've clearly joined the Starjammers—or a second-rate iteration of Quill's ragtag outfit. I cannot decide which is worse…."

"That reminds me—shouldn't we have a name?" Rachel pointed out. "If we're to travel together, then our group has to be called something, right?"

Everyone stared at the ginger mutant.

"What?" Rachel's face lit up with embarrassment. "I mean—we're a team now, right?"

"Very well. Since you lot are so endearingly sentimental, I shall name this group. Henceforth, Scott, Jean, and the universe shall tremble when we approach, for we are-"

Stareater

Omake 1 – Mind Chat (Taking place during the Battle)

Rachel, keep us linked.

You can't tell me what to do, Emma!

Listen to her.

Alex! You can't possibly side with her—she's evil!

Focus! You can't expect me to keep saving your collective butts!

Please, Illyana. My Scott's a pushover, but he can tame this beast.

I can't tell if you're insulting or complimenting me. Him.

Tykeclops, you remain supporting Alex. Illyana, keep everyone alive.

Ugh!

Now I know you're just insulting.

Listen to her, Tykeclops.

Not you too, Illyana!

If I'm keeping us linked, what the hell will you be doing Emma?

Emma?

Quiet. She's doing big girl things.

I don't like how you're supporting her, Alex!

Yeah! She's evil, Alex! You know that!

Focus, everyone! Don't make me kill all of you—you know I will!

Everyone, be silent. I'll take charge while Emma is busy.

Alright.

Sure, Alex.

Can I just kill all of you?

Look! It's stopped.

What did Emma do?

I don't know.

…she didn't let me kill all of you.

-0-0-0-

Omake 2 – The Space Team

"Not an hour past Jupiter and already we are under siege!" Emma growled as she held on to her seat. Their ship made a hard turn as it narrowly dodged enemy fire, and diamond woman glared at their pilot. "Tykeclops, this is all your fault!"

"Stop calling me that!" The time-displaced Scott Summers shouted back while his eyes remained glued forward. "And you can't possibly blame me for this!"

"Captain Frost, we're being hailed!" Illyana, the designated navigator, waved.

"Well, you don't have to sound so cheerful, Illyana. Put them on-screen."

"Hello, Earth scum—"

"Urk." Scott choked at the sight.

"—I am Captain Vileena Malafect, and I can see you have on your deck the man who broke my heart and killed my father!" The whole crew glared at their young pilot who seemed to shrink in his seat. The red woman on screen added to the glares as she shouted, "Scott Cyclops Summers! Prepare to become space dust!"

The transmission abruptly ended as a new wave of laser fire assaulted them.

"Captain! Permission to throw Tykeclops at the bogey?" Illyana suggested eagerly.

"Permission denied!" Scott shouted passionately.

"Permission delayed." Emma grudgingly said, "Havok, darling, have you and Rachel adjusted the suits yet?"

"We're ready."

"Alright. Everyone, get changed. Illyana, prepare to port us out in five minutes." Emma stood from her seat just as Rachel and Alex returned with the new suits. It looked tacky and generic, and Emma felt she would literally die wearing it, but it would have to do. She hoped that little trigger-happy tart on-screen had at least some sense for fashion otherwise the universe was hopeless.

Glancing at everyone and noting they were properly geared, Emma grinned predatorily.

"Alright you miscreants. Tykeclops, you're on point."

"I said, stop—"

Blue light engulfed him and he disappeared from sight.

"…"

"Oops?"

Rachel panicked and shouted at their insane teleporter. "Beam me out! Beam me out! Send me to him!"

Emma massaged the bridge of her nose in aggravation. "It is time for us to acquire a spaceworthy vessel. And rescue our pilot before he gets violated."

Illyana snickered and Rachel turned red with her frantic shouting.

"Move out!"

Blue light erupted around the remaining crew just as the X-Ship crashed into the much larger vessel.

It was on that day when the first of many legends would be told about the legendary crew that would charge through all manner of hell just to crash their ship as part of their boarding strategy.

Spacefarers be warned.