LIGHTNOVELONLINE Arc 1 - Ch 6: Banished
Chapter 6
Arc 1 - Ch 6: Banished
Date: Friday, June 4, 2010.
Location: Xavier Institute, Scarsdale, New York
Jean Grey strolled alongside Tyson. A gentle breeze whispered through the trees lining the path, rustling the leaves and playing with her long, fiery red hair. The wind carried Jean's unique scent into his enhanced senses; rose and lavender overlayed with amber and the smell of fire.
"Tyson, when you recounted Logan and Victor's history... I felt it. All of it. Through your mind."
Tyson halted, taken aback. He turned to face her, surprise etched on his features. "You did? I thought my mind was too difficult to read."
"It is. Except when your thoughts are broadcasting so loudly. Or if I'm near you. I'm so sorry for the maelstrom of emotions you're experiencing right now. It must be completely overwhelming."
Tyson hesitated, grasping for the right words. "It's like... I have two warring souls inside of me. One my own, the other a phantom of Sabertooth's."
A moment of shared understanding passed between them. "Sometimes I feel a similar tug-of-war. A sense that there's another entity, another personality within me, fighting for control."
Tyson's brow furrowed with concern as he studied Jean's face. Her admission stirred an uneasy memory. If he recalled correctly, Jean had a repressed personality he had seen take hold of her in the movies. Or worse, could she be referring to the Phoenix? Or heaven forbid, the Dark Phoenix?
"You do?" he asked, a nervous edge creeping into his voice.
Jean gave a solemn nod, her eyes downcast. She wrapped her arms around herself as if warding off a chill despite it being a comfortable summer day.
"Ever since my powers started growing, I've felt...something. Another presence, deep in the recesses of my mind. Like a caged animal, pacing restlessly." She shivered. "At first, it was just glimpses, but it's gotten stronger. Harder to ignore."
Jean lifted her gaze to meet Tyson's, her green eyes clouded with uncertainty. "The Professor says that an embodiment of my power. But when it surges up..." She trailed off, shaking her head. "It frightens me. Feels like I'm on the edge of losing myself."
Tyson studied her with growing unease. "Have you told the Professor everything? Maybe there's some way he can help get it under control."
Jean gave a half-hearted shrug. "We've been working on techniques to keep it contained. Building mental barriers and such. But it's getting stronger all the time. Like a dam about to burst." She sighed, her shoulders slumping. "I just hope it's enough."
The defeat in her voice made Tyson's chest tighten. He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. Jean managed a small, grateful smile. But in her eyes, Tyson saw traces of a growing dread. As they approached the gym entrance she abruptly stopped and turned to face Tyson directly.
"We'll get together soon, I promise," she said, "If I can find balance within myself, you can too. I'll help you in any way I can."
"Thank you, Jean. That means a lot. I'm no psychic, but if there's anything I can do, let me know."
Jean gave his arm a light, reassuring squeeze. "Just being around you is nice. Your mind is quieter than everyone else's."
They strolled into their physical education class, joining the students already gathered on the outdoor basketball courts adjacent to the gymnasium. As they stepped onto the court, their teacher, Scott Summers, clapped his hands sharply to get everyone's attention.
"Alright everyone, today we're playing basketball," he announced, his eyes hidden behind his distinctive ruby quartz sunglasses.
Tyson's face broke into an eager grin, his mind already envisioning how dominant he'd be in basketball with his new physique.
As the game kicked off, his confidence quickly morphed into surprise and then thrill. One of the students caught the ball and then tossed it directly into open space. Before Tyson could even register the bad pass, there was a blur and a rush of air as the student disappeared, only to reappear and snatch the ball from midair. With two more teleporting blinks, the boy was in range to shoot, and the ball swished cleanly through the net. The other students burst into applause and cheers while the scorer shrugged modestly, chuckling at their reaction.
Tyson leaned into the challenge. 'Well, at least it'll be interesting,' he thought.
The ball was passed between players. Finally, it came to Tyson, who cradled it securely and bent his knees. Drawing on years of muscle memory from before he arrived in this world, he leaped upwards, arm extending, and released the ball in a smooth, practiced motion.
But as the ball reached its peak, it froze in midair. Tyson's spun around, scanning the court until he spotted Jean. She stood across from him wearing a playful grin, one hand raised subtly as she telekinetically held the ball aloft. With a cheeky wink, she directed the ball into the waiting hands of a teammate before turning and running down the court.
Tyson jogged over to Jean, feigning annoyance through his smile. "Just wait until I get the ball next time."
Leaning in, Jean dropped her voice an octave lower. "Looking forward to it," she declared before spinning on her heel and rejoining the game.
All eyes were glued to the ongoing game, where the usual rules of basketball collided with the unpredictable abilities of the mutant students. Across the court, Shadowcat crouched low. As a teammate hurled the ball toward Tyson, he sprang into action, extending his arms outward to intercept it. But to his dismay, the ball passed harmlessly through his grasping fingers, then his torso.
Stumbling, Tyson whirled around, he spotted the culprit.
Shadowcat removed her hand from his back and was already moving for the loose ball. With agility granted by Sabertooth, Tyson raced forward, deftly maneuvering around her to snatch up the ball, passing it off to a waiting teammate.
Dribbling down the court on the next play, he scanned for openings, his heightened senses picking up every sound and movement around him. Heading toward him was Illyana Rasputin. Tyson tensed, expecting her to shy away from his imposing size. Instead, she vanished, reappearing at his side to swipe the ball mid-dribble.
"Not so good at this basketball, are you?" Illyana taunted. Lunging forward, Tyson grasped at the empty air as she teleported just out of reach, materializing across the court with the ball held aloft.
Her eyes glinted with mischief beneath the residual glow of her powers. "Well, well. Looks like the big, bad new guy met his match, didn't he?"
She tossed the ball to another teammate, then teleported back to Tyson's side. She slowly circled him like a cat toying with a mouse. Pausing before him, she cocked her head in mock sympathy. "What's the matter, Tyson? Can't brute force your way through me any better than you could brute force your way through Physics?"
Illyana ignored the game, more interested in taunting Tyson. "You know," she whispered, leaning in close, "this could have been avoided if you'd just played nice."
Deliberately, she reached up toward his face. He dodged back.
Tyson warned, "This is me playing nice. Keep coming at me and I'll show you how much of a brute I can be." he finished with a snarl.
Illyana was not one to back down. She teleported to his side again. Tyson tried to dodge, but her power matched his every move. Still, he managed to say just out of reach. Until suddenly, Illyana disappeared.
Tyson smelled her before he saw her; brimstone, smoke, and lilac with the barest trace of sandalwood.
But it was too late.
Illyana had teleported behind him. She reached her hand around his head, brushing her fingers across his face for only an instant. The world faded away momentarily as a rush of memories engulfed Tyson.
She had a traumatic youth. She was abused but escaped her tormentors by retreating into her personal realm, Limbo. Time there moved differently, according to her will. She had greater control of her powers while within her domain. She forged the Soulsword from a piece of her very soul. She reunited with her with her brother, Colossus, escaping to the institute. She trained rigorously to control her portals and teleportation. Her youth had left scars, both visible and invisible. Those years shaped her resilience yet underneath her tough exterior lay vulnerability and a deep-seated mistrust of the world.
The sounds of the basketball game faded into the background as Tyson focused intently on his hands. His left arm became encased in metallic armor as he invoked Illyana's mutant ability that he had absorbed through her touch.
Illyana flinched back, startled. The shock of Tyson manifesting her power struck her deeply. She recoiled as much from the pain of his touch as the surprise of his mimicking her gift. Her already pale skin blanched further, becoming ghostly white. She drew in a sharp breath, eyes wide.
"You!" she began, her voice quivering with a volatile mix of pain and fury. "You're not allowed to use your powers to harm other students!"
Tyson cut her off sharply, his temper rising. "Me? You started this, Illyana. I warned you not to push me too far."
She shouted over him, her voice thick with anger, "You'll regret that! You can go to Hell!" Suddenly, she smiled evilly.
"Well, maybe not hell. Limbo will suffice."
Her expression twisted into a vengeful snarl. Without another word, Illyana swept her arm in a dramatic arc. The very air seemed to vibrate with dark energy. A portal manifested beneath Tyson, revealing glimpses of a hellish demonic realm.
Before Tyson could react, the portal's gravity seized him. With a cry of surprise, he plunged downward.
The sudden shift from the basketball court to the hellish realm of Limbo was jarring, leaving Tyson disoriented as he tumbled through the portal. Looking up, he saw that the sky was a haunting blood red. Jagged rock formations jutted out from the ground. Distant screams and wails echoed through the smoky air, mingling with the ever-present stench of sulfur that clung to everything.
Tyson landed hard, the impact shattering bones and forcing the air from his lungs in a painful gasp. He lay motionless, struggling to breathe through the searing agony. Then, blessed warmth spread through his body as his healing ability swiftly forced bones back into place, and knit them back together. The intensity of the pain followed by relief left Tyson reeling, but he used the moment to gather himself before unsteadily getting to his feet.
He looked around warily, taking in the nightmarish realm. Molten lava flowed next to hardened black rock and jagged obsidian. The swirling red and black sky cast an ominous glow over everything. Massive pillars of stone jutted up randomly from the uneven terrain. Choking smoke and the stench of brimstone filled the air with each breath. In the distance, Tyson could see shadowy shapes moving atop some of the jagged peaks, their unearthly howls and roars echoing through the realm. Everything about Limbo emanated menace, even the very ground seemed to pulse with dark, sinister energy. Though no immediate threat presented itself, Tyson couldn't shake the feeling of being watched, of being a trespasser in a realm where he was utterly unwelcome.
— Rogue Replacement —
The dribble of the basketball and the energetic shouts of the players were cut short as an eerie silence descended on the court. All eyes were fixed in horror on the spot where Tyson had stood just moments before, swallowed up by the portal conjured by Illyana Rasputin.
Illyana stood motionless, her breaths came in heavy rasps, a visible aura of crackling dark energy surrounding her. Silver light glinted in her eyes, matching the arcane glow of the armor now encasing her right arm. In her hand, she gripped a longsword. Summoning the portal had been an impulsive act, driven by raw emotion, but Illyana showed no signs of regret at banishing Tyson.
Scott Summers recognized the precarious situation immediately. "Illyana!" he shouted, "Bring him back, now!"
On the far side of the court, Jean Grey watched in horror as the portal swallowed Tyson, and then winked out of existence. Her heart hammered against her ribs and her breath caught in her throat. "Oh no, Tyson," she whispered, her voice quivering. She could feel their fledgling friendship slipping away, the possibility of a deeper bond cruelly snatched from her grasp. Panic and sorrow dueled within her usually serene green eyes.
Scott reached Illyana and grabbed her firmly by the shoulders. "Illyana! You have to bring him back. We don't harm our own!"
Illyana met his visor with a defiant stare. "He hurt me first! Let him rot."
A cold gust of wind swept across the court, carrying with it the promise of an approaching storm. Students reflexively glanced around, half-expecting to see Ororo Munroe, the white-haired weather-manipulating professor known as Storm. But she was nowhere to be found.
This 2was something else entirely.
All eyes turned to Jean Grey as her feet lifted from the concrete. She floated gracefully, surrounded by an aura of raw psychic power. Her red hair whipped around her head, dancing wildly as if possessed. Jean's deep green eyes burned with an intense fiery light, shifting to a vivid crimson. She radiated a palpable danger. The display transfixed everyone present.
"Bring. Him. Back. Now!" Jean's voice echoed, amplified, and layered as if spoken in harmony with another. The command resonated not just audibly, but psychically as well.
All eyes locked between Jean and Illyana Rasputin, two of the academy's most formidable mutants. Their brewing confrontation was impossible to look away from. Illyana, known for her fiery temper and stubborn defiance, never backed down from anyone. Yet something in Jean's layered psychic voice gave her pause.
This was not a request.
The sheer force of Jean's abilities reached out, enveloping Illyana's mind and compelling obedience. The Russian girl's fierce blue eyes glazed over, her usual spark replaced by a vacant, trance-like stare.
Jean's influence was unmistakable.
A heavy silence fell, broken only as Illyana summoned a portal. The silver-hued gateway rippled before her, otherworldly and foreboding. Gone was Illyana's characteristic bravado and swagger, replaced by a disoriented, almost lost expression. Jean's command was a subtle yet irresistible manipulation of will and intent. Without a backward glance at her peers or the professor who looked on with evident concern, she stepped into the portal.
Retrieving Tyson was now her sole focus in life.
Around the gymnasium, hushed whispers broke out among those familiar with the extent of Jean's abilities. Rarely were they so openly displayed, and rarer still was it to see them affect someone so strong-willed. The realization that Jean had not just commanded but controlled Illyana sent a chill down many spines, reminding all present of the delicate balance between capability and responsibility among mutants.
The display of psionic might was both impressive and unsettling, hinting at the sheer force Jean could wield.