Post by Mystique on Sept 27, 2010 12:41:40 GMT -4
The ground trembled, quaking beneath the onslaught of energy being forced down into it. Fire plummeted from the skies like a torrential downpour; furious, hungry drops lapping at everything, consuming all life in their paths. Screams reverberated in the night, lashing out into his mind, tearing away the thinnest strips of his sanity, leaving him broken on the ground. So many screams.
It ended with silence. A terrible, irreversible silence that ate into the core of what humanity was left in him.
"Enough." He said, his voice weary and defeated.
He lifted the helmet from his head, disconnecting his consciousness from Cerebro. He knew who it was that dredged up such horrible dreams in the night. He knew which one of his own it was that would lead to this madman's destruction. The only question now was what to do about it?
Slowly wheeling down the halls of his school, watching the night activities of the youngsters he had bound himself to protect, the question rolled just as steadily through his mind. Jean. He rubbed his eyes, putting pressure on that slight spot right beneath his brow. It was building again.
The nexus points were swirling together into one moment of absolute truth. If he did nothing, there were many paths that led to death. If he did what he did not want to do, there was at least a chance that the entity would move on. To another planet. Another time. Just...another. To haunt someone else's dreams and pseudo-memories.
"Professor!" The voice called to him, pitched high with subtle undertones of her approaching adulthood.
"Yes, Jean?" He met her eyes, studying the innocence buried there.
Her face suddenly flared into the thin gaunt raging face of the dream. Chaos and madness broiled in her eyes while her hands spread it like some carnally rampant disease. A lover's touch that brought oblivion. No. I can't let that happen.
"Scott want's to borrow the jeep. Would...would that be alright?"
Her delicate hand lay on the withered skin of his own, and he marked the subtle differences in texture. What time did to people. What time would do to you...to you, favored of the flock. He patted it gently, smiling at her, kindness back in his eyes. He'd decided what needed to be done.
"Of course, my dear."
~~~~*~~~~
Scott was uncomfortably anxious. It wasn't like Jean to be late for one of their outings. As she finally walked out of the mansion, he frowned. Her skirt was too short. Her shirt was not a flattering color. Her hair wasn't right. There were so many little things that were just wrong about her. Was she trying to upset him? They got into the car, and he brooded on the way to the mall.
As they walked, he felt the anger building. She always did this. Their relationship always centered around her, that two-faced bi***. Every time they went somewhere, she had to wear something that made everyone look. More thoughts filtered into his mind. Dark thoughts with insidious intent, but he brushed those aside. No. It was better just to end things while they still could remain friends. That would be best.
So he did. They arrived home in a frozen silence, and his heart was hardened to those pretty tears. There were better girls.
"I've spared you, Scott." Xavier whispers, feeling the last mental tugs of his disconnect from the boy's mind. This would all be for the better in the end.
A blue hand tapped him on the shoulder, and he looked over in disgust at the mutant standing there. Mystique. I could almost feel sorry for you too if I didn't know what you'd become.
"Don't stare, Xavier. It's rude. Shall I finish what you started now, or will you wait until the depression has really sunk in? Young love is just so crippling you know." She stroked a bullet wound lovingly. It could be morphed away, she knew, but some scars you kept.
"I'm not that cruel." He knew that he could push the girl to do the deed herself if he really wanted, but that was not the kind of man he was. He was sterile. Exact. No regrets once the acts were determined the right one. Most of the time anyway. "I don't want to see the body."
"As you wish, oh Noble One." She bowed and slithered away.
~~~~*~~~~
So the girl named Jean Grey disappeared into nothing. A thing past. A moment gone. A memory. And even that fading. Poor child. Poor Xavier. He steeples his fingers in an appropriately evil gesture.
"How ugly you are, Jason." Mystique leans against the doorjamb, silhouette casting a sensuously dark backdrop to his schemes.
"There are those who would say otherwise, Woman."
"Are you sure?" She repeated the phrase over and over and over, a different body each time, a different voice. "It sounds like they all agree."
"I don't care. I got what I wanted." He says petulantly, not wanting to be goaded away from his boasting. He was a genius! A mastermind! The Mastermind! She could only barely brush the depths of his beautiful schemes.
"Whatever you say." She finally strode to his side, to watch the thing floating listlessly in the tube. "Is that it?"
"Yes." He whispers, hand lightly pressed against the layered glass. "The Phoenix will be mine!"
There's a muffled, hollow noise that ends with Jason Wyngarde dead on the ground. She replaces the gun in its holster, watching the man's blood flow out of him.
"No. It will be mine." She leans down and pats his cheek. "Just like a man to be so distracted by another woman that he can't see the gun being brought up against his back. At least Logan had brains enough to be aware of treachery at all times."
She looked first at the girl unconscious on the table and then at the clone floating in its tube. At last, she wandered over to the control panel and drained the container, watching the life signs bleep away.
"One of you is enough." She spat. "I'm going to give you back to Xavier, and he will pretend none of this ever happened. He will think it was all a plot by poor dear Jason, but Jason wasn't lying about what he saw for you, little bird."
"You won't remember any of this, and so there will be no thanks for my saving your life for now. I don't want it in any case. Just promise me one thing." She whispered quietly in the girl's own voice. "Destroy them all when the time comes."
Why tell the girl that? Just like a man to ask. A woman doesn't obey. They saw that in the Garden of Eden. Oh, there will be destruction, but when the time comes, she'll remember that voice and a part of her will stop right before the culmination. A part of her will hold back an ounce of her power, enough to destroy herself. Destroy them all when the time comes, I said. But I know she won't.
It ended with silence. A terrible, irreversible silence that ate into the core of what humanity was left in him.
"Enough." He said, his voice weary and defeated.
He lifted the helmet from his head, disconnecting his consciousness from Cerebro. He knew who it was that dredged up such horrible dreams in the night. He knew which one of his own it was that would lead to this madman's destruction. The only question now was what to do about it?
Slowly wheeling down the halls of his school, watching the night activities of the youngsters he had bound himself to protect, the question rolled just as steadily through his mind. Jean. He rubbed his eyes, putting pressure on that slight spot right beneath his brow. It was building again.
The nexus points were swirling together into one moment of absolute truth. If he did nothing, there were many paths that led to death. If he did what he did not want to do, there was at least a chance that the entity would move on. To another planet. Another time. Just...another. To haunt someone else's dreams and pseudo-memories.
"Professor!" The voice called to him, pitched high with subtle undertones of her approaching adulthood.
"Yes, Jean?" He met her eyes, studying the innocence buried there.
Her face suddenly flared into the thin gaunt raging face of the dream. Chaos and madness broiled in her eyes while her hands spread it like some carnally rampant disease. A lover's touch that brought oblivion. No. I can't let that happen.
"Scott want's to borrow the jeep. Would...would that be alright?"
Her delicate hand lay on the withered skin of his own, and he marked the subtle differences in texture. What time did to people. What time would do to you...to you, favored of the flock. He patted it gently, smiling at her, kindness back in his eyes. He'd decided what needed to be done.
"Of course, my dear."
~~~~*~~~~
Scott was uncomfortably anxious. It wasn't like Jean to be late for one of their outings. As she finally walked out of the mansion, he frowned. Her skirt was too short. Her shirt was not a flattering color. Her hair wasn't right. There were so many little things that were just wrong about her. Was she trying to upset him? They got into the car, and he brooded on the way to the mall.
As they walked, he felt the anger building. She always did this. Their relationship always centered around her, that two-faced bi***. Every time they went somewhere, she had to wear something that made everyone look. More thoughts filtered into his mind. Dark thoughts with insidious intent, but he brushed those aside. No. It was better just to end things while they still could remain friends. That would be best.
So he did. They arrived home in a frozen silence, and his heart was hardened to those pretty tears. There were better girls.
"I've spared you, Scott." Xavier whispers, feeling the last mental tugs of his disconnect from the boy's mind. This would all be for the better in the end.
A blue hand tapped him on the shoulder, and he looked over in disgust at the mutant standing there. Mystique. I could almost feel sorry for you too if I didn't know what you'd become.
"Don't stare, Xavier. It's rude. Shall I finish what you started now, or will you wait until the depression has really sunk in? Young love is just so crippling you know." She stroked a bullet wound lovingly. It could be morphed away, she knew, but some scars you kept.
"I'm not that cruel." He knew that he could push the girl to do the deed herself if he really wanted, but that was not the kind of man he was. He was sterile. Exact. No regrets once the acts were determined the right one. Most of the time anyway. "I don't want to see the body."
"As you wish, oh Noble One." She bowed and slithered away.
~~~~*~~~~
So the girl named Jean Grey disappeared into nothing. A thing past. A moment gone. A memory. And even that fading. Poor child. Poor Xavier. He steeples his fingers in an appropriately evil gesture.
"How ugly you are, Jason." Mystique leans against the doorjamb, silhouette casting a sensuously dark backdrop to his schemes.
"There are those who would say otherwise, Woman."
"Are you sure?" She repeated the phrase over and over and over, a different body each time, a different voice. "It sounds like they all agree."
"I don't care. I got what I wanted." He says petulantly, not wanting to be goaded away from his boasting. He was a genius! A mastermind! The Mastermind! She could only barely brush the depths of his beautiful schemes.
"Whatever you say." She finally strode to his side, to watch the thing floating listlessly in the tube. "Is that it?"
"Yes." He whispers, hand lightly pressed against the layered glass. "The Phoenix will be mine!"
There's a muffled, hollow noise that ends with Jason Wyngarde dead on the ground. She replaces the gun in its holster, watching the man's blood flow out of him.
"No. It will be mine." She leans down and pats his cheek. "Just like a man to be so distracted by another woman that he can't see the gun being brought up against his back. At least Logan had brains enough to be aware of treachery at all times."
She looked first at the girl unconscious on the table and then at the clone floating in its tube. At last, she wandered over to the control panel and drained the container, watching the life signs bleep away.
"One of you is enough." She spat. "I'm going to give you back to Xavier, and he will pretend none of this ever happened. He will think it was all a plot by poor dear Jason, but Jason wasn't lying about what he saw for you, little bird."
"You won't remember any of this, and so there will be no thanks for my saving your life for now. I don't want it in any case. Just promise me one thing." She whispered quietly in the girl's own voice. "Destroy them all when the time comes."
Why tell the girl that? Just like a man to ask. A woman doesn't obey. They saw that in the Garden of Eden. Oh, there will be destruction, but when the time comes, she'll remember that voice and a part of her will stop right before the culmination. A part of her will hold back an ounce of her power, enough to destroy herself. Destroy them all when the time comes, I said. But I know she won't.
