Iceman

IN CASE YOU'RE JUST JOINING US: Iceman has returned to the Xavier Institute, intent on searching for a part of himself that he may have lost in the recent year... With the death of Marrow weighing on his shoulders, as well as the possibility of Kate Pryde having a miscarriage at his hand, Bobby Drake's in for the guilt trip ride of a century!

But with the recent visit from his "father," William Drake, admist the orchards surrounding the Xavier Institute, things might not be as easy for him as just wallowing in some Jack Daniels, and struggling with personal demons would seem to be...

It had been nearly ten years since it happened, but from his memory, the details of that very night hadn't changed one bit. The very way her hair bounced at the edges of her shoulders, her carefree smile, and gentle giggling at his stupid jokes.

And him... he was so goofy looking. So young, and free from the bearings of adulthood. Their clothes and the styles of the day made him grin to himself, embarressed, though amused at such innocence, and the change in times.

"I don't think I gotta tell you who those two are..." William Drake smiled proudly, and nudged his son in the ribs again. Bobby cocked his head to the side, still a bit blown away by the vivid depictions of him and his childhood sweetheart.

"No," he admitted in disbelief, though sarcastically retorted, "But y'know... a CAT scan right about now would be nice."

William chuckled heartly to himself, though their presence and conversing hadn't seemed to startle their surroundings. They were gone, unnoticed.

Judy Harmon and Bobby Drake truly were the ideal, high school couple. That night he was going to confide in her that he truly loved her... Though if Bobby remembered correctly, it wouldn't end that way.

"Wouldn't you like a second chance at that, son?" William inquired, looking to Bobby, his first and only born, almost longingly.

"I must've asked myself that question a million times since first going to Xavier's..." Bobby confessed half-heartedly. He sighed in regret, and shook his head, pointing to the entering teenagers. "But this is it. Right here, isn't it?"

William watched as the punk kid, "Rocky" they called him, strolled into the movie theater lobby with his buddies. They saw Bobby and Judy's younger images, and started to approach them from behind.

"Is it?" Bobby's father asked matter-of-factly, a crease folding in his brow as he studied his son's features. Bobby frowned, and looked to his father, quizzical. Then he looked back to the preemptive fight that was quickly boiling to a head.

"Heya Judy," Rocky whistled as he came up from behind her, and steadied his elbow on her shoulder. The smell of alcohol on his breath caused Judy to gag. Rocky gazed up past her though, ignoring her look of disgust, to eye Bobby. "What ya doin' here with this bitch, Drake, babe? I thought we had a thing, huh?"

"Get lost, Rocky," Bobby snapped, brushing past Judy and pushing Rocky off of her. Rocky was only moved by the shove an inch or so, but it was more then enough to push his sharp temper.

Unknowing to any of them, the manager and some of the theater attendants were keeping a close eye on the situation.

"Bobby, don't --- !" Judy pleaded, grabbing onto his arm. Something in her eyes showed more of a fear for his well-being then that of getting into trouble. Rocky was a lot bigger then he was, and she knew his habit of high school brawling.

"Pssh," Rocky smacked his lips, staring Bobby up and down. He shoved him in the shoulder once, sending him back into a stumble with an ease Bobby didn't have. "Who the fuck do you think you are, shortshit?" Rocky's voice broke in a violent repugnance. "I'll break you somethin' good, pal."

"Yeah?" Bobby mocked, biting his lip as his temper boiled over first. His fist came up fast, colliding into Rocky's cheek. The mamoth barely flinched at the blow, however. In retaliation, Rocky was on him in a second.

Like a sickening bolt of lightning, the fist struck Bobby's mouth and sent him to the carpeted lobby floor. Judy gasped in shock, and cringed as her date struggled to stand back up, his mouth bleeding.

A craze of laughter erupted from Rocky's two, drunken friends.

"Punked!"

"Downed like a bitch, alright."

"C'mon, Jude..." Rocky continued his attempt at flirting, shaking off the blow's effect on his fist. He reached down with his other hand, stroking it firmly across Judy's hind. "Lemme hit that in my car again."

Judy tried to push him off of her, but he wrapped his other arm around her waiste and tugged at her. He was too strong for her to break the grip, and Rocky continued his fondling. Bobby looked up from the floor in shame, still holding his mouth.

"Get off me, you sick asshole!" Judy screamed, the situation growing more tense and more frightening. Rocky was drunk, but she never thought he would do something like this. Biting back her fear, she pooled all of her strength and sent her foot backwards in a muel kick to Rocky's groin. "I said let go!"

"Judy!" Bobby called out to her from the floor, and Rocky doubled over, breathless. The pain was sharp, but bearable, and he stood to full height, ready to hit her. His actions would be prevented though.

"Hey!" a deep, cackling voice boomed. Rocky looked up, and his eyes went wide in realization at what was going on. "Didn't I tell you to stop causin' trouble in here, Rocky?"

"Oh shit..." Rocky muttered as the manager approached from behind Bobby, along with two other workers at his side. Bobby was recovering, moving up to his feet with his mouth covered in blood.

"Don't bother running, either, you little snot!" The manager shouted, furious. He pointed behind Rocky's shoulders, where five or six men in blue strolled into the theater. "The cops are already here!"

"Damnit, Rocky!" one of his friends cursed, clenching his fists tight.

"Aww man..." Rocky groaned, shaking his head as he held it down low. The cops were on him and his friends in an instant, taking them all down hard. "My dad is gonna kill me."

"I don't believe it," Bobby stifled a laugh in his throat, as he came back into reality. He put a hand to the side of his head as he continued to watch the scene unfold. "I got my ass kicked, but hey..." he shook his head, dismissing the thought. "What happens to Rocky?"

William crossed his arms, grinning as if he were already prepared for the presented question. "About a week from the day, he'd be charged with physical assault on you, harassment, disturbing the peace, and attempted sexual assault on Judy."

Bobby hunched his brows with an ever growing smile painted across his face. He glanced to his 'father,' then back to the number of police officers cuffing, and then dragging Rocky and his friends out of the theater.

"Second public offense, and his parents wouldn't have bothered to bail him out this time," William continued to explain. "He wouldn't of gotten out of juvenille prison until about... I'd say the time you would have gone to college."

"Heh... The system works..." Bobby said, seemingly astonished by the sight before him. He turned about face, ignoring the increasingly self-satisfied tone in his father's voice.

"I'm your guardian angel, remember?" William reminded Bobby with a sly wink. "I can make that your actual past. Remake your future..."

Bobby nodded to the image of his father standing beside him, though a bit overzealous, agreeing to his offer. "Alright, 'pops.' Do that voodoo that you supposedly do so well, and let's see if this isn't just one of those weird post-chili fry dreams."

"As thou wish," William said with the tilt of his head, his voice becoming the more cryptic, and the grin plastered across his face thickening. "Thy world will be as if thou never were cursed with thee 'mutant' abilities..."

Bobby's eyes subtly grew wide in shock, as the tone of his father mimicked that of a familiar old foe. Before he could act, though, a grossing sense of nausea came upon him, and his vision swirled away into a blur of green fluids and bubbles as he collapsed onto the theater's lobby carpeting...

"Arg..." Angel strained as his body movement was restrained in mid-flight, a number of the magnetically manipulated objects wrapping about him. He struggled and gasped, letting out a sarcastic cry for help, "Little help, anyone?"

From below, a slim fellow in a blue and yellow uniform of sorts, one similar to Angel's, would run up to his aid.

"Hold tight, Angel," Cyclops called out to the winged mutant, who was struggling with several slabs of metal being wrapped around him. He adjusted his visor, and took aim at them as he said, "A soft-focus blast should free you from those bands."

A series of thin, yet focused, ruby-colored optic blasts emitted from Cyclops's visor, each crashing into a different metal band around Angel's body. They all fractured from the beams, and snapped when Angel flexed his arms and legs outward.

With Magneto distracted, and his control over the metal released, they simply fell to the concrete, black top over the Cape Citadel compound.

"Thanks, Cyclops," Angel offered as he flew back up into the air and shook off his battered wings. He looked down to see his three teammates, including Cyclops, rally near one of the compound's wall, and dove down to join them.

"This is a fruitless exercise," Magneto spat as he kept his distance from the team of young X-Men. Arrogantly, he suggested, "In time, I could convert all of you into my allies, but my time is most precious right now."

Magneto crossed his arms over his chest and erected a magnetic bubble around himself from his vantage point. He tilted his head to the side, almost if he were disappointed.

"So, the only logical course of action is to just destroy you all," he huffed dissuasively and extended his hand out towards them from within his magnetic barrier, clenching it into a fist. "Farewell, foolish children."

It was then, a fueling truck was magnetically thrust towards the mutants. The large container on its back bent open, and it only took the grinding of two pieces of metal from within to produce a small spark.

And that small spark alone caused the gasoline inside of the fueling truck to erupt into flames as it barreled down at the first generation of X-Men.

"Heads up, you guys," Angel said as he touched down at their side. They looked to him as he landed, and he swallowed hard before sharply pointing out, "That fuel truck is headed our way!"

Marvel Girl, the only woman of the quad, looked about urgently for a physical means of escape. She braced herself as her findings became clear.

"There's no where to run," she announced. Cyclops immediately grabbed reached out to his side and grabbed onto her shoulder, as if for a mutual bond of support. Her emerald eyes glanced into those within his visor, and he nodded to her.

"Marvel Girl, you're our only hope!" he declared, and she nodded back to him. She hadn't had much time to mature her telekinetic powers, but this would surely be the test for her.

Her first response was to reach out to the oncoming truck, and remember what Professor Xavier had told her. She erected a telekinetic shield of sorts, visualizing a wall to block the path of the raging inferno.

But as the fueling truck slammed into it, it's rear end bucked upwards, and the flaming liquid rushed forward.

"She can't hold it!" Beast cried out in realization, and as Marvel Girl tried her hardest to keep each bit of flame, and each particle of liquid in place over them, an intense blaze of heat could be felt washing over them.

And it was then, the overwhelming bout of concentration within the young woman who would one day become the Phoenix, had been lost in a fire storm.

"AAAHHHH!!!"

I'm awake.

Those're the first words that enter my groggy mind as I begin to open my eyes. The ceiling above me is dark and blurry, but my vision is slowly coming into focus. I press my hands down against the ground below me, only to realize something.

There's a ceiling above me, and the ground... it's not really the ground at all. I can tell that much by the feel of it underneath my hands. My fingertips carress it gently, and I groan. It's a thinly layered carpet, plain and dusty in stature.

I look down to the floor, and shake my head as if to push my vision further back into focus. Even through the pitch of dark, I can see its royal purple colored texture. Upon seeing this, I sigh tiredly, and swallow hard.

I'm still in the movie theater's lobby.

Slowly, I raise my head back up right, and begin to sit up. I can't help but groan to myself as I push past the feeling of exhaustion that's overcoming my body. How long I've been lying there on the ground, I can't be sure. It almost feels like it's been days.

The theater, however, looks like it's been here for even decades, untouched. It's a lot different from the dream... No, wait. It wasn't really a dream at all. It couldn't of been... there's no other explanation.

I stand up to my feet, and under the weight of my body, I feel like I'm going to collapse. Despite the feeling, I dust off my pants and persist, studying the details of the room. Why no one would consistently renovate a perfectly good theater, is beyond me.

The lobby, hell, the entire theater itself, must have been long abandoned, that much I can tell. But the question is... why?

The man from before... he looked so much like my father. But I know he wasn't. He couldn't of been. I know he really was, but... oh God... it's on the tip of my tongue, I know it is. It's like I want to say his name to myself, but something's holding me back.

I can't remember anything.

Ohww... And now my head. It's killing me. That aching, tired feeling over my body is coming back stronger then ever. I feel like it's going to drag me back to the floor, and I'm just going to let it. Submit to the overwhelming exhaustion...

This place -- just being here, especially the way it is, after the shady events of before -- it's creeping me out.

Suffice to say, I don't think I'm in Kansas anymore.

Err... Not in Kansas anymore? How weak was that? I run the palm of my hand over my eye sockets, and close my eyes tightly as I massage them awake. Something's wrong with me, something so wrong I can't even make a decent joke anymore.

I drop my arm back down at my side, and open my eyes back up. I can see daylight creeping through one of the boarded up exits.

Salvation.

Salvation from this mess is calling to me. The night as I remembered it has long been over, and now...

Now it's time I make a break for it.

The wooden boards holding the exit doors in back break off rather easy enough. Whether it was because of shoddy carpentry, or the aged, rickedy wood itself, you'll never see me second guessing that gift horse.

Using my powers would have made such a racket, calling too much attention to myself. Plus, I hate to admit it to myself, but I feel so broken down inside, that I just can't will myself to activate them.

All this stress I'm feeling... using my powers would take a larger toll on me then I want right now. Not until I find out what's going on, anyway.

I stride down the filth encrested alleyway behind the theater. Newspapers, soiled card-board boxes, and other pieces of trash litter the alley. I could care less at this moment, though. The streets are in plain sight, just ahead of me.

Before I can reach the steets, though, I find myself realizing in an eerie sort of discomfort that making a ruckus with my powers in broad day light may not have been such a big deal after all.

The streets of my Long Island, childhood home, are completely deserted. Fort Washington may have been a contender for hick capital of New York, but its never been a mid-western ghost town.

Something's up. Plain and simple. I can't say I like it, either. Not with the things I've seen, and the life I've lead. It's just...

It's starting to come back to me now. That man. My "guardian angel," as he tried to say he was... he asked me what I wanted?

Unh... my head feels like it's swimming again. Every time some flicker of remembrance, or idea as to what's happening... Every time I try to remember him...

Swimming...

Green Water...

Paralyzing me... and keeping me in place..

That face... Through the green water... It's smiling at me...?

I can't take it ANYMORE!! Falling to my knees harshly, I grab at my hair in frustration, and tear at it. Flailing my head side to side. Breathing... harder... and harder... faster... I can't breathe. I can't breathe! It hurts so bad! It hurts...

I want it to end! But there's only one way I can... I can think of that would. No. I have to let it out. Scream. I scream, at the top of my lungs, as if the heavens would hear me.

"What the hell is going on?!?!" I can hear my own voice crack under the tension, and echo into the vast, loneliness of the city...

"A pity they had to die..." Magneto said to himself as he looked down to the smoldering remains of Cape Citadel. He was suspended high in the air in a magnetic bubble, observing all that around him.

The bodies of hundreds of soldiers were sprawled about, twisted in gruesome positions of their horrifying confrontations with death. But they weren't who he was referring to.

"Each would have made a splendid addition to my Brotherhood..." he continued to say to himself as he descended from the air, looking down to the, still aflame, fueling truck that had crushed the young mutants.

"Erik..." that familiar, stern yet justified, voice came upon him. Magneto turned about nonchalantly, smiling and locking eyes onto the man.

"Charles?" Erik responded with a hint of amusement in his voice. He hunched his brows from underneath his helmet to the wheelchaired man. "Come to persuade me to discontinue my campaign for mutant liberation?"

"No, Erik," Professor X said solemnly, returning the same gaze to the man. He confessed, "Even with that helmet of yours blocking my telepathy, I know such persuasions would only be useless..."

"I can see it in your eyes," Magneto took a delicious sense of delight in his words, and tilted his helmeted head to the side, his cloak flowing in the wind behind him. "You know what I know; that my ultimate victory is in sight."

Professor X said nothing, not dignifying the words with a response. Magneto slowly approached him, and the magnetic bubble around him cackled as it dissipated. Magneto simply offered, "Will you join me, Charles?"

"Never," Professor X retorted defiantly, his eyes never leaving Magneto's. "Not even if I was the last man on this world believing in my dream. Not even in death, would I join a cause so desperately clinging to hate to solve its issues..."

"Another pity to reflect upon," Magneto sighed, and he stepped backwards, hovering back into the air at an angle. Magneto, too, wanted to confess something. "They almost had me defeated this day, Charles. But perhaps your 'X-Men,' as you so affectionately refer to them as, were one adolescent too short of bringing me down..."

"Perhaps," Professor X came short of agreeing, and he narrowed his eyes to the royal red and purple, armored man. "But don't think for one instant that I'll make that mistake again, Erik. Not for one instant."

"So it begins then, old friend..." Magneto steadily declared, and he clenched his teeth down tightly. Professor X flung his head back in an unbearable, never dying pain, grabbing onto his temples.

He knew what had happened... and the pain aside, it was the only thing he could think about before slumping over, dead in his wheelchair. The flow of blood to his brain had ceased, and it had only took those mere moments to kill the bearer of a dream.

Magneto sighed at the sight of his one time friend, and he turned around to face the demolished military base. "And so it begins..."

Dead.

They're all dead because of me...

No. This can't be happening. Get ahold of yourself, Drake! Get ahold of your -- what the?

The sound of roaring jet engines breaks my train of thought. I let go of my head and shoot my head up to the sky. It can't be what I think it is. It can't be... No. It is.

Sentinels. A flock of them, flying in an almost militant formation, across the day time's light. They look like where ever they're going, they're in a hurry. A search and destroy mission, maybe? They don't seem to see me, though.

... Or maybe they don't seem to care.

"What is it that you want the most, out of anything in the world?" the man using my father's voice had asked, as if he actually cared for my very well-being.

"To have never been born as a mutant..." I had to say sarcastically, like an idiot. And then it hit me, chilling my bones to the core like nothing I would ever know.

"As thou wish," the memory of that cryptic, devious voice comes back to me. Haunted me. "Thy world will be as if thou never were cursed with thee 'mutant' abilities..."

That's why they didn't bother to stop and confront me. I'm not a mutant anymore. I'm not a mutant anymore! That son of a bitch actually did it! That son of bitch Lo --

Lokeen?

Lockheed?

Lorene?

Loraine?

Loreese?

Lobdell?

Lobdhill?

"Damnit!" I curse at the top of my lungs again as I struggle to regain control of my own memories. "What was your fucking name?!"

I'm starting to lose it again. I can feel it inside me. Cussing out the world like a sailor's never been my thing, even as a teenager. These feelings inside me, though. They're different. I'm different. The world...

The world is different. And it's all my fault.

FROSTBYTE
Got any chilling comments regarding this ish? Hazaah!

Deeper into the rabbit hole you go! Just how far does it extend, once asked... uh... Pinokio, or Morpheus, or that Cat from Alice in Wonderland, or uh, someone. Anyway, Bobby Drake's in a brave new world, and suffice to say, I'm having a surprisingly good time with this story so far. Hope everyone's diggin' the sort of writing "technique" I'm using with this arc. It's a mix of flashbacks, dream sequences, and unfolding reality.

Yeah, yeah. I know what you're all thinking: "Ugh... first the doppleganger, now the time traveling for selfish desires only to churn out a parallel, nightmarish future? How cliche can you be man?" a handful of fanboys ask as they take a few moments away from their "Seven of Nine, Star Trek, NC-17" slash websites.

Now, now. Put down the pitch forks, and turn the phasers off kill for just a few seconds, guys. It may not be the most original driving plot, but I'm throwing in enough twists and character developments to hopefully make a trip down cliche road worth while. I guess it's really up to you guys, my faithful, loving readers, to decide on that one though.

Cheers folks, and I hope you all had a happy and safe holiday season!

Cory Wiegel
December 27th, 2003

BIBLIOGRAPHY
(as stolen from Russ Anderson... heh heh heh...)

- The X-Men's sentinent Cerebro program made its first appearance at M2K in "Cable #33."

- Katherine Pryde's pregnancy was revealed in M2K's "X-Men Prime #7."

- William Drake visited Bobby in what seemed to be a dream sequence last issue.

- Iceman's origin can be found in cannon Marvel's mint-classic "X-Men #3, vol. 1," or any of the retellings of your liking.

- Dialogue used in the retelling used here is completely original.

- Some dialogue in the dream sequences, however, was excerpted from Marvel's remake series "Professor Charles Xavier and The X-Men, #1."