Earth,
The Xavier Institute for Gifted Youngsters

“She’s alive,” Scott Summers repeated with the greatest sense of urgency. “I swear I’m not making this up, professor. Jean is alive and she’s in some kind of trouble.”

“I believe that you believe this,” the professor, Charles Xavier, responded, “but you saw what happened on the Moon. Jean’s body was vaporized in an act of self-sacrifice. I find it very difficult to believe that the girl we both know could survive something like that.”

Charles didn’t know what to make of the last twenty minutes. After making it perfectly clear that the X-Men was not in his future, Scott Summers had returned to the mansion, spouting off something about a psychic distress call he had received from the woman that he loved. Charles had listened to every word, not wanting to patronize an already agitated Cyclops, but he knew deep down that this was simply Scott’s psyche trying to cope with the sudden loss of Jean Grey.

“Maybe you could use Cerebro to try and track her down?” Scott asked. He was looking for quick and simple solution to this problem that had been set in front of him. Typical Scott Summers.

“I could try, Scott, but I’m afraid that I wouldn’t have very much luck. Cerebro’s range barely extends outside of the United States. If Jean is in the states, then I might be able to find her. But that’s not taking into account any anti-telepathy measures that have been taken to protect Jean’s location.” Charles turned away and shook his head.

“Please, professor, you have to—”

The statement ended abruptly. For a moment, Charles thought Scott simply lost the words, but when no sound whatsoever followed, Charles turned over his shoulder and found Scott in a comatose state. He stood upright just as he had been previously, but he stared, unblinking, at the wall of Xavier’s office.

“Scott?” Charles asked but he knew there would be no response.

There was an invisible presence at work here. Charles simply needed to find it. Though, as it turned out, simply was not the best adjective. His mind flared up as nails raked across his brain. Xavier had been taken by surprise and now he was virtually defenseless. Someone had done their homework.

The room began to darken though the pain only seemed to increase. Charles briefly wondered how such a powerful entity could get onto the mansion grounds without his notice. Something was going on here that needed to be rectified. If only he could summon together his—

The rest of the thought was lost as Charles Xavier succumbed to the dark.

There was a moment of complete stillness. Then, the room began to shimmer as if reality was being manipulated. When the shimmering finally ceased, three individuals stood over the fallen X-Men.

“That was easy.”

“Don’t get cocky, child. We took them by surprise,” the oldest of the female intruders said, chastising her teen protégé. “Charles Xavier is the most powerful mind on the planet. Had he known we were here, he would have had his way with us.”

“But he didn’t,” the child responded, a smile on her face. “That was the point, wasn’t it?”

The older woman grabbed her protégé by the hair and yanked it back. A small cry was elicited from the girl. “Don’t you dare patronize me, Martinque. The only reason you are here is because your powers give us the advantage that our small number needs to win this day. Forget your place, however, and I’ll make what Grey did to your father look like a headache.”

The child was quiet after that.

“We’ve taken their king, Sebastian,” Emma Frost said, motioning to Xavier. “What next?”

The only person left in the room who had yet to speak took a step toward Charles and kicked him maliciously in the gut. “Spread out,” Sebastian Shaw told Frost, a snare permanently etched on his face. “Take down the X-Men and let the Inner Circle stand victorious.”

The invasion had begun.

The woman with the fiery red hair looked up lazily when she heard the door to her cell squeak open. “What’s going on?” Jean Grey asked, still half-asleep. Thoughts of her home drifted from her head.

Lilandra Nermani stood with hands on hips. “I’ve taken into consideration what you asked of me. I have thought on your request for many hours now. And while I realize that my decision is going to be massively unpopular, I’ve decided to grant your wish.”

For a moment, Jean believed she had heard the Empress wrong. Finding herself suddenly alert, Grey jumped to her feet. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying, Lilandra?”

“I’m saying prepare yourself, Jean Grey,” the Empress replied with a smirk. “We leave for the Milky Way in one earth hour. You’re going home.”

Jean couldn’t fight the tears as she wrapped her arms around Lilandra. Her body shook with the torrent of emotion. “Thank you so much. I will never forget this.”

Lilandra pulled back and grasped the other woman by her shoulders, holding her at arm’s length. “I just hope that you realize that being with the X-Men again is not going to change your sentence.”

“I understand,” Jean replied.

Lilandra turned and made her way out, closing the cell behind her. “One hour, Jean,” she repeated. “Please don’t make me regret this.”

Ever since Jean’s death, Kurt Wagner had noticed an increasing sense of sorrow sweeping through the Xavier Institute. As a man of God, he had faith that after the grieving stage was finished, everything would return to some semblance of normal. But then Scott had left and Warren had been exposed for being a mutant. Seeing his friends in such pain, Kurt was left with an aching feeling in the pit of his stomach. He had to wonder if things would truly work out or if he was simply naïve to the severity of what was going on around him. The X-Men were hanging on by a thread. Kurt believed that they all were waiting for that proverbial ‘straw that broke the camel’s back.’

Kurt shook his head in sorrow when he heard the snapping of a twig. He jumped up, his back having gone rigid. His yellow eyes scanned the surrounding rose garden that Charles had had planted when he transformed his home into a school for mutants.

“Piotr?” he asked to no response. “Logan?”

The rustle of leaves came from his back. Whatever he was dealing with it, it was moving fast, maybe even faster than Kurt himself.

With a thought, Nightcrawler teleported to a tree branch some feet away. He hoped that the added leverage would let him spot his enemy before he managed to strike. But when he looked out over the rose garden, he found nothing. No one.

That’s why, when the fist wrapped around Kurt’s ankle, a scream erupted from the throat of Nightcrawler. He felt himself being pulled downward and sought to teleport, but the sudden burst of adrenaline in his body caused concentration to be a tricky thing. Kurt landed hard on the ground. An extreme pain broke out in his ankle where he had been held.

Looking up, Kurt gasped at the sight of his attacker.

Donald Pierce threw back his head and laughed. “That was exactly the reaction I was looking for. Many thanks, X-Man.”

Pierce reared back his fist, seeking to end the battle prematurely…

And Nightcrawler disappeared in a cloud of stench and smoke.

Everyone dealt with grief in their own way. For Peter Rasputin, expressing himself through his art was a way of masking the pain that he felt and rerouting it through a productive manner. He figured that he could drink himself into a stupor like Logan attempted to do after a botched mission, but that led Peter to nothing but the toilet and bad mornings.

He studied the sun as it was setting over the horizon. The day had been a rough one, what with Scott leaving in the style that he had. Ororo had not taken the news well and Peter realized that he hadn’t heard anything from the weather witch in hours. More than likely, she had locked herself away in the attic with her planets. Peter shrugged. To each his or her own.

Peter himself wasn’t quite sure what he was feeling. He prayed for the soul of Jean Grey, but the truth was that he hadn’t known her too well. The time they had served together in the X-Men had been a short period. Rasputin had learned why Grey was the favorite pupil of Xavier, though he would never say that aloud. She had been so full of energy and gusto. She had always had a smile on her face, even in the worst of times. However, the day she died, the smiles had ended and a shadow had fallen over the Xavier Institute.

So wrapped up in thought, Peter jumped when he felt the tap on his shoulder.

Peter looked to his rear. His eyes widened as big as his face would allow. “You!”

“Me,” Sebastian Shaw responded with a smile. Rasputin wanted nothing more than to slap that condescending smirk off his face. “We meet again, metal man.”

“How did you get on campus?”

“I walked, you buffoon,” Shaw responded with a shake of his head. “And you claim this place is a school. You must have skipped the classes of logic.”

Rasputin rose to his feet, his pad and pencil dropping to the ground all but forgotten. His skin began to harden in that moment. Blood transformed to liquid metal. Flesh became as hard as stainless steel. Colossus stood for a moment before throwing his fist into Shaw’s stomach. The attack would have killed a normal man. But when Shaw’s only reaction was laughter, Colossus realized his mistake. Fisticuffs weren’t going to do it when it came to a man like the Black King of the Hellfire Club.

Shaw uttered a “thank you” before grabbing the wrist of Colossus and flipping the X-Man over his body. Colossus left a crater in the soft earth but the attack had done no damage accept to anger the Russian beyond rationality. Sebastian Shaw—and the Inner Circle because Shaw never traveled alone—had broken into the institute when the team was at its lowest point that Colossus could remember. That would not stand.

Moving to attack again, Shaw was surprised when Colossus grabbed him underneath the armpits and hoisted him into the air. Before he could speak a word, Shaw was flying through the air, streaking toward the forests that lined the perimeter of the mansion. Colossus followed the Black King until he disappeared into the foliage.

Peter Rasputin moved after him knowing that the battle was far from finished.

When Nightcrawler teleported into Xavier’s office, he knew immediately that he had made a deadly error. The first things he saw were Cyclops and Xavier unconscious on the floor. Neither was moving except for the slight rising and falling of their bodies, signifying breathing. Kurt sighed with relief. They were alive.

He did a one hundred and eighty degree rotation and found a pair of women—rather a girl and a woman—stationed at Xavier’s desk. They said nothing as they stared.

“You,” Nightcrawler said, pointing to the woman with the platinum blonde hair. “I know you.”

“Yes,” Frost responded with a shrug. “You do.”

Kurt’s mind erupted in pain, which quickly spread through his entire body. It felt like someone had taken a blowtorch to his pain receptors. He was down and out before he hit the floor.

Having mutant powers had always seemed like a blessing to Ororo Munroe. When she lived in Africa, she had given people the rain and the very sky. She had been worshipped as a goddess. Then, she had come to America at the behest of Charles Xavier and everything had changed. Africa had been a peaceful place but America had afforded threat after threat. Ororo was tired of keeping a lock on her emotions, but if she let go, then the whole world could pay the price. The weather reflected Storm’s temperament. And at that particular moment, it was taking all of her concentration to wave off the storm that was forming in her psyche.

“Well, looky here,” a voice said. “This is a nice setup. I’ll be sure to keep it as my own when you X-Men are gone.”

Storm spun from tending her plants, her hair moving independently as the electricity began to build up. “Who dare?”

“I do,” Pierce replied. He stepped into the light shining through the skylight.

“You have the courage to invade my home and start a fight?” Storm asked, her feet leaving the ground as the wind whipped about her. “You have made a mistake striking today!”

A gout of lightning shot forth from Ororo’s hand. It struck the one place that the wind rider knew was vulnerable.

Pierce let out a scream as the electricity made contact with his bionic arm. The animatronics went dead almost immediately, leaving Pierce with one good arm and a pair of legs. He did the only thing he could think of at that moment.

He ran.

Pierce had just about reached the door to the attic when the winds blew the door shut. He pulled with all of his strength but the power at Storm’s disposal kept the door closed and Pierce inside. He persisted franticly to no avail.

“You should not have come here,” Storm said. She looked up through the skylight. The sky had visibly darkened and faint rumbles of thunder could be heard in the distance.

In the end, Ororo Munroe had gotten what she wanted. Her emotions raged as she took another step toward Pierce.

That’s when the screaming began.

Deep in the forest, there was a man.

This man sat stock still, his legs crossed over one another in a yoga position. This is what he did after stressful events. He came here to let the hostility and the violence flow away like it was being carried in the wind.

The man with hair as far as the eye could see had been in this same spot for nearly three days now. Ever since Warren had appeared from the city.

He had disappeared to this spot. However, for the first time, the blood lust wasn’t diminishing. If anything, it was growing.

And he knew what was responsible…

Jean!

She was gone and the Shi'ar were to blame. Even though Jean had taken her life in the end, she wouldn’t have been in that position if not for Lilandra and her band of lackeys. If he ever saw them again, there would be hell to—

His eyes opened. There was a scents being carried on the air. They were…familiar.

One was Colossus, that much was clear. The other was not as easy to identify, but he knew that he had come across it recently.

Maybe it was…

Jumping to his feet, he took off at a run down the hill back toward the mansion. If Sebastian Shaw was nearby, the X-Men were in trouble.

Wolverine wasn’t going to lose anymore friends.

Down the hall, Warren Worthington the Third was doing all he could to try and stay asleep. He figured being unconscious was better than being awake and facing the travesty that his life had recently become. But the fates were being cruel as Warren flipping onto his back and stared up at the ceiling.

Shaw and Frost had violated his body and showed his wings to the public. Worthington Industries was all but destroyed. If it had any chance of surviving, it wouldn’t be under his supervision. Once he got up the nerve to show his face again, Warren planned on turning over full control of the company to its Board of Directors. But he had to get up the courage first.
He couldn’t figure out why he was so ashamed of the wings that had sprouted from his back as a teenager. Warren had lived with them for years now and, except for an awkward period after they first grew, he had never had a problem with them. Sure, he had had to hide them from everyone that he loved, but he had never felt ashamed. At least, not like he did now.

The razor blade on Warren’s nightstand had been there since the night. Warren had had to talk himself out of doing something he would regret too many times since he had returned to the institute. Warren ran his finger along the cold steel of the razor and shuddered.

A scream from down the hall caused Warren to sit up and neglect the razor. Even from a distance, Warren was sure he had heard a male voice. When the screaming began again, he jumped to the floor and moved into the hallway. It was coming from Storm’s loft.

Warren sprinted, the hallway being too small for his impressive wingspan.

There was an explosion and wood shards rained down on Warren as he turned up the stairs to the loft. He took a step back and took shelter around the corner. In just as many seconds, the mansion had gone crazy! Once the shards had settled, Warren stuck his head out and looked up the stairs, only to pull his head back as a body came flying toward him.

Donald Pierce landed prone in the middle of the hallway. Warren stared, dumbfounded by what had taken place. Was the mansion under attack? It sure seemed that way.

“Warren, we have a problem.”

The Angel stepped back and made way for Storm as she made her way down the staircase. She moved with grace even as thunder from outside shook the rafters of the mansion.

“What is this, Ororo?” Warren asked. He felt an innate fear at the glare in Ororo’s eyes.

“The Hellfire Club,” Storm responded with venom. “Apparently, ruining your life was not enough for them.”

Colossus had to admit he was beginning to tire. The constant battling with Shaw had been satisfying at first, but when it became abundantly clear that Shaw was not going to slow down, Rasputin knew the battle would turn from level playing field to keeping up. And the transformation was already taking place.

A fist glanced off Colossus’ face with a resounding smack. Shaw smiled once again. Colossus felt his blood steam at the sight of a gloating Sebastian Shaw.

Rasputin shook his head to clear the cobwebs. “You think that’s going to be enough to take me down? You may absorb physical energy, but you’re still going to lose this day. I’m going to keep hitting you until you stay down.”

“Please,” Shaw responded, motioning him on. “I’d love to see the attempt.”

It was all large words and making himself look bigger than life. The intimidation factor was lost on Shaw and Rasputin knew that. It had been worth a try.

Colossus lunged forward, his arms outstretched to wrap around Shaw’s neck. He was going to choke the life out of the Black King if it was the last thing he did. Shaw, however, was ready and interlocked hands with the X-Men. Their fingers intertwined and a battle for dominance began.

“You should have stayed in Russia, half-wit,” Shaw growled as he took a step back. Colossus was physical pushed back half a foot.

Rasputin couldn’t hide his surprise. His knee shot up into Shaw’s chest. The attack didn’t hurt the Black King but it loosened the stress on the hands, allowing Colossus to break free and take a step back. “How do you know about me?”

“I know about every single one of you,” Shaw responded, taking the moment to catch his breath. “I know about Ms. Munroe’s home in Africa. I know that Mr. Wagner had troubles in a European circus before Xavier brought him here. I know about your team’s recent loss in Ms. Grey. In fact, there’s very little that I don’t know.” A tsk escaped Shaw’s lips. “Your professor really shouldn’t document everything. There might even be a few things that would surprise you.”

“You invaded our privacy.”

“Stated simply, yes.” Shaw shrugged.

“I should kill you,” Colossus said. His face had become emotionless.

“Sounds like a plan, Petey.”

A small yet stout figure broke through the trees and tackled Shaw by surprise. The Black King struck the ground and skidded to a stop, the figure sitting on his chest. Shaw’s head spun for a moment, but he heard a definite SNIKT and felt cold metal pressed up against his neck and the side of his head.

Wolverine was smiling. “Remember me?”

Earth Space

The Imperial Cruiser of the Shiar Empire rested upon the edge of the planet’s atmosphere. The journey from Chandilar to Earth had been made in less time than Jean Grey had expected. Looking out upon her home once more, the tears flooded down her face.

“We have a few days before we must return to Chandilar.”

Jean glanced over her shoulder momentarily and found Lilandra standing in the doorway of Grey’s temporary quarters aboard the cruiser. Nermani was dressed in regal robes, but the battle armor had been left behind. This visit to Westchester wasn’t about affairs of state.

“Thank you for this, Lilandra,” Jean said. She wrapped her arms around herself. “I can’t tell you enough.”

“I’m just sorry things had to work out the way they have.”

Jean gave a half-hearted shrug. “Sometimes life sucks.”

There was a silence.

“I…uh…just wanted to let you know that we’ll be teleporting down in a few minutes so be ready,” Lilandra said. “Do you know the way to the transference bay?”

“I’m sure I can manage,” Jean replied but she barely heard what Lilandra had said lost in thought as she was.

Seeing as much, Lilandra made a quiet exit, breathlessly cursing her gods for the execution that would be taking place days from now. Jean Grey was an innocent woman that had been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Telepathically, Jean ‘heard’ the words that Lilandra had spoken. She shook her head. “In the wrong place at the wrong time,” she repeated, resting her head against the window.

No, this visit to Earth was not about state of affairs for the Shiar.

It was about saying goodbye to everything she had ever loved.

NEXT ISSUE: The battle continues!