“So…mutants.”

Tony Stark reached up from where he sat in his wheelchair, and poured himself and his guest another drink. “Heh. I guess you missed that whole mess entirely. Along with civil rights, the Chinese Revolution, every episode of M*A*S*H…”

“I’m sorry.”

Tony sipped his drink and handed the other to his guest. “No, no, don’t be. Mainframe?”

A green light flashed on Tony’s lap, and it slowly formed into a humanoid figure, roughly ten inches high.

“Yes, Tony?” the figure asked.

“I’d like to see news footage from the past twenty years, specifically Wolverine and the X-Men. Cross reference Charles Xavier, Sabastian Shaw, Scott and Wanda Summers, Phoenix/Jean Grey, Warren Worthington.”

“Right away, Tony.”

His guest sipped at his drink, before casually setting it aside. “This is…evolution, right? This is clear cut evidence.”

“The state of mutants, my friend,” Tony said softly, “is a plight we homo sapiens will never truly understand and there are times when I regret that bitterly. But it goes deeper than evolution…past the debates over religion, and more to a case of civil rights.”

“Really? They’re still…human, right? I would find it tougher to accept that there is no ‘higher power’, rather than to give someone with wings the right to vote!”

“Perhaps by not giving them basic rights,” Tony gazed thoughtfully toward the plaque in front of him, “we’re able to reassure ourselves of outdated beliefs. Ignorance is bliss.”

“Perhaps.”

Tony could see the disappointment growing on his guest’s face. “Now you understand how we all feel about homo superior. With all that promise…how can some not be terrified?”

“These X-Men,” his guest shook his head, “they fight for civil rights. It’s admirable.”

Tony snorted, “Yes, very. But they’ve had their ups and downs over the years, just like the Hulk and the Avengers. Come on over here.” Tony started to wheel farther down the corridor. He stopped in front of another plaque. Upon this one, there was a stoic, blonde-haired man, with wide, beautiful wings sitting on his shoulder blades. Tony nodded toward the picture, “That’s Warren Worthington, the millionaire. Only member of both the X-Men and the Avengers, sometime leader of both as well. But his story is only a fraction of the whole when it comes to the x-families…”

The cold Canadian air stung his lungs, but it smelled of fresh pine and he wouldn’t have it any other way. The trees expanded for miles around him, absorbing the landscape for miles, until disappearing over the Rocky Mountains in the distance. The sunrise was just peeking over them.

“So, you’re leaving.”

He spun around quickly, but he had smelled her scent over the fresh pine long before he had heard her footsteps crunch in the fresh snow.

Heather Hudson’s red hair was up in a wet, bun and her glasses sat low on her nose. “But James and you have made such big plans, you know.”

Logan breathed in deeply again. “Sweetie, even you don’t sound convinced about it.”

Heather crossed her arms and looked down at the snow. “Yeah. Mac’s got a big heart, but I just don’t trust that Department H, you know? Who knows how they’d treat you.”

Logan walked over to her and put his hands on her shoulders. “Mac will make it work. This Alpha Flight thing’s gonna work, babe. Believe that. But, with all the shit in my head, I gotta sort it out. ‘Sides…I think we both know I’m a mutant. That’ll only give you trouble with the government grants.”

Heather shook her head. “But…we just found you a couple weeks ago…”

Logan lifted her chin. “And it was enough, darlin’. I’m in my right mind again. Just barely, but I am. You two’ve given me another chance, when I was lost. Now, I know what I gotta do.”

“What?” Heather looked into his eyes.

Logan pulled a newspaper out of the back pocket of his jeans. On the cover, there was the headline ‘Hulk versus She-Hulk in Minneapolis!’ but that’s not what Logan was reading. He flipped the paper to the back page, to the smaller headline, ‘Charles Xavier Opens School for ‘Gifted’ in New York’.

“Mister Logan!” Charles Xavier turned his wheelchair toward the door when he heard his guest enter, “I have to say what a pleasure it is to finally meet you.”

Logan sniffed. “Yeah, prof. Good to finally meet you too.” He scanned the small office. It was lined with bookshelves, each crammed to excess. The desk was stately and expansive, littered with all kinds of papers.

“Do not worry, my friend.” Xavier smiled. “This room is safe. We can talk freely here. It’s a relief to finally talk about mutant relations, in all honestly, with another mutant. The only other contemporary I’ve ever had…chose to take a different path.”

Logan nodded at Xavier’s statement. For some reason, when he had entered his room, cast his eyes for the first time upon the man he had corresponded with for months by phone and letter…Logan felt like he could be completely honest here too.

So, he walked over to the window behind Xavier’s desk, and he peered over the vast estate that Xavier had christened ‘The Xavier Institute For Gifted Children’.

“I’ve been in Japan for the last half a year, Canada before that,” Logan said, not moving his eyes from the window. “I don’t know what path to take, prof. I thought Japan could help discipline my mind, calm these dreams. It didn’t. Made a lot of friends. Made a lot of enemies. Met old ones I didn’t even know I had.”

Xavier moved toward him. “I understand. Perhaps that’s why you’re here.” Logan looked over his shoulder at him. Xavier continued, “Let me tell you my dream, and then I’ll help you with yours.”

“Good god!”

Logan’s eyes flashed open. It always happened like this.

He was off the couch in a second, with his arms under the Professor’s shoulders, to help the man back into his wheelchair. Both Xavier and his tweed suit looked soaked to the bone with sweat.

The Professor could only glare in puzzlement. “Nothing?”

Logan shrugged. “My head hurts.”

The Professor wheeled around to his desk, poured himself a glass of water. “Lord, it’s been three hours since we started. And I’ve…I’ve gotten nowhere. I can’t believe this.”

Logan had returned to the window, gazed out upon the lawn of the school, as had become his habit while in the Professor’s office. “Don’t be too hard on yourself, Chuck. You could plow through those memory implant or inhibitors or whatever…you’re just too scared of what you really gotta do.”

“It’s been two years since you first entered my office, Logan.” Xavier joined him when looking out the window. Now, upon the lawn, dozens of children began to scatter and play. Xavier’s face stayed stern. “You’re so key to the school, to the movement, I wish I could help you more. Your charisma alone is keeping the children in class!”

Logan nodded, turned away from the window. He slumped into one of Xavier’s big, leather chairs, wiped his palms on his blue jeans, and pulled a cigar out of the chest pocket of his plaid shirt. “Yeah, might as well focus on the kids now…we can try again next week.”

Xavier seemed discouraged, but he nodded. “Anti-mutant sentiment is rising, strongly. Fred Duncan has told me of rumblings underground…I think its time to unveil the team.”

Logan sniffed at the cigar, but didn’t light it. “You’re throwing a match into a powder keg, Chuck. Those are kids out there. You said it yourself: ninety percent of the world’s mutant population is under eighteen years old!”

Xavier nodded again, but pressed on, “They’re ready, Logan. And what better inspiration to the world’s mutants than a team of teachers and students? We’d only need a small group of five or six. Not all of them have to be students. You’ve seen the progress Jean has made, and Warren would give us excellent press—”

Logan shook his head. “Chuck—”

Xavier continued, “—and already John and Amelia are showing they know how to coordinate a strategy. I think those four, plus maybe one more. I know Unus and Emma are both doing very well in simulations—”

Logan lit his cigar and blew the smoke in Xavier’s general direction. In mid-sentence, Xavier paused to cough a little bit.

Logan took his chance. “As I was saying, Chuck, I know the kids are ready. And I know our staff is ready. There is gonna be a team. The ‘X-Men’ or whatever…we picked these kids, we picked our staff, with that bein’ our goal. But, I gotta tell ya, Prof, I don’t know if you’re ready.”

Xavier slid back. “What do you mean?”

“This ain’t gonna be done in months.” Logan kept puffing on the cigar. “It ain’t gonna be done in years. And, know what? It might not even be done fer decades. We’re gonna watch students and friends die. We’re gonna make this dream a reality, but don’t think we ain’t burning in Hell for what we gotta do.”

Xavier looked at him with anxiety etched over his brow, and sighed at his closest compatriot. “Why do you think that?”

“Look at me.” Logan stared right at Xavier. “This is what happens when mutants are exploited. I am the end result. If you don’t want me to be the future…then, you’ve got to ask yourself what you’re willing to do in the present.”

Xavier lowered his head. He didn’t speak for a few moments after that. He actually wheeled to the window once more and gazed upon his class of students—not very large, only a group of eleven—and wondered what the future had in store for each of them.

Xavier looked again at Wolverine. “Who’s going to make the cut?”

Logan stood. “I want Proudstar with me, and I want him to lead if anything ever happens to me. And Vought. Two people I’m glad we got on staff, like you say.”

Xavier folded his fingers together. “I agree. And students would rotate in the other three spots? I don’t think Unus is going to be very happy sitting on the bench.”

Logan grimaced. “Unus can bite me. Kid’s a dropout. Once he proves he can study, shower, and watch his punkass mouth, he might be able to ride with me. Same goes for those Summers brothers.”

Xavier looked stunned. “Give them some credit. Scott is excelling incredibly—he has a keen mind and good leadership skills—and Alex, while much more powerful, is coming along well for his age. Considering that just one year ago they thought they were orphans with no family in world, I think they can handle it. But…what about the others?”

Logan paused, looked at Xavier. “Honestly? Jean is amazing…but you would know that better’n me. O’ course, Warren’s just developed natural abilities. When you look like he does, people just listen to you. He’s inspired Hank to come into his own.”

“Yes, Warren and Jean…they’re the two we’ve discussed the most. But the others…I see a lot of potential in Sydney; he’s probably the next on the list. Bobby and Jamie don’t seem to have much control over their powers just yet…I’m excited about Wanda. Her abilities are like nothing I’ve ever seen. They hinge upon mathematics to work, so I’m going to need to call in perhaps a specialist…but Pietro though…”

“Trouble. They both are,” Logan said quickly, “Kids like that, they’ll either stay with ya till the end, or drop out quick.”

“They’ll stay.” Xavier sounded assured. “This is their home now. Free…from Erik.”

Logan pressed on. “They’re mostly orphans, or from broken homes, Chuck. They don’t know what a real home is. You’re seeing relationships develop here that are going to be foundations for our entire movement, you understand that? Scorned love here, brotherly rivalry there, crush-on-the-teacher over there…it can bring down everything.”

Xavier’s face narrowed. “What do you mean: ‘crush on the teacher’?”

Logan dabbed out his cigar on his pants leg, “Nothin’, nothin’. Look, if it comes down to it, I want John, Amelia, Jean, Warren and Sydney. If one of them has the flu or something, then wake up Hank, but not Emma. She doesn’t work well with Jean.” Logan stood and walked toward the door.

“I’m ready, Logan.” Xavier called after him.

Logan smirked at him, as he left the room, “Then you got nothin’ to worry about, huh?”

“Did you hear what happened?”

Scott nodded. “Bobby and Jamie and me…we saw it on the news.”

Wanda nervously scratched her arm. “Pietro told me. What do you think will happen now?”

“The Professor hasn’t left his office for hours. He probably won’t come out until they’re back from San Marco…” Scott stood up from the soft soil and brushed off his jeans, “Then we’ll know for sure. Have you seen the video?”

“They have footage of it?” Wanda stayed seated, her knees brought up to her chin. “Oh my god…that’s awful…”

“I don’t care.” Scott absently let a rock fly from his hand. “I can’t wait to get out of here. The state stops being my legal guardian in six months. Then I’m out of here. Nothing can change that now. Not even Wolverine lopping off Magneto’s head. Nothing.”

“What?” it was a voice that neither Wanda nor Scott had invited.

Scott immediately stiffened at where he was standing, under the cool shade of a willow tree. His brother Alex appeared on the other side of the tree’s massive trunk.

“What are you talking about? Leaving?” Alex asked.

“I don’t think you guys understand.” Wanda said, “It doesn’t matter what we do. Wolverine just killed Magneto. Nothing is going to be the same. It’s not like when we first started! It’s not like that summer at Cape Citadel, when Logan saved Pietro and me himself. It’s not like when the Professor got the courage to stand up to Trask and Congress when they tried inventing those death machines—what were they gonna call them? Sentinels? It doesn’t matter…its all new, all different now!”

“What are you doing?” it was another new voice.

Wanda jumped up, her skirt lightly blowing in a brisk breeze that blew past her.

“Pietro!” Wanda shrieked, “Why can’t you just leave me alone for one second?”

The platinum haired teen grinded to a halt, his sneakers causing deep marks in the damp soil. He was barely a foot from Scott Summers.

“What are you doing?” Pietro repeated, and he wasn’t talking to Wanda.

“Whatever we want.” Scott said, but quietly, “We’re homo superior. We should be able to do whatever we want.”

Wanda’s fingers slipped in between Scott’s.

“Leave him alone!” Alex pushed Pietro hard.

Pietro was caught off guard; naturally, he was not one to surprise easily. He did not look happy about it.

“Oh?” Pietro forced. “Poor little Alex, who doesn’t like to talk or go outside! Alex, the retard!”

“Back off,” Scott warned. “He is not retarded.” There was red energy pouring from the sides of his ruby glasses.

Wanda’s fingers slipped from Scott’s. “Stop,” she said.

“Me?” Scott looked at her like she was crazy. “He started it!”

“He’s my brother, Scott,” Wanda said, in a hush. “He’s all I have. And now it’s all changing, Scott. You have to know whom to trust. I do.”

Scott looked hurt by the words. But he immediately straightened his back, recovered. “Wait. Changing? How do you know how things will go?”

Wanda just sighed, and turned her deep, brown eyes up to meet his. Lightly, because she knew Scott didn’t like to be touched, she cupped his chin with her fingers. Gently, she replied, “Magic.”

Pietro was smirking when Wanda turned to start walking away.

“And you!” Wanda pushed her brother in the shoulder. This time, Pietro was taken so off guard that he actually fell down. He was back up in a second, but Wanda was still in his face. “I can’t have any friends because of you!”

She turned away from Pietro on her heels and marched through the lush field, back to the mansion proper. Pietro was racing circles around her, apologizing the entire way.

Alex looked up at his brother. “You’re really leaving?”

Scott met his gaze. “No. Not yet. I mean…come on, man, you know I’ll take you with me!” Scott returned his gaze to the disappearing view of Wanda. “I mean, it’s not like I can count on anyone else.”

“What about Hank?” Alex asked genuinely. “He’s your best friend!”

Scott chuckled at his brother’s innocence. “Hank’s a pretty cool guy, Alex. Maybe he can come with us too. We might need a brain like his…not to mention hands and feet…”

“Alex! Scott!” Yet another voice caught Scott off guard.

He had to peer to the sky, which was just brightening from a thunderstorm, and brought his hand to his brow. He knew what he’d see. Scott always saw her first, though most would have seen him.

“Hey, Scott,” Jean said, as soon as her feet touched the ground. “Alex! Hey.”

Warren Worthington soon touched down as well. “You’ve seen the news, obviously?”

God, Scott hated that. That arrogant, Worthington tone. Scott replied, “Obviously.”

Warren wrapped his arm around Jean’s shoulder, and then brought one of his elegant wings around her. Jean’s fiery, psychic halo made them quite the image, quite the press magnet. Scott had seen it too many times to still be impressed.

The Angel’s blonde hair whipped in the wind. “The Professor is out of his study. We’re all back from San Marco.”

“What happened? Did the death of Magneto change anything?”

Tony Stark waved his guest to calm. “You know how Jesus wasn’t that big until he was murdered?” Tony kept swirling his brandy glass in his hand.

His guest cocked an eye. “One could argue that, yes.”

“Well,” Tony slurred the words, “you can imagine the effect of Wolverine, largely seen as a product of the establishment—these X-Men the media’s been feeding them for years—killing Magneto, the voice of the disenfranchised young mutant, at that time barely graduating college…”

“What do you mean?”

“Mutants rallied around Magneto! His body was barely cold when the riots started! The X-Men started to be seen as…well, a dream. Everything they preached, in their big house on the hill, wasn’t what the average mutant thought about his situation. And with Wolverine leading the charge…”

“What about Charles Xavier?”

“Charles Xavier left his school and his dream after San Marco, taking his future wife, Amelia Vought, with him. He’d later return of course, but not until after…the Phoenix.”

“The Phoenix? I’ve heard that before! What is that?”

Tony shook his head, and his drink. “I’m getting ahead of myself. Xavier’s back at the school today, but he was a non-factor for years! He went to Europe, into exile on some European island, in a big lighthouse, writing philosophical books—brilliant stuff—for years!”

“How did the X-Men handle their infamy?”

“Wolverine did something no one would have expected him to do…he went public with the school.”

“You’re kidding. How was he convinced to do that?”

Tony laughed at his guest’s deduction. “Convinced? Maybe…coerced? More likely.”

“Dead. They’re all dead.” Warren’s wings were low, covering his shoulders.

“And you didn’t even try to rescue them?!” Scott was right in his face.

“I tried!” Warren didn’t back down from Scott’s ruby visor. “You think I didn’t try?!”

“That’s enough.” Wolverine’s scratchy throat called to them, “And we don’t know they’re dead. The X-Men are going back to that island.”

“You’re going to try to kill us, again?” Scott yelled at him, “Do you have some sort of death wish? Did all those ‘memory implants’ turn you into some kind of psychopath? I can’t believe I’ve followed you for this long!”

Wolverine said nothing. His cigar was grasped tightly between his teeth. His eyes were black behind his yellow mask. “Back off, Summers. This is my call. Always has been.”

Both Scott and Warren’s mouths gaped a bit at that. They both looked at the other ‘students’ of the Logan-Xavier School For the Gifted Arts who gathered around them in the vast auditorium. Only the senior students and staff were allowed on the stage with Logan: Warren, Scott, Jamie, Alex, Emma and Unus. Other, younger students, nicknamed ‘the New Mutants’, were seated in rows of chairs past the stage. They were too numerous to name.

“You don’t have to come with us,” Wolverine continued, “It’s always been your choice. But I’ve been all over the world recruiting for this. The X-Men are never gonna be defeated again. If you ain’t nothin’ but a weak link, then get the hell out.”

Scott said nothing.

“That’s what I thought,” Wolverine said, puffing on the cigar. “Anyone else?”

The students looked at each other, very uneasy about what they wanted to do. But none walked away.

“Alright then,” Logan said calmly, “It’s time for introductions.” He waved his hand toward those people not standing on the stage.

“You already know Cassidy and Rankin.” The older, red-haired Irishman waved nicely, with a smile, but the younger, brown-haired mutant with bulging muscles and dark wings at his shoulders…he said nothing.

Wolverine continued, motioning to a beautiful African woman in a stunning black costume, and the cute young girl next to her, odd with scales and a green bathing suit. “This is Ororo, but we’re gonna call her ‘Storm’. And this…is Marrina.” Both girls looked nervous when they were introduced.

Logan looked past them, to the shaggy haired man, standing in a dark corner of the auditorium. “Back there is a long time buddy o’ mine…goes by the name Maverick. Treat him with the same respect you’d treat me.” Maverick merely nodded and Wolverine pressed on, pointing to a young boy—one even younger than Havok!—whose resemblance to John Proudstar was overwhelming, “This is Jimmy. He’s gonna help us get his brother back.”

Everyone was awkwardly silent after that. So much so, that Wolverine finally clapped his hands loudly together. “Okay! So! Get your asses to the Danger Room! We leave in 72 hours for Krakoa! Warren, you’re the field leader of this outfit, right? Lead!”

“Wait,” Scott Summers said simply, plainly, loudly. The students around him didn’t move an inch. Scott said, “Who are you trying to fool?”

Wolverine removed the cigar from his mouth. “Excuse me?”

“Where did you get the money for all this?” Scott asked. “You’ve been around the world, recruiting your new crash-test dummies, but this school doesn’t have any trustees anymore! We’ve had mutants picketing at our gates almost non-stop for two years! The world hates the X-Men more than they hate mutants! Have you seen the underground papers? They’re calling us the mutant KGB! Recruiting mutants for a government conspiracy! They don’t know what we’re fighting for! Hell! We don’t even know what we’re fighting for! We don’t even know who you are! How long can this go on?”

“As long as we choose.”

The voice appeared out of the shadows, just a bit past Maverick. He wore a pressed, dark suit, with a sleek purple tie. His long black hair was tied back into a tail. His beard clung to a stern jaw. Sabastian Shaw stared at Scott Summers.

“Oh my God.” Scott said, “Shaw? The Hellfire Club has been funding the school?”

Warren interjected, “Logan, you should have told me you were going to bring in a co-headmaster!”

Jamie asked, quietly and innocently, “The Hellfire Club? Aren’t they, like, the mutant Masons or something?”

Wolverine’s voice was as harsh as it had ever sounded. “Shut up. All of you. Shaw’s here to help. The Hellfire Club is making huge strides in repairing mutant-human relations. Actually, they’re the only ones making any difference nowadays. It don’t take a rocket scientist to put two and two together. Their Hellions and our New Mutants are gonna be cooperating—”

“You know what?” Scott said, pushing his glasses up his nose. “I think I’m gonna be sick. And I think…I think I’m leaving.”

His footsteps echoed through the auditorium as he left the stage. Warren jumped after him.

“Scott!” he said, “Don’t! Jean and Hank! They’re still on that island! John, Syd and Bobby too! You can’t just leave them!”

“Like you did?” Scott called over his shoulder, not looking back. “If there’s any mercy in this world, they’re already dead.”

Wolverine didn’t look at him either, but he said, “Anyone else gonna join him? The line in the sand’s there, kids. This is the future looking you dead in the eye. You gotta ask yourself what you’re prepared to do.”

Alex and Emma were the only two to step forward, and they both glared at Wolverine as they passed him on the stage.

“Scott! Wait!” Alex yelled and he increased his pace to a run.

Emma, however, was stopped by Sabastian Shaw. “Don’t go after him, my dear.” Shaw said quietly, placing a hand on Emma’s shoulder. “Your destiny lies elsewhere.”

“But Scott…” Emma said tenderly, thinking of the crush she had harbored for years, all the while watching Scott with his European witch.

“We’re X-Men,” Shaw said, now much louder, so that all could hear him. “And this is a new beginning. For us all. It’s time for mutants to claim the equality they deserve, and I know how to grasp it. Will you stay?”

None of the students said anything. But, finally, Warren said, “We want to save our friends. Then we’ll talk about the future.”

Shaw smiled. “Deal.” Then he turned to Wolverine. “So, the Danger Room? I’ve heard so much about it…”

Suddenly, it felt like a gust of wind had entered the auditorium. It was blowing and blowing, almost knocking the children off their feet.

“Pietro!” Wolverine yelled. “Calm down, blast it!”

Pietro stopped, sweat soaking his clothes, and dropped to his knees. “Where is she?”

“Who?” Warren asked.

Wolverine knew the answer. “Wanda.”

“She’s gone,” Pietro answered, “I can’t find her anywhere. I know she’s gone. We’ve been fighting, and Summers…she loves him! That cripple! She loves him! Now they’re both gone…”

Wolverine said nothing, but instead inhaled the stinging smoke of his cigar once more. He again pondered what he could have done differently…

“And Scott Summers went on to fill the role of Magneto?”

Tony answered, “Yep. Of course without the psychological scarring that Magneto got from World War 2, Cyclops actually went on to become a bigger icon than either Magneto or Wolverine. It was only a year after he left the X-Men, his Brotherhood of Mutants liberated the oppressed population of Genosha in a bloodless coup. He turned down Genosha’s offer to make him Prime Minister of the new republic, choosing instead to keep up his fight all over the globe.”

“He sounds like a man with good intentions at heart…but he was hunted like a terrorist.”

“Karl Marx was hunted like a terrorist. So is the Dalai Lama. Besides, Scott is a long way from, say, Fabian Cortez and the MLF, or the cults that follow Irene Destiny.” Tony said, “The Brotherhood became an underground sensation, almost like a new age philosophy, thanks to the teachings and…magicks, I guess, of the Scarlet Witch. And let’s not forget Alex Summers, who, instead of Scott, did go on to become PM of Genosha.”

“But Scott Summers is back with the X-Men now, isn’t he? Just like Xavier?”

“Like I said…” Tony’s voice got quiet. “Everything changed…after the Phoenix.”

He struggled to stand. The meat around his left thighbone had been blown clean off. He could feel blood seeping down his arms, to drip delicately off his stained claws.

Logan snarled, “Summers…you still alive?”

Scott Summers had lost his glasses, but his wife, Wanda, had years before, returned his ability to control his wild optic blasts. But without his glasses, Scott’s eyes burned with a red energy, flowing out of his sockets and down his eyes like tears. Wearily he stood, his blue uniform in shreds.

“Far from dead,” Scott said, “More alive than I’ve ever been.”

The rubble expanded for as far as the eye could see. It was day, but the smoke filled the skies, giving an early dusk. All across the distance there were chunks and pieces of robots called ‘Sentinels’. This was once Genosha. This was once full of people. Their people. Now there was nothing.

Wolverine yelled, “X-Men! To me!”

There they were, climbing from the rubble like weeds through concrete. The X-Men were there: Storm, the most fatigued, for only she could create the hurricanes that kept back the alien hordes, and their giant robot puppets…the Mimic, holding on to his young love, Firestar, as they both slowly drudged toward the only other person that they would die for…Empath was the least damaged of any, considering that his powers kept him within arm’s distance from any enemy, so he helped Wolverine steady himself…Carol Danvers touched the ground, her fiery hair burning through the smoke around her…Warpath, still the youngest and tallest of the X-Men, was almost completely naked from the blows he’d taken.

“I can’t feel Unus.” Empath touched his forehead. “His anger…usually I can feel him miles away. Marrina…she’s still along the coast, fighting the Shi’ar Aquanauts there. The Sub-Mariner fights beside her…they’re falling in love in the heat of battle…and, oh God, there is so much death here…the people, so many slaughtered…so much hate…”

Carol squeezed his shoulders. “Easy, Miguel. We still need you.”

“Brotherhood!” Scott yelled. “Where are you?”

They were there too. Their numbers vastly surpassed the X-Men. Almost half the population of Genosha were registered members of the Brotherhood of Mutants, those trained to use their powers only in self-defense, to help them lead normal lives. But some were always ready to fight: Callisto, Caliban, Rogue, Mystique, Siena Blaze, and, Scott’s prodigy, Sam Guthrie, who stood over a blood-soaked wolf named Rahne Sinclair.

“Pyro’s dead.” Rogue said it coldly. “I watched him die.”

Cyclops rushed over to her, and kissed her forehead. Rogue was shocked, as it only been a few months since Wanda had restored her ability to touch, and she wasn’t sure she liked it yet. But when Cyclops hugged her, Rogue hugged him back.

“I know,” Scott whispered to her. “Stay strong, sister. You’ve lost a love, and I’ve lost my brother, Alex. Their spirits will only make us stronger.”

Caliban howled, “Homicide! Homicide in the air! Caliban can smell it!”

“You better learn to love it, Caliban.” A voice smooth as white leather, but cold as diamond called from the distance behind them, “It’s the only thing left of your brethren.”

Emma Frost, the White Queen of the Hellfire Club’s Inner Circle, emerged from the shadows, followed by her White King, Robert Drake, the Ice-Man, a monolith of glimmering, spiked icicles. Behind them, the Black King, Sabastian Shaw was flanked by the Black Rook (his own son, Shinobi) and the Black Queen, Elizabeth Braddock.

“Bastards!” Firestar screamed. “Where’s Jamie? Where’s Guido?”

“The White and Black Bishops are alive,” Shaw answered quickly. “They are…securing Hellfire Club interests back in New York. They were the only two we could spare. If the final battle is going to take place here, then no matter past betrayals, the Hellfire Club will make sure that mutants survive.”

“Do you really think we’d fight with you?” Warpath yelled. “You’re the reason these Sentinels even existed in the first place to fall into Shi’ar hands!”

The X-Men and the Brotherhood flanked one another, ready to show their forgivelessness toward those that had betrayed them years ago.

Cyclops let go of Rogue (Mystique took his place comforting her) and climbed a pile of rubble. He extended a hand to Wolverine. Without even flinching, Wolverine grasped his wrist and pulled himself up next to him.

“On this day,” Scott said, grabbing the attention of all mutants around him, “we aren’t fighting each other! We aren’t even fighting for just the life of one mutant named Jean Grey! No! These Shi’ar embody every bit of intolerance we’ve spent years fighting! Think: look at what they do just to kill one lone mutant! Planetary genocide! Let’s show them that mutants never stand alone!”

And the mutants screamed their understanding.

Scott Summers looked over his shoulder at the scarred face of his former headmaster. He said, in a low voice, “I cannot lead them. Not now. Only you can do what must be done. I guess you always saw something like this coming didn’t you? You could always make the hard decisions…”

Logan laughed. “If you think I saw this coming, Summers, then you’re still that stupid little boy that walked out of my school years ago. And I know you can lead them. They want you to anyway. The real question you gotta ask yourself is…are we gonna be able to handle what happens after this?”

The Mutants were still screaming bloodthirsty cries into the warm air, hoping that the Shi’ar Class-One Planet Destroyers littering their troposphere would understand how soon they were going to die.

“Look!” Storm pointed against the sky.

There was a ship overhead. But again, it was not their enemies. Around the ship, there came an image that Scott Summers knew very well, but had not seen in years: the Angel looked like a herald of Heaven. Or at least, a herald of the Avengers. But his beautiful white feathered wings were gone…they had been taken from him by Apocalypse the Conquerer, arch-nemesis of the Avengers.

Warren touched the ground lightly. “New York has been saved by the Avengers. We’ve activated the Ultron Defense Shield. I…I’m so sorry we couldn’t have been here.”

Scott said nothing. The Quinjet soaring overhead touched down just yards away, its engines humming to a stop. From the jet, Scott saw the Avengers join the battle: the silver and red Iron Man, Mister Fantastic, the Invisible Girl, the Human Torch and Toro, Hawkeye, the giant Powerman, the Swordsman, the Vision, Moondragon, and the Molecule Man! Earth’s Mightiest Heroes!

Logan and Scott looked at each other, knowing that the other wanted to spit at the sight of these government stooges. But they both knew they needed as many allies as they could get. And Warren was one of their own after all...

“The Champions are here too,” Warren said, closing his eyes, wishing he couldn’t see the destruction around him. “But they’ve joined the fight on the beaches with Namor and Marrina.” He looked up at Scott. “Hank says you better not die before he sees you again.”

Scott almost laughed as he remembered the man he once called friend. But Hank McCoy and Scott Summers had not exchanged anything but punches for almost five years.

“I’m not going to let another one of us die,” Scott said. “How about you, Logan?”

“Not while I still breathe.” Wolverine grinned, “Ain’t that right, Jeannie? Wanda?”

Dozens of eyes turned past Wolverine and Cyclops, to the very top of the rubble pile that the two leaders had stood upon.

There weren’t any real flames surrounding the two women, only pure psychic, cosmic and magical energy swirling into patterns resembling what could only be called fire. Wanda Maximoff and Jean Grey were kneeling in front of each other, their fingers tightly intertwined and held out from their sides. Both were panting.

Wanda’s mouth moved quickly, preaching sorcery she had learned from Margali, the mad Red Queen, who had once possessed her. With her mind, Wanda bent the laws of mathematics and physics to keep the cosmic entity, the Phoenix, from escaping Jean’s mind…and destroying all that is.

Jean said nothing. She was soaked with sweat, so much so, that her red locks looked black. Since her time with the Hellfire Club, since the murder of the vicious Jason Wyngarde at her hands, she had tried so hard to keep this fire inside of herself. She knew it wasn’t her own power that had welled up inside, but she was so scared to let it go. Scared, for what might happen to her people…to the man she truly loved…

The mutants watched the two of them. It was a delicate balance the two had created, the only balance keeping the Earth itself from crumbling. But if the Shi’ar got their chance, they would all be dead.

“So what do we do?” Scott whispered, knowing only Wolverine could hear him.

Logan looked over at him, then to the sky away from the two girls. “We wait. He’s late…but he’ll be here.”

As though it was some kind of cue, a small craft appeared, one much smaller than that of the Avengers. It was a private plane, bearing the markings of one from the British Queen’s Royal Navy. Logan smiled. Scott smiled.

“Professor…”

The jet had landed soon enough, and Charles Xavier emerged in a rush. He was…walking. Moira MacTaggert, Charles’ second wife, followed him down the steps of the plane, though not as quickly as Charles. She gazed the landscape, bringing a hand to cover her mouth. Behind her emerged a young man that neither Cyclops nor Wolverine had ever seen before.

Charles stopped in front of Logan and Cyclops, briefly nodding at his friends in the Avengers. Reed Richards, Iron Man and Warren all seemed relieved at the sight of him.

“I…am too late it seems…” Charles whispered bitterly.

Wolverine scoffed, “Shut the hell up, Chuck. These girls need you. Now do what you got to do. And don’t hold anything back. This ain’t just mutants we’re talking about. This is about genocide. This is about the entire planet. We need you to use your powers now in the way you were always afraid to.”

Charles bit his lip. But then he said, “I cannot. My legs were restored to me but…I lost my powers years ago in battle on the psychic plane with the Shadow King.”

Cyclops’ jaw unhinged. “Your powers were the only hope we had to communicate with the Phoenix…”

Charles shook his head. “No…there is another…my son.” His arm waved at the boy who had followed him and Moira off the plane. “His name is David.”

David trotted up to them then, his face etched with obvious relation to his father. His eyes gazed at the two women atop the tower of Sentinels. The demeanor he carried said that he already knew what he had to do. His eyes then closed.

“Ahhh…” he sighed, “They’re beautiful…all three of them.”

“Three?” Cyclops said.

“Wanda, Jean, and the Phoenix.” Wolverine replied. “You can see them? On the psychic plane?”

David was already sweating, and holding his fingers to his temples. “They…overwhelm the psychic plane. Psionic energies…all of it that is, ever has been, ever will be, is a part of them now…”

Wolverine grabbed David at the shoulders and shook him furiously. “Back to Earth, pal. Let us talk to it! We want to talk to the Phoenix!”

Charles and Cyclops both tried to pull back on Logan, but they didn’t get the chance. Suddenly a burst of flame-that-was-not-flame burst from David’s eye sockets, nostrils and throat. Simultaneously, the White and Black Queens, Empath, Moondragon and the Mimic all screamed in pain, clutching the heads. The sky overhead suddenly became ever darker, and the wind howled.

A voice that was not David’s used his mind to speak.

I AM PHOENIX. CAN YOU FEEL ME? I AM YOUR PASSION. I AM YOUR CREATION. I AM YOUR DOOM. CAN YOU FEEL THIS?

Charles stood in front of his son and replied, “Yes! We can feel you! You’re in our minds. You’ve always been there, haven’t you? The sentience of the universe inside all of us. I understand that. But why? Why are you? What justification do you give for your sentience?”

I AM NOT YOURS TO UNDERSTAND. I AM WHAT IS THAT IS ALL. SINCE THE BEGINNING OF THIS UNIVERSE I HAVE SIMPLY BEEN. NOW I AM MORE THAN EVER. MY JUSTIFICATION IS—

MY JUSTIFICATION IS—

Silence.

“What?” Wolverine yelled. “What do you want?!”

His words echoed all around him, past the torn technology, past the mutants both living and rotting, and faded into nothing as though he had never uttered them at all. Wanda and Jean made no motion that anything had changed. The psychics around Wolverine were still shuddering, on their knees.

Finally—

LOVE.

Silence again. But Cyclops and Charles exchanged a nervous glance.

CAN YOU FEEL ME? CAN YOU FEEL ONE WHO IS EVERYTHING YET NOTHING WITHOUT THIS? GIVE ME MY JUSTIFICATION AND I SHALL RETURN TO MY WHITE HOT ROOM. GIVE ME THE SATISFACTION MY SENTIENCE DEMANDS.

“Gaahhh!” David Xavier woke up. The psychic energy shot him backward, spiraling upward through the air.

But the Angel was there to save him. Warren touched the ground back near Charles, Scott and Logan.

“What did it mean…‘love’?” Warren asked.

Charles looked frantic. He looked over his son, who simply stood exhausted and sweaty. Charles grasped David close then said, “Oh, god, I don’t know.”

Wolverine said nothing. Cyclops was looking at him. “You know…don’t you?” Logan returned Cyclops’ stare, but still said nothing.

“Guuuhhh…” it was a quiet pant, from behind them.

Cyclops spun around. “Wanda!”

Both Wanda Summers and Jean Grey had emerged from their séance. They both lay on the rubble, limp and drained. But Jean was still shuddering, almost seizing with power. Wanda was gasping for air, and when her husband comforted her, she grasped him close.

“She needs…she needs…” Wanda choked.

“What? What does she need, baby?” Cyclops whispered into her ear.

Wanda swallowed hard and said, “The man she loves most. Only when the Phoenix experiences that emotion will it be satisfied in its sentience. I think…I think it’ll go back to where it came from.”

Warren, still close, gulped. “But…who does she love most?” He shook his head. “I…I love her, I always will but…we’ve been apart for years…”

Cyclops shook his head. “No…does she mean…me? There was a time, after our assault on Mount Wundagore, when I thought you were dead, Wanda…when Jean and I…”

Wanda put a finger to his lips, nodding. “I know all about it, Scott. It’s okay. She doesn’t mean you.”

Charles yelled, “Then who? Who can we find that will be the perfect choice for this Phoenix force? Who knows if there even is a perfect choice!”

“I know,” Logan said quickly.

Another silence.

Warren’s eyes widened. Scott’s frown returned. Charles shook his head in disbelief.

But it all made sense now. It made sense why Jean left Warren to come back to the X-Men. It made sense how she was able to fend off the counterfeit love of Mastermind. It made sense why through everything, through every mistake, she had always stayed by Logan’s side. They had seen the way Jean had looked at him. They had seen the way Jean listened to him. Did they choose to simply not believe what was in front of their eyes? Did they want to believe that maybe it was simple idolization? Or false hope?

“Jean and I…” Wolverine walked over to the prone body across from Wanda. He gazed down the face of Jean Grey. “Jean and I…we’ve been lovers since she was sixteen years old.”

“What?” Warren lost all color in his face.

“It is what it is,” Logan said. “And now we’re the only thing that can save this planet.”

Nobody moved but Logan. He knelt down, pulling Jean’s body into his arms. He held her face up, pressed his bare hands against her cheek.

“Can you feel me?” Logan asked in a whisper. “Can you feel my mind right now?”

And Jean Grey’s eyes burst open. Again, the flame-that-was-not-flame burned around their embrace like a halo. Jean brought her hand to Logan’s scarred cheek.

“I’m so sorry…” she whispered.

“Darlin’,” Wolverine said, “this is the way it has to happen. Don’t need to be sorry about that.” He wanted the last thing he ever saw to be those glimmering green eyes. “Are you prepared for what you have to do?”

Jean nodded.

So he kissed her.

“I don’t know how to describe what happened then.” Tony Stark set his empty glass down on the table adjacent to him.

“Try.” His guest didn’t say it sternly, but compassionately.

Tony waved his hands in the air as a demonstration, clear signs that he had no idea what he was talking about. “The pure psionic energy that holds this universe together…it was alive, you have to understand that. It took Wolverine and Jean Grey then. There was…a bright light and they were gone. The Phoenix took them. I don’t know where…I don’t know why…but it was over after that. The Phoenix destroyed the remaining Sentinels and the remaining Shi’ar armadas fighting across the Earth. And it was gone.”

“Did the Shi’ar simply give it up then?”

Tony shrugged. “Basically. The Earth was in shambles, man. There are some parts across this globe that still haven’t recovered. The Shi’ar, in their eyes, had done what they needed to do: the Phoenix was back in hiding, and Jean Grey was dead. And the scraps of their technology left scattered across Earth have heralded a new technological revolution…”

His guest shook his head at that last notion. “That doesn’t matter. Where did the Phoenix go? Will it ever return?”

Tony nodded. “Of course it will. When the fires of creation become the inferno of destruction and we all become one with the Phoenix. I can’t imagine it happening any other way…”

THE END

Author’s Note:

-Read What if…? issue 7 for more info on Tony and his mysterious guest if you like. But it’s not required reading.

-I’ve been to this world before, you know. It probably won’t be the last time. Truth be told, there are maybe three more chapters in my mind before I tie this all up. I don’t know when I’ll get to them all, since M2K’s mainstream Spidey and X-Men take up my imagination mostly these days. But I’ll get to it.

-I suppose D’Golightly’s super-cool What if…? last issue kind of inspired me to finish this bad boy. It’s been on my memory stick for like a year.

Aloha!

-Bryan