Chapter 87

  Arc 7 - Ch 4: Let's Talk About This

  Date: Monday, August 29, 2011.

  Location: Times Square, Manhattan, New York

  Sirens filled the air as a ring of police cars screeched to a halt, f a perimeter around Tyson and Max Dillon's glowing figure. Officers poured out of their vehicles, hands h heir holstered ons as they assessed the situation. Max stumbled to his feet. His eyes, now an eerie electric blue, widened in panic as he took in the wall of armed officers surrounding them. Sparks danced across his skin, intensifying with his rising fear.

  "Get your ass down on the ground! Now!" An officer bellowed.

  Tyson shook his head at the cop's idiocy. Here otential superpowered batant, and he was already here trying to trol the situatiohey were aggressive regardless. He was acutely aware of how quickly this could spiral out of trol. With a thought, he expahe number of his illusionary selves surrounding them, creating a barrier that obscured Max from the officers' view.

  "Stand down, officers," the illusions anded. He pushed hard with his power, trying to ehe directive stuck. "This situation is being handled."

  Tyson blinked rapidly as his vision blurred, and a wet warmth spread across his face. Swiping at his h his sleeve, he was gd his e was bck because it hid the blood stain. The pressure in his head was immense, but he pushed back against the strain, gritting his teeth.

  Behind the illusory barrier he had erected, Max Dillon's eyes were wide with panic. Blue sparks danced wildly across his skin, his shod fear feeding his abilities. Tyson could sehe electricity building, arg dangerously between Max's fiips. The situation was on a knife's edge. He had tain trol, and fast.

  "Hey bud," he said, keeping his voice calm and friendly. "Long time no see."

  Max's head snapped around, his glowing eyes fixing Mirage with reition and then relief. "It's you!" he excimed, theated. "You... remember me?"

  "I think so," he said. "You looked a bit different the st time we met. But yeah, I remember you, Max. Oscorp. Blueprints guy, right? I gave you a shoutout in that interview."

  He subtly extended his power as he spoke, allowing the tendrils of his illusion to weave their way into Max's mind. This delicate process required intense tration. Tyson immediately felt the strain on his mind growing but pushed through. He couldn't alloeat of the movie's events and would coerce Max if needed.

  Max's face lit up, quite literally, as sparks of joy danced across his skin. "Yeah, you remember me! I saw that interview." His expression softened, a touch of vulnerability creeping into his voice. "Aw man, I'm gd you're here. I had tickets to your show tonight. It's... it's my birthday."

  "Happy Birthday, Max. I'm gd I ran into you. But, we might have to postpohat show, though. It will be a close call for us to get all the way downtown."

  Max chuckled; the sound hummed with electricity.

  It was then that he noticed the massive ss dotting Times Square. Eae dispyed their versation ihan-life detail, his glowing form impossible to miss. "They see me," he whispered, awe in his voice. "You see me."

  Tyson couldn't help but crack a joke, hoping to keep the mood light. "Ylowing, Max. Not sure anyone could miss you at the moment." His illusions didn't work oronics. The cameras catg their versation recorded unhindered.

  From beyond their illusory barrier, a police officer's voice rang out. "All team members, hold your fire and wait for my call."

  He rexed slightly, dropping the outer ring of his illusions that had been maintaining crowd trol. The strain on his powers eased, if only marginally.

  Seizing the opportunity, Tyson pressed on. "See? No one wants to hurt you here, Max. We all want to walk away nid safe, maybe catch that show. What do you say?"

  He held out his hands, electricity crag between his fingers. "I don't know what's going on with me."

  Tyson reassured, "I've got some brilliant stists back at House of M. We specialize in this kind of thing. I promise you, we'll figure this out."

  "It's strahe power I feel. I got so much... I got so muger." He said in a tortured whisper.

  Tyson's chest tighte the young man's voice. This was a critical moment. He o keep Max from spiraling and show him there was still hope.

  "I know," Tyson said gently. "But that doesn't mean you have to listen." He stepped closer, hands open, stanoening. "You're still in trol, Max. Believe me, I uand that anger. My friend Spider-Man lives by a saying. 'With great power es great responsibility.' And this… this is your moment. It's probably making you anxious with all these eyes on you." He gestured to the t ss surrounding Times Square, each dispying Max's radiant form for all to see. "You have the eyes of the city upon you now. I know it's fusing, even scary, but this is your ce to show the world the man you are."

  "I know you're angry, and you've probably been tossed aside, ignored, and treated badly your whole life. I'm not going to lie to you. You could unleash all that rage on those who've hurt you, and with these new gifts, you could pay them back a huimes over." Tyson's voice grew softer, more intense. "But is that the man you want to be? I see more in you, Max." Max flickered, sparks dang across his skin as he wrestled with the choice. Tyson held his glowing gaze, years of struggle reflected in his eyes. "It's your time to shine. What happe is your call."

  The electricity around him dimmed slightly as he sidered Tyson's words. After a long moment, he nodded. "Yeah, you're right," he said. "I want to be like you and Spider-Man. I want to help."

  Relief washed over Tyson. "Alright," he said, nodding. "Why don't we head doe'll talk and see if they have ideas on how we help you."

  "That sounds good," he said, his voice wavering slightly.

  Tyson managed a reassuring smile. "Alright, birthday boy," he quipped, trying to keep the mood light. "Let's go figure out your new superpowers."

  But before they could take a step, a new voice rang out from above, cutting through the din of Times Square like a knife.

  "What's the rush?"

  The words dripped with false cordiality, u by a dangerous edge.

  "Why don't we stay for a while and chat? I've been looking forward to speaking with you."

  Tyson's head snapped up, his heart sinking as he saw the se above them. A figure wearing an iic helmet desded from the sky, his crimson cape billowing dramatically in the wind. But it wasn't his arrival alohat sent a chill down Tyson's spine. With him, like a sinister huard, were a dozen others, all floating down on a ptform uhe newer's power.

  Under Mago's power.

  "Fuck," Tyson muttered under his breath.

  This was bad. Very, very bad.

  He had expected Mago make his move ter, at House of M, where he had allies. Here, in the heart of Times Square, he was exposed. Vulnerable. Miles from any meaningful backup, with only an unstable, ued, and unreliable Max Dillon at his side. And Mago was rolling deep.

  Tyson's eyes darted around, taking in the sea of civilians surrounding them. Using his illusions here would be a nightmare. B illusions would affect the entire crowd, overwhelming his abilities. He'd have to rely on individual illusions, a far more taxing and precise approach. But as Mago and his ente touched down, his blood ran cold.

  Each member of the Brotherhood wore a repliago's infamous helmet.

  Tyson had thought that helmet was u blocked psionic abilities, which rendered his most potent on, his illusions, useless. Against Mago, he'd be er than Sabertooth. The realization hit him like a physical blow.

  He was screwed.

  — Rogue Redemption —

  Gng up at the massive ss dotting Times Square, Tyson saw his frontation with Mago being broadcast iime, rger than life, for all to see. If it ying here, ces were it was breaking news, at least locally. If his allies saw this, they might e to his aid. It wasn't much, but it was something to g to. Now, he had a pn. He would fall ba a cssic tactic…

  Stalling until help arrived.

  Tyson would need all his focus. He dropped his illusions and mumbled a desperate plea for aid that he knew was uo be answered. But he was desperate.

  "If you're watg, Amora, I could use a hand right now."

  He gnced around, hoping to see the telltale shimmer of one of the Entress' magical gateways. But no portal opened. Amora did not answer his call to e fight by his side.

  Pushing down his rising panic, Tyson called out, "Pstic Protocol."

  It seemed he eaking to no one, but if they heard him back at House of M, they'd know what to do.

  Simultaneously, he projected an illusory voice audible only to Max. "Sorry, Max," the phantom whisper said. "We'll have to put that ride to the Armory on hold. This man is a bad guy. Like a big bad. I'm going to do my best to protect you from him."

  eling every ounce of bravado he could muster, Tyson addressed Mago. "If you were looking for tickets, you could have just called House of M," he quipped, earning a few nervous chuckles from the crowd.

  Mago's lips curved into a cold smile, his eyes gleaming with malicious amusement behind his helmet. "Oh, I'm not ied in your show... Mirage." He drawled the name, sav each sylble. His voice hardened, dripping with disdain. "Quite the clever moniker. Much better than the name I knew you by."

  "Tyson. What st name did you pick for yourself? Ah, that's right. Smith. Tyson Smith. How quaint."

  Tyson's blood ran cold. His fists ched at his sides.

  "Did you just out me on live television?"

  Every instinct screamed at him to sh out at the man who had just shattered the carefully structed facade of his life. But he forced himself to remain still. His best aybe his only ce, was to keep Magalking.

  "Well, you know how it is," Tyson said, f a casual shrug. "Smith is a cssic. Easy to remember, doesn't stand out. Unlike some people, I prefer to blend in."

  Mago's eyes narrowed, the first flickers of genuine anger crossing his face. "Blend in?" he spat. "Is that what you call hiding what you truly are?"

  Tyso Max shift nervously beside him, electricity crag along the man's skin. He o be careful. One wrong move and this situation could explode. Literally.

  "I'd hardly call putting on a show for thousands daily as hiding," Tyson replied. "In case you missed it, I said I was a mutant during a Senate hearing and brought Stryker's as to light. Mutant issues are being known again."

  Mago tered, "Knowledge isn't the same as uanding. You could be so much more, Tyson. You could be a leader, a bea for our kind."

  Tyson reached up and took off his fox half-mask.

  He stared at it, turning it over in his hands. He'd grabbed the mask on a whim to hide his identity while running through atowhe Lizard first appeared. Over time, it had bee a part of his identity. Earlier today, he'd told Jubilee that his secret identity was meant to protect those around him, not himself. But that those surrounding him now were strong enough.

  He could only hope that was true.

  The mask slipped from his fingers, dropping to the ground. The Mirage guise had served him well, but it was time for him to let it go.

  Tyson shook his head, his lips curled up in a sad smile. "I am a leader, Erik. Just not the kind you wao be."

  His eyes darted around, taking in every detail of his surroundings. The police still maintaiheir perimeter. The crowd of civilians watched with fasation. The massive ss broadcast every moment of this frontation to the world.

  He gnced down to ehe little bck box on the belt he'd been wearing was still secured to his waist. Hopefully, the gift from Ivan Vanko earlier this m would do its job, otherwise he wouldn't st until help arrived.

  "What do you want, Mago?" Tyson asked, buying time, his hand still outstretched. "You didn't e all this way just to critique my choice of st name."

  "What I want is for you to join us. To take yhtful pce among mutant-kind's elite."

  "So you strap me into your mae? Use me as a on of mass destru and kill me in the process?"

  A collective gasp went up from the crowd. Tysohe weight of a thousand eyes upon him, waiting to see how he would respond. Though he already knew. He decred, "I don't think so."

  Mago's expression hardened, and all pretense of friendliness vanished. "Then you will be dealt with as all traitors to our kind are dealt with."

  The threat hung in the air, heavy and ominous.

  "You talk about mutant-kind's elite," Tyson said, his voice carrying across the square. "But look around you, Erik. Look at the people gathered here. Humans. Watg us, yes, but not with hatred. With curiosity. You hovered down from the sky with your arms outstretched. Do you know what I thought the first time I saw you do that?" he asked, pausing dramatically.

  "That you were the messiah. You have so much power. You could bring so much hope to the world."

  He gestured to Max, still glowing with electrical energy. "This man here? He just got his powers today. But he wants to help people. That's the future I believe in. Not segregation. Not superiority. Cooperation." Mago's eyes narrowed, but Tyson pressed on. "You're me a pce? I already have one. Right here, with the people of New York."

  For a moment, silence reigned in Times Square. Tyson knew his words were being broadcast far beyond this crowded interse. Beyond trying to buy time, he was trying to spread a message. If he were captured, things would be bad for mutants. At least there would be proof that not all were like Mago.

  Slowly, a sound began to build. It started as a whisper, a rustle of movement. But it grew, swelling until it filled the air.

  Appuse.

  The people of New York were g. Cheering. Supp Tyson's vision of a united future.

  Mago's face torted with rage. "Fool," he yelled. "You think a few pretty words will ge anything? You think these humans will accept you ohey know what you truly are?"

  Tysorength from the support of the crowd. "I think they already have," he said.

  Mago's eyes narrowed behind his helmet, a swisting his lips. He raised his hand, fingers spyed as if to grasp an invisible force. "Bold words," he spat, "but have you fotten what happehe st time we met? You 't fight me."

  Seds ticked by.

  But nothing happened.

  Mago's power didn't affect him. Tyson remained rooted to the spot. But he looked from side to side dramatically as if trying to figure out what Mago was reag for.

  The small bck box strapped to his waist hummed softly as it interfered with Mago's powers. It hadn't disabled Mago's mutant ability; he could still manipute fields aals. The belt only disrupted any magic fields in a small radius around Tyson, proteg him and anything within arm's length.

  "What's the matter? Performanxiety?" Tyson called out, iing a note of mock into his voice. "It's not unon in men ye."

  The quip hit its mark, drawing ughter from the crowd and causing Mago's face to flush with rage.

  "It's no matter," Mago snarled, struggling to maintain his posure. "You 't fight—"

  "You know, I've been studying a little bit of magic tely," he said cutting Mago off mid-sentence for the first time in their frontation.

  "There's this thing called the Rule of Three. Are you familiar with it?" Mago's silence was answer enough. Tyson pressed on, his waining momentum. "I don't really get it, to be ho. But the way it was expio me was that our as have sequences. Every choice we make shapes the world and the lives of those around us. The hree holds signifit power, often signifying pleteness, bance, and structure."

  He took an aggressive step forward, his gaze locked on Mago. The crowd seemed to fade away, the city's noise dimming until it felt like only the two of them existed at this moment. "I decre this now," Tyson said, his voice resonating with a power he didn't fully uand. "Three times you have e after me, seeking to use me as your pawn. Thrice, you have e to capture me with the i of taking my life. And twiow, you have failed."

  The air around them seemed to thi, charged with an energy that had nothing to do with Max's electrical powers o's magic fields.

  "You will fail again, and when I escape yrasp for the third time, the universe will demand its due. There will be no more attempts, no more ces."

  He held his hand out.

  The gesture was as metaphorical as it hysical. He was reag for a e. His backpack, hidden in an alley blocks away, holding his clothes and Jessica's dress, among other things.

  He could feel it, it was far away, but within reach. Fog his will into his outstretched hand, he felt the link within his mind. With a thought, he pulled.

  Muse answered his call. The ented dagger materialized in Tyson's hand. He poihe on at Mago.

  "I will demand my due," he decred, his voice ringing with finality.

  Times Square fell into an unnatural hush. The massive LED tinued broadcasting the rapidly devolving situation, but the air seemed to thi, charged with unspoken power that made skin prickle and breath catch.

  A transformation rippled across Tyson's features. His mismatched blue-green eyes shifted, bleeding into new colors like ink in water. One iris bloomed into a deep, royal purple while the nited into a predatory amber-yellow. The ge, driven by eling Muse's power, lent an otherworldly quality to his already imposing preseurning his steady gaze into something more dangerous. bined with his imposing frame and the mystical bde in his grip, he projected an aura of power.

  Mago's steely gaze flickered between Muse and Tyson's face. His jaw ched as he processed this ued turn. The master of magism's usual iron fidence showed hairline cracks of uainty as his power still couldn't affect Tyson and his neon.

  The crowd watched ihless anticipation, sensing they were witnessing something momentous. Few could grasp the true weight of what was unfolding before them.

  Tyson's grip tightened on Muse as he swept the ented dagger across the gathered Brotherhood. His eyes sed their faces, some familiar, others unknown.

  "I don't know most of you," Tyson decred, "but know that in trying to aid Mago's cause, you are trying to kill me. I will defend myself." The Brotherhood members shifted uneasily, exging gnces. Some looked defiant, others uain.

  "Empty threats," Mago spat, "You stand alone, boy. Your parlor tricks and pretty words won't save you."

  Tyson's gaze swept across the group once more, settling on a familiar face standihe back of the group. John Allerdyce. Pyro. Slowly, deliberately, Tyson pointed Muse directly at John.

  "You came knowing that he inteo kill me? We were cssmates. Friends."

  Johnny didn't say anything. His face remained a mask of indifference, but his eyes told a different story. There was flict there, a war between loyalty to Mago's cause and the memories of his time at Xavier's Institute.

  "e on, Johnny," Tyson pressed.

  John's jaw ched, his hands balling into fists at his sides. For a moment, it seemed like he might speak, might break ranks. But then Mago's voiterrupted. "Enough of this seality," he growled. "Pyro, show your old friend the strength of your vis."

  John's eyes hardehe flict disappearing behind a wall of determination. With a flick of his wrist, he ignited a fme. The fire danced between his fingers, f a ball that hovered above his palm.

  "I'm sorry. But, if one of us from our css has to die to secure the future for mutants, it's worthwhile."

  The crowd around them murmured nervously. Tyson could feel the weight of their gazes, the fear and anticipation rolling off them in waves. This frontation was bang on a knife's edge. One wrong move could send it spiraling.

  A figure emerged from the crowd.

  He moved with a purposeful stride, anding attentioe his unassuming attire. While they all wore what qualified as es, the newer wore a pin white t-shirt and tan pants. The police, who had been maintaining a perimeter, made no move to stop him.

  Tyson's eyes widened in reitio out a slow breath, grateful that Nick Fury had at least had the se to send him in with the iic shield in front of Mago.

  — Rogue Redemption —

  The man came to a stop, standiween Tyson and Mago. When he spoke, his voice was tinged with a hint of sadness.

  "It doesn't have to be this way," he said, addressing Mago.

  Mago's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "And who might you be?"

  The man shook his head with a small, rueful smile. "Just a soldier who's seen too much war."

  "My name is Steve Rogers. You might know me better as Captain America."

  A ripple of shock went through the crowd. Mago seemed taken aback, his posure slipping momentarily before he regained trol.

  "Captain America," Mago repeated disbelieving. But looking closer at the man, the familiarity was uny. He replied with bitter amusement. "The star-spangled man with a pn. e back from the dead to lecture me on the virtues of the Ameri dream?"

  "I'm not here to lecture you. I'm here to talk. To uand. And maybe to find a better way forward."

  Mago scoffed, gesturing widely. "A better way? Look around you, Captain. This is the world you and your kind have built. A world where my people are feared, hunted, persecuted. Where does your vaunted Ameri dream fit into that?"

  "You're right," he said softly, aowledging the pain in Mago's words. "The world isn't perfect. Far from it. But tearing it down... that's not the answer."

  "No?" Mago's voice rose, anger seeping into his words. "Then what is the answer, Captain? To sit idly by while my people suffer? To trust in a system that has failed us time and time again?"

  Steve stepped forward, his hands open at his sides, in a gesture of peace. "The answer," he said, "is to keep fighting. Not with viole with ideas. With passion. With the belief that we be better."

  Mago's ugh was cold and bitter. "passion? Where was that passion when I was a child in Auschwitz? Where was it when mutants were being rounded up and experimented on?"

  A shadow passed over Steve's face. "I was there," he said quietly. "In the war. I saw the horrors of the camps. I helped liberate them. And I swore then that I would never let something like that happen again."

  Something flickered in Mago's eyes for a moment. Reition, perhaps even gratitude. But it was quickly repced by the hard glint of resolve. "A here we are. Different decade, same story. You may have saved me then, Captain. Where were you when mutant children were being hunted ireets? Even now, groups of mutants, exiled from society, live in the sewers under our feet."

  "I 't ge the past," he admitted. "And I 't erase the pain you've suffered. But I stand here now and tell you there's another way. A harder way, maybe, but a better one."

  Mago's eyes narrowed. "And what way is that?"

  "W together. Side by side. Building a world where everyone has a pce, where everyone's rights are protected. It won't be easy, and it won't happen ht. But it's possible."

  "Na?ve. You g to your ideals like a child. The world doesn't work that way."

  "It ," he insisted. He gestured to the crowd around them, to the mix of awed and frightened faces. "Look at these people," Steve urged. "They're not your enemy. They're just trying to live their lives the same as anyone. Same as you."

  Mago's gaze swept over the crowd, his expression unreadable. "And wheurn on us? When fear and ignorance drive them to violence?"

  "Then we face it," Steve replied firmly. "We stand up to injustice wherever we find it. We protect the i. All of them, human and mutant alike. We lead by example."

  A tense silence fell over Times Square as Mago sidered Steve's words.

  Finally, Mago spoke, "Pretty words, Captain. But words alone won't ge the world… I . Using Tyson's power, I will ge the world."

  As Steve Rogers spoke with Mago, Tyson cast an illusion. His voice became a whisper meant only for Steve. "I appreciate the effort, Cap, but he's a true zealot. He won't be turned from this course."

  While Captain America's words echoed across Times Square, Tyson focused oifying the threats he faced. He sed the group assembled behind the Master of Magism, cataloging faces and abilities.

  He'd already addressed John Allerdyce, Pyro, his former cssmate from the Xavier Institute. He still held a fme in his hand. John could manipute the fire but couldn't create it.

  , Tyson's attention was drawn to a trio standing slightly apart from the others. His heart sank as he reized the Maximoff twins, Wanda and Pietro. Wanda, the Scarlet Witch. He'd prepared blood wards at House of M to bat her power, but they wouldn't serve him here. Beside her, Pietro, Quicksilver, waited with a bored expression. Standing with the twins was a woman Tyson didn't immediately reize. Like the others, she wore a copy of Mago's helmet, but it couldn't hide her vibrant green hair. Then he realized, if Mago's children were standing apart, was that supposed to be Poris? He mentally assigned her magism powers and moved on.

  His eyes settled on a ban with a facial tattoo. If his memory served, this was Callisto, a mutant with enhanced senses and super speed.

  And then there was… Brad Pitt. What the hell was Brad Pitt doing here? Wearing the helmet made him look like when he'd pyed Achilles in the movie Troy… But since he wasn't wielding a sword or spear, Tyson had no clue what his powers could be, and he didn't have time to dwell it.

  There were several other men who Tyson didn't reize or couldn't identify from his positio one of them was Toad.

  But it was the final figure that Tyson had been avoiding fog on, hoping that he was imagining this guy's preseanding head and shoulders above the rest, a behemoth of a man loomed at the baago's group. Easily niall, he was the only o wearing a copy of Mago's helmet because he wore his own signature helmet.

  The Juggernaut.

  Maght the fug Juggernaut.

  Marko was an intimidating sight. A giant with bulging muscles. Tysohat ohe Juggernaut started moving, nothing could stop him. He was the embodiment of an unstoppable force.

  "This is bad," Tyson whispered to himself, more than to ax. "Really bad."

  He turned his attention back to Steve, still engaged in his impassioned plea to Mago. Tyson admired his optimism and his unwavering belief in the good of people. But looking at the assembled might of Mago's Brotherhood, Tyson couldn't share that hope.

  The sheer firepower arrayed against them was staggering. And he didn't even know who some of them were.

  Mago's voice rang out across Times Square. "Pretty words, Captain. But words alone won't ge the world… I . Using Tyson's power, I will ge the world. I will ge everything," he decred, his eyes fixed on Tyson.

  Tyson leaned in close to Captain America, his voice low and urgent. "I need a favor, Cap. I need you to help my buddy Max get away from here."

  Without waiting for a respoyson projected an illusion of himself standing just to the side.

  "Hey, Max, I borrow your power?"

  Since Mago desded, Max had been standing at Tyson's shoulder, watg with wide eyes. He looked uain but answered, "I'll do what I to help."

  "I need you to put your hand on my neck," Tyson said.

  "Are you sure I should do that? This electricity…"

  "Yeah, it'll be rough for us both, but I . I'll owe you one. When I get out of this, I'll throw you a birthday party at House of M. And I'll invite all my superhero friends, promise."

  Max reached forward, sparks leaping from his fingers. Electricity hrough Tyson's adamantium skeleton as he gripped the back of Tyson's exposed neck. For a moment, Tyson's body went rigid, every muscle tensed.

  But on tact, Tyson's absorption power kicked in, drawing not just Max's ability to trol electricity but his very life force, memories, knowledge, and absorbed energy.

  From his earliest memories, he was always the invisible kid, the one nobody noticed, whose eachers fot, the face that blended into the background. His mother worked multiple jobs to support them and always told him he ecial, but the world seemed determio prove otherwise. Growing up, while other kids pyed sports or chased popurity, he spent tless hours taking apart old radios and rewiring broken appliances. It wasn't a hobby; it was his escape. High school was a blur of mediocrity. He wasn't popur enough to be noticed, nor unpopur enough to be bullied. He existed in the margins, earning good grades in sd math while struggling through social iions. His guidance selgested trade school, telling him to be "realistic" about his prospects. But Max dreamed bigger. He worked his way through teical college, taking night csses while w days as ari's apprentice. Every spare dolr went toward his education. His mother's pride sustained him through the exhausting years of study and work. When he finally nded a job at Oscorp Industries as arical engineer, it felt like his life was finally beginning. Reality at Oscorp proved different from his dreams. Despite his expertise, he remained invisible. Supervisors stole his ideas. His dedicatio unnoticed year after year. He desighe plex electrical systems that harnessed Oscorp's cutting-edge bio-electriergy research, but his name never appeared on a report nition board.

  The only person who showed him any kindness was Mirage, who saved him from traffid gave him a shout-out during an interview. That brief moment nition, of being seen as someone worth saving, meant everything to Max. He began to fixate on Mirage, imagining they were partners, friends even.

  Then came the act. One wrong move, one slip, and suddenly he was falling. The st thing he felt besides the sting of electricity was nding iank of geically modified electric eels below.

  Times Square, with its brilliaric dispys, drew him in. As he absorbed power from the city grid, he became a being of pure electrical energy who would never be invisible again. The electricity c through him seemed to amplify every emotion and bitter memory. But then Mirage appeared, remembering him and treating him like he could be a hero.

  Using his illusions, Tyson overrode the sensation of pain and weakness Max would have felt from the life drain, allowing the man to hold on until he slipped into unsciousness.

  As Max's hand fell away and his skiuro its normal rich bck toyson ordered Steve. "Get him out of here. They only want me. I'll stop them, noone else o get hurt."

  Steve hesitated for a split sed, torween his duty to proted his instinct to fight. But seeing Max's helpless form, he made his choice. He scooped Max up, slung him over his shoulder, and jogged away from the impending frontation.

  And Tyson hoped his bravado wasn't totally false.

  — Rogue Redemption —

  Tyson's skin took on a blue tinge as electricity crackled around him like a living aura. "Last ce," he called out, his voice carrying a dangerous edge.

  Mago responded by calling forward members of the Brotherhood. ", Jamie," he anded.

  Two figures stepped forward from Mago's group. The first, a man Tyson didn't reize, began pounding on his chest. A duplicate of himself appeared with each thump. Tyson wondered if he was dealing with another illusionist. But no, his mental resistance should've given a hint that these were psychic projes. He sidered the other members of Mago's group. Callisto, The Juggernaut… He let out a curse as he realized what he was fag. This was the group that Mago gathered during The Last Stand. That was the clue Tyson o key him into who he was dealing with.

  Multiple Man.

  This revetion was telling. Multiple Man's copies wore Mago's psychic-blog helmets, like the inal. That expined how all the other Brotherhood members also had copies of the helmet. It was o know, but it wasn't Tyson's main . That would be the looming Juggernaut.

  As if on cue, Marko charged, the ground tremblih his massive feet.

  Electricity crackled through him as he dashed forward to match the Juggernaut's charge. However, he knew better than to meet the behemoth head-on. At the st moment before impact, Tyson used his agility to slide past the massive fist swinging toward his face. He raked his adamantium cws along the Juggernaut's thick forearm as he vaulted over the brute's arm. Tyson nded in a crouch, cws ready, as the Juggernaut lumbered past.

  Now Tyson was fronted by a small army of Jamie Madrox's duplicates. The dupes fanned out, attempting to surround him. Tyson bared his fangs in a snarl, cws extended, ready to tear through them like tissue paper.

  His cws easily sliced through the duplicate, parting flesh as if it were made of butter. He reached for ahis time with his cws retracted so his bare fingers made tact, seeking to tap into its life force to gather intel on the Brotherhood's members and, more importantly, absorb Multiple Man's power. His fiips grazed fabric, then skin, sending a violent shudder through the duplicate's body. But no rush of stolen power or memories came, just the odd draihat seemed to sap the life from Multiple Man's copy without emp Tyson.

  He hadn't gained any power, but he learned something valuable.

  He couldn't absorb the duplicates. He'd have to find the inal.

  No matter. The horde of duplicates may have him surrounded, but Tyson was more than a match for Jamie Madrox's copies; they were only human. With Muse granting him vampiric speed, on top of his year of ninja training and raw mutant strength, he shredded through the duplicates. Bodies fell, the copper tang of blood perfuming the air.

  Tyson g the lumbering Juggernaut, still rec from his missed charge. A more pressing threat loomed in Mago, who hovered arrogantly over the battlefield, assured of his Brotherhood's impending victory. With his free hand, Tyson targeted a bolt of lightning toward the Master of Magism, seeking to wipe the smug certainty from the vilin's face. The ozone sizzle of discharged energy lit up the clearing as the bolt hrough the air.

  Uhe Master of Magism hovered with an arrogant look. The lightning bolt splintered against the eleagic shield he'd raised.

  Tyson hadn't expected the attack would nd. He robing the Brotherhood's deferying to find an opening. , he swept his arm in a wide arc, sending forked tongues of electricity toward his other ehe ones who'd yet to ehe lightning found no flesh, instead being grounded or dispersed harmlessly as metal debris swept into its path. Mago had maniputed the metal around the battlefield to guard his Brotherhood. But he was uerred by the failure of his lightning attack. Though it splintered uselessly against his shield, the assault served its purpose. It forced Mago spread his power thinner in defense, providing a valuable distra.

  As crimson rivulets ran down the bdes of his daggers, Tyson tinued his relentless advahrough the endless sea of duplicates. No matter how many he shredded through, Jamie jured more to take their pce. Tyson carved a path through the copies as a whirlwind of adamantium d Uru dagger. Soon, the blood Tyson had spilled coalesced into blood elementals fed in Jamie's image. Each wielded its own copy of Muse as the vampiric dagger drank. But when Mago reached out to seize one of the Uru copies and succeeded, Tyson immediately dismissed the jured duplicates, unwilling to let him cim such dangerous ons.

  Without the nullificatioo protect them, the blood elementals and their copied daggers were vulnerable to Mago's mastery over metal. It was too risky to allow the possibility of him gaining his own copies of Muse.

  He pushed forward as he fought. If he could reach the inal Jamie and absorb his power, he would quickly turide of this fight. But before he could make signifit progress, the Juggernaut was again upon him.

  Distracted by the horde of duplicates and his probing attacks on the Brotherhood, he couldn't dodge the giant's atta time. The Juggernaut's massive hand reached into the dupes, killing a few in the process, but he succeeded in ing around Tyson's torso, pinning his arms to his sides.

  Adamantium cws tried in vain to dig into the Juggernaut's imperable skin. But they failed to pierce the giant's flesh. He realized with dawning horror that even adamantium, reputed to be iructible, the stro material oh, couldn't pierce the Juggernaut.

  Tyson's mind raced for a solution to why his talons had proven so iive. He recalled from his meta-knowledge that the Juggernaut wasn't a mutant. The source of his power was are, granted by the Crimson Gem of Cyttorak, an artifamense magical power.

  Seeing no other option, Tysoracted his cws. The holes they left in his gloves allowed skin-to-skin tact with his foe. Immediately, he felt the familiar pull of his absorption power as he began leeg the Juggernaut's strength.

  His early years were filled with anger ament, especially after his father married Sharon Xavier following the death of his mother. The arrival of his epbrother, Charles Xavier, made things worse. While Charles was brilliant and gifted, receiving their father's praise and attention, he was beled the problem child, the failure, the disappoi. While Charles excelled academically and showed early signs of his telepathic abilities, took pleasure in bullying Charles, using his superior strength to torment his stepbrother. He resehe Xaviers' wealth, the privilege, and most of all, Charles's growing powers. When their father died, bmed Charles, vihat his stepbrother could have saved him with his telepathy but chose not to. As soon as he was old enough, enlisted in the military, eager to escape the shadow of the Xavier name. He was deployed to Korea. During a mission, he and his unit discovered a hidden temple. Inside, he found an a gem on a pedestal.

  The inscription read, 'Whosoever touches this gem shall be grahe power of Cyttorak. Heh, you who read these words shall bee forevermore a human juggernaut!' Of course, he grabbed the gem. Power beyond imagination flooded through, causing his body to grow massive, his strength became limitless, and he gaihe power to bee unstoppable on motion. The temple colpsed around him, but he eventually emerged unscathed, reborn as the Juggernaut. His first act was to ensure no one could cim the gem as he had. Using his rength, he threw it, ung it into space. But his new powers came with a price; he was now mystically bound to serve Cyttorak, an a entity. But he didn't care about the cost. Finally, he had the power to overshadow Charles.

  He sought revenge against Xavier, now knorofessor X, who ran a school for mutants. When Mago began gathering allies for his Brotherhood of Mutants, he saw the opportunity. Though he wasn't a mutant, his hatred for Charles and his power made him a valuable asset. Mago promised that defeating Mirage would be the first step toward fag the X-Men and finally defeating Xavier.

  The Juggernaut's booming ughter briefly faltered as he felt the slightest drain on his power. "What are you doing, tig me? Is that all you've got?" he taunted before smming Tyson into the unfiving ground with earth-shattering force.

  Tyso a surge of power unmatched since he'd absorbed the Abomination. This was different, though. An unstoppable force coursed through his veins, filling every fiber of his being with raw, unadulterated strength. His muscles bulged, straining against his suit.

  The Juggernaut, curious if his oppo still drew breath, leaned down to ihe crater where Tyson y. But he sprang to his feet, his body healing from the devastating impact as if he hadn't been injured.

  As the Juggernaut was leaning down, Tyson cocked his fist bad unleashed a punch of cataclysmic proportions.

  The air seemed to shatter as Tyson's fist ected with the Juggernaut's jaw. A shockwave rippled outward, the force of the impact sending tremors through the grouh their feet. Dust and debris exploded into the air, obsg the immediate area in a thick, imperable cloud. The punch echoed like a thundercp, reverberating through the streets of New York. Every window within a one-block radius shattered, raining gss onto the sidewalks below. Car arms bred, their wails muffled by the lingering rumble of Tysoh-shattering blow.

  As the dust settled, Tyson shook his hand, flexing his fingers. "Damn," he muttered, "He sure packs a punch." chug to himself.

  But the smirk on his lips faded as the air cleared, revealing The Juggernaut still standing there, unmoved, unharmed, and utterly unfazed by the colossal strike. If anything, the behemoth looked... impressed.

  Tyson's eyes widened in disbelief. He'd put every ounce of his newfound strength into that punch, a blow that should have leveled a city block. Yet here stood the Juggernaut, as immovable as a mountain.

  A low chuckle rumbled from his chest, growing into a full-bellied ugh. "Not bad, kid," the giant said, his voice a gravelly boom. "You've got some fight in you, after all."

  Before Tyson could respond, the Juggernaut's massive hand swept through the air. With a casual bad, he struck Tyson squarely in the chest. The force of the blow sent Tyson hurtling backward, his body carving a path through the air like a human missile. He crashed through the facade of a nearby building, brid mortar crumbling around him as he disappeared into the structure's interior, leaving behind a Tyson-shaped hole in the wall.

  But Tyson was far from finished.

  Being knocked into the building gave him a moment's reprieve, allowing him to think. His massive punch didn't loosen the Juggernaut's helmet, which was too bad. If he had gotten it off, he could've used his illusions on the monstrous man. His power must somehow proteot just his skin but his clothing. Tyson looked down; his e and, thankfully, the belt interfering with Mago's power remained intact. Vanko had built it from the same materials used in the shell of the Whipsh armor, so it was sturdy but not sturdy enough to withstand the Juggernaut. Thankfully, he now had the Juggernaut's power, bined with his own, and Muse, his…

  Magical dagger.

  A fierce grin spread across his face. And with supernatural speed, he leapt to his feet.

  Magic to fight magic. He could win this.

  Empowered by the energy he had absorbed, Tyson charged forward, straight through the building's outer wall, and drove Muse into the Juggernaut's midse, peing his previously impregnable skin.

  The Juggernaut's eyes widened in shock as Tyson's bde bit into his flesh. The giant staggered back, hung over the wound in his abdomeyson's bde, Muse, protruded. Sensing opportunity, he darted forward, summoning another copy of the on and driving his bde into the Juggernaut's eye socket. unleashed an agonized scream as the dagger sank to the hilt, f him to reel away instinctively, clutg at his face. Summoning another mystic bde, Tyson leaped upwards, plunging the sed dagger into the Juggernaut's remaining eye. Again, the titan bellowed in pain.

  Tyson watched as the Juggernaut tore the mystic bdes from his ravaged eye sockets in a gruesome spray of vitreous fluid and blood. The gaping cavities that remained began knitting closed at an astonishing rate, new orbs regeing before Tyson's eyes. He nded lightly, uo look away from the grisly sight. For the first time, Tyson grasped what it must be like for his enemies when fag his own healing abilities and the disheartening realization that any damage inflicted is fleeting at best.

  "So this is how it feels to be oher side of it," he muttered.

  The pying field was now brutally even. Muse's ented bdes had granted him an all-too-brief advahough the wounds closed rapidly despite the mystical properties of the Asgardiaal. But he would o ge his tactics. A direct assault ointless against an oppo he couldn't truly harm. He khe Juggernaut's blindness would not st long.

  Analyzing the seemingly imperable defenses, his eyes locked onto the points where the behemoth's helmet ected to his suit.

  He darted forward once more, stabbing out with Muse, not aiming for the vulnerable eyes or exposed skin, but for the precise juns where helmet met armor. The ented bde bit into the narro, its tip barely pierg the Juggernaut's flesh beh. Tyso it there, embedded like a wedge, and summoned anger to his hand. Again and agairuck, each time targeting a different e point. Four precisely pced daggers now protruded from the Juggernaut's armor. The giant swung wildly, trying to swat Tyson away like an annoying i, but Tyson's reflexes allowed him to dance just out of reach.

  As the Juggernaut's eyes finished regeing, his vision cleared. Tyson leaped onto the behemoth's back, scrambling to stand on his broad shoulders.

  roared in fury, reag up to grab his nimble oppo. But Tyson was faster. He bent down, fingers finding purchase on the helmet's rim. With a grunt of effort, he wrenched upward as if he were deadlifti in the gym. With a screeetal and a pop, the helmet came free. Tyso clear, nding in a crouch several yards away, clutg the Juggernaut's helmet like a trophy.

  The instant the helmet left his head, Marko froze. His massive frame became rigid, and his eyes were wide and unfocused. He blinked rapidly, his head swiveling as he tried to make sense of his surroundings.

  "Where... where did you go?" growled, his voice a mixture of fusion and rage. His gaze swept across the battlefield, searg for his elusive oppo.

  Suddenly, his eyes locked onto a group of figures standing huddled together, eae a replica of Tyson.

  The Juggernaut's face twisted into a snarl of hatred. "I don't know which of you is the real one," he bellowed, "so I'm going to crush you all!" With that decration, charged forward, each thunderous step leaving craters in the pavement. He barreled towards the cluster of Tysons, his massive arms outstretched, ready to pulverize them all into dust.

  As he he group, one of the figures stepped forward. It was Toad, his sickly green skin glistening with nervous sweat. "Hey mate," he croaked, his eyes wide with fear. "You've got the wrong guys!"

  But was beyond reason. His momentum was unstoppable, his rage all-ing. He showed no sign of slowing or ging course. Toad's eyes bulged in terror. With a yelp of panic, he leapt away, using his powerful legs to propel himself to safety. The other Brotherhood members scattered. Callisto's form blurred as she dashed away. Others dove for cover as the Juggernaut bore down on them like a runaway freight train.

  Mago watched the se unfold with growing ahis was not how he had envisiohe battle progressing. His carefully id pns were unraveling before his eyes. He shouted, "! Stand down!"

  But the Juggernaut paid him no heed. He tinued his rampage, smashing through anything and anyone in his path. The Brotherhood members chaotically scrambled to avoid his devastating blows.

  Mago raised his hands. He used the metal in the Juggernaut's e to send the giant floating to hover above the ground where he couldn't do more damage.

  Wasting no more energy on that behemoth, a pn formed in Tyson's mind. He'd target one of the other mutants. Quicksilver was too fast, even with Muse, but if he could get his hands on Multiple Man and drain his power, his victory was all but assured. Tensing, he unched himself into a full sprint across the battlefield.

  With his other hand, Mago raised metal debris of all sizes into the air, f a deadly obstacle course around Tyson. He saath through, using his agility, but he didn't use it, or dodge, he just kept going, unstoppable.

  "You ot evade us forever, boy," Mago's voied. "Brotherhood, Get him!"

  "I'm not evading you. I'm barreling through you!"

  He was close, mere yards away from the Brotherhood member, Jaime, Multiple Man. Victory seemed within reach.

  Then, pain exploded across his body.

  — Rogue Redemption —

  Pietro Maximoff watched ily as Tyson battled against the sea of duplicates and the t Juggernaut. Despite the overwhelming odds, Tyson held his own. The speedster's muscles tensed, ready t into a at a moment's notice. When Mago's and rang out, Pietro didn't hesitate. The world around him slowed to a crawl, colors blurring and sounds stretg into long, drawn-out echoes. This ietro's element, a realm where he alone could move freely while the rest of the world crawled by at a snail's pace.

  Tyson was fast, far faster than normal people. But his speed was nothing pared to Pietro's mutant gift. To the speedster's eyes, he might as well have been moving through mosses.

  As the Juggernaut reached up to remove the daggers from his eyes, Pietro saportunity. The mystical bdes fell from Marko's massive hands, drifting slowly towards the ground.

  Pietro plucked one from the air.

  A pn formed in his mind as he hefted the daggers. If these magical bdes could harm the seemingly invulnerable Juggernaut, they would certainly be effective against Tyson. Even if the man had somehow absorbed Marko's power, making a head-on charge impossible, Pietro had other options. He circled Tyson, eared nearly motionless from Pietro's perspective. The speedster unleashed a flurry of sshes. Dozens upon dozens of wounds opened across Tyson's body in the blink of an eye.

  As his unrivaled speed slowed, the world around him resumed its normal pace. He came to a stop near his sister, Wanda.

  The results were astonishing. Tyson's muscur frame was decorated with dozens of deep, angry cerations. Blood poured freely from the wounds, dreng his tattered clothing and pooling onto the crete below in small crimson rivers. It seemed impossible that anyone could withstand such a vicious attack, much less remain upright. Yet Tyson ehe grievous wounds marring his body began to close, gashes knit themselves together, and blood flow ebbed. Mere moments passed before Tyson's imposing physique showed no lingering sign of damage, pletely regeed.

  As the healing fiyson's mismatched eyes locked onto Pietro, glinting with reition.

  Then, something inexplicable happehe dagger irht hand simply vanished. It didn't fall et knocked away. One moment, it was there, and the , it had ceased to exist. fusion and disbelief flooded through him. In all his years of using his powers, Pietro had never experienced anything like this.

  Uled and suddenly wary, the speedster realized he might have uimated his oppo.

  But then, Pietro watched as Tyson threw anger at him in slow motion. A smirk pyed across the speedster's face. He had been wrong.

  He hadn't uimated him at all.

  Instead, his oppo foolishly gave Pietro another on that could harm him. He waited until the dagger was close, and then time slowed to a crawl around him as Pietro intercepted the dagger before it impaled him. The speedster's fingers ed around the sailing on. Time slowed to a crawl as his perception accelerated. In this frozen moment, he closed the distance, cirg his oppo, analyzing him with a tactical eye. In trast, Tyson's gaze remained fixed on his previous position. Pietro took in every detail of his face. He examihe man's oddly mismatched eyes, wild hair, and bulging muscles. But Pietro wasn't admiring him. Instead, he was looking for a weakness.

  He o find a way to circumvent his enemy's regeion. The way that Tyson healed, going for the heart, ointless. He could thrust the dagger into his eyes, which worked effectively on The Juggernaut. But they'd already seen how temporary that effect was. He could aim for the base of the skull, which would be fatal.

  Mago's orders echoed in his mind; Mirage was to be captured, not killed.

  Every warrior had a weakness. And Pietro sought his. His initial strikes had proved fruitless against Tyson's healing factor. Even this empowered bde did little to stop him.

  He strolled around the nearly stationary Tyson until he settled on a oint.

  As he pleted his circle, Pietro's gaze fixed on the vulnerable span of spiween Tyson's shoulder bdes. One thrust to sever the spinal cord would paralyze even this moyson could heal the wound, but with the dagger lodged i would incapacitate him pletely. It should put Mirage down and keep him down without killing him.

  He moved in, angling the bde precisely towards its target. Mirage's reflexes were superhuman, but to Pietro, he was a statue, oblivious to the strike that would end this fight. The speedster's smile widened in anticipation of victory.

  It was almost too easy.

  Behind the Ses

  - This chapter has been a long time ing… A ce for Tyson to finally showcase what he's capable of with Rogue's power. In fights with multiple superpowered enemies, it shines.

  - Some of you may be thinking that Rogue shouldn't be able to absorb the Juggernaut. That perception erpetuated by the X-Men cartoon from the ies where Rogue couldn't handle Juggernaut's power. In the ics, there are a feles ue abs Juggs. Uny X-Men #218, Rogue v3 #1. The se here where Tyson puhe Juggernaut and it shatters all the windows, but Juggernaut is fine, is taken straight from the ics.

  - Yes… Pietro should have targeted the belt, but he didn't know that was how Tyson was interfering with Mago's powers.

  - In Chapter 77, Jubilee tried to use Talk no Jutsu on Tyson in Vegas, aried using it on Mago. her succeeded.

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