Chapter 92

  Arc 7 - Ch 9: Mutant Massacre

  Date: Tuesday, August 30, 2011.

  Location: The Alley, Manhattan, New York

  Tyson began the delicate process of using Mago's power to remove the nails. He guided them out, and the st came free with a siing squelch. Then, he formed the metal into tight sheets to dress the wounds aal bands as makeshift touro staunch the angel's bleeding. As the mutant colpsed forward, all the metal surrounding him was used to lower him to the grouly.

  Jessielt beside the angel. Up close, the extent of the mutant's injuries became even more apparent. His wings were broken, and cuts and bruises covered every visible inch of skin.

  " you hear me?" Jessica asked softly, pg a hand oant's shoulder. "You're safe now. We're here to help."

  The mutant's eyes fluttered open, unfocused and gzed with pain. When he spoke, his voice was a dry rasp. "The... the others..."

  Logan was at their side, his gruff exterior softening slightly in the face of such suffering. "What others, bub? There are more of you?"

  The mutant managed a weak nod. "Deeper in," he gasped. "The Grotto..."

  Tyson's expression darkened. "The Brotherhood left Felicia with the Morlocks in the Grotto."

  Jessica looked up from where she was tending to the mutant's wounds. "We 't leave him here," she said. "And if there are others..."

  "No way in hell we're leavin' anyone down here," Logan assured.

  Tyson's decision had been made for him. There was only one real option. "Jessica, you him up? We don't have time t him back to the surface. We o stop whoever did this."

  Jessiodded, already firing her webs. Tyson surrouhe web bundle in a thial sheet and brought it along, h behind him.

  Logan's grin was feral, promising violeo those who had perpetrated this atrocity. "We're goin' huntin'."

  "We find Felicia, save any other mutants, and stop whoever is behind this." Tyson agreed.

  The stench of blood grew stronger as they ventured deeper into The Alley. The crete walls seemed to close in around them, the air thick with a metallig.

  Then, they found the first body.

  It was a mutant lying in a pool of blood. The sight was grisly, but it was the mutant's face that caught Tyson's attention. He had mismatched eyes, not unlike how Tysons were before the Battle in Times Square. But ih, they stared sightlessly at the ceiling, sending a pang nition, of kinship, shooting through him. Jessica moved from body to body. "They're all dead," she reported in a tight voice. "All of them mutants with... physical differences."

  Logan's nostrils fred, his face a mask of barely tained rage. "Ain't just killed 'em," he growled. "They were tortured. I smell their fear, their pain."

  Tyson ched his fists at his sides, and his power surged in respoo his anger. With a thought, he tore metal and rebar from the surrounding walls, the screeg sound eg through the tunnel like a scream of defiahe metal twisted and fttened, f two small ptforms that hovered just above the ground.

  "Grab on," Tyson anded.

  Jessica's eyes met Logan's, but her objected. They kop the h metal ptforms Tyson had jured. Behind the pair, the rescued angel mutant y curled within a protective metallic co.

  Tyson unched himself forward, flying through the tunnel. Jessid Logan trailed in his wake, borne on their metal ptters by the sheer strength of Tyson's ability. The wind whipped Jessica's hair as he guided them deeper through the Alley. As they rounded a final bend, the se that greeted them was one of pure, unadulterated chaos. The tunnel opened into a vast chamber, easily the size of a football field. But there was no game being pyed here. Instead, it was a battlefield. But this could hardly be called a battle. It was… a sughter.

  A Mutant Massacre.

  Mutants of all shapes and sizes were scattered throughout the chamber, and many had already fallen. Those still standing fought valiantly but futilely against their attackers or fled the battle.

  The group of attackers did not wear uniforms or have a uheme.

  Tyson's blood turo ice as his eyes locked onto one of them. He tore through the fleeing mutants. All muscle and sinew, matted hair hanging in greasy ropes, and cws that sliced through flesh like paper.

  Sabretooth.

  Impossible.

  Tyson killed Victor Creed on his sed day in this world, abs the feral mutant's powers, which he still possessed. Yet here, Sabretooth stood, reveling in the bloodbath with savage glee. The sadistic mutant caught their st and zeroed in on Logan.

  His lips peeled back to reveal a cruel grin. "Well, well. Look what the cat dragged in!" Sabretooth roared, disemboweling a mutant unlucky enough to stumble into his path. "I've missed you, runt. Let's see if you still scream when I rip out yuts!"

  Logan's adamantium cws slid free with a familiar snikt. He didn't hesitate to unch himself at his resurrected nemesis. The two cshed in a flurry of cws, roars, and spraying blood as their feud reignited.

  Tyson was stunned as the rematch between Wolverine and Sabertooth began. How had Sabretooth returned? But his mind ulled back to the mutants dying around him. Right now, they needed his help. Jessica leapt into the fray. At the same time, Tyson took a sed to assess their enemies.

  Sabertooth was big, but there was another hulking figure in the fight. Seveall and four hundred pounds of solid muscle and fury, he smashed his meaty fists around, pulverizing flesh and crete alike.

  "Who's ?" He bellowed, his beady eyes sed the area for his victim, eager to unleash more destru.

  In respoysoured sharply, splitting his orb of metal into a swirling vortex of jagged metal shards that sliced through the air toward the rge man. The makeshift shrapnel barrage failed to cut into the behemoth's exposed skin.

  "You 't stop Blockbuster with some paperclips!" he roared in defiance.

  Unfazed by the outburst, Tyson focused his powers once more. The swirlial shards reformed into bands that ed tightly around Blockbuster's wrists and ankles. As Tyson ched his fist, the bands stricted like snakes, wreng Blockbuster's limbs together behind his bad hardening into unbreakable steel. Though the behemoth struggled mightily, veins bulging and muscles straining, without leverage, he could not break the bonds uyson's trol.

  A crystalline man with a body made from a kaleidoscope of mirrored facets effortlessly absorbed a sizzling energy bst from one of the defenders. The beam dissipated harmlessly through his prism-like form before he redirected it, amplified tenfold, toward a ered cluster of mutants with o run. At the st possible sed, Spider-Woman came swinging in on a slender webline, her lithe body twisting gracefully midair as she unched a double-legged kick to the crystalline man's torso. Her boots ected solidly, knog his supercharged attack off target. The redirected beam struck the ceiling above where the huddled mutants stood, raining debris down around them. Jessica crouched atop the crystalline vilin, knees bent and fists ched, ready to strike again as the room filled with dust and rubble.

  With the rgest target taiyson turo the most noticeable enemy. It was like a tornado had maed in the ter of the chamber, unleashiru in all dires. He could tell it was a man, but his body spun with impossible speed, being little more than a blur as he sent torrents of razor-sharp calcium projectiles flying through the room. The spikes tore mercilessly through flesh and crete alike, adding to the already substantial age. The maelstrom whipped itself into a frenzy, ing debris and dust that obscured the chamber.

  Oskirts of the whirlwind stood two defiant figures.

  The first Tyson immediately identified was Gambit by his billowing brown trenchcoat and the volley of glowing kiic cards he threw directly into the swirling gale. The energized projectiles exploded ihe maelstrom. In respohe attacker unched more calcium shards back toward their sender. But Gambit's panion, a young woman he didn't reize, was ready. She pulled jagged spikes of bone from her own flesh. The razor-sharp bone shards intercepted each projectile, proteg the two mutants from the terattack. The maelstrom released a feral howl, intensifying the winds. The mighty gusts buffeted the bone-wielding mutant, driving her back a step. Gambit narrowed his bd red eyes, charging up another set of cards. Fresh bone spikes burst violently from the woman's skin, ready to ter the attack.

  Jessica swung low, pulling off an acrobatic roll to narrowly avoid the whirlwind's shards. "Watch out!" she called. "That guy's turning the air into a blender!"

  A grizzled man with a military bearihodically fired at targets with inhuman accuracy. He unched nail after nail. Each projectile found its mark, some eveonating in bursts of fire and shrapyshe projectile as the same kind that had pihe angel.

  The man locked onto his arget, a figure shrouded in a tattered, heavy cloak. He unleashed a barrage of deadly nails, but as the projectiles heir mark, something ued happened. Five razor-sharp cws extended from each of the cloaked figure's hands. The cws intercepted the ining nails, shredding them to pieces.

  Tyson's eyes widened in reition. The uallic signature emanating from those cws was unmistakable.

  Adamantium.

  The same iructible alloy boo his and Wolverine's skeletons. But how was that possible?

  Uerred by his failure, the military mutant adjusted his aim and fired again. This time, the nails found their mark, tearing through the cloak and peppering the figure beh with a hail of projectiles. The force of the impacts sent the cloaked mutant stumbling backward, shredding their garment to tatters. The remnants of the cloak fell away. The figure revealed beh was not what he had expected. It was a strikingly beautiful woman with delicate Asiaures and long, dark hair, but it was a face he knew all too well.

  The woman from Alkali Lake. Stryker's assistant.

  The nails embedded in her flesh were expelled from her body, one by otering to the ground as her wounds closed seamlessly behind them. Within seds, there was no trace of the devastating attack she had just endured.

  He had seen this woman leave with Stryker. Yet here she stood, very much alive.

  The military mutant prepared to unother salvo. But Tyson utilized his magic powers to stop the nails before they could find their targets. Pulling the metal to him to be used as his on instead.

  A group of mutants attempted to escape, running past Tyson's position. But suddenly, they stumbled as a wave of disorientatiohrough them. An unseen force shattered their equilibrium.

  A mutant with green hair focused on the hapless victims. "Nobody leaves," she hissed.

  Jessica swung toward her, but even Spider-Woman was no match for her powers, and she found herself staggering, fighting to stay upright.

  An average-sized guy leaped agilely from ledge to ledge, closing in on his targets while gripping…

  A goddamned harpoon.

  Its tip crackled o left his hands and shifted into energy. He impaled victims, the on slig through armor and bone or exploding in a burst of energy before returning to his hand after each throw. His aim was uny, guided by some unerring sixth sense.

  He turned his sights to the disoriented Jessica. She swung her head towards him; her spider-seingled, warning her of the ining danger, but she was still disoriehe man wound back the harpoon, ready to spear her through the chest.

  In that split sed, with a guttural shout, Tyson thrust out his hand, and the harpoon suddenly sprouted vietal spikes across its surface. The barbs impaled the assassin's hand, hooking deeply into his flesh. He staggered and released a scream of agony, uo remove the harpoon without taking his mutited hand with it.

  "I don't think you'll his anymore," Tyson growled as he liquified the harpoon. The man sank to his knees, cradling his ruined hand. Tyson ed him in the liquid metal, hardening it and leaving him bound.

  "There's so many of them, and something is making me feel sick!" Jessica called out.

  Tyson thrust out his hand. The unused metal from the harpoon shaft ed and distehe razor-sharp tip blunting as the on pacted with a screech of protesting steel. He added the nails the other attacker had fired, and in a sed, the deadly projectiles had been reshaped into a smooth, spherical metal shell. The protective co enveloped Jessica, cutting her off from the fight. She felt herself dragged rapidly across the ground, nearly making her vomit.

  Guiding the sphere taining Spider-Woman to him with his ferrokiic powers, he said, "I've got you," as she slid to a stop at his feet. "Stay close while I figure this out."

  In the chaos, Tyson saw a nondescript man slipping through the batants. At first gnce, he appeared to be just another defender in pin clothes. But as Tyson watched, the man grabbed the arm of a young mutant flinging fireballs at the attackers. As soon as the stranger's hand made tact, the mutant's fmes abruptly died, and his power somehow nullified, leaving him without a way to defend himself. Where the fire winked out, his skin had the texture of a burnt marshmallow.

  "Now you're not so special, just ugly," the man sneered, his voice dripping with pt.

  Although he may have looked average, Tyson realized this was atacker. His power seemed to e other mutants' abilities, making him extremely dangerous. As he turo disable another mutant, Tyson thrust out his hand. Jagged metal shards broke off Jessica's spherical co. He aimed them precisely, targeting the vulnerable joints of the man's legs. The shrapore through flesh and bone, dropping the assassin to the ground with an agonized scream. He clutched at the mangled ruins of his knees and thighs, rendered helpless by the crippling damage.

  Tyson took iley assortment of powerful foes that remained. Mago alone could end this flict, but the fine trol o eliminate so many targets simultaneously in a battle filled with is proved challenging. Illusion seemed the best path to tai.

  "Here, Jess," Tyson said. He yanked Mago's helmet free of his head and pced it atop hers. Instantly, Jessica's nausea and disorientation faded.

  He called on his illusion powers to pluhe area into inky darkness.

  Instantly, everyone lost their sense of sight, leaving Jessid Tyson the only ones ued within the void. She was safeguarded by Mago's helmet atop her head and remaihe only o lost in the mirage. The illusion took hold quickly, ending the fight.

  Jessica heard the angry shouts morph into bewildered excmations. Standing, she saw the remaining attacker's dumbfounded faces as they groped blindly, uo orient themselves.

  — Rogue Redemption —

  Malice hovered above the battlefield. She was invisible and intangible, her ghostly form imperceptible to the batants below. She watched with icy apathy as mutants fell before the Marauders. Her spectral eyes narrowed when she spotted Gambit among the defenders.

  He was the one who'd recruited them, brought them together. And now, he'd abahem to join the Morlocks.

  She sidered using her power on him. She'd yet to join the fight. But it'd be so easy to seize trol of the traitorous 's body. She could turn on the Morlock he'd allied with and kill the grotesque, bony young mutant woman, then leave, returning trol of his body.

  That would teach him a lesson about betrayal.

  But before she could act, the tide of battle abruptly shifted. Three newers burst onto the se, transf the massacre into an actual fight. Malice focused oall, brown-skinned man who effortlessly restrained Blockbuster.

  It was the man from the television. He was here.

  As she watched him fight, she felt a desire she hadn't experienced before. He was strong, effortlessly taking out Scrambler and Harpoon. He'd make an exquisite host. Though he wasn't a woman, he'd certainly do; the power would make up for it. She had settled for much worse before. Malice drifted closer to infiltrate his mind. But something blocked her. She probed for an opening to the barrier that repelled her incorporeal essenever before had she entered a mind so imperably guarded.

  Instead, she turned her attention to Spider-Woman. She'd seen news reports on New York's other Spider-hero. She was beautiful and had beaten Prism down in a matter of seds. If she couldn't have the brown-skinned man, she was the best target. Malice would be able to turide of battle, plus she'd have the body of a woman again.

  But then, the man removed his helmet, pg it on Spider-Woman's head.

  Suddenly, darkness engulfed the battlefield. He'd created a psychic shroud so potent that she felt it affected her non-corporeal senses. But she also felt that by removing the helmet, he was no luarded against her intrusion.

  This was her ce.

  Malice dove towards the man's now unprotected mind. She braced herself for the usual struggle, the momentary resistance before she overwhelmed her victim's sciousness.

  But the instant she made tact, everything ged.

  Instead of inhabiting and taking over his body as her own, Malice found herself in a stark white room.

  "What is this?" she hissed, "Where am I?"

  For the first time in lohan she could remember, Malice felt something akin to fear. This was not how possession was supposed to work. She was the ihe queror. But here, she felt exposed. Vulnerable.

  Then, she was grabbed and spun violently to find herself face to face with the st being she expected to enter ihis strange mental ndscape.

  Sabretooth.

  "What are you doing in here?" she demanded.

  This was all wrong. Here she was, disoriented and seemingly at the mercy of... whatever this was.

  Sabretooth's fanged smile widened. "Greetin' our roommate," he growled with menag amusement. Before Malice could react, he grabbed her spectral form and tossed her unceremoniously onto a couch.

  She nded with an undighump beside a man sitting ramrod straight, his mismatg green and blue eyes fixed on some unseen point in the distance. He didn't even aowledge her presence, adding to Malice's growing sense of unease.

  A brue young woman looked over at Malice, her eyes filled with weariness. "Another one?" she sighed. "I 't stop killing, I?"

  Malice's fusion deepened. What was this pce? Who were these people, and why were they all inhabiting this man's mind? Although she had possessed tless individuals over the years, she had never entered anything like this.

  Before she could voice her questions, a white-haired man stepped into view. He looked down at Malice, his eyes sharp and assessing. "No," he said, "This one is different," his voice carried an authority that made even her spectral form want to shrink back. "But she seems strong." The white-haired maended a hand toward Malice while a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Join me, dear," he said. "Together, we make something of ourselves."

  Sabertooth roared, "No. I touch her. I've been waiting so long. Let me have her first!"

  Arm bells rang in Malice's mind. This was wrong. All wrong. She had never felt so out of her depth, so vulnerable. With a supreme effort of will, she closed her eyes and trated, f her essence bato its ethereal form.

  As she felt herself slipping away from this bizarre mental ndscape, she knew with certainty that she had narrowly escaped... something. What exactly, she couldn't say, but the relief she felt as she left his body alpable.

  Ba the psychic darkhat had engulfed the battlefield, Malice retreated. Her usual fidence was shaken, repced by a wariness she hadn't felt in years. Whatever that man was, he was far more dangerous than she had initially assumed.

  Driven by an instinct for self-preservation, Malice searched deeper into the Morlock Grotto. She needed a host, ain her bearings and process what had just happened. As she drifted through the tunnels, she came upon an area where a white-haired woman was held captive. A group of mutants was gathered in the room. These ones weren't disheveled or disfigured like the others.

  That's when she saw her. A beautiful woman with vibrant bck-green hair. Malice approached cautiously, probing with her spectral senses. Most of the group wore the same helmets as the man, the helmets that blocked her power, except this woman. She sat on a bed s as if retly recovered or woken from a nap. But she radiated power, simir to the man she'd just left behind, the man who had so thhly uled her. But unlike him, this one's mi... right. Weling, even. She held her helmet at her side, turning it as if about to repce it upon her head.

  Malice didn't think twice. She dove in. The transition was smooth and familiar, nothing like the disorienting experience she had just endured. In moments, she had taken trol, assimiting the woman's memories and experiences.

  Lorna Dane.

  That was her name. A mutant with the power to trol magism, injured in a previous frontation with Tyson. The very man whose mind had so thhly rejected her invasion. This group, The Brotherhood, was led by her father, Mago, who had the same powers as her. The pieces quickly fell into palice, Tyson had killed Mago, somehow the mutant was still within his mind.

  As she settled into Lorna's sciousness, she quickly put the uling man to the back of her mind. Her s were repced with a surge of excitement. Malice felt an inexplicable sensation that Lorna was the perfect host as if they had a e that was deeper than any of her previous possessions.

  Lorna's memories provided a wealth of information about the current situation. The Brotherhood had kidhe white-haired woman and brought her to the Morlocks so that one of their members could infiltrate Tyson's group. However, their attack had gone awry. The injured, including Lorna, had been brought back here to the Morlocks to be seen by their healer. Some had been teleported away, but the rest lingered, discussing their move.

  Whatever Tyson was, whatever strange colle of personalities inhabited his mind, he represented a threat like none she had ever entered before.

  Malice, inhabiting Lorna Dane's body, pushed herself up from the ground, pced the helmet on her head, and joihe Brotherhood's versation.

  Wanda's eyes bzed with fury as she addressed the remnants of the Brotherhood. Her voice trembled with barely tained rage. "Get the others," she demanded. "Take us to the House of M. We'll attack him there, just like we intended."

  Vanisher raised his hands pgly. "Wanda, listen. Marko won't e. Mirage got in his head. Just like he was about to get into mine." He paused, swallowing hard before delivering the crushing blow. "Mago is dead."

  The words hung in the air, heavy and oppressive. Anguish washed over Wanda's features. "He killed our father!" she excimed, her voice rising to a near-shriek. "We 't let him get away with this!"

  Pietro moved closer to his sister, his usual coess repced by a somber demeanor. He ed her in a hug. "We won't," he assured her, his voice steady. "But see reason, Wanda. If we couldn't beat him in the open, what ce do we have with less of us and fighting in his home where he's prepared?"

  Wanda's gaze darted around the room, searg for support, for someoo validate her desire for immediate retribution. Her eyes nded on Lorna, and her voice softeinged with a desperate plea. "He killed our dad."

  Malice, inhabiting Lorna's body, saportunity. She stepped forward, joining Pietro in ing Wanda in a f embrace. "I know," she murmured, her voice perfectly imitating Lorna's sympathetie. "But it won't matter if we die trying to fight him."

  Pulling back slightly, Malisured Wanda could see Lorna's face, pasting on a mask of . "We o get out of here," she urged. "He's going to e for her." She gestured towards the captive white-haired woman. "We o take time to prepare. He's even stronger now. We 't let him find us here."

  Pietro nodded in agreement, relief evident on his face as he saw his sister's resolve begin to waver. "She's right," he added, his voice ge insistent.

  Vanisher chimed in. "We o go," he said, his eyes darting nervously towards the tunrances.

  Wanda stood silent for a long moment, her internal struggle visible on her face. The desire for vengeance warred with the instinct for survival. Finally, she let out a long, shuddering breath. "Fine," she ceded. Theuro Vanisher and anded, "Take us back to Sokovia."

  As the Brotherhood gathered around Vanisher, Malice, still in Lorna's body, allowed herself a small, satisfied smile. She had successfully maniputed the situation, ensuring her own survival and positioning herself within this group of powerful mutants. The enter with Tyson had shaken her, but now she had a new purpose, a new dire, and a new, perfect host.

  Vanisher activated his power. In a fsh of light and a rush of dispced air, the Brotherhood vanished from the Morlock tunnels, leaving behind the captive. As the teleportation effect faded, they found themselves ba their safe house in Sokovia. Wanda immediately broke away from the group, pag the room with freiergy. Her hands glowed with barely tained agic, refleg her tumultuous emotional state.

  Pietro watched his sister with . "We need a pn," he said. "We 't just rush back without preparation."

  Malice pced a f hand on Wanda's shoulder as she passed, stopping her pag. "Pietrht," she said, "We roup, assess our strengths, and find a way to ter Tyson."

  Wanda looked at her, flict evident in her eyes. The desire for vengeaill burned bright, but their situation was beginning to sink in. She nodded slowly, her shoulders slumping slightly as the adrenaline of the moment began to fade.

  The Brotherhood had been decimated, its leader killed, and its grand pn thwarted. The reality of their situation was beginning to set in, and with it came a creeping sense of despair. Malice, sensing the shift in mood, khis was her opportunity to step up and take trol. "We will rebuild," she decred. "We'll find new allies if we must. Tyson may have won this battle, but the war is far from over. But for now, we o move. If he has our father's memories, he'll know about this pce."

  — Rogue Redemption —

  The darkyson had jured drew the battle to an abrupt halt. It brought a sudden silence, where he could hear the distant sounds of Sabretooth and Logan's ongoing brawl. He reached out, feeling for the metal scattered throughout the chamber. Pieces of debris, abandoned ons, and the metallic ball that hovered just behind him. Tyson focused on the most vulnerable targets first; the injured Morlocks caught in the crossfire. With careful precision, he formed the metal into makeshift ptforms. He lifted the helpless mutants, guiding them through the darko retive safety behind his position. The strain of maintaining both the illusion and such delicate magitrol was more mentally taxing than he expected. It seemed he'd o practice using the powers in cert because even this simple use of his illusions while trying to manipute multiple objects ushing his tration to its limit.

  Just as he thought he had the situation well in hand, a new assault hit. Waves of dizziness and nausea washed over him, threatening to break his tration. Tyson gritted his teeth, reiziigo's power at work. The green-haired mutant must be broadcasting her disorienting ability indiscriminately.

  He locked up briefly. How did he know the woman's name was Vertigo? Suddenly, he realized he knew all the attackers, the Marauders, when he hadn't just a minute earlier.

  "Jess, stop her!" Tyson called out, his voice strained, "Knock out the woman with green hair."

  He knew Jessica would be ued by both his darkness aigo's assault, thanks to the psionic-blog helmet he tossed to her. She was their best ce at ralizing this hreat.

  The effort of maintaining his illusion while fighting off Vertigo's power was taking its toll. Tyson's trol over his magic ptforms wavered, and he was forced to set them down, not wanting to risk dropping anyone. His foarrowed to a singur point. He o maintain the illusionary darkness, denying their eheir sight and ability to fight.

  Seds as Tyson held on, every heartbeat a battle against the urge to let the illusion drop. He could hear the sounds of bat nearby, but he couldn't risk using his powers offensively. Dizzy as he was, one mispced magic projectile could hit anyone instead of an enemy.

  Finally, mercifully, the assault on his senses ceased. Vertigo's power winked out, leaving only a hint of dizziness.

  Jessica had e through.

  Tyson carefully assessed the situation through his magises. The Marauders seemed to be in disarray, many of them holding positions to hide behind whatever they could find in the darkness. The rescued mutants huddled in groups, their fear palpable even without visual firmation.

  Despite the lingering effects of Vertigo's assault, Tyson pushed through, maintaining tration on the illusionary darkness. He guided the remaining ptforms, each bearing injured htened mutants, towards the retive safety behind his position. The strain was immense, but he refused to falter. Each life saved was a small victory.

  As the st of the vulnerable mutants were secured, Tyson turned his attention to the Marauders. The massive form of Blockbuster remained immobilized, Tyson's earlier maneuver having effectively ralized the brute. Vertigo y unscious, Jessica having removed that particur threat from the equation. She hadn't stopped with Vertigo and was already moving to ehe military-esque assaint, Scalphunter. He trusted her to hahat threat, fog instead on the more immediate dangers. Though he could not see into the whirling cye of shrapnel, he khat at its heart, the maelstrom of shards was trolled by the Marauder, Riptide.

  He called upon his power, drawing fiments of metal debris to him from across the Grotto's floor. With a thought, he uhe makeshift spikes into Riptide's vortex. The Marauder's winds, powerful as they were, could not deflect the uing salvo. His trol was reduced as his focus split to maintain the illusion so it would not be a geakedown.

  Amidst the r winds came a cry of pain. Seizing the opportunity, Tyson focused his will upon the shards now embedded in Riptide's flesh. In an instant, the metal unfurled, ing around the Marauder's body and grinding his deadly tempest to a halt.

  His attention shifted to the crystalline form of Prism, deeming him the greatest threat. The mutant's ability to absorb and redireergy attacks made him a wildcard. He ehe crystalliant in a co of metal, effectively ralizing him. At the same time, Jessica reached Scalphuhe Marauder, blind in the darkness and under assault from Spider-Woman, stood little ce. He went down within moments.

  As the st of the Marauders fell, save for Sabretooth, who was still locked in bat with Logan, Tyson allowed himself a moment of relief. The immediate threats were ralized. With a deep breath, he finally released his hold on the illusionary darkness. The strain that had been building behind his eyes eased.

  As visiouro everyone in the Grotto, Tyson took in the se before him. The chamber bore the scars of intetle; gouges in the walls, scattered debris, and the fallen forms of mutants.

  Jessica stood he ter of the room, her e torn in pces but her staill ready for a. Gambit leaned against a nearby wall with his bo staff extended as he caught his breath. The 's smirk was in pce, but Tyson could see the weariness in his eyes.

  The sounds of Logan and Sabretooth's ongoing brawl echoed through the chamber, a remihat at least ohreat remained active. Tyson sidered intervening, but the rivalry between those two ran deep, and with his adamantium cws, Tyson guessed Logan had the advantage.

  Instead, Tyson turned his attention to the rescued mutants huddled behind him. Many wore expressions of fear and fusion, while others showed signs of injury or exhaustion. A pang of sympathy shot through him. These people had already suffered so much, and now they had been caught in the crossfire of yet another flict.

  One by one, he lifted the unsutants onto his metal ptforms, guiding them to him and hastily establishing a recovery area.

  Jessica reached his side. Her e was torn and smudged with the grime of battle. In her hands, she held the psionic-blog helmet that had proven so crucial in their fight against the Marauders.

  "Here," she said, the helmet to Tyson. "Thought you might want this back."

  Tyson managed a tired smile as he accepted it. "Thanks, Jess. You really came through back there."

  His eyes sed the chamber, settling on a mutant who seemed retively unharmed. Splitting his focus, Tyson addressed the mutant while tinuing to manipute the magic fields around them.

  "You. Do you know where the white-haired woman is? The one brought here by the man wearing this helmet?" he asked, gesturing to his head. The mutant nodded. "Good," Tyson tinued. " you lead Spider-Woman to her? Jess, you free Felicia? Please? I'm sorry, but there's so mue to do here."

  The pleading in Tyson's voice tugged at her heart. "No problem," she assured him. "I'll get her. You do what you to help here."

  With that, the mutant took off deeper into the Grotto. Jessica followed close on his heels, leaving Tyson to his task e and rescue.

  She followed her guide through the winding tunnels of the Grotto for a few minutes until they entered a small side room. Felicia Hardy sat slumped against the rough stone, her wrists bound by heavy cuffs fixed firmly to the wall.

  Despite her predit, she smiled as Jessitered. "My hero!" Felicia called out, her voice dripping with pyful sarcasm. "Spider-Woman? Not the hero I was expeg, but I'll take what I get."

  Jessica rushed forward, relief flooding through her at the sight of Felicia alive aively unharmed. Without thinking, she ed the bound woman in a tight embrace.

  "It's good to see you, Felicia," Jessica murmured.

  As she pulled back, Felicia raised an eyebrow, her smile taking on a more intrigued quality. "Not that I'm not appreciative," she purred, "but aren't you being a bit familiar, Spider-Woman?"

  A blush crept up Jessica's cheeks. "Sorry," she stammered, suddenly flustered. "I'm here with Tyson."

  Felicia's eyes sparkled with mischief as she looked Jessica up and down. "I don't mind at all," she said.

  Jessica's blush deepened, and she busied herself with examining Felicia's restraints, trying tain her posure. The cuffs were solid and hadn't offered any opportunity for Felicia to use her skills to escape.

  "Let's get you out of these," Jessica said, her voice more businesslike as she focused oask at hand. The easy banter and the flirtatious uones all perfectly matched the memories of seeing Felicia at Midtown High, which she'd ied from Peter. But like Gwen, Felicia didn't know her.

  "Tyson's been worried sick about you," Jessica said as she maniputed the cuffs. "We all have."

  Felicia's expression softened for a moment, a flicker of genuiion breaking through her mask. "I knew he'd e," she said softly. "He always does."

  With a final twist, the cuffs sprang open. Felicia rubbed her wrists, wing as circutiourned. "My knight in shining armor," she quipped, but there was real gratitude in her eyes as she looked at Jessica.

  Felicia's expression turned grim. "The Brotherhood," she expined. "They kept me here. A while ago, I overheard them. They retreated back here whearted to get hurt during the fight with Tyson. They left right before you arrived, figuring he was ing this way and didn't want to face him again..." She trailed off, shaking her head. "The Morlocks have a healer. He was out in the dire of the fighting, though."

  Jessica said, "We should get back to Tyson. you walk?"

  "Lead the way, Spider-Woman. I'm more than ready to blow this joint."

  As they prepared to leave, Felicia paused. She fixed Jessica with a look of genuine warmth. "Thank you," she said simply. "For ing. For g."

  Jessica felt a flutter in her chest. Peter had always had a crush on Felicia, though he'd hardly ever spoken with her. "Of course," she replied.

  Together, they made their way back through the winding tunnels of the Grotto, towards where Tyson was no doubt still w. As they walked, Jessica was fortable with Felicia's presend how they fell into step with each other.

  — Rogue Redemption —

  The coppery smell of blood hung heavy in the air as Tyson tinued his grim work. His hands moved precisely, using his magism power to guide thial sheets to staunch wounds and fashioning sutures from metallic threads. It was far from ideal medical care, but iermath of the battle, deep uhe city, it was the best he could offer.

  He focused ily on sealing a particurly nasty gash across a young mutant's abdomen. The girl whimpered, her eyes wide with fear and pain.

  "Shh, it's okay," Tyson murmured. "Yonna be just fine."

  He willed the metal to bend and weave, creating a patchwork of silvery lines across her skin. The girl gasped, then rexed as the bleeding stopped.

  Tyson stilled as arms ed around him from behind him. He'd caught the st as she neared; vanil and jasmih a hint of leather and cedarwood.

  "Felicia," he breathed, turning to ensure she was alright.

  She stood there, her white hair matted with grime, and her clothes were torn. But her eyes, those pierg green eyes, were as vibrant as ever. "Hey there, handsome," Felicia said, smiling weakly. "Miss me?"

  Tyson ed her in a tight embrace. He buried his fa her hair, inhaling deeply, and her st filled his senses.

  "You're doing great, Ty," she enced. "These people owe you their lives."

  Tyson shook his head. "It's not enough. There's still so many..." He trailed off. "Are you okay? Did they hurt you?"

  Felicia shook her head. "Nothing I couldn't handle." Her arms tightened around him. "It'll take more than that to keep this cat down. But these people..." She gestured to the injured Morlocks around them. "They need you more than I dht now."

  Reality came crashing back. The groans of pain, the metallig of blood, and the urgent calls for help all flooded Tyson's senses once more.

  He relutly stepped back from Felicia. "You're right. I o…"

  A pained cry cut through the air. Tyson's head sowards the sound.

  "Go," she said, giving him a gentle push.

  He k beside a young mutant boy, his scaled skin marred by deep gashes. As Tyson began to work, using his powers to create metal sutures, he felt Felicia's presence beside him while moving to the victim, an older man with a mangled leg. As he worked, he felt a sed presence behind him. He turo see Gambit, the 's red eyes glowing in the darkness.

  "You got some tricks up your sleeve, mon ami," Gambit said.

  Tyson didn't look up from his work. "Yeah, well, when life gives you powers, you do what you do with them." As he finished, he gnced around to see who needed him . Bodies y everywhere, some moaning in pain, others eerily still. "Too many," he growled. "We need real medical help down here."

  Jessica said, "I don't think there is a good ce of that happening anytime soon. We're on our own."

  Felicia interrupted, "Wait, where's the Healer?"

  Tyson finished with the man's leg and stood. He mumbled, "What healer?" He surveyed the makeshift triage area they'd set up. They'd saved many, but so many more needed care that he couldn't give, and there were others who were beyond help. But taking a mio look around, Tyson noticed that the most grievously wounded were being brought to a single individual, a man with a thick beard and a bandage ed haphazardly around his head. When he approached, Tyson was in awe of what he withe bearded man held his hand over an injured mutant, and the wounds began to close before Tyson's eyes. Flesh knit together, bones realigned, and in moments, the previously critical patient stood and walked away.

  But the cost was immediately apparent. As the healed mutaed, the bearded man doubled over, coughing up a spray of blood that spattered the floor of the Grotto.

  Tyson moved closer, his enhanced senses pig up oails he initially missed. The Healer's leg bore a deep gash, blood oozing steadily from the wound. There was a ssh across his abdomen, where his other hand desperately held back a spill of iines. While the abdominal wound was gruesome, the pool of blood from his thigh wound was more troubling. It was te; unless he got a transfusion, Tyson was sure he'd die.

  "You 't heal yourself?" Tyson asked, uo keep the from his voice.

  The man shook his head weakly, his face pale and drawn with paie his dition, he smiled. "Thank you for helping us," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don't know if you're Mago or the Mirage from the surface, but I appreciate you."

  Before Tyson could respond, the man's eyes rolled back, and he colpsed. His hand, which had been holding back the tide of his own innards, fell limply to his side. The sight of iines spilling onto the floor sent a shock through Tyson's system.

  "No…" Tyson muttered, dropping to his knees beside the fallen Healer. They needed him. His mind raced, trying to recall every scrap of medical knowledge he'd ever learned. It wasn't much, but Sabertooth had survived several wars, and even though he wasn't a medic, he'd seen enough at work.

  He had to try.

  With careful tration, Tyson lifted the spilled iines, guiding them bato the abdominal cavity as gently as he could manage.

  Ohe iines were ba pce, Tyson formed a thi of metal, molding it to cover the abdominal wound. It wasn't sterile, and iion was a very real , but it would at least keep everything in pce for now.

  , he turned his attention to the leg wound. Another band of metal stricted firmly above the gash to stem the blood flow. Tyson could feel the Healer's pulse through the metal, weak but still there, barely, and growing weaker with each beat.

  "I need help over here!" Tyson called out urgently. "Is there anyone else who heal?"

  The surrounding Morlocks shook their head. Tyson sat ba his heels. He'd maniputed metal tless times in bat but never used his powers for something so delicate, so vital as trying to save people's lives.

  He shook his head, dismissing the thought.

  That was Mago, not him.

  A hand on his arm startled him from his reverie. Tyson looked up to see one of the Morlocks, an elderly woman with kind eyes.

  "You tried," she said softly. "Our Healer. Without him, so many more will die today." Tyson shook his head, feeling the weight of his own inadequacy. "You have given us hope. Shown us that there are still those on the surface who care about our fate."

  Her words hit Tyson like a physical blow. He had e to the Grotto to rescue Felicia, to stop the Marauders. But in doing so, he had stumbled into something much rger, much more plex. The Morlocks were fotten and persecuted, living in the shadows beh the city he called home.

  There were mutants exiled to the sewers in his city, and he hadn't even realized.

  Prejudices forced them to live in hiding and without basiecessities. Tyson's fists ched at his sides. He couldn't walk away from this, couldn't pretend he hadn't seen the suffering of these people.

  Something had to ge.

  "What's your name?" he asked the elderly woman.

  "Annalee," she replied. "They killed my daughter. She was a healer too, and she could've helped."

  Tyson's eyes took on a faraway look as he k beside the unscious Healer. While his gaze was unfocused, his eyes remained fixed on the pale, drawn face of the man who had sacrificed his life to save others. The Healer's chest rose and fell in shallow, unevehs. His skin was ashen and cmmy; all the signs spoke of his failing body. Tyson knew, with a certainty that settled like lead in his stomach, that the man wouldn't survive.

  Jessid Felicia fyson as if to shield him from the harsh reality of the situation.

  "You've done all you for him," Jessica said softly, her haing on Tyson's shoulder. "There are others who need your help, who still have a ce."

  Felicia's voice joined hers, ge insistent. "She's right. You 't save everyone. But there are lives you still save if you aow."

  He wi Felicia's words, but his gaze never left the Healer's face. She was right. There were others he could save if he acted now. The weight of the decision before him pressed down, threatening to crush his resolve.

  "I killed Mago," Tyson said suddenly. "I absorbed him. He's in here." He tapped his temple. "Evees what happened here," Tyson tinued, his voice taking on a distant quality. "As bad as he was... he would've been sied to see so many mutants killed. By other mutants, no less."

  "I think he's having a nervous breakdown," Jessica murmured to Felicia.

  Felicia leaned in, her haly squeezing Tyson's arm. "If he doesn't snap out of it, more will die," she said.

  "I don't think you just snap out of it," Jessica replied, sounding ed.

  Tyson's gaze finally lifted, meeting Jessid Felicia's worried eyes. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice crag with emotion.

  Felicia stroked Tyson's arm through his sleeve. "It's okay," she soothed. "You did so well. We did more than anyone could have asked."

  A siear streaked down Tyson's cheek. "Fuck," he whispered, "This is all so fucked." He took several deep breaths, steeling himself for what was to e.

  "I wish I had somethier to say," Tyson began, his voice filled with resignation. "The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few. Or the one. And I think you uood that because you healed until your st moment."

  "Was that from Star Trek?" Jessica mumbled.

  Tyson tinued, heedless of her observation. "I don't know you, but I will. You won't be fotten, and I promise to honor your memory."

  With those final words, Tyson pced his hands on the Healer. The Healer's body jerked, his back arg as Tyson's absorption pan to siphon away his life force.

  Felicia gasped as the full weight of Tyson's behavior crashed down upon her, finally making sense. He hadn't been having a nervous breakdown. He had been trying to vince himself of the y of what he was going to do.

  "Fuck," Felicia breathed. "Oh god, I'm so sorry, Tyson. That's not what I meant. Are you sure you want to do this?" Tyson didn't answer, but he didn't let go either. She suddenly became acutely aware of the potential sequences of a hero witnessing what amouo murder. She stepped between Tyson and Jessica.

  "Look, Spider-Woman," she said, "this is mutant and House of M business."

  But Jessiterrupted her. "I'm with you." Felicia's eyes narrowed suspiciously. But Jessica pressed on. Her words came tumbling out in a rush. "He's all I have. I came here to help him, to help you. And I was ready to fight Mago with him. He offered me a pce at House of M. I'm staying. I'm with you."

  And she meant it. Earlier that m, Jessica had felt accepted for the first time. Jubilee, Jean, and Tyson had assured her that they'd help her and that she had a pce with them. She had found people who uood her, and she wouldn't have to face life alone. But now Jubilee was dead, and Jean hadn't e back after the Battle in Times Square.

  Tyson was all she had.

  Felicia felt the ho vi in her words. The tension drained from her posture, repced by a weary sort of relief. "Good," she said softly. "Because he's going to need us soon."

  By the time they finished speaking, it was over.

  Tyson released his hold on the Healer, his head bowed low, shoulders slumped with the weight of what he had done.

  Five seds.

  That was all it had taken.

  Five seds of his touch for a life to end, for a soul to be absorbed, for the burden of another's existeo be added to the weight Tyson already carried.

  He remained kneeling, his body slightly trembling as he processed the rush of memories, power, and life force that now coursed through him.

  Felicia was the first to move, kneeling beside Tyson and ing her arms around him. She said nothing. There were no words that could ease this kind of pain. Instead, she simply held him, what fort she could through her presence.

  Jessica didn't move at first. She struggled to recile what she had just witnessed with her uanding of heroism and morality. But as she watched Tyson's shoulders begin to shake with silent sobs, her hesitatioed away. She joined Felicia, enveloping him from the other side, creating a protective co around him.

  They remained like that for several long moments. But the needs of the many could not be ignored for long.

  "Tyson," Felicia said gently. "I know it hurts. I know it's unfair. But there are others who need you now. Others you save."

  Tyson's head lifted slowly, his eyes red-rimmed and haunted. "You're right," he said. "I 't waste his sacrifice."

  As Tyson rose to his feet, a ge came over him. His posture straightened, his eyes narrowed into slits, and he gained a focus that had been absent before. Without another word, he moved to the wounded mutant. His hands, which had moments aght death, now glowed with the promise of healing. As he held them above the injured Morlock, wounds began to close, bones knit, and vitality returned.

  Jessid Felicia watched as he moved from oient to the . The sounds that filled the Grotto, the moans of the injured and dying, were slowly repced with gasps of relief and murmured thanks. As the critically injured received Tyson's healing energy, the women remained by his side, supp him. He healed the Angel, he healed Gambit's wounded side, and so many other Morlocks he lost t.

  "That's enough," Felicia said as she pced a gentle hand on Tyson's arm. "You've done more than anyone could have asked. You did what you had to do, Tyson. Look around you. All these people are alive because of your choice."

  Tyson's gaze remained fixed on the spot where the Healer had in. Someone had moved the man's body; now, there was just ay space marked by a small pool of blood. "I killed him," he whispered. "I took his life, his power... everything he was. And he hadn't done anything to me. He hadn't attacked me, wasn't aggressive. He spent his life healing the downtrodden."

  Jessica's eyes were filled with sympathy. "You saved lives, Tyson. Dozens of them. That has to t for something."

  "Does it?" Tyson asked. "Where's the line, Jess? How many lives saved justify taking an i one?" He stared down at his hands. The anguish in his voice was almost palpable. "I'm a monster."

  Felicia's grip on his arm tightened slightly. She knew where his line of thinking was going. Her voice sharpened as she said, "It's not about justification. It was an impossible situation, and you did the best you could. No one else in this would could have saved these people. But you did."

  Jessiodded in agreement. "You're not a moyson. A monster wouldn't be tearing himself apart over this decision. A monster wouldn't have used that power immediately to help others."

  "I feel him," he admitted. "His memories, his feelings... they're all part of me now. He was scared at the end. He knew what was happening." Tyson looked between them, his eyes shimmering with uears. "How you stand by me after what I've done? I'm a killer. No different from the Marauders we came here to stop."

  "Bullshit," Felicia snapped, her voice sharp enough to make Tyson flinch. "The Marauders came here to sughter is. You made an impossible choice to save lives. There's a world of difference."

  Jessica's tone was gentler but no less firm. "I matters, Tyson. Your i was to help, to save as many as you could. That doesn't erase what happened, but it does mean something."

  Tyson closed his eyes, taking a deep, shuddering breath. "I don't know how to live with this," he admitted. "How to recile what I've doh who I thought I was. With who's inside me and who I am. It was a year. A whole fug year that I lived without killing ah this damned power. And now twi one day."

  Jessica's hand moved to cup Tyson's cheek. "You live with it by remembering why you did it," she said softly. "By h the lives you saved and the sacrifiade."

  Felicia added, "I see the toll this is taking on you. I see it in your eyes. They're so different. Whe home, we'll take care of you. We'll get through this."

  Tyson looked between them, his eyes searg their faces for any sign of doubt or revulsion. Finding none, he let out a shaky breath. "I don't deserve you," he whispered.

  "Tough," Felicia said, her usual sass creeping into her voice. "You're stuck with us."

  A ghost of a smile flickered across Tyson's face, there and gone in an instant. But it was enough to show that beh the weight of his as, the man they knew was still there.

  "What now?" Jessica asked.

  The immediate crisis had passed, but the aftermath of the Marauders' attack was still evident in the haunted eyes of the survivors.

  Tyson straightened, his posture shifting as he seemed to draw strength from some internal well. More than that, his tone shifted pletely, like he was a different person.

  "Now," he said, "we care for our people."

  Felicia's eyes narrowed for an instant before she nodded approvingly.

  Tyson found the old woman from earlier. "Annalee, I want you to know that this isn't the end. I'm going to do everything in my power to help your people. To make sure something like this never happens again."

  Annalee's eyes widened, a flicker of hope battling with ingrained skepticism. "You would do that? For us?"

  Tyson raised his voice, cutting through the murmurs of the gathered Morlocks.

  "My name is Mag… Mirage," he began. The slip didn't go unnoticed by Felicia and Jessica, who exged worried gnces. "I've e here today not just as a fellow mutant but as someone who wants to make a real differen your lives."

  Tyson's eyes swept over them, taking in the faces marked by hardship and suspi. He saw the scars of a life lived in shadows, the weariness of stant struggle. "You've been forced to hide away underground, treated like outcasts," he tinued, his voice gaining strength. "That ends today. I'm going to help all of you. You won't o live in fear anymore." A murmur ran through the gathered mutants. Some looked hopeful, others doubtful. He pressed on, his vi growing with each word. "I'm going to wele you all and create a pce for you in the world above. A pce where you live openly, proudly." His gaze intensified, sweeping across the crowd. "And I swear to you, I will keep you safe."

  With a soft 'snikt,' Tyson released his adamantium talons. The sound echoed in the sudden silence of the Grotto, all eyes fixed on the gleaming bdes extending from his hand. He drew the razor-sharp edge across his palm.

  Blood welled up immediately, bright crimson against his skin. Tyson held his hand out, allowing the blood to drip onto the floor of the Grotto.

  "Today, I bleed with the Morlocks," he decred, his voice ringing with an authority that surprised even him. The words felt heavy on his tongue, charged with a power he didn't fully uand. "From this day forward, I swear to protect you as my own. Your struggles are my struggles. Your triumphs, my triumphs."

  A strange energy pulsed through the Grotto as the st drop of blood fell. It was a subtle shift in the air, a collective intake of breath, but undeniable. He felt it resohin him.

  For a long moment, silence reighen, from the back of the crowd, a voice called out. "Pretty words, surface dweller. But how we trust you? How do we know this isn't just another empty promise?"

  Tyson's eyes found the speaker, a mutant with scales instead of skin. "You're right to be skeptical. I 't erase what happened in the past. Nor I erase what just happened here today. But I offer you a future. A ce for somethier." He gestured to the age around them. "This. This ever happen again. And it won't, not while I draw breath. This isn't a promise. It's a vow, sealed in blood and witnessed by all of you."

  Felicia stepped forward, her presence providing steady support at Tyson's side. "He means it. I've seen what Mirage do and the resources he ands. If he says he's going to help you, you bet your life on it."

  A ripple of hope seemed to pass through the crowd. Tyson could see it in their eyes. A cautious optimism, a willio believe that maybe things could be different.

  "So what say you, Morlocks?" Tyson asked, his voice softer now but no less intense. "Will you give me, give us, a ake good on this promise? To build a future where you no longer have to hide who you are?"

  Slowly, at first, but with growing momentum, nods and murmurs of assent began to spread through the gathered mutants.

  Behind The Ses

  - You may be w why Tyson didn't just touch Healer, gain his power, the to heal him. To that, I say, you're right, that seems like something Tyson would do… Check the subtext.

  If you're not a native English speaker/reader or reading this through transtion, the nuance may be lost. It will be expined more directly in Chapter 96.

  - The events of this chapter were rgely inspired by ics. Mutant Massacre was Marvel's first ic crossover event.

  - I tossed in a Star Trek referehere because I like to make sneaky refereo my other stories. Hopefully, it didn't break the immersion too much.

  Support Plug

  For those of you ied in supp my writing.

  patreon./Steatoda

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