Arc 1 - Ch 12: Aftermath

Magneto's cell was a stark room devoid of any metallic materials. The entire room was constructed of thick, transparent plastic, giving it an unsettling, sterile appearance. The only furniture was a plastic cot, a plastic table, and a matching chair. Even the bolts holding them down were made of a hard, non-metallic compound. The designers of the cell had ensured that there was not a single scrap of metal in sight, or within range, rendering Magneto's powers useless.

Despite the minimalistic surroundings, Magneto carried himself with an air of regality. His silver hair flowed neatly past his shoulders, and his piercing blue eyes stared defiantly at the walls surrounding his enclosure. 

Yet, even a man of his stature could not hide the signs of pain that occasionally flickered across his face. Encasing his leg was a thick, transparent plastic cast. Inside, you could see the angry bruise that covered his femur, a dark purple blotch that signified where the bone had been broken during the battle with Tyson. Every movement, every shift caused a jolt of pain that shot through him. Memories of the fight with the young mutant played in his mind. He thought of the raw power Tyson had demonstrated and the potential he possessed. A small smirk played on Magneto's lips. The boy had given him a worthy challenge, something he hadn't felt in a long time.

Magneto leaned back in his chair, his thoughts swirling. The pain in his leg was a mere inconvenience. In time, it would heal. But the world outside? That remained to be seen. The boy's power had changed things, had stirred something. And for Magneto, that meant opportunity. 

Outside the cell, guards watched the master of magnetism through the monitors with wary eyes. They had heard tales of his power and his plastic prison was a testament to his capabilities. But for now, all they saw was an old man in a cast, lost in thought.

The pristine clear platform, designed to allow visitors to access Magneto's plastic cell, extended smoothly with a gentle hum. Within moments, Professor Charles Xavier, using a specially designed plastic wheelchair, began his journey across the bridge. Once at the cell's entrance, the two former friends, now on opposing sides of a great divide, locked eyes. Their shared history, filled with highs and lows, was evident in that gaze.

"Erik," Xavier greeted.

"Charles," Magneto replied, his tone dripping with irony. "I wasn't expecting company. To what do I owe this visit?"

Xavier exhaled slowly, "I came to speak to you about your path, Erik. The violence, the anger. It's not the answer."

Magneto chuckled, a cold, hollow sound. "You always were one to preach peace. But the world isn't as black and white as you see it."

"It's precisely because the world is filled with shades of gray that we must lead with compassion and understanding," Xavier argued.

Magneto shifted, leaning forward slightly, wincing with the movement. "Do you remember when we found Jean? The raw, untamed power she had? It was... beautiful. But you took that power, hid it behind walls, hobbled it with your 'teachings', made her less than she was."

Xavier's eyes tightened, a rare sign of agitation. "I helped her control it, Erik. So she wouldn't hurt herself or others."

Magneto waved this off. "Control. Always control. That boy, Tyson, had that same magnificent power with none of the control. And what happened? The world trembled beneath it. And you… What will you do? Dull it? Diminish it like you did with Jean?"

Xavier's voice remained steady. "What happened was hundreds of innocents got hurt. You did millions of dollars worth of damage and made a spectacle that had the world watching… You were fortunate he maintained his guise as Azazel in front of the cameras or you'd be in even more trouble. His deception helped paint you as a hero. And you're even more lucky he didn't kill you." he took a steadying breath to maintain his calm demeanor. "I will guide him, teach him. Help him understand himself, and his place in this world."

Magneto leaned back, a smirk playing on his lips. "And if he doesn't fit into your neat little boxes, Charles?" Erik gestured to this plastic prison, "Will you cage him too?"

"He deserves a chance, Erik. Just like you did. Just like we all did."

Magneto's expression hardened. "The world has changed, Charles. Power is the only language it understands. And Tyson... he speaks it fluently."

Xavier's gaze was unwavering. "Then I'll teach him to use that voice for good."

Magneto laughed, but it lacked genuine amusement. "Our definitions of 'good' have always been different, old friend. But by all means, try. It will be... entertaining to watch."

Xavier sighed, realizing that this visit might not bear the fruit he had hoped for. Yet, he remained determined. "Remember who you were, Erik, before the world made you believe you had to be something else."

Magneto's gaze held Xavier's for a long moment before he looked away. "Some memories are best left in the past, Charles."

But as Xavier rolled away, he couldn't help but wonder if, deep down, a small part of the old Erik, the friend he once knew, was still there, buried beneath the anger and the pain.

~~ Rogue Replacement ~~

High-tech monitoring devices lined the walls of the medical recovery room inside the Xavier Institute, beeping in harmony. A row of hospital beds lined the room, surrounded by various pieces of advanced medical equipment. The large bay windows on one side of the room allowed the soft light of dawn to pour in, casting a golden hue on the sterile surroundings. 

By the bed, Jubilee sat, her characteristic glasses now resting on the nightstand, revealing eyes filled with worry. Her vibrant yellow coat was draped over the back of the chair she occupied. Her short black hair framed her face, which bore an expression of deep concern. Her fingers played nervously with her hoop earrings as she watched Tyson, hoping for any sign of improvement. Her voice, usually filled with youthful enthusiasm, quivered as she spoke, "Come on, Tyson. You've got to pull through." She gently took his hand, squeezing it with hope. She'd added a pair of gloves to her typical outfit just so she could hold his hand.

The room was silent save for the soft hum of machines and the rhythmic beep of the heart monitor. Until, slowly, a flicker of movement broke the stillness. First, it was just a slight twitch of the fingers. Then, his eyelids quivered. A soft groan emanated from deep within his throat, the sound filled with a mixture of pain and confusion. His chest's rhythmic rise and fall grew slightly more pronounced, indicating his journey back to consciousness.

Jubilee immediately perked up, leaning forward, her eyes wide and hopeful. "Tyson?" she whispered, her voice filled with a mixture of excitement and anxiety.

His head turned slightly toward the sound of her voice. His eyes began to crack open, revealing slivers of amber. As he tried to focus, his brows furrowed, a frown forming on his lips. The machines around him picked up pace, indicating the change in his vitals. Tyson's hand, resting by his side, clenched into a fist, then relaxed. His breathing became more regular, but the signs of distress were evident in every line on his face.

Jubilee gently squeezed his hand reassuringly. "Hey," she said softly, her smile bright yet filled with concern, "You gave us quite the scare, you know."

Tyson blinked, trying to take in his surroundings, his gaze finally settling on Jubilee. The recognition in his eyes was slow, but it was there, bringing with it a rush of relief to the young girl by his side. His eyes, heavy with fatigue and lingering pain, darted around the room in a daze before landing on Jubilee. Panic flared momentarily as memories of the battle began to flood back. "Shit, Magneto caught you too? I had hoped I did enough that you got away," he rasped, trying to lift his hand but finding the motion more strenuous than he remembered.

Jubilee laughed. It was a sound that was a mixture of relief and disbelief. As she did, a tear escaped from the corner of her eye, rolling down her cheek and catching the soft light. "Magneto didn't get anyone," she said with a quiver in her voice. "We're in the institute. You beat him, Tyson."

Tyson's brow furrowed, the weight of her words sinking in. "Didn't feel like I beat him," he mumbled with a bitter edge to his voice. The memory of being bound by Magneto's metallic grasp, the spikes piercing his flesh, and the overwhelming hopelessness he'd felt, all contrasted starkly against Jubilee's words.

Jubilee, picking up on his somber mood, squeezed his hand reassuringly. "It doesn't always have to feel like a victory to be one," she murmured.

Tyson took a moment, absorbing her words, letting them wash over him. A small smile began to form on his lips. "Guess you're right," he admitted, his voice stronger now, reflecting a hint of his usual confidence.

Jubilee grinned back. "Always am."

Tyson attempted to reconcile his fragmented memories of the last few hours. He shifted in the bed, turning his attention back to Jubilee. "So," trying to muster up some humor, "What did I miss?"

Jubilee's eyes lit up, sparkling with mischief. "Oh, you know, just the usual. Superpower showdown, dramatic rescues, the evening news drama. So, around here, a typical Tuesday evening," she teased. But then her tone shifted, becoming more somber. "When you didn't show up for dinner, Illyana got worried and went straight to the professor. She said you two had a telepathic link or something?"

Tyson shook his head. "We don't have a link. Not as far as I know. I thought I had a reasonable resistance to telepathy and Illyana isn't a telepath... But I'm glad she noticed. I'll ask her about it later."

Jubilee continued, "Then, your fight with Magneto? It made the news!" She smirked, "But they think you're the bad guy since you were disguised as a devil and dragging the blue woman around… by the time the X-Men got to the scene, both you and Magneto were out cold."

Tyson's eyes widened in realization. "Wait, everyone saw me... like that?"

Jubilee nodded solemnly. "Yeah. Everyone's going crazy about it. Claiming it's the 'end times'. Magneto is in jail, but there's a big movement to free him." She swallowed hard, emotion clear in her eyes. "You told me to keep Jean safe, and I did. We were at the next train station when Professor Ororo found us."

"Oh," Tyson interjected, a hint of surprise in his voice, "That's good."

Jubilee chuckled softly, shaking her head. "At first, I thought she was that blue lady again. My first instinct was to put up a fight, especially after everything that had happened. But then I saw Colossus with her, and," she sighed, "I figured if he trusted her, I should too."

Tyson let out a chuckle, "Sounds like quite the evening. Thanks, Jubilee. For everything."

She smiled softly, squeezing his hand. "Always got your back, Ty."

Jubilee fidgeted with the bracelet on her wrist, biting her lower lip as she gathered the courage to speak. Her voice was barely above a whisper when she said, "I... I'm sorry."

Tyson frowned, confusion evident in his eyes. "Sorry? For what?"

She exhaled deeply, struggling to find the right words. "I didn't help. When Magneto attacked... and that blue woman, Mystique... I just froze up... I didn't do anything."

Tyson's expression softened as he studied Jubilee's guilt-ridden face. "Do you know what happened to me after I left?" he asked, his tone gentle.

She shook her head, the glimmer of tears forming in her eyes. "Not really. They only told us it was bad."

He took a moment, gathering his thoughts, trying to find a way to explain. "Magneto did things... unthinkable things," Tyson began, his voice quivering slightly. "He used metal to bind me, coils that wrapped around and pierced through me. It was like being trapped in a cage of pain. Honestly, Jubilee, I don't even know how I survived." He paused, taking a shaky breath. "And I never, ever want to see you, or any of our friends, in a situation like that."

Jubilee's eyes widened in horror as she imagined the torment Tyson must have endured. "But I could've helped! I could've-"

"No," Tyson interrupted firmly. "In situations like that, when you're outmatched. If you see a chance to get away, you take it. Promise me."

"But Tyson-"

"Promise me, Jubilee," he insisted, his tone adamant.

She nodded slowly, tears spilling down her cheeks. "Okay, I promise."

Tyson gave her a gentle smile, reaching out to hold her hand. "Good. Remember, there's bravery in knowing when to fight and when to flee. You did the right thing. And look at us now, we're all safe."

Jubilee stared at their intertwined hands, contemplating Tyson's words. "I know you're strong, Jubilee," Tyson said, "But it's different when you're an X-Man. With training, with backup... it changes things."

Jubilee nodded, recalling the times she'd seen the senior X-Men in action. They moved with a practiced confidence that she aspired to achieve. She yearned to be like them. She wanted to prove herself, to show that she wasn't just a young mutant still trying to control her powers. "Until I'm ready, I'll be careful."

Tyson's lips curved into a genuine smile, relief evident in his features. "That's all I need to hear."

After Jubilee left, Tyson realized the aches and pains had receded during their conversation. His healing factor, it seemed, had repaired all the damage he'd taken. He stood up gingerly, testing his legs. They held firm. Encouraged, he began to peel off the hospital gown. As was typical with hospital gowns when you had such extensive injuries, Tyson was wearing nothing underneath. Just as he was about to reach for his discarded clothes, the door swung open.

Standing in the doorway was Illyana. Her pale blue eyes widened slightly as they took in the scene, and then a mischievous glint appeared. "Well," she drawled in her heavy Russian accent, the corners of her lips curling into an amused smirk. "You are certainly... how shall I put it? In much better shape than the rumors suggested."

Tyson was caught off guard but didn't immediately move to cover himself; he had nothing to be ashamed of. "A little warning would've been nice, Illyana," he stated, grabbing his clothes and starting to dress.

As Tyson fastened his pants and reached for his socks, Illyana's gaze softened, "I just came to see how you were doing," she admitted.

Tyson, once fully dressed, smirked slightly. "Well, from the looks of it, you got to see everything."

Illyana leaned forward with her hands on her hips. The movement allowed Tyson a generous view down her blouse. "Oh, now so modest, mister sneaking peeks during class?" she teased, her lips curling into a mischievous smirk.

Tyson's eyes had been drawn downward to her cleavage. He stammered briefly as his brain rebooted. "I, uh... I mean..." then he grinned, "You know, that's hardly an even trade. Flashing a little cleavage isn't the same as walking in on me naked."

Illyana raised a perfect eyebrow in amusement, "Oh, and what would be a fair trade?"

Adopting a mock-thinking pose, Tyson tilted his head upward, looking to the sky as his fingers tapped his chin. "Well, let's see... if the next time we're in Limbo… if I catch you in just your armor and sword, then I'd say we're about square."

Illyana's azure eyes regarded him for a moment, amusement dancing in them. To Tyson's surprise, she nodded slowly. "Alright, deal."

He blinked, "What? Really?"

Illyana's devilish grin grew even wider, and she leaned closer, "On one condition."

He raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

"Next time we're in Limbo, you help me clear it of demons. Then, you'll get your show," she proposed, the teasing glint in her eyes betraying the playful bribe.

Tyson's grin matched hers. He wasn't mad about being bribed to hunt demons, quite the opposite. "A quest. To save the princess of Limbo from demons. The reward? The hand of the princess herself."

"My hand? No. You'll get to look, but no touching… With you, that's dangerous." She winked, "Glad to see we agree."

As she turned to leave the room, Tyson called out "Hey," he began, a hint of curiosity evident in his voice, "I've been hearing some things about a telepathic connection between us. But to be honest, I've never sensed anything of the sort. Have you?"

Illyana's eyes, which normally held a challenging spark, seemed to dim for a split second, a subtle hesitance flickering in them. This momentary vulnerability, unusual for the fierce mutant, made Tyson listen even more intently.

"Limbo," she began, her voice soft, almost nostalgic, "is a part of me. Even when I couldn't feel the presence of the demons, there's this... lingering sensation of the dimension that never leaves me." Her gaze seemed distant for a moment before refocusing on Tyson. "For some reason, there was a touch of Limbo on you. When we returned, from the moment we stepped foot on that basketball court, I sensed it. I don't know if it's because of the time you spent there or because of our battle with Azazel, but it's there. But during dinner, that connection faded. I couldn't sense it, and I knew you weren't around anymore. That's why I told the professor."

Tyson's eyebrows knitted together, processing their unexpected connection. "Thank you, Illyana," he said sincerely. "If you hadn't noticed that, I might not be alive."

A rare, small smile formed on Illyana's lips. The steely demeanor she usually projected softened for a brief moment. "You're welcome," she responded, her tone warmer than usual. With a nod, she turned and began to walk away, a subtle hint of satisfaction in her step, smiling to herself.

~~ Rogue Replacement ~~

The dorm room was filled with colorful posters, plush toys, and fairy lights. Huddled around the laptop, Jubilee and Jean watched, their faces illuminated by the playback. The video showed the dramatic scene of Tyson, disguised as a demon, locked in combat with Magneto. The footage, albeit shaky and grainy, gave a clear enough view of the confrontation. Tyson's form was suspended in mid-air, powerful and defiant.

"That's... that's my power," Jean whispered, her fingers lightly touching the screen "But how? He's so much stronger than I ever was."

Jubilee, her yellow jacket draped over her chair, leaned in closer, squinting at the clip. "Maybe he touched Magneto at some point? You know, borrowed his power? And it just didn't make the video?"

Jean shook her head slowly, her red hair cascading over her shoulders. "Even if he did, look at him. He's flying. And not just that, he's manipulating more than just metals. I can't fly or exert control at that magnitude."

Jubilee bit her lip, deep in thought. "Uh, actually Jean, You were flying like yesterday." She'd heard about the incident on the court from Jean and got the rest of the story from the others in class. But watching the video, the sheer force that Tyson displayed was nothing short of awe-inspiring. "What does this mean?"

Jean took a deep breath, pushing away her laptop and looking into Jubilee's concerned eyes. "I don't know, Jubes. Maybe there's a lot we still don't understand about our powers."

~~ Rogue Replacement ~~

Inside a dark, grand room of a lavish mansion, a somber atmosphere lingered. The air, still and heavy, held the scent of aged wood and leather. Wall-to-wall, the room was ringed by past conquests. Heads of lions, tigers, and other fierce predators stared down with glassy, lifeless eyes. Taxidermied creatures were posed to seem almost alive in a timeless exhibit of nature's most savage moments.

In the room's center sat a man atop a luxurious leather chair, a bottle of vodka in one hand, a glass in the other. The deep mahogany hue of the chair contrasted sharply against his rugged tan skin and the white lion-fur vest that draped over his broad shoulders. His muscular arms rested on the chair's armrests, his posture was straight and dominant like a king overseeing his kingdom. Deep-set wrinkles carved from years of intense hunting expeditions and sun exposure crisscrossed his face. His dark, slicked-back hair, peppered with streaks of gray, framed a high forehead. He radiated raw, animalistic energy, like a caged predator, restless and yearning for the thrill of the chase.

His eyes, once bright and alive with the thrill of the hunt, now stared emptily at the glass. Every sip he took wasn't for pleasure but for his disillusionment. The world's deadliest beasts had all fallen to his prowess, leaving him with a haunting emptiness. Tilting the bottle, he refilled his glass, lamenting, "Is there nothing left that can challenge me?"

In search of something, anything, to pique his interest, he turned on his computer. As he browsed the international news headlines, one, in particular, caught his eye: 'Mutant battles demon in the Bronx'. Out of sheer curiosity, he clicked the article from New York City. A video clip buffered and started playing. The shaky footage showed chaotic scenes of a mutant in a heated battle with a red-skinned figure sporting a tail that ended in an arrowhead; a demon.

He scoffed, muttering to himself, "A hoax. Tricks of lighting and camera."

Yet, as he scrolled down, he was met with more videos, each from different angles and different sources. All showed the same scenario. The demon, with its supernatural power, was very real.

As the ornate wooden doors creaked open, a woman entered the room. Her tall, lithe form moved with a grace that was both predatory and mesmerizing. Her eyes were dark and almond-shaped eyes, her skin was a deep, rich shade of cocoa. She wore a figure-hugging, forest green dress that had a daring slit on one side, revealing a long, toned leg adorned with tribal tattoos that hinted at her mystic origins. Her raven-black hair, full of volume and curls, tumbled freely down her back, with a few stray tendrils framing her chiseled face. Around her neck, she wore an intricately designed gold necklace, its pendant holding a blood-red gem that seemed to pulse with a life of its own. As she moved, the soft jingle of her gold bangles and anklets added a melodic rhythm to her presence. Her lips, painted a deep shade of crimson, curved into a knowing smirk. Every detail of her appearance whispered of exotic places, ancient rituals, and an almost supernatural allure.

Lost in his thoughts, the woman's soft, melodic voice interrupted him. She draped herself over his shoulder, "What intrigues you so?"

He gestured at the screen, his voice laced with newfound interest, "A demon. In New York."

She leaned in, studying the screen. "Hmm," she murmured. A genuine smile crossed her face. He had been depressed for months, if this was what it took to get him back on the hunt, she welcomed it. "Perhaps this is the challenge you've been seeking, my love."

He smirked, the fire of excitement returning to his gaze. "If this demon is real, then I shall be the one to hunt it."