Arc 2 - Ch 13: Break Canon... or Fix It?

Tyson sat with his back resting against the cool surface of a massive rock. Illyana was nestled between his legs, her head leaning back against his chest. Although they were in Limbo, the two seemed to have found a pocket of peace. Tyson's arms were securely wrapped around her, but he was cautious to ensure there was no direct skin contact, knowing all too well the repercussions.

He shifted slightly, feeling the hard ground beneath him. "You know," he began, his voice light and teasing, "we should think about bringing some comfy chairs or maybe even a couch next time. Make this place a bit more... cozy."

Illyana chuckled softly, the vibrations of her laughter warm against him. "I think once we've dealt with the never-ending hoard of demons, we can consider a makeover," she replied.

Tyson's face turned more serious. "Speaking of which, have we made any headway with them? Pushed them back a bit?"

Illyana hesitated, her fingers tracing patterns on Tyson's forearm. She took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. "Honestly? No," she admitted, a hint of frustration evident in her voice. "It's like every time we make some progress, more appear. They just... multiply."

"You know," he began thoughtfully, "time here doesn't really... work right. I remember when you first sent me here. It felt like I had hours before you arrived, but when I returned, only moments had passed." Tyson looked at her, an idea forming. "Maybe when you're not here, so much time lapses that it gives the demons enough time to multiply."

Illyana considered this, her fingers playing with a strand of her hair. "It could be."

Tyson ventured, "What if we tried staying longer? Spent weeks here, pushing back the demons, reclaiming more ground?"

Illyana bit her lip. "It might work for you, but not for me," she responded softly. "I need to eat and sleep. Limbo isn't a place I can simply live in. The environment can be as much of a threat as the demons are." She shook her head, "It's a catch-22. To make it habitable, we'd need to clear out the demons. But to clear them out, we'd need to spend extended time here, which I can't do."

The two shared a heavy silence, realizing the difficulty of their situation. Illyana looked at Tyson, her blue eyes filled with a mix of amusement and concern. "You know what I think?" she started, drawing his attention.

He raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "What?"

She smirked, her tone playful yet pointed. "I think you're stalling."

Tyson laughed, a hint of embarrassment evident in his voice. "Yup, one hundred percent. Facing Magneto again isn't on my top ten list."

She tilted her head, strands of blonde hair falling to frame her face. "You know, I could teleport us somewhere else in the base. We don't have to drop right into Magneto's lap."

He sighed, "It's not just Magneto," he confessed, "There's another problem, a much bigger one."

She straightened up, sensing the gravity in his voice. "What is it?"

His face grew somber. "Stryker's plan. He's built a Cerebro here. If you aren't aware, it's a machine designed to amplify Professor Xavier's powers. And he's got a mutant who's manipulating the Professor, making him use Cerebro to find every mutant out there... and kill them. It's the same mutant he used to create the mind control serum"

Illyana declared, "Then we go back and stop them. It's not so complicated."

"That's not the end of it though." Tyson shook his head, "Magneto changed the orders. Mystique posed as Stryker and altered the directive. Now, Professor X is set to target all humans, not mutants."

Illyana's lips pressed into a thin line, her eyes narrowing. "So instead of eradicating mutants, he's about to exterminate the rest of humanity," she summarized.

Tyson nodded. "Exactly."

She thought for a moment, her fingers tapping against her thigh. "Well, regardless of who the target is, we still need to stop them. We can't let either scenario play out."

He let out a humorless chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. "And that's where the problem lies." He paused, collecting his thoughts. "Neither of us can pull off a Stryker impersonation the way Mystique did. If I could just touch her, I could do it. But getting to her means going directly into Magneto's grasp."

Illyana frowned, thinking of their options. "What else can we do?"

Tyson's expression grew pensive. "The other two options we have are a bit more... direct. One, I teleport in, get close to Xavier, and quickly touch him. By absorbing his powers, I could shield myself, and maybe us both protection from the mind-controller, potentially even counteract it." Illyana raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue. "Or," he continued with a deep breath, "we go in guns blazing and try to take down the mind-controller. Neutralize the threat."

Tyson furrowed his brow, and mentioned, "I have another idea." His voice betrayed the audacity of the plan that was forming in his mind. "It's... pretty extreme. If it works, it could solve all our problems, but it's going to come with consequences." He hesitated, looking down. "Big ones. Like... getting booted from the Institute at minimum."

She shrugged nonchalantly, her blonde hair cascading down her shoulders with the motion. "I already graduated," she said.

Tyson's eyes widened, momentarily surprised that he hadn't realized Illyana was a senior. "I didn't know you were a year ahead of me. Are you going to college then?"

Illyana looked off into the distance, her expression turning thoughtful. "Haven't decided. My brother stayed at the Institute and became an assistant to the professors after his graduation. Thought I'd do something similar, at least at first."

The faintest smile played on Tyson's lips. "So, you're not worried about potential fallout?"

She smirked, "Let's just say I'm used to ruffling a few feathers. What's your plan?"

Illyana's demeanor softened as she tried to gauge the seriousness behind his words. At first, as Tyson began to lay out his idea, she nodded, processing every word. But as the pieces came together, her brows furrowed, creating tiny ripples of concern on her forehead. The weight of what Tyson proposed pressed down on them both, rendering the atmosphere in Limbo even heavier. Tyson paused, his voice faltering as he sought validation in Illyana. "It's the only way I can think of. Do you think it'll work?"

She looked away for a moment, battling with her feelings. She had always been one to jump into danger but found herself questioning if his idea was even a reasonable path. This wasn't about facing an opponent; it was about dealing with consequences that might change their existence. Licking her lips nervously, she finally met his gaze. "It's risky. The fallout might be worse than simply killing the mind-controller."

He let out a shaky breath, feeling both reassured and yet even more aware of the gravity of what they were contemplating. "But will you stand by me?"

"Always," she murmured. Illyana's blue eyes searched Tyson's with deep concern. She took a moment, choosing her words carefully. "Will you be able to handle this? You've been through... a lot. One slash from my Soulsword, or even your claws, and everything will go back to how it was. We don't have to follow this path."

Tyson took a deep breath, his voice carried a hint of pain from his recent ordeals. "You're right. But if we did that, would it only be for our immediate benefit? Think about the bigger picture. How much more good could we do for everyone else?"

Illyana paused, clearly torn. Her instincts warred with the logic of Tyson's words. She finally let out a sigh, pointing a finger at him, "Fine, but the moment things seem even slightly off, I'm pulling the plug on this plan. We're out. Understood?"

He nodded, the corners of his mouth curving up into a small smile of gratitude. "Agreed. And... thanks, Illyana, for looking out for me."

If this worked, it wouldn't just be a victory. It would be a turning point in their lives.

~~ Rogue Replacement ~~

As Stryker made his way onto the helicopter, the blades overhead roared to life, casting a gust of wind that sent loose gravel and dust flying in every direction. He glanced over at Yuriko, her unwavering expression reflecting pure loyalty. Stryker grabbed the radio. "Detonate the charges," he commanded with a cold, calculated tone.

A brief acknowledgment crackled over the radio, and moments later, a series of thunderous booms echoed throughout the vicinity. The ground trembled beneath the force, sending shockwaves that rippled across the water's surface.

Around the dam, plumes of smoke and debris shot up as the explosive charges tore gaping holes in its walls. Like wounds in a giant behemoth, they spewed forth torrents of water. The once mighty dam, which had stood tall and resilient for years, was now on the brink of collapse.

The initial holes, while significant, were just the start. The real threat lay in the immense pressure that these breaches created. The unrelenting force of the water began pushing against the weakened sections. A network of cracks began to snake out from the holes, branching out in all directions like a sinister web.

Each crack grew, widening and deepening, allowing more and more water to seep through. The ominous creaking and groaning of the dam's structure protesting under the strain could be heard. Stryker, watching the unfolding catastrophe with a sense of satisfaction, responded, "Exactly as planned." His lips curled into a sinister smile, a dark glint in his eyes as the helicopter ascended into the sky.

~~ Rogue Replacement ~~

Illyana summoned a glowing, circular portal in front of them. As the swirling energy became more stable, a view of the hallway she had navigated before encountering Magneto's group appeared. She stepped forward, with Tyson closely following her. They emerged into the dimly lit corridor, attempting to remain undetected.

From the distance, Magneto's voice echoed with palpable frustration. "Blast it!" The metallic resonance of his powers rippled through the hallway, causing the walls to vibrate slightly. Illyana and Tyson exchanged glances, moving quickly to flatten themselves against the wall, ensuring they were out of sight. They waited; after a few minutes, the corridors became silent. Sensing it was safe to proceed, Tyson nodded at Illyana, and the pair quietly made their way toward Cerebro's entrance.

As they approached the solid steel door, Tyson noticed the conspicuous absence of the five blondes that Magneto had trapped. He put the thought out of his mind and cast a sideways glance at Illyana, a hint of uncertainty shadowing his features. "Do you need to see inside to teleport?" 

Illyana shook her head, her voice low. "No. I can create a small portal to check the area first. Once we're sure it's clear, we'll go in."

Illyana's hand tightened on Tyson's shoulder, her concentration was palpable as she peered through the small portal she had conjured. The interior of Cerebro was visible, yet eerily still and silent. The moment they stepped through, an unsettling emptiness greeted them. 

Noone was there. 

The air inside Cerebro felt heavy, charged with an unseen energy. But Tyson knew they were not alone. He recalled his knowledge about Jason, Stryker's son, the mutant capable of crafting intricate illusions. 

Tyson wasn't certain how the power worked, but he did know from his experiences with Xavier and Jean that his mind, crowded with the psyches of Rogue and Sabertooth, offered him a modicum of resistance to telepathy. So, he closed his eyes, focusing inward, and reached out to the other presences within his psyche. He felt the distinct, feral edge of Sabertooth's consciousness and the profound sadness of Rogue. She shied away, but he willingly joined. Together, the fortifications around his mind fought against the psychic intrusion they were facing.

Tyson opened his eyes, his vision was still obscured by the illusion. He couldn't rely on sight; he needed another sense. Drawing on Sabertooth's enhanced abilities, Tyson inhaled deeply, filtering through the scents in the air. A distinct, pungent odor cut through the sterile scent of Cerebro; the smell of skunked chemicals and sweat.

The scent grew stronger and guided Tyson through the illusion honed by Sabertooth's instincts. Illyana watched him, her hand poised to strike with her sword should the need arise.

As Tyson closed in on the source of the scent, he envisioned the mutant. Suddenly, he lunged forward, his hand shooting out to grasp something unseen. His fingers found purchase around a neck, the skin was clammy and cold. The shock in Mutant 143's eyes was evident as Tyson's grip tightened.

Mutant 143 gasped, his illusion faltering under the physical assault. Tyson's unique ability to drain life surged forward, tendrils of energy pulling at the essence of the illusionist. Illyana stepped forward, ready to intervene, but Tyson's expression told her to hold back. His eyes flickered, a storm of emotions and memories swirling within. 

He played in the garden, creating miniature animals and playful fairies using his powers, making his childhood a realm of wonder. His father sent him away to get help. He sat in a classroom within a grand mansion filled with fellow mutants. His professor was trying to teach him control, empathy, and responsibility. But he only smirked, choosing to disregard the lessons. He believed that his gifts were not to be tethered.

His mother sat on a chair, her face pale and eyes wide with terror. With just a thought, he manifested nightmarish illusions that danced around her, taunting and teasing. The room echoed with her heart-wrenching screams. She clutched her head, begging for the visions to end. And one fateful day, the torment overwhelmed her fragile mind, leading her to take her own life.

He was caught off guard by a sudden ambush. They held him down, restraining him. His father began horrific experiments, altering his very nature. He was left a shell of his former self, lobotomized and trapped within his own body. A machine was embedded in his brain, making him subservient to his father's will. Every command resonated loud and clear in his head. He couldn't resist, couldn't fight back. He was a puppet, manipulated to serve his father's agendas. The pain was a constant torture, but he no longer possessed a will, so cared little about the orders he was given, merely fulfilled them.

Illyana watched, her expression a mix of concern and awe, as Tyson's face contorted with the influx of memories. She knew the danger of what he was doing, yet she also recognized the necessity of their mission.

As the memories receded, the depth of Jason's anguish and torment resonated with Tyson. But his grip remained firm as his surroundings began to shift and warp. The grimy, metallic confines of the second Cerebro melted away, revealing the pristine environment of the Institute's Cerebro. 

On the platform nearby stood a little girl with wide, imploring eyes. She appeared no older than ten, "Stop! Please, stop!" she cried, her voice echoing eerily through the vast chamber. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she reached out toward Tyson, her small hand trembling.

The emotional weight of the situation weighed heavily on Tyson, but he knew he had to see this through. 

The moment Tyson accessed Jason's power, the ambiance of Cerebro shifted dramatically. Tyson drew out every ounce of Jason's illusionary prowess from the memories he absorbed. In doing so he gained an inherent understanding of the power. He could craft illusions that altered what targets see, hear, touch, taste, and smell. This plunged an individual into an entirely different world, all of which sprung from his imagination and control. The potency intensified with direct eye contact, allowing him to nudge an individual's psyche, making them more susceptible to the conditions of the created illusion. This slight push served as a minor form of mind control, ensuring that targets were not only ensnared within the illusion but also believed in its reality. And the longer they remained under his control, the deeper his power would root. However, the power was not without its limitations. Particularly resistant minds, especially those with telepathic shields or defenses, could bypass aspects of the illusion or the entirety of it. 

Tyson looked into Jason's eyes. They widened in fear, but his resistance was snuffed out before his defenses had a chance to rise. Tyson then walked over to Xavier and made eye contact with him before returning to Jason and placing his hands back on the illusionist. He needed to ensure he kept the power for the duration of his self-imposed mission. Both Jason and Xavier remained under Tyson's sway.

The illusionary little girl, who had been frantic and desperate, ceased her screams, her form became more solid as she turned her attention to Professor Xavier, who sat at the epicenter of Cerebro. 

The little girl took a few deliberate steps toward the professor. Her voice was tinged with an eerie echo, "Can you help me find them? Find all the humans." 

Tyson amplified the little girl's command, making it impossible for the professor to resist. Xavier's eyes, which had been hazy and distant, snapped into focus. There was a momentary flash of resistance, but Xavier responded mechanically, "I will find all the humans."

The image in front of Xavier showcased the rotating Earth. It wasn't just a simple projection. This was the professor's magnificent telepathic power at work. The Earth was studded with billions of tiny, pulsating dots of light, each representing a human being. Their thoughts and emotions were all visible to the professor, creating a spectacular mosaic of life on the planet. 

"I don't want them to know about us. Make them all forget… Make them forget mutants ever existed. We're nothing more than a myth." The little girl's unsettling voice seemed to hang in the air as if it was echoing with the profound implication of her command.

The billions of lights representing human lives continued to shimmer around them, reflected in the struggle cast on Professor Xavier's face. His features, usually calm and composed, twisted momentarily with conflict. He had always been a beacon of hope for mutant-kind, and here he was, asked to erase their very existence from the collective memory of humanity. However, under the compounded influence of Tyson and Jason's power, Xavier's resistance began to wane. His shoulders sagged slightly as he nodded, the action looking both reluctant and resigned.

"Yes. I'll make them forget about us," he murmured, voice echoing softly amidst the hum of Cerebro. He closed his eyes, and an intense concentration washed over his face. The Earth's representation before him began to shimmer more vibrantly, the dots of light pulsating with increased vigor.

The room seemed to tremble slightly, the very atmosphere within Cerebro pulsating with raw energy. The hum of the machinery grew louder. As Professor Xavier focused, the contours of his face etched deeper lines, revealing the intensity of his concentration. Around Xavier, the illuminated representation of the Earth grew brighter. A myriad of shining dots began to ripple like water in a pond after a stone was thrown. Bright streams of light started to emanate from Xavier's form, reaching out and intertwining with the glowing dots. The room seemed alive, awash with colors, an aurora borealis on steroids. Patterns formed within the consciousness of humanity. Thoughts of mutants were being gently plucked, like notes from a harp, and replaced with benign forgetfulness. Moments of fear, hatred, love, and curiosity about mutants ebbed away, replaced by blank gaps or innocuous memories. As the wave passed through the dots of consciousness, Tyson's grip on Jason relaxed. Xavier's task was nearly complete, he could release his hold. But a voice in his head pressed down on him. 

It snarled, "He's weak. Finish him"

A second, feminine voice countered weakly. "He's just a victim of circumstances."

But the first thought dominated. Jason, the boy who'd been so twisted by pain and hate that he'd tormented his mother until her death, the boy whose powers had been harnessed and weaponized by his father. He was the linchpin of all the misery that had unfolded.

Tyson's thoughts turned to the Professor, of the kindness and understanding that radiated from him. Charles Xavier preached understanding, peace, and coexistence. And here Tyson was, manipulating the man who'd offered him help and sanctuary.

Tyson's grip slackened. He recognized Sabertooth's influence, his invitation to bolster Tyson's mental defenses had allowed the psychotic psyche greater sway over his actions. Now, he pushed back against it, forcing Sabertooth back into the recesses of his mind. The pull of the darker voice started to wane, replaced by a rising tide of regret and guilt. But then he felt it… 

A sudden snap. As if a rubber band had been pulled too tightly, and then suddenly… broke. 

A surge of psionic energy washed over Tyson, his vision blurring momentarily. It felt like he was caught in the tide of a powerful wave. He staggered back, every inch of his existence pulsing with the newfound power. He could feel the power coursing through him, like a maelstrom in his mind. The voices from earlier were muted now, replaced by the deafening roar of Jason's power. But unlike the others, there was no voice. It was like Jason no longer existed, like his essence was stripped away, and only his ability remained.

Illyana, sensing the turmoil within Tyson, moved closer. "Tyson?" she called out, her voice tinged with concern.

He looked at her, his eyes wide and filled with confusion. "It's... I held on too long…" he rasped, clutching his head with both hands as if trying to contain the whirlwind inside.

She reached out to steady him, her fingers brushing against his arm. "Focus on my voice," she urged, her tone soothing, trying to pierce through the storm raging inside him. "Block everything else out. You're stronger. You can control it."

Tyson, gritting his teeth, tried to concentrate on Illyana's voice, using it as an anchor amidst the psionic tempest. He felt her drawing him close, her arms wrapped around him in a protective embrace.

What was left of Jason's was now imprinted within Tyson. And then, as suddenly as it had begun, the rush subsided. The memories, while still present, receded to the back of his mind. Tyson's breathing slowly returned to normal, though his body felt drained.

"Tyson?" Illyana's voice quivered with concern as she said his name.

His eyelids fluttered open, revealing a deep well of sadness and understanding. "I... I feel it," Tyson murmured, his voice weak. "He's... a part of me now. But it's different."

Illyana brushed a strand of hair from his face, her eyes moist. "We'll get through this. Together," she whispered.

Tyson looked up at her, "I hope so," he replied, the weight of a life not his own now forever imprinted in his soul.

As the room's glow began to diminish, the two mutants felt the weight of their choices. They had changed the course of history. But at what cost?