Chapter 124: Repopulation

They weren't like Bronte.

They had no fear when the lightning came. No shivers when the rain fell on their skin at the mere thought of water. No sweats when the white-flame of oshtur sparked at their fingertips.

Music wasn't their catalyst and empowering element.

Brontë himself was.

He could feel it as he stepped onto the battleground. The magic in his blood spiking. The magic in the air followed suit as if his physical and spiritual form was the orchestrator to the musicians playing the song of battle before him.

All flashes and sparks and blade-works.

"How are they doing?" Bronte said as he came to a stop beside Cable, just outside of the ring of fire.

"They're more or less the same. But that's to be expected. Your mother isn't training them for progress right now, she's trying to establish comfort, sir."

Being called sir by a techno-organic mutant titan of a man still took some adjusting. Even after the many months they'd spent together.

"Heard you." Bronte nodded as he watched.

"Sir, now that you're here, will you be joining?" Cable asked. His dark cloak ruffled at the twitch of his muscles…. And wires. Despite his stony exterior, he was all nerves if only for a moment.

It made Bronte nervous. Sometimes he felt like crumbling under the weight of what the two heroes from the future saw him as.

"Yea, I'll step in."

In a flash, Bronte was gone.

"You always do." Cable mumbled with a grim smile.

"Today's all me, redh—"

Sparks flew as flaming claws met electrified swords.

"What's going on, slim?" Blade greeted Bronte behind his sword, keeping on the pressure, feeding it more lightning.

"Nothing much. We have a meeting today."

Blade sighed and flipped away in a blur of the elements, "You should've just stabbed me in the face."

"You're not a blood-drinker anymore, you can't take that." Bronte replied as he raised his arm and popped his elbow claw. The metal appendage came to a stop right before hitting Robbie's throat behind him.

"Robbie…. Why are you trying to assassinate someone with superhuman senses…. You were literally a Vampire-hunter." Storm's palm hit her face in defeat from the end of the ring behind him.

"I wasn't. My other half did most of the work."

"Fair enough. Don't do it again."

"Sure— WOAH!" A gust of wind swept Robbie off his feet and pulled him away from Bronte.

Suddenly Bronte was standing alone. Surrounded by his Wind-Riders.

Blade, Robbie Reyes, Hope Summers and Storm. A blood-line revitalized in the wake of a dark magical fallout.

"First one out of the circle loses?" Storm questioned the rules of their on the fly game.

"Nah." Bronte interjected before beginning to float. "The whole point of this power— of being an omega, is that we can break rules to everyone's benefit….. when it's called for. To save lives. Forget a circle, first one to hit the pacific loses."

Blade chuckled, "I'm game."

"I don't know, Bronte. Some of us are less adept at this whole wind-riding thing." Hope skipped across the stone battleground, slowly rising as if invisible steps were being laid out before her.

Storm rose beside her like a goddess, "I know you aren't talking."

"I am— but I'm talking for someone else." Hope turned back to look at Robbie— who was still on the ground."

"NOT COOL!" The skin of Robbie's face melted in portions as white flames burst and a raging skull shown beneath.

He joined them soon after. And in minutes, a battle took the skies by force. By wind and rain and fire.

***

Brontë was spinning like a cyclone after a side-kick from Blade at twenty thousand feet. The thought made him call forth a cyclone. Tornado winds enveloped him like a second skin, first pushing away then pulling in his attackers.

He rose out of the eye, hovering above his swirling sparring partners and reached for the clouds.

Lightning danced in the dark puffy storm clouds before exploding. A focused beam of white headed straight for his captured enemies.

At the same time, the stretch of blue ocean below reached up with liquid hands, swallowing the ocean whole and absorbing the lightning blast. From there the water took on the shape of a wolf, maw open wide and snarling. Hope sat on the tongue, hair a glowing white flame as she giggled. Enjoying the feel of being so powerful. Uncaring. Unbelievable.

"Is this too on the nose, StormWolf?" She cackled.

Bronte exhaled. Destructive red fire unfurled from his lips and coated his frame. In a blast of white-hot wind he charged, ripping past Hope and through the giant water wolf.

In his wake, the wind-riders fell from the sizzling cloud of steam.

They gained their bearings fast. Some faster than others.

"You're not focusing, my son." A wall of ice blew out his flaming exterior.

He looked to his left. Storm teleported out of sight in a blast of lightning. From where she once was, a white flamed ghost-rider crashed into him.

"Huhahahahaha! GOT YA!"

They headed straight for the ocean.

Bronte roared as they approached impact. The winds from his voice pushed the ocean surface downward, turning the area for miles into a massive blue bowl. Buying him time.

He steered them upward— which was a feat on its own. Robbie was incredibly strong. Stronger than Raze. And Raze was stronger than them all.

He couldn't win a wrestling match.

So, he changed the paradigm. He blew on the ocean surface again, turning their bowl into one of ice.

Waters from the outside spilled over, looking to fill the space.

Bronte pulled in the currents, letting them come like ocean blades, whipping and slashing at the rider gripping him along with the others closing in.

Blade cut through a stream of water as he divebombed only to be whipped by three more from his flank. He landed face first in the ice bowl beside him.

Bronte used the tendrils of water he was manipulating to grab Blades sword and throw it through the riders eye.

"ACk!"

From there, Bronte turned his head and bit down on the handle. He thrashed like a dog until the rider was on his side, still holding on. From there Bronte blew frosted winds into the riders face.

"HAAAA!!!" He saw it coming, expelling fire from his jaws.

It was always a battle of raw power with Robbie.

He was one directional.

"I was like that once."

From behind, another tendril of water crashed into the rider, immediately encasing his head in ice. Swallowing up his flames and power in the process.

Then, as Storm and Hope closed in, Bronte simply stomped a hole in the ice beneath him and let the rider fall into the wate—

A bolt of lightning hit him.

He blinked. Suddenly he was under water. The pressure of the ocean floor pushing against his rough skin and sensitive ears.

Hope stood opposite him, holding his hand as she smiled with glowing white eyes. She winked once and held up the L sign with her left hand before teleporting them back to Krakoa with another wayward blast of lightning.

She was something else.

***

"You can't be for real." Bronte said as he ignited once to evaporate the water soaking his clothes.

"What a rush!" Hope cheered like the painfully unbothered teenage girl she was.

"When did you learn how to teleport?" Blade questioned, "Also where's my damn sword?"

"Oh—" Hope disappeared in a flash, then reappeared with a sword in her hands, "I was always able to. I just…. Forgot." She shrugged before tossing Blade his sword.

"Then you lost as well." Storm replied as she hovered to the grounds beside them. "Your power is stunting your mental growth. Brontë— even with all his magical might, took down Robbie by outsmarting him. He used finesse to work around greater strength. You could have both. You have all the tools of the best quality, but because of that, you don't use the right ones. You use whatever you want."

Hope's smile faded, "Well when you say it like that…."

"Two losers works for me. Welcome to the club, red!" Robbie said as he sat on the grass shores. His patch of white hair had grown.

"This only works if we're the two winners next time." Hope smiled. She fit her namesake well.

Robbie grinned, "Si! This is the only acceptable option."

She helped him to his feet.

Everyone looked to Bronte.

"So, see you again next year, slim?" Blade questioned sarcastically.

"How about in the next hour? Go get changed and situated. We have a meeting."

"The Five?!" Hope's whole demeanor lifted somehow.

"Just about." Bronte replied.

He left his wind-riders to take on the next matter of business.

The Druid….. also known as Cypher.

It wasn't hard to find him. But that's only because Bronte always kept a portion of his clothing on him. His scent was all over Krakoa. Even underground. But catching the right one was a cake walk.

Brontë flew over the forest canopy, spinning through and dodging around green skyscrapers that hummed with life. Sometimes if he closed his eyes it felt like he was flying through New York.

He didn't let that thought linger.

He'd found the Druid.

In a grove at the center of a small wooden city north of Krakoa. Open plains spread all around. Trees cut off the place, making it feel like a massive room almost. Like the skies and ambient clutter were all part of the closed in space.

He stood. Over grounds twisting and writhing. Glowing orbs like eyes rolled down weeds and thick roots. Stone paths twisted and rumbled. The Druid remained still. Composing the music of life.

No that wasn't right.

He wasn't in control.

He was in discussion.

A discussion left interrupted as Brontë landed. All the movement left him and focused around Bronte.

Flowers bloomed, spitting mists that both soothed his nerves and left him more alert than before.

"Hey, man." Cypher looked up from the ground. He wore a longcoat of green. Overrun with vines and flowered veins holding the shape of something akin to electronic circuitry. His hood stayed on, hiding his young adult face in shadow.

"What's good?"

"Many things and not many things." Cypher replied, "I'm getting a better hang of the language. I could learn more but Krakoa only really says one thing these days…."

"And what is that?"

Cypher looked up from the ground, "From one land….. to two."

"….. As in this is only half of what it was?" Bronte questioned.

Cypher shrugged, "I'm not sure. I need to do more research."

"Do you sleep, bro?"

Cypher chuckled, "Do you?"

Brontë didn't reply.

"I'm doomed to inherit all the worlds gross information. To truly understand it. You? You have to take it all in and somehow still find a way to lead. Sleep isn't our friend. It's a mortal enemy. A cell."

"Speaking of cells. How's the prison sect?" Bronte quickly steered the ominous conversation elsewhere.

Cypher smiled, "You tell me."

The stone circlet of earth they stood on rumbled as the grass lands around them split like green mouthes.

They sank. Suspended on vines and sectional roots.

Eyes glowed from the walls, watching them. Functioning as both lights and cameras.

In the dim glow, he could see cells of green, housing prisoners. Mutants. The ones who did too much. Assaulters of the sexual kind. Unapologetic mass murderers. Those unwilling to follow someone like Bronte. They slept. Earthen tendrils spiraled from their limbs. The bladed ends rooted deep in their skin, holding them up like puppets on a string.

"A steady stream of narcotics and absorbed macronutrients from the dead above ground keep them in a sort of suspended animation. They age… slower than us, but they don't do much el—"

"Look who it issss…." One of the prisoners called out, interrupting Cypher.

Bronte eyed the man in the cell. He was large. The size of three or more people both in height in width. A giant on all accounts. His breath reeked. Smelling of rot and bile. He could hear the giants stomach acids twist and churn.

"Fred Dukes…. Once known as Blob." Cypher introduced.

Brontë suddenly remembered the man.

Three weeks after they made it to Krakoa he tried to eat three people and nearly beat the life out of another. Almost succeeded. Did in a way. One of his victims succumbed to their wounds a week later.

"I think about your speech often. All your values and threats….. haha…. You seemed like a killer when you spoke to those rioters. I wonder what they call you know, Captain Krakoa. Do they know you imprison your own people! IM HUNGRY! YOUR STARVING YOUR OWN KIND! YOU SAID YOUD PROTECT US! FEED ME FEED ME F—…." Blob stumbled and fell. Six tendrils spiraled from his back.

"His mass makes it harder for the narcotics to hit him." Cypher explained.

"He's insane." Bronte muttered.

"He wasn't always. I remember he was an X-Man once."

"Yea…. Once. Anyone else staying awake?"

Cypher shook his head, "No. All one hundred and fifty prisoners lay in wait. For a sentence that may not come for a while."

"Works for me. We've got other things to deal with right now."

"Like what? The island says change comes."

Brontë nodded, "Emma made ground with her scientist in the US. Mystique's heists have been successful. Wakanda had us in crunch time. We can make a move. Two moves, actually. I'm holding a meeting in….. like twenty minutes."

Cypher nodded, "Then let's get out of here."

"Say less."

Brontë and Cypher exited the prison sect and rushed for the surface to conduct a meeting with the remaining savior Mutants of Krakoa.