Chapter Text
Warren’s boots beat a steady rhythm on a dusty road. From time to time, his hand would fall to his waist, seeking the comforting weight of the sword that hung at his hips. Every time he restrained himself. Yes, the sword had a cloaking charm on it, but a hand grasping at the air holding onto an invisible hilt would draw attention that Warren could do without. It didn’t matter here - in this isolated corner of Westchester county, where the only ones present nearby were targets - but Warren needed to develop the habit.
He stopped in front of a bar a few meters off the backroad, tucked in an unassuming alley. Neon letters lit a signboard dimly - “Oak and the Swan.” This was the place. He could hear raucous laughter from inside, men and women, rowdy conversation, the dragging sound of chairs and tables. He felt fear take hold of him. I am a deer walking into a Hyena’s den. For a second, he considered turning back. Then he steeled himself. Not a deer, not anymore. Now I am a lion. Taking a breath, he walked in, pushing past the door. The door chime jingled as the door swung close behind him.
Men and women sat around him. Laughter echoed across the bar. At a nearby table, someone punched his buddy on the shoulder playfully. At another table, far off at the other corner - a woman sang cheerfully to friends who applauded at each beat. Their claps grew faster as the song picked up pace. Warren sat down at an empty table, at a chair with its back to the wall. He leaned back, idly observing the people, recognizing them from the intel he had been provided with.
James Lee - Beta level Mutant - enhanced human reflexes.
Brine Rinehart - Beta Level Mutant - limited energy projection.
He listed off names one by one in his mind. Thankfully, none were alpha level or above. All had been involved, or complicit in murder. Warren watched as the lady singing at the corner finally ended her song, to elated cheering from her audience. He felt bile rise to his throat. How can all of you be so cheerful? You killed people, broke families apart. Do the lives of people mean so little to you, just because they were human.
His vision nearly turned red with anger, but he restrained himself. The waitress - she wasn’t with them. She needed to be out of the way of danger. She was a lady in her late twenties, cheery despite the obvious exhaustion of working a shift late into the night. He leaned towards her, spoke a few words - direct and threatening. The lady paled. She turned on her heel and rushed back into the kitchen. Warren waited for her to leave, then steeled himself, taking a deep breath. He cradled his sword in his lap, ran a hand against the ornate patterns of the scabbard. He held it by the hilt, flicked the scabbard open with a thumb. The pristine metal glinted brightly.
The metal was caked with crimson as he pushed it clumsily back into the scabbard. Wooden debris from tables and chairs littered the ground. The floor was wet with food, drink and blood. Collapsed forms of people dotted the bar. The window near Warren was shattered, from when he had thrown a person bodily through it during the fight. He limped to the door, glass crunching under his feet. The door chime jingled once again as he exited the bar.
A few hours later he received a phone call, just before he could go to bed. Intel.
“How did it go?” A man’s voice asked him from the other end.
“It was difficult. Violent,” Warren said. He gripped his phone tighter, just thinking about it made him uneasy.
There was a chuckle at the other end. “Humble as always, Warren. But right now, we need action. Recent events have accelerated the progression of mutant society, and we both know what lies at the end of that road. It’s easier to uproot a seed, then it is to cut down a tree.”
Warren felt fury bubble up in his chest. “You psychopathic monster. I’m not doing this to cull the mutant population. I’ve had friends who were mutants. I watched them fall one by one as they fought beside me.”
The voice paused for a second. “My apologies, I overstepped. While my intentions are noble, just like yours, there is a seething hatred within me that springs up from time to time.”
Warren gritted his teeth. He had no interest in the man’s history. “Just tell me who the next target is.”
“I trust you have recovered well enough from the duel with your previous Alpha level opponent? I hope your latest mission was a good warm up.”
“I’m better now. Are you going to send me after another Alpha level mutant?”
“No,” The voice on the other end said, almost cheery. “It’s an Omega Mutant this time.”
Warren froze. “Are you out of your mind!”
“It’s someone you know well. Someone you fought back in your timeline.”
Warren wet his lips. “Who is it?”
“Jean Grey.”
The name echoed in Warren’s mind. Who was she to me? Mentor? Friend? Enemy? Tyrant? Dark memories rose to the surface. A red haired woman in the sky. A mirthless laugh that echoed within his mind. His master pushing him away as a bolt of pure telekinetic energy engulfed him.
No, he refused to let the darkness of his heart control him. “What did she do for you to mark her as a target?”
The voice came back after a second of consideration. “You of all people, should be intimately familiar with what she did, Warren.”
“Don’t play your games with me, Nimrod. I won’t kill her for things a different version of her did in the future.”
“Fine. Body possession. Physical Harm. Psychological harassment. All on a city-wide level. She unleashed the Hulk, Warren. Broke the part of Banner’s mind that was controlling it. She ripped apart his life. And the freak incident that happened in Manhattan? That was her, when she triggered the full extent of her powers for the first time. She froze people within a kilometer, Warren. Omega Level indeed.”
Warren pursed his lips. “No deaths though. That's the first thing you would have mentioned, if it had actually happened.”
“There could have been casualties, Warren. It’s simply good fortune that they didn’t come to be. Spiderman was found at the scene, with a nearly fatal bullet wound in his chest. He would have bled out, if not for swift medical care from experts.”
Warren’s eyes widened. “Spiderman…”
“Yes, Spiderman. You’ve really been off the radar for a while, haven’t you? From your time in the future, you mentioned that you admired him? Looked up to him? Well, he nearly died - thanks to her. Seem familiar? ”
Nimrod went on. “She’s a telepath - she can worm her way into people’s minds. Peer into their darkest secrets. Control them to do things without their consent. For many people, that is a fate worse than death.”
“I know that, Nimrod. It happened to me. But I’m not a hired killer. I won’t rely on violence if there isn’t a need for it.”
Nimrod sighed at that. “I’ll send you what I have. Classified files. Anti-telepathic equipment I uncovered with great difficulty. It will be a while before our next call. Feel free to look into the data files, investigate, form your own conclusions. I’m done talking with you.” He disconnected the call.
Warren rubbed his tired eyes. Great, I have to hunt Jean Grey. Because of the threat she might become.
As he lay in bed, planning, fighting back dark thoughts of a bleak future - his past, he remembered a question his master had once asked him, ‘What is more dangerous? The feared or the fearful.” Thinking about it now, Warren couldn't say what the right answer was.
Jean shifted the curtain by an inch, peering out through the window. She witnessed the chaos of a busy morning rush. Streets packed with pedestrians. Heavy traffic on the roads. She expanded the reach of her mind and sensed people beyond the scope of her physical vision. Talking on their phones, crowding into packed trains. She hadn’t been able to match the power she had triggered at Roosevelt Island, but since then she’d felt her range and control expand dramatically. Even when she wasn’t trying, stray thoughts from people around her would trickle into their minds. They were trivial things - paying bills, booking movie tickets, dining out. The thoughts of hundreds of people kept her company. At least to some extent.
Her apartment was a humble place, something she had discovered by chance while hopping. It was unoccupied, so Jean was unlikely to be bothered by uninvited visitors. It was decently furnished. There was a kitchen with working appliances that Jean had started to fill out with more ingredients. There was a bed. A bathroom with running water. A couch in a living area to attend to guests Jean would never have. A tiny dining table near the window. It had its issues of course. There was electric work being done in the building. The power went out at different times. The room felt warm and stuffy. The windows barely opened. The apartment had a serious ventilation problem. All things Jean had convinced herself that she could deal with.
She felt a sudden pain in her back, her hands reached out reflexively. It’s not my injury, she reminded herself. It was Peter’s injury from when he had taken a bullet for her. Jean had figured out how to block out the pain and trauma from hopping through people really quickly. Things would have ended badly for her otherwise. But back then, at the hospital - when Peter was in a critical condition, she’d realized that she had to open up to his hurt. Embrace it fully, understand it. Only then could she really help save Peter. She’d felt his pain intimately, forced his lungs to breathe, exhaled with his lips. Jean felt a blush creep her cheeks at that thought, brushing a hand lightly against her mouth. She hadn’t thought about it back then. Saving a life had been the priority. Everything else was unimportant.
First, she’d been chasing after her sister. Going after Metzger. That had been the goal, and she had sacrificed everything for it. Then she had controlled Peter. Helped him live. That had hurt like nothing else Jean had experienced before, but it was a task she could put all of her mind and soul into. She was protecting the only person in the world who knew her, but didn’t hate her. Now, in the stifling humidity of her room, shrouded in darkness, peering out through an inch of opened curtain, Jean wondered if there was any point to her existence. If I disappeared from the world, would anyone even realize? She felt a sob build up in her chest. The thoughts of hundreds of people weren’t enough to keep her sane. She was slowly fading away, chained to this empty room. ‘You have me’, Peter’s words rang in her ears. Against her better judgment, Jean made a silent prayer. One she was sure would disappear into the void, unanswered. ‘Help’, She whispered to no one.
Peter heard it first in his room, as he ate dinner. A figment of his imagination, he assumed.
He heard it a second time, while fighting crime as Spiderman.
By the third time, while he was hanging out at Ned and MJ’s place, helping Ned build yet another Lego set, Peter realized that he could no longer tell himself he was imagining it.
His friends could see that something was troubling him, but they gave him his space. Shortly, Peter excused himself. MJ accompanied him below to see him off, while Ned bravely decided to stay back and stabilize a portion of the giant Lego spaceship they were building, which was at great risk of collapsing.
“I know the two of you are back to being best friends,” MJ said as they stepped out, a grin on her face. “But I think he likes the Lego more.”
“Oh yeah.” Peter replied, shaking his head in mock-sorrow. “It’s tough competition. But I’ve learnt to live with it. Lego conquers all.” MJ rolled her eyes and laughed at that. Peter felt a familiar warmth in his chest. Making her laugh. That was something he did often back when they were together.
“Hey,” he said, rubbing his hands together. “There was something I wanted to talk to you about.”
MJ nodded, the smile on her face fading away. “Go on.”
“Well, it’s about Jean.”
MJ’s face fell slightly at that name.
Peter continued, “I got a message from her. I- I think she’s in trouble. Big trouble. And she needs help. She’s out there in the world, with crazy powers and no one to guide her. That’s a dangerous combination.”
“It is.” MJ agreed, not meeting Peter’s eyes. “Is that what you wanted to ask me about?”
Peter nodded. “I felt I owed you an explanation before I left. I know you’re still upset about what Jean did to you.”
“I am,” MJ said sadly. She paused for a bit. “Well, I wasn’t that upset about it a while back. But I’ve been thinking about it ever since you told me about it. It just made things worse." She shrugged. "I don’t know if that’s stupid.”
“It isn't," Peter said. He shuffled uncomfortably on his feet. “I was thinking I could talk to her about it. Deep down, I think she knows that what she did to you wasn’t right. She owes you an apology for that.”
MJ’s shoulders slumped a bit. “Peter,” she said carefully. “I can understand why she did the things she did. Logically speaking. She was lashing out, hunting for her sister. She wanted to put you out of the equation through any means, and she used me for that.”
She looked Peter in the eye. “I understand these things, and I can’t say I wouldn’t do the same if I was her. But-” She took a deep breath. “I don’t think I can talk to her about it, or look her in the eye. Even if she was willing to apologize.”
Peter sighed. “Is it because of her powers? Because she’s dangerous?”
“You’re dangerous too, technically speaking. But no,” she said, her voice tightening. “It’s not that. It’s because she treated me like less than a human being. Like a tool. Like someone not worth considering as a fellow human being. She wore my skin like some sort of sickening Halloween costume.” Her breathing was deep and erratic now. “Peter, how do you sit face to face and talk with someone who doesn’t even consider you as an equal? I think there is a way that can be done, people who can open their hearts to it. I am not one of those people. I don’t know how to do that.”
Peter felt an ache in his chest. He stepped forward and hugged MJ gently. She hugged him back. “I’m sorry, MJ. I know this is hard on you. Sometimes, I wonder if I made a mistake by telling you about it.”
“No!” MJ said sharply. “You did the right thing. I needed to know. It’s hard to think about it right now. But I’ll get over it, with enough time.”
She stepped away and looked back at Peter. “Go find her Peter. You’re Spiderman. She’s a person who needs saving. That is what you do.” She managed a brave smile, despite her red-rimmed eyes.
Peter nodded. “I will.” He started to walk away.
“Oh, and Peter?” He turned around to look at her.
“You keep talking about what she did to me, but you were a victim of it too. If there’s someone she should apologize to, it should be you,” she told him.
Peter thought about it and considered arguing for a moment. Then he nodded. “You’re right. I’ll do that,” he said. Then he was off into the darkness, ready to start his search.