Chapter 99
Arc 7 - Ch 16: Caught Red Handed
Date: Thursday, September 1, 2011.
Location: House of M, Manhattan, New York
Felicia Hardy was stirred from her slumber by the insistent buzz of her cellphone. She blinked, her mind working through the hazy aftermath of last night's indulgence. The screen displayed an incoming call from 'House of M'.
Why would she receive a call from House of M when she was inside, in the VIP lounge?
She took in the state of the room. The décor was left disheveled, and two figures were still lost in peaceful sleep. Tyson sprawled across the plush couch, his muscular form barely covered by a thin sheet. Jessica dozed nearby in a chair. The air still held the faint musk of their shared passion.
Felicia let the call go to voicemail. But the phone immediately lit up, vibrating again. She sighed, knowing sleep had officially abandoned her. Slipping on her discarded t-shirt over her underwear, she forwent pants hastily to answer the persistent caller. The cool air of the hallway hit her skin as she stepped outside the lounge. Answering the phone, she anticipated Maki's voice or perhaps one of the House of M's countless scientists. Instead, a bored teenage drawl greeted her ears.
"A portal opened in the arena," the AI stated Wednesday without preamble.
Felicia's heartbeat quickened. "A portal? Why wasn't the alarm raised?"
Wednesday's synthetic voice lacked its usual disinterest as she answered, "Because the one who stepped through the portal matched every description I've ever been given of Illyana Rasputin." The name hit Felicia like a bucket of ice water.
Illyana.
Tyson's ex-girlfriend.
Their last encounter had been tense, though it had ended with a fragile understanding. Now, Illyana's unexpected return threatened to shatter the delicate balance Felicia had been cultivating with Tyson.
"Why'd you call, Wednesday?"
The AI's response was typically blunt. "Because she's heading your way, and my predictive algorithms are undecided if Tyson will be attacked. My subroutines dictate, in the case she's hostile, I should call Mr. Stark."
"For the love of God, no," Felicia hissed. "Don't call Tony. The last thing I need is his particular brand of chaos added to this powder keg. I'll handle this."
As if summoned by her words, a figure rounded the corner. Illyana Rasputin strode down the hallway. Her sharp eyes locked onto Felicia.
Felicia tensed, though she couldn't help but notice the concern etched across Illyana's features.
"Is Tyson here?" Illyana asked urgently. "I just heard what happened."
As she drew closer, Illyana's sharp eyes took in Felicia's disheveled appearance. Noting the apparent absence of pants, the lack of a bra beneath her thin shirt, and the wild tangle of her silver hair. Understanding dawned on her face, quickly followed by a storm of emotions.
"You slept with him?" Illyana's accusation cut through the air like a knife. "My friend, Jubilee. His girlfriend. Has been dead only days, and now you're fucking him again?"
Illyana's eyes began to glow with an otherworldly silver light that ran down her neck. When it reached her shoulder, armor sprouted and spread down her arm until it reached her hand, where the Soulsword materialized in her grip. The hallway filled with an eerie, ethereal glow as the magical blade pulsed, matching the fury in her eyes.
"Stop!" Felicia shouted, startling even herself with its force.
Illyana's expression morphed into one of indignant disbelief as if to say, 'I know this bitch did not just give me an order.' But before she could voice her outrage, Felicia pressed on, the earnestness of her eyes matching the fire of the other woman's magical aura.
"How dare you?" Felicia spat, her words dripping with venom. The accusation caught her off guard; her confusion replaced the anger on her face. Felicia seized the moment, unleashing a torrent of pent-up emotions. "Magneto came for him. Where was your Soulsword and your magic and your power then? When we first met, you said you were there for him when it mattered most... Well, where were you, Illyana?"
The corridor seemed to shrink around them as Felicia's tirade gained momentum. Her demeanor cracked, revealing the raw pain and frustration she'd been carrying. "Magneto came for me first. I wasn't here to help him. Jubilee died. Jean left. And he's so badly hurt that he hasn't said anything about it or even said her name once since I've been back. Natasha, whom I don't know if you ever met, has been gone since graduation."
Illyana's aura flickered as the weight of Felicia's words sank in. She opened her mouth to speak, but Felicia pressed on, refusing to be interrupted. "Tyson made all these preparations to fight Magneto, and none worked because he got ambushed. He fought Magneto and the Brotherhood, mostly alone, and he won." Felicia's fists clenched at her sides. "And Jubilee died."
The name hung in the air.
"And then Tyson came for me and saved me, fighting off another group of mutants," Felicia continued, her voice dropping to a hoarse whisper. "He says you were there the last time he killed, and he was a mess afterward. This time, he absorbed Magneto and then the Healer to save those people in the arena. He killed two people in one night! What do you think he was like afterward? He didn't say anything. He tried to hide his feelings but was surviving by a thread. He was this close to breaking down and only kept going because he had to."
Felicia took a step forward, closing the distance between them. Her following words were delivered with quiet intensity, each syllable laden with accusation. "And you. Weren't. Here."
Illyana flinched as if physically struck, her earlier bravado crumbling in the face of Felicia's raw honesty.
"Someone had to pull him back," Felicia said. "And through it all, he was more worried about how I was doing when he was the one who lost so much."
Felicia ran a hand through her tangled hair, but it caught, and she pulled it back in frustration. "So yes, Illyana, I fucked him. I'm not a goddamn psychologist. I didn't know what to do besides give him something to think about other than how he saved himself and saved me, but he couldn't save Jubilee."
A flash of vulnerability crossed Felicia's face. "And not that it's any of your business, but I love him too, and I wanted to fuck him. I've been supporting him for months, and in case you lost track while you've been studying or whatever, I've been with him longer than you were."
The last vestiges of Illyana's magical aura flickered out.
Felicia's voice regained its strength for her final declaration. "So put your damned sword away because if you kill me, you're going to undo everything I've been trying to fix."
Silence descended upon the corridor. The two women stood facing each other, both breathing heavily. Illyana's Soulsword disappearing in a shimmer of energy.
"I... I didn't know."
Felicia's posture relaxed slightly, though wariness still shone in her eyes. "How could you?" she replied bitterly.
Illyana winced at the repeated accusation but didn't argue. Instead, she leaned against the wall, suddenly looking as exhausted as Felicia felt. "I came as soon as I heard," she said. "I thought... I don't know what I thought."
Felicia sighed, the fight draining out of her. She mirrored Illyana's posture, leaning against the opposite wall. "You thought you'd swoop in and save the day?" she asked, but there was no malice in her words, only weary understanding.
"Something like that, I suppose. Old habits die hard."
The two women regarded each other, the earlier hostility giving way to a tentative truce. "How is he, really?" Illyana finally asked, genuinely concerned.
Felicia closed her eyes, considering her response. "He's... managing." Illyana nodded, a flash of pain crossing her features. "He talks about you sometimes," Felicia admitted, surprising herself with the confession.
"We did have some good times," she said.
"Look," Felicia said, straightening up. "I don't know your plans or how long you're staying. But Tyson needs stability right now. He needs people he can count on."
"You're worried I will mess things up for him."
Felicia didn't deny it. "Can you blame me?"
"No," Illyana admitted. "But I'm not here to cause trouble. I just... I needed to see him. To make sure he was okay."
The sincerity in Illyana's voice was impossible to ignore. Felicia found herself nodding, and a decision formed in her mind. "Okay. But if you're going to go in there, I need you to be cool. Things got a little... wild last night, but I think we got him to release enough pent-up frustration and energy."
Illyana's eyes narrowed, focusing on a single word. "We?"
"I'm just a girl in a catsuit," she responded, only half-way sarcastic.
"Look, Illyana, I'm serious," she continued, her voice dropping to a fierce whisper. "I need you to act like what happened wasn't a big deal. Tyson has enough guilt on his plate without adding that he cheated on his dead girlfriend. Or that he cheated on his ex-girlfriend. Okay?" She paused, her following words carefully measured. "Those aren't cheating, so don't make him feel like they are. I could give two shits about social propriety and acceptability right now."
Illyana gritted her teeth, and the muscles in her jaw worked as she processed Felicia's words. After a moment that felt like an eternity, she spoke.
"Fine."
But Felicia wasn't buying it. She'd seen that look before, in the mirror. It was the look of someone agreeing to terms they had no intention of keeping. Illyana must have sensed her skepticism because she took a deep breath and tried again. "Alright. Be cool. I can be cool."
She rolled her eyes, not entirely convinced but willing to take what she could get. "Alright, let's go wake him up."
Illyana froze. Her blue eyes widened, confusion and disbelief crossing her features. "Wake him up?" she repeated. "He's sleeping? Tyson is sleeping?"
She couldn't hide her small, satisfied smirk. She knew it was petty, but she couldn't help feeling pride at surprising Illyana. She was right; he didn't usually sleep. But last night, they'd seemingly tired him out. Maybe that was an exaggeration; they'd at least sated him. Although she had to admit to herself, Jessica had done most of the work.
"Like I said," Felicia replied, her voice softer now, "we got him to release much of his pent-up energy and stress."
Illyana's expression cycled through a range of emotions. First, surprise, then jealousy, and finally, a grudging acceptance.
"I see," Illyana said dangerously.
Felicia watched her, trying to gauge her reaction. She knew she was walking a fine line here. Pushing Illyana too far could backfire spectacularly. But she also needed the other woman to understand the depth of her commitment to Tyson.
"Look. I know this is weird. Trust me, I'm not thrilled about the situation either. But Tyson needs us. All of us. To be there for him right now. Not fighting over him like he's some prize to be won."
"You care about him, don't you?" Illyana asked, though it wasn't a question.
"Yeah. I do. More than I ever expected to care about anyone."
A moment of silence stretched between them as the earlier hostility gave way to a tentative understanding.
"Okay," Illyana said finally. "I'll follow your lead on this."
They turned towards the VIP lounge door. Felicia's hand hesitated on the handle, a final thought occurring to her. "Oh, and Illyana? Jessica's in there, too. So... brace yourself. And be nice, okay? She's not like us. She's kinder and far more innocent despite last night."
Illyana's eyebrows shot up, but she said nothing. Felicia couldn't help but laugh internally at the sorceress's expression. It was petty, she knew, but after the emotional rollercoaster of the past few minutes and the past few days, she'd take her victories where she could get them.
As Felicia pushed open the door, the scent of the lounge spilled into the corridor. The air was thick with a heady mixture of sweat, alcohol, and sex that lingered from last night's activities.
Tyson still lay sprawled across the couch, wearing only a sheet. His face was peaceful in sleep. It was a rare sight, and Felicia felt a pang in her chest at its vulnerability. Jessica stirred in the nearby armchair, her short, dark hair a tangled mess. She blinked sleepily, confusion clouding her features as she registered Illyana's presence. Felicia took a deep breath, steeling herself for what was sure to be an interesting morning. She'd meant what she said to Illyana. Tyson needed them right now. All of them. And whatever awkwardness or jealousy might arise, they'd deal with it.
The peaceful quiet of the VIP lounge was shattered as music suddenly blared through the speakers. A familiar reggae-pop beat filled the air.
Honey came in, and she caught me red-handed creepin' with the girl next door.
Picture this, we were both butt naked, bangin' on the bathroom floor.
Tyson jolted awake. "Wednesday, what the hell?" he mumbled, rubbing his face.
How could I forget that I had given her an extra key?
All this time, she was standin' there, she never took her eyes off me.
But as his gaze settled on Illyana, Tyson's drowsy confusion transformed into shocked alertness. He scrambled to sit up, nearly tumbling off the couch.
"Fucking Wednesday," Felicia hissed, her eyes darting to the ceiling as if she could glare the AI into silence.
How ya fi give the woman access to your villa?
Trespasser and a witness, all the hacklin' a yuh pillow
You better watch your back before she turn into a killa
The song's lyrics, all too fitting for their awkward situation, continued to play. Its upbeat tempo and cheeky narrative about infidelity created an almost farcical backdrop to the scene unfolding in the lounge. Tyson's mouth opened and closed, words failing him as he looked between Illyana, Felicia, and the still-groggy Jessica. His usual composure was nowhere to be found, replaced by a comical deer-caught-in-headlights expression.
"I... uh... this isn't..." Tyson stammered, holding up the sheet to cover his nakedness. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Illyana, I didn't expect... I mean, it's not..."
True to her word, Illyana was doing her best to act as if nothing was amiss. But the twitch of her eye betrayed her discomfort. "It's fine, Tyson," she said, her voice overly casual.
But she caught me on the counter (It wasn't me)
Saw me bangin' on the sofa (It wasn't me)
I even had her in the shower (It wasn't me)
She even caught me on camera (It wasn't me)
Jessica, meanwhile, seemed to be attempting to physically meld with the sofa. Her face was a brilliant shade of red, and her eyes were fixed firmly on the floor as if studying the carpet could erase her from this deeply awkward situation.
For her part, Felicia was torn between amusement at the absurdity of it all and frustration at Wednesday's ill-timed musical choice. She moved to Tyson's side, placing a steadying hand on his shoulder.
She saw the marks on my shoulder (It wasn't me)
Heard the words that I told her (It wasn't me)
Heard the screams gettin' louder (It wasn't me)
She stayed until it was over
"Breathe, big guy," she murmured, her voice low enough that only he could hear. "It's okay."
Gratitude warred with embarrassment in his gaze. He took a deep breath, some tension leaving his shoulders at Felicia's touch. Meanwhile, the song continued its cheerful narration of cheating and denial, creating an almost surreal atmosphere in the room.
I had tried to keep her from what
She was about to see
Why should she believe me
When I told her it wasn't me?
Finally, Tyson found his voice. "Wednesday," he called out in resignation, "could you please turn off the music?"
The music cut off abruptly, leaving behind a silence that was almost deafening in comparison. The AI's voice came through the speakers, sounding innocent and smug simultaneously. "Of course, Tyson. I thought some mood music might help lighten the atmosphere. My algorithms suggested this song had a 78% match with the situation and a 36% chance of breaking the tension."
"Your algorithms need some serious recalibration," Felicia muttered.
The tension in the room was thick enough to cut with a knife. Illyana, however, seemed determined to shatter it with her trademark bluntness.
"Seems like you had quite the party," she commented, her blue eyes twinkling with a mixture of amusement and something darker. "I'm a little mad I didn't get an invite."
"It wasn't planned," he muttered. "Kinda just happened."
Illyana's gaze swept the room, taking in the rumpled sheets and scattered clothes. Her brow furrowed as a thought occurred to her. "A bit excessive for illusions, isn't it?"
The silence that followed was deafening. Tyson shifted uncomfortably while Felicia tensed. Jessica, for her part, still seemed to be trying to disappear into the couch cushions.
Illyana's eyes narrowed as realization dawned. She rounded on Tyson, her voice sharp with disbelief. "You had sex without illusions. How? Did you somehow learn the spell or gain a magic item?"
Tyson shook his head, unable to meet her gaze.
Illyana's hand flew to her mouth. "You can control it?"
"Not exactly," Tyson mumbled. He raised his voice to a normal tone, "It's Magneto's power. Full body invisible metal condom."
Illyana frowned, clearly about to launch into a barrage of questions when Wednesday's voice suddenly announced from the speakers. "As the song suggested, I caught the whole thing on camera," her bored teenage drawl carrying a hint of mischief.
All eyes in the room shot toward the ceiling in horror.
"My algorithms indicate we could create a significant revenue stream if we were to sell the footage," the AI continued matter-of-factly. "The market for superhero-related adult content is quite robust."
"Wednesday!" Felicia hissed in warning, her face flushing with a mix of embarrassment and anger.
"I'm simply providing data-driven business insights," the AI replied. Undeterred, she pressed on. "Revenue projections would increase if you wear your costumes next time. The Spider-Woman suit, in particular, has a strong following online."
Jessica let out a shriek. "WEDNESDAY!"
The speakers fell silent, leaving the room in an awkward stillness broken only by Jessica's mortified whimper as she buried her face in her hands. Tyson opened his mouth to explain further, but Illyana held up a hand, silencing him. To everyone's surprise, her face broke into a wry grin. "This is what I was afraid of," she said, her tone light and teasing. "I let you go off to school, and you learn to control your power, and a cheerleader gets to you first. That's what I said, yes?" Tyson nodded. Illyana's grin widened. "At least I was your first."
The tension in the room eased slightly, though Felicia remained on guard.
"I just have one question," Illyana said, her tone suddenly serious.
Felicia felt her heart rate spike. This was the moment she'd been dreading, where Illyana could potentially undo all their progress in helping Tyson.
He hesitated before responding. "Okay."
Illyana's gaze shifted as she pointed at Jessica. "Why her?"
Jessica's eyes went wide, a surprised expression froze on her face.
"Lyana," Tyson said sharply, a warning in his voice.
But Illyana continued, "I was just curious. She's cute, but she's not your type. Blonde or Asian," Illyana replied matter-of-factly. "She's neither."
Jessica's expression cycled rapidly from mollified to confused to curious as she looked at Tyson.
"Ms. Rushman wasn't blonde or Asian," Jessica pointed out, finally finding her voice.
"She's Russian," Felicia and Tyson said in unison, exchanging a glance.
Illyana's smile turned smug as she turned back to Jessica. "So, what's so special about you?"
But her smile faltered as Tyson interrupted her interrogation. "Jessica is very special," he said firmly, his voice carrying a weight that silenced the room. "And she's special to me."
Illyana's face fell, the bravado melting away to reveal a vulnerability that caught everyone off guard. She turned to Jessica, her blue eyes shimmering with wetness.
"I'm sorry," she said softly. The sorceress took a shaky breath, addressing the room at large. "I... I don't want to seem like the bad guy here. But I lost my best friend, and I came to check on you and to grieve. It makes me realize how much I'm missing out on and how much I've lost." Her gaze swept the room, taking in the changes since her last visit. "I barely recognize this place from the last time I was here."
Turning back to Jessica, Illyana's voice cracked. "I didn't mean to attack you. You're beautiful. I'm sure it's more than that, but I don't know you, and it makes me feel even more out of place and like this is all my fault." Her words tumbled out in a rush, like a dam had broken. "If I'd been here, none of this," she gestured to the room, encompassing the aftermath of their night together, "would have happened. And Jubilee would still be alive."
Tears escaped, running down Illyana's face. In two quick strides, Tyson crossed the room and hugged her tightly.
"It's okay," he murmured, his voice low and soothing. "We're going to talk about this." He looked over Illyana's shoulder at Felicia and Jessica. "We all need to talk."
Gently pulling back from the hug, Tyson met Illyana's tear-stained gaze. "How long do you have?"
Illyana wiped at her eyes, trying to compose herself. "Just the day, like last time."
"Okay, no teaching me magic or letting me use the sling ring." Illyana let out a watery laugh, easing the tension in the room slightly. His expression grew serious once more. "We don't have much time, and there's a lot to cover." He turned to Jessica and Felicia. "I need to go for a bit."
Felicia nodded, her emerald eyes searching Tyson's face. "Okay. Where will you be?"
"The arena first. I need to talk to the Morlocks," Tyson replied. "Then we'll be leaving for the day. If Maki or anyone else is looking for me, I'll be back tomorrow at the latest."
Before leaving, Tyson crossed the room to where Jessica sat. He knelt before her, taking her hands in his. "Hey," he said softly, "about last night... I don't want you to think this changes things between us. What happened was special to me." He squeezed her hands gently. "We'll talk when I get back, okay?"
Jessica nodded, and a small smile broke through her embarrassment. "Be careful," she whispered.
Tyson then moved to Felicia, pulling her into a tight embrace. "Thank you," he murmured against her hair, "for everything." He pulled back slightly, his eyes meeting hers. "You're incredible, you know that?"
Felicia smirked, though her eyes betrayed her emotion. "I know. Just don't forget it… And at least put on some pants before you go."
"I promise," he replied, kissing her forehead quickly. "We have a lot to figure out, the three of us, but we'll do it together when I return."
He turned back to Illyana, his voice softening as he searched for his discarded clothes. "I'm going to explain everything. Everything. I promise, I just need a little time to settle some things, okay?"
Illyana nodded, a mix of curiosity and concern in her eyes. "Okay. What do you need from me?"
"Take us back to the arena?" He asked, finally dressed.
Illyana tapped into her mutant ability, summoning a glowing portal of eldritch energy. Tyson glared at Felicia and Jessica, giving them a reassuring nod before he and Illyana stepped through the portal.
They materialized in the arena, the sudden shift in surroundings sending a momentary wave of vertigo through their senses. Tyson called out to the Morlocks scattered throughout the space.
"I need Tommy and anyone else who knows the tunnels near here best," he announced.
Tommy stepped forward, her pastel hair streaming behind her like a technicolor banner caught in an invisible breeze. A few other Morlocks warily joined her.
Tyson didn't waste time with pleasantries. "I noticed that the tunnels stopped close to House of M. Is that a coincidence?"
Tommy shook her head. "No. The old Armories all seemed to connect to the Alley at one point. Remember, it was a military project. There were probably connections to all the armories. But the connections were sealed when the Alley was abandoned."
"So it wouldn't be too hard to reopen the connection and free up all that underground space?"
"Probably," Tommy replied cautiously, lips pursed in consideration. "But I don't have any way to know for sure."
"Thanks for the help." He turned back to Illyana, who had been watching the exchange with growing curiosity. "Okay, I have a plan. Now that that's settled…" Without warning, he pulled her into another hug. This one was different from before. Less about comfort and more about connection. "It's so good to see you... I'm sorry."
Illyana stiffened for a heartbeat before melting into the hug. Her arms wrapped around him, fingers clutching at the fabric of his shirt. "I missed you," she murmured, her voice muffled against the solid warmth of his chest.
They stayed like that for a long moment; the busy sounds of the arena faded into a muted backdrop. "I have so much to tell you," he said. "So much has happened, and I... I don't even know where to start."
Illyana reached up, cupping Tyson's face in her hands. "Start at the beginning. We have time."
He led her to a quiet corner of the arena, away from the curious eyes of the Morlocks. As they settled onto a bench, he began to speak. He told her about the attack and how he'd planned for Magneto but was ambushed when he least expected it. He described the brutal fight, filling in details she might have missed from watching the replay. Then he recounted venturing underground, saving Felicia and the Morlocks, absorbing Healer, encountering Sinister, and finding out he was a clone, each story unfolding with raw honesty.
"Oh, Ty," she whispered when he finally fell silent. "I'm so sorry. I should have been here. I should have..."
Tyson shook his head, cutting her off. "No, Lyana. This isn't on you. None of it is. Magneto... He's the one responsible. And I killed him for it."
They sat in companionable silence for a moment, each lost in the labyrinth of their own thoughts. Finally, Tyson spoke again, his voice hesitant, almost fragile.
"Lyana, about Felicia and Jessica..."
Illyana held up a hand, stopping him. "You don't owe me an explanation, Ty. We're not... I mean, I left. You had every right to move on."
"It's not that simple. What happened last night wasn't about moving on. It was about... After Jubilee, after everything, I just..." His words trailed off, inadequate to express the hollow ache that had driven him.
"I get it. Really, I do. And I'm sorry for how I reacted earlier. It wasn't fair to any of you."
Tyson turned to Illyana, "Can I ask a favor?" She nodded. "I need you to open a portal to Alkali Lake."
"Alkali Lake? Why would you want to go back there?"
The abandoned base was the site where Tyson had been bonded with adamantium. The last time they'd seen the base was after escaping and watching it flood after the explosive charges set off by William Stryker destroyed the dam.
"Because that's where the adamantium is," Tyson said. "I can manipulate metal now, and there's a stockpile of it just sitting there waiting for me."
With a graceful swirl of her wrist, a portal opened before them.
Tyson and Illyana stepped out of the portal onto the shores of Alkali Lake. The summer wind caressed their skin, carrying a blend of pine and fresh water and teasing loose strands of hair across their faces. Before them, the lake's surface perfectly reflected the cerulean sky and rugged mountains. This place had etched itself into their memories, yet today, the disconnect between memory and reality felt jarring. The rhythmic whisper of waves against stone and a lone eagle's cry overhead created an atmosphere of serene contradiction, as though nature was working to cleanse the darkness here.
"It's so... nice," Illyana whispered, disbelieving
Tyson nodded, understanding her astonishment. When they'd been here the previous July, it had been a frozen wasteland. The ice and snow had been harsh and unforgiving, reflecting the facility's purpose.
"It's still underwater," Illyana observed as she studied the lake's deceptively innocent surface, using one hand to shield against the sun's glare.
Tyson's eyes followed hers to where Stryker had destroyed the dam, unleashing a torrent that had swallowed the complex whole. Now, the facility rested beneath that surface like a dark secret, hidden from the world but not from memory. Drawing in the pine-scented air, he closed his eyes and reached into himself, calling upon Magneto's power. As he concentrated, the world around him dimmed within his senses. The birdsong faded, the wind's whisper quieted, and even Illyana's steady presence beside him receded. In its place arose something entirely different. The sunken facility revealed itself to him perfectly in his mind's eye, like a three-dimensional map branded into his consciousness through his metal sense. A mental landscape of metal was overlaid, almost like a ghostly architectural blueprint beneath the water.
He stood motionless at the lake's edge, body tense with concentration, feet anchored to the pebbly shore as waves gently lapped against the rocks.
"Most of the facility was underground," Tyson explained. "Now it's underground and underwater."
"Are you going to be able to get it?" she asked doubtfully as her fingers tapped against her arm.
Tyson remained silent, his face locked in concentration, jaw muscles clenching rhythmically as he reached out with his magnetic powers. In his mind, the facility appeared clear. He focused on the reinforced outer doors, massive structures designed to withstand extreme conditions, weighing tons.
With a deep breath, he extended his power. He sensed the mechanisms holding the doors, the corrosion eating at the metal, and sediment packed into every crevice. Methodically, he disconnected the doors from their moorings, feeling each connection snap free.
Illyana watched as the lake's surface began to churn, first subtly, then violently. Bubbles rose in a widening circle before a dark shape emerged from the depths. Water cascaded off the massive metal doors as they broke the surface, rising into the air as if lifted by invisible hands.
With an almost casual gesture that masked the tremendous force exerted, Tyson guided the enormous doors toward the shore. They landed with a thunderous crash beside them, sending tremors through the ground and spraying them with a fine mist of lake water. He lowered his hand as the impact echoes faded and birds scattered from nearby trees.
Illyana moved to his side, boots crunching on wet gravel. "That was... incredible," she said, eyes wide.
"Thanks," he replied. "It's still... new. But I have all of Magneto's experience and power."
She studied him with concern and curiosity. "But will it be enough to lift the whole facility out?"
Tyson shrugged, rolling his shoulders. "Only one way to find out."
He took a deep breath and raised his hands, fingers splayed wide. The air hummed with a vibration Illyana felt more than heard as his consciousness spread beneath the water, searching for the sunken facility. She stepped back. Raw power radiated from him, raising gooseflesh on her arms despite the warm day.
At first, nothing happened. The lake remained still, reflecting clouds above. Then, almost imperceptibly, the water began to churn. Small waves lapped with increasing urgency against the shore. A dark shape broke the surface with a sound like a gasp. A piece of metal, corroded by a year underwater, rose into the air. Water streamed from its edges before it flew toward shore, landing with a thud that scattered pebbles. Tyson didn't pause. His hands moved, directing the flow of metal from the depths. More debris emerged, including pipes, sharp-edged panels, and chunks of reinforced walls with concrete still clinging to their frames. They rose in a steady stream, guided by his will.
"Ty?" Illyana called after several minutes, "Maybe you should take a break."
Tyson shook his head. "I've got this," he reassured.
He turned his attention to the growing pile of scrap. The heap began to shift and change. Pieces flew apart with ear-piercing screeches, then slammed back together with percussive booms. The sound of grinding metal echoed across the water as Tyson molded the scrap into more manageable forms. Guided by his metal sense, he separated the materials, stacking them neatly on shore and creating an impromptu wall of salvaged metal.
As the sun arced across the sky, Tyson worked tirelessly. What had started as chaotic extraction became methodical salvage, each piece finding its place in the growing collection.
Illyana watched from the shore, occasionally shifting position when her legs grew stiff. The first hour brought forth the larger structures. Massive reinforced doors, support beams, and huge wall sections rose from the depths to break the water's surface. Tyson maneuvered each piece to shore, stacking them in neat piles by size and composition. As the second hour began, smaller, more intricate pieces emerged. Computer terminals, trailing cables, and laboratory equipment joined the growing collection on land.
Tyson no longer simply pulled metal from the lake but guided it, separating tangled masses of wires and circuitry before depositing them in designated areas. The soft hum of his power accompanied the lapping waves.
Illyana stepped carefully around growing piles of salvage, watching as the shore transformed from a natural beach to an industrial graveyard. What had been hidden beneath water now lay exposed under the summer sun. The scale of the operation was staggering.
"Ty," she called. "How are you holding up?"
"I'm fine. This is getting easier."
It showed. His movements had evolved into something resembling artistry. Each gesture became more efficient and more controlled. As the second hour approached, the flow of debris slowed. Tyson's brow creased in concentration as he extended his senses through the water, searching for any remaining metal fragments.
With one final sweep of his arms, he pulled the last pieces to shore, a mass of pipes and wires buried deep in the lakebed, still coated with mud. They landed with a muffled thump, sending small pebbles scattering across the ground. Only then did Tyson finally lower his hands.
For a moment, he stood motionless, eyes closed as he cataloged his condition. To his surprise, he felt fine. The hours of power use hadn't drained him, his muscles still humming with untapped energy.
"I think that's everything," he said, turning to Illyana and flexing his fingers.
The shore had transformed completely. Where rocks and trees once stood, mounds of salvaged metal stretched across the shoreline in organized sections. Computer equipment, structural components, and machinery filled the beach.
"This is incredible," she breathed. "I knew the facility was big, but this..."
Tyson turned to her, his expression shifting from satisfaction to anticipation. "So, how big of a portal can you maintain to Limbo?"
"Why don't I show you?" she replied, a spark igniting in her eyes.
Stepping back, Illyana raised her hands. The air warped as reality bent to her will. A portal began to form, its edges crackling with arcane energy that raised the hair on Tyson's arms. It rapidly expanded until it dwarfed even the largest pieces of salvage. The otherworldly landscape of Limbo beckoned beyond the surface.
Tyson's eyebrows shot up. "That's bigger than I thought."
Illyana glanced at him, her smile turning mischievous. "That's my line," she quipped, drawing a surprised chuckle from Tyson.
With a confident gesture, he set the salvage in motion. Metal and machinery floated through the air, streaming into the portal. His control guided each piece into Limbo. As the final items disappeared, leaving only disturbed earth and puddles behind, Tyson turned to Illyana. "Ladies first?" he offered with a mock bow, sweeping his arm toward the portal.
Illyana rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress a smile. "Such a gentleman," she teased.
Tyson followed close behind, the portal shrinking and vanishing with a soft pop as he passed through. Limbo stretched around them, familiar yet perpetually strange. He whistled, momentarily disoriented by the shift from the natural world to the supernatural realm. "You know, I don't think I'll ever get used to this place."
Illyana shrugged casually. "It grows on you."
They stood in comfortable silence, surrounded only by the distant whispers of the dimension, before Tyson spoke again. "Hey, Lyana... I'm sorry for using you as a portable storage unit. But now that we have time, we can really talk."
Illyana's expression softened, the playful banter giving way to something more vulnerable. "Yeah," she said quietly. "I'd like that."
Tyson gestured, and a mound of salvaged metal rose into the air. He shaped the golden material into a sofa, the metal flowing like clay to his will.
"For the lady."
She rolled her eyes but sat with cautious curiosity. The golden metal yielded slightly beneath her, conforming to her body. "Huh, not bad," she remarked, shifting to get comfortable. "What is this stuff anyway? It's softer than I expected."
"Mostly gold, with a touch of others mixed in," Tyson replied, sitting beside her.
Illyana's eyebrows shot up. "Gold? Are you trying to bribe me or something?"
Tyson laughed warmly, hands raised in surrender. "Hey, gold's a soft metal, so it makes for nice seating." He paused, his eyes meeting hers with unexpected sincerity. "But if it helps get me on your good side and makes up for the mishap of your arrival, I won't complain."
He cleared his throat, briefly meeting Illyana's eyes before looking away. "I didn't know you were coming," he said softly.
Illyana studied his face intently, her blue eyes filled with sadness. "Would it have changed what happened with Felicia and Jessica?" she asked quietly.
Tyson considered the question, feeling its weight. He wanted to answer her question honestly, even if it wasn't what she wanted to hear. "I don't know," he admitted after a pause. "Maybe? Probably."
Silence stretched between them, filled with their shared history and complicated present. Tyson struggled to explain the emotions he had battled since Jubilee's death. He's loved Illyana and never stopped, but grief had pushed him to seek comfort anywhere he could find it.
Illyana fought her own emotional battle. She had rushed back when she heard about Jubilee, only to discover he had found solace with others. Part of her understood his pain and recognized his loss. But another part burned with jealousy and hurt. Finally, she broke the silence with a hint of her usual teasing tone, though something darker ran beneath it. "It only took two girls to wear you out?"
Tyson snorted despite the tension. "They tried."
For a moment, it was almost like old times between them. The banter, the flirtatious edge to their words. It was a familiar dance they knew by heart. But reality crashed back in too quickly, the weight of recent events pressing down upon them again.
"I'm sorry. For all of this. For not being able to save Jubilee. For everything."
Illyana's eyes shimmered with unshed tears. "I'm sorry too," she whispered, the words catching in her throat. "I should have been there. Damn the rules. I would have stolen a sling ring if I had known what was happening. If Kamar Taj had internet, Jubes would still be alive."
Tyson reached out, hesitating before taking her hand in his. "We've both made mistakes. But Illy, you must know that my feelings for you haven't changed. Even with everything that's happened, even with Felicia and Jessica, I still..."
He trailed off, unable to finish the sentence. The word 'love' hung unspoken between them, too powerful and fragile to voice aloud, a ghost haunting the spaces between their words.
"I know," she said softly, her voice warm with understanding. "Me too. But Ty, where do we go from here? I have to leave again. I can't stay as much as I want to. And you, you have responsibilities here. People who depend on you." Her brow furrowed as she looked at Tyson, her blue eyes searching his face as if memorizing every detail. "I saw the shelter in the arena," she said softly. "How could you leave them now?"
Tyson's expression grew serious, his mismatched eyes meeting hers with an intensity that made her breath catch. "I'm going to have to leave," he said, his voice carrying a weight of finality.
Illyana looked at him quizzically, her head tilting to one side, a strand of blonde hair falling across her cheek. "What do you mean?"
Tyson took a deep breath, his shoulders squaring as if bracing himself for what he was about to say. "I think it's time we talked," he began, his voice carrying a weight that made Illyana sit up straighter. "I've seen the future."
"Like the Ancient One?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, tinged with wonder and trepidation.
"Yeah, kinda like that," he admitted, the comparison not quite right but close enough.
Recognition dawned on Illyana's face. "You said this before. It's why you were mad about Victor."
"Yeah, that's right," he confirmed.
"What exactly have you seen?"
"I'll try to explain as best I can," he began. "But first, let me start working on something," he said, eyes scanning Illyana with an appraising gaze that took in every detail. "What are you wearing underneath that?"
Illyana's eyebrows shot up, her lips curving into a sardonic smile as her voice became mocking. "I catch you with two other women, and that's what you ask?"
Tyson rolled his eyes, a hint of exasperation flashing across his face. "Do you have those gym clothes you used to wear when we hunted demons or anything similar?" The question was pragmatic rather than suggestive, and his tone clarified that this was about function rather than flirtation.
Her suspicion melted away. She raised her hand, and with an elegant motion, a small portal shimmered into existence beside her, its edges crackling with arcane energy. Reaching through as casually as someone might reach into a drawer, she grabbed a set of long-sleeved, high-neck workout clothes. She tossed them to Tyson.
As he caught the clothes with one hand, he began to speak. But even as words flowed from his mouth, his hands were in constant motion, never still for a moment. He pulled metal from one of the nearby blocks, the material responding to his will, molding and shaping it with practiced ease. The metal flowed like water under his touch, taking on new forms with each passing second, thinning and twisting with mesmerizing fluidity.
Illyana watched, fascinated, as Tyson worked. "What are you doing?" she asked curiously, leaning forward slightly.
"Don't mind this," Tyson replied, his focus split between his story and his creation, attention divided but neither suffering for it. "I'm just making you a gift."
As Tyson continued his tale, his hands never stopped moving, weaving an intricate pattern only he could see. Slowly but surely, he streamed the threaded metal through the workout clothes, infusing them with a silvery sheen that spread across the fabric.
When he finally finished, Tyson held up his creation with a flourish. The suit was a thing of beauty. He paused his story and offered the suit to Illyana. She carefully accepted it, her fingers wandering over the smooth surface to trace the raised patterns of protective runes.
"It's beautiful. Thank you."
"Wear it, please," Tyson said, his voice turning serious, and all traces of earlier humor vanished. His mismatched eyes locked with hers, unwavering in their intensity.
"All the time... I don't want to lose anyone else."
Illyana gazed up at him, her blue eyes studying his face, reading the concern carved there. "It's protective, not just decorative?"
"I weaved ultra-thin threads of adamantium into the material. It should provide significant protection against physical attacks."
Illyana stared at the suit with a fresh appreciation. Without ceremony, she removed her robe, casting aside any modesty. She wore light clothes underneath but discarded those just as quickly. Standing in her underwear, she met his gaze with amusement and defiance dancing in her eyes.
"I thought you weren't going to answer that question," Tyson said, his voice lowering slightly, one corner of his mouth lifting in appreciation.
"You're always more enthusiastic when you get a reward," she quipped, reaching for the silver bodysuit Tyson had crafted.
He watched with an appreciative gaze as she began pulling on the suit. "It is a nice view," he admitted as he absorbed the sight of her and was reminded of their moments of shared intimacy.
Illyana paused with the suit halfway up her body, clinging to her curves, and gave him a knowing look through lowered lashes. "Probably not as enticing after the night you had..." Her voice carried a teasing lilt that failed to completely mask the edge beneath. "Or are you still insatiable?"
Tyson shrugged casually. "A man can admire, can't he?"
Illyana laughed at his non-answer as she continued dressing. When she reached her thighs, she encountered a problem. The material refused to pull higher, too tight against her skin. This puzzled her, as she knew the outfit should fit perfectly, form-fitting yet flexible. But now, it lacked the flexibility.
"It's too tight," she said, still in her underwear and giving Tyson an unobstructed view of her body.
Tyson smacked his forehead as realization struck. "Adamantium doesn't stretch," he mused. "I can't just use threads and a material made so tight as a template. Sorry, it's my first time."
He lifted his hands, fingers spreading with practiced control. The adamantium responded to his will, flowing like quicksilver through the air. "Put on your regular clothes first," he said, motioning toward the nearby athletic wear.
Illyana grabbed her workout clothes and slipped them on with smooth movements. The dark material contoured to her form, familiar and comfortable. She rested one hand on her hip and struck a pose. "Better?"
"Much," Tyson replied, though his appreciative gaze suggested he enjoyed both views equally. "Now, hold still."
The liquid adamantium flowed toward Illyana, encircling her in silvery streams. She squirmed as the metal touched her clothes. "That tickles," she giggled, struggling to maintain composure.
"That's not helping," Tyson grumbled, concentrating as she wiggled. His hands moved in intricate patterns, guiding the metal flow with precise gestures. Instead of weaving threads through fabric, he formed tiny rings, each perfect and uniform. The rings linked together in an elaborate pattern, creating a flexible mesh that covered her athletic wear. The adamantium ringmail offered protection while allowing freedom of movement.
"This should work better," Tyson explained, his focus intense. "The rings will let the suit flex with you." His fingers traced invisible patterns as he added clasps at strategic points where sections overlapped. "And these will let you remove it easily if needed."
Illyana twisted experimentally, testing her new armor. "It feels lighter than I expected," she said, stretching her arms above her head.
"Each ring is incredibly thin," Tyson explained while making final adjustments to the clasps. "But together, they're strong enough to stop most attacks." He stepped back to admire his work, satisfaction evident in his expression.
"And it looks good, too," Illyana observed.
Tyson smiled as he watched her explore the armor. "Form and function," he said. "Though I must admit, watching you test it out is pretty distracting."
Illyana gave him a knowing look, deliberately stretching again to observe his reaction. "You're easily distracted today," she teased.
"Can you blame me?" Tyson asked, his eyes following the motion of the armor. "Besides, I need to make sure everything moves properly."
"Is that what you're checking?" Illyana laughed, performing a slow spin. "The movement?"
"Among other things," Tyson admitted with a grin, his hands still making minor adjustments to the armor's fit. "Now stop moving for a minute so I can finish these clasps properly."
His eyes lingered on how the suit accentuated her athletic build. "I did my best," he replied, satisfaction evident in his tone. "I wanted to make sure you're protected." The words carried more weight than their simple meaning, a declaration of care disguised as practicality.
Illyana flexed her arms and twisted at the waist, testing the suit's range of motion. The material moved with her, adapting to every shift and stretch. "It's surprisingly comfortable," she said, a note of approval warming her voice. "And it doesn't restrict my movements at all." She executed a quick series of martial arts stances, and the suit flowed with her.
"Good," Tyson said, his eyes still locked on the suit, tracing the patterns he had crafted with such care.
"Only you would turn a potentially life-saving gift into an excuse to check me out," she said, shaking her head in amusement.
"What can I say?" Tyson replied with a grin that lit up his face, momentarily banishing the shadows of grief and responsibility. "I'm a man of many talents."
Then Tyson spent several hours explaining the Infinity Saga, and Illyana listened with growing understanding and concern.
— Rogue Redemption —
As he finished his story, he circled back for context. "Next spring will be the Battle of New York. Loki will try to invade, obtaining the Tesseract and bringing the scepter holding the Mind Stone." The words settled between them, foretelling a future not yet written.
"That's why I couldn't go to Kamar-Taj," he continued. "I need to be in New York for that battle. It's... important."
"And after the battle?"
"After that, I will join you at Kamar-Taj."
Illyana sat there, her mind reeling from what Tyson had revealed. After what felt like an eternity, she spoke, voice barely audible. "How do you know all this?"
Tyson sank back onto the sofa beside her. "It's hard to explain," he began, "It's like memories. But not mine. Memories from another version of me, from a different Earth. One where all of this has already happened. That's why I've been training, gathering resources, trying to prepare. Because I know what's coming and how bad it can get if we're not ready."
Illyana reached out, taking Tyson's hand in hers. "That's a lot," she said softly, the understatement tinged with genuine concern.
Tyson squeezed her hand. "Yeah, it is. That's why I'm glad you're here now. I've wanted to tell you for so long, but..."
"But I wasn't here," Illyana finished for him.
"And it's not exactly the kind of thing you can just blurt out over the phone."
Illyana arched an eyebrow, her expression turning sardonic. "And who else knows about this world-ending knowledge of yours?" The question carried an edge beneath its casual delivery.
"Natasha. Felicia. Jessica..." Tyson listed the names matter-of-factly, then paused before adding, "Jubilee knew."
"Ah, I see," Illyana said sarcastically. "So your policy is only to inform the women you've slept with that the end of the world is coming?"
Tyson shook his head but looked somewhat abashed. "It's not like that," he protested, but under Illyana's withering stare, he admitted, "Okay, maybe there's some truth to that."
"How progressive of you," Illyana said wryly.
"Fine, I get it. I'll tell Logan, too, to break the streak."
She rolled her eyes. "Well, I'm honored to join the exclusive club," she said. Her tone softened, and her lips curled into a playful smirk as she leaned closer to Tyson. "It's been about a year," she said, her voice low and teasing. "So, do I need to renew my membership?"
"Is that what you want?" he shot back.
Her smile faded, and she looked away with unfocused eyes, and her fingers twisted one of her long bangs. "I don't know," she admitted softly.
"Can you tell me about Victor?" she asked. The question was unexpected, but he knew it was inevitable.
His expression hardened at the mention of the name. "Victor Von Doom," he started in a serious tone. "In the future, he's known as Doctor Doom. He takes over a country. Latveria. He tries to take over the world. He's smart and strong. Magic, technology, he's good at it all, almost the best. But not quite."
"Now, you tell me about Victor," he prompted.
Illyana's gaze dropped to her hands, which she clasped tightly in her lap. "When I arrived at Kamar-Taj, I was lost," she started. "Victor recognized my potential right away."
"He took me under his wing, mentored me. We had a connection." Her eyes flickered up to meet Tyson's before dropping again. "Or at least, I thought we did." He remained silent, giving her space to continue her story. "Slowly, I began to realize the truth. Victor wasn't interested in me, not really. He was interested in my power."
She looked up then, her blue eyes blazed with anger and hurt, lighting her face. "He saw me as a tool he could shape and use. Not as a person."
Tyson's hand twitched as if he wanted to reach out and comfort her, but he held back. Instead, he asked, "What happened?"
Illyana's laugh was bitter and short. "What happened?" she echoed, her voice tinged with anger and regret that colored the air around her. "I was naive, that's what happened." She stood up abruptly, pacing in front of the golden sofa. "I trusted him. I thought he cared about me, about my growth as a sorceress. So when he expressed interest in Limbo, I didn't think twice about bringing him here. At first, it was exciting," Illyana admitted as her pace slowed. "We explored Limbo together. Victor was fascinated by everything. The landscape, the creatures, the very fabric of this realm. His enthusiasm was infectious. He asked so many questions, always wanting to know more. About the demons and about the nature of Limbo itself. And I told him everything I knew."
"But then he started pushing for more. He wanted to go deeper, to places even I hadn't explored. He became obsessed with understanding the fundamental nature of Limbo. And then he found it. Promethium."
"Promethium?" he asked. The term was unfamiliar even in his metaknowledge.
"That's what he called it. He said it was Limbo's anchor, the source of its power, that held this entire realm together." Her voice became mocking as she continued. "He claimed it could be used as an infinite energy source. That it could revolutionize everything back on Earth."
"But I saw the look in his eyes when he talked about it. This wasn't about helping humanity or advancing science. This was about power, pure and simple." Her voice hardened on the last words. "I realized then that this Promethium was what he had wanted all along. Everything else, including the mentoring and the connection we supposedly had, was just a means to an end."
"So I did what I had to do. I banished him from Limbo."
"How did he take that?" he asked, though the answer seemed obvious.
Illyana let out a harsh laugh. "How do you think? He wasn't happy, to say the least." She resumed her pacing. "He raged, threatened, tried to bargain. But I stood firm. I couldn't let him have access to something so powerful, something he clearly intended to misuse."
She stopped suddenly, turning to face Tyson. "You should have seen his face," she said. "In that moment, any pretense of caring about me vanished. All I saw was anger, betrayal... and a promise of revenge."
"So, Doctor Doom, huh?" Illyana said with a hint of her usual sass.
"Trust me, you haven't seen ego until you've seen Doom in full supervillain mode," he said, shaking his head. "The man refers to himself in the third person."
That drew a genuine laugh from Illyana. "Oh God, really?"
Tyson grinned, happy to see some of the old spark return to Illyana's eyes, the familiar mischief that had always drawn him to her. "I wish I were," he said, spreading his hands in mock helplessness. "It's all 'Doom this' and 'Doom that'. Gets old real fast."
"Enough about Victor," she said quietly, her voice gentle now. "Tell me about Jubilee."
Tyson's face fell, a frown creased his brow as he looked down at his hands, fingers intertwined in his lap. "Jubilee was... amazing," he said. "Being with her was like nothing else I've ever experienced." He paused, smiling sadly, eyes distant with memory. "You know, even being turned into a vampire didn't dim her personality at all. If anything, it made her even more vibrant, more alive." He let out a soft chuckle at the irony of his words, but the sound caught slightly in his throat.
Illyana watched him closely, her eyes never leaving his face, reading the grief etched there. "Did you love her?" she asked gently.
"Yeah," he admitted, "I did. I really did." He blinked rapidly, fighting back the tears that threatened to fall. "We'd spend all our time together. Training, gaming, just hanging out. She had this way of making even the most mundane things feel exciting and new."
Illyana reached out, placing a comforting hand on Tyson's arm. "I loved her too, you know," she said softly, her own grief evident in the slight tremor of her words. Tyson looked up, surprised. "After Azazel," Illyana explained, fingers tightened slightly on his arm, "she became my best friend. She was the only one from the institute I still talked to regularly. She had this way of making everything seem okay, even when it wasn't."
"That was Jubilee. Always finding the bright side, no matter how dark things got."
"I knew she'd be good for you," Illyana continued. "You two were such a good fit. It was like watching two puzzle pieces click into place."
"Why did you push for us to be together?" he asked curiously.
"Because I wanted a threesome," she joked.
Almost simultaneously, they both burst into laughter. As their laughter subsided, Tyson wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand, unsure if he cleared away tears of mirth or sorrow.
"After everything you'd been through, I knew you needed someone who could see past all that. Someone who could make you laugh and remind you that there was still good in the world." Illyana admitted.
"Is that really why you pushed for us to be together?" he asked, his tone serious now, weighted with the importance of her answer.
"Well, that and the threesome thing," she quipped, but then her expression softened, all masks fell away. "But mostly, yeah. I wanted you both to be happy. You deserved that."
Tyson reached out, taking Illyana's hand in his. "Thank you," he said softly, voice thick with emotion. "For pushing us together. For understanding."
Illyana squeezed his hand. They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, both lost in their memories of Jubilee. "Remember when you convinced her to help you ambush Logan on his birthday?" she asked.
Tyson snorted, shaking his head in amusement, "How could I forget?"
"And then Logan walked in, and fell right through my portal," Illyana finished, her voice filled with fondness, hands gesturing to mimic the fall.
They both chuckled at the memory, but the sound carried a bittersweet edge.
"You know," Tyson said after a while, his voice thoughtful, breaking the silence gently, "I think Jubilee would be pretty pissed at us right now." Illyana tilted her head in question. "Sitting here, being all mopey," he explained, gesturing between them with his free hand. "She'd probably tell us to get off our asses and do something fun."
A grin spread across Illyana's face, slow at first, then blossomed fully. "You're right," she agreed.
"So, what do you say?" he asked, standing up. "Want to go cause some chaos in her honor?"
Illyana allowed him to pull her to her feet, the silver suit softly clinking as she rose.
"I thought you'd never ask."