SWITCHBACK	ROGUE	CIRCUIT	APEX	GREY GOOSE	THE BRIT	STORM
YUKIO	JESSICA DREW	SILVER SAMURAI	MAVERICK	CHARLOTTE JONES	KESTREL	NEOPHYTE

Montana

The bullet ripped from the muzzle without a second’s hesitation. Under optimal conditions (wind traction, gravity, distance), her customized handguns carried more kick than the average rifle, resulting in a projectile speed of over three thousand feet per second. With the target less than twenty feet away, his brains should have been splattered against the wall before she could begin to doubt her actions. Just the way she liked it.

But the bullet never met its target. Instead, it stopped in mid-flight, spinning in the air against an invisible wall. The metal casing unspooled in a brief shower of brass flecks, and then there was nothing. She stared in shock, grinding her teeth. Spinning on her heels, she leveled her gaze at Apex and asked, “what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Protecting this man’s life,” the telepath answered, still standing between Switchback and her target. Beneath his masks, signs of distension showed along his forehead, indicating how hard he was concentrating on holding the prisoner and stopping her attack. The orange glow grew brighter around his body. “We’re not killing him.”

She wasn’t satisfied with his answer. Keeping one gun on the target, she leveled the other at her new teammate. “How can you say that? He’s been holding hundreds of mutants hostage in this place, including one of our own. Why does he deserve leniency?

“If I hadn’t caught the bullet, then the box would have. As it stands, I have a very tenuous grip on his mind. The box is tethered to his thought patterns, most notably his intellectual impulses. If he’d perceived your shot as a legitimate threat, he would have broken through my mind lock, and the box would have saved his life. I can guarantee that. And if he had reassumed control over the puzzle box, I can’t say that I’d be able to restore my containment. Then we’re all up a creek, and no one’s going home.” Apex paused, and she could hear the draw of breath passing between his pursed lips. “Does that paint an accurate picture for you?”

Sitting behind them, the box’s owner cleared his throat and said, “far be it for me to interrupt, but your time is clearly running low. Your psychic grip is clearly taking a toll upon your body, and the box—whether it appears dormant or not—is always at work. It will work around your offensive, and once freed, it will not be jailed again. I suggest you cut your losses now, while there are still moments to decide.”

Growling under her breath, Switchback reluctantly placed her guns back into their holster. She didn’t like being told how to do her job, especially by someone whose life had already been saved by her guns. Pointing a finger at Apex, she said, “be careful about the fights you pick, boy. You don’t want to find yourself without allies.”

“If it means saving a life, I’ll take my chances. Any time,” Apex replied and turned away from her to look at their opponent. “How do we free your prisoners?”

A smirk spread across the man’s face. “Your teammates are already managing that little trick. You see, we found the little Trojan Horse sent to us by the X-Men, and we turned his powers into an extra layer of security. In addition to my nano-tech illusion generators, we now had a source to turn our test subjects intangible, effectively ghosting them from outside interference.”

Switchback nodded. “We already found Neophyte. It’s just a matter of time before Rogue snaps him out of his drooling fit.”

“Do you really have the time to spare, assassin?”

Her eyes narrowed into thin slits as she regarded him. Jerking a thumb toward Apex, she simply offered, “If he wouldn’t let me kill you, what makes you think that I’m going to get the A-OK to pull the trigger on a defenseless child?”

“Expediency.” The man climbed from his sitting position, slowly regaining his feet. “There is a long and sordid history of self-perceived heroes—such as yourselves—weighing the value of a singular life, instead of the needs of the many. What you’re witnessing at this facility is science boiled down to its basest elements. Experimentation is the key to curing any disease, but sometimes, once needs to understand the value of amputating the source of the disease.”

“Out of the question,” Apex cut in, his voice pitching erratically as a tremble set in over his body. Leaning his head toward Switchback, he said, “go now. Hurry back to Rogue and Goose. Help them get as many of those prisoners out of there as possible. I’m going to hold back the flood gates as long as I can.”

She didn’t have to think twice on his request. Starting back toward the door, she paused before leaving and asked, “how much time can you give us?”

“Not nearly long enough.”

The Savage Land

“Who are these guys, anyway?” Kestrel asked, his back pressed against the wall and jerking his thumb toward the room beyond the next doorway. “The British guy I’ve heard about, but the rest weren’t anywhere in the dossier. I don’t like surprises.”

Jessica Drew ran her splayed fingers back through her hair, biting back on her own frustrations. “Storm’s intel says this guy is calling the shots for one of the other cells in the Mutant Underground. It stands to reason that the rest of the metas are his team. That guy is all about secrets, and you don’t pull off a job of this immensity solo, not without tipping your hand to how powerful you really are.”

Kestrel shook his head. “Doesn’t matter how powerful he might be. We’re still out-gunned and out-manned, unless our backup decides to grace us with their presence.”

“They’re still dealing with the Mutates.”

“And that still doesn’t sit well with me,” Wraith replied, dropping his voice to a whisper. A scowl had formed on his face. “Doesn’t it seem a little too coincidental that this used to be their home, and yet, when a pack of trained killers decides to pillage the castle, the freaks are turned loose into the wild? I’m not buying it. If they weren’t expecting outside trouble, why didn’t they just eliminate the witnesses and leave no one-the-wiser?”

Jessica shrugged. “Not for us to worry about, right now. Storm’s smart enough to keep her team from walking into a trap—at least I hope she is—and that means we need to trust her judgment and get our job done. Can we slip past these guys, or do we need to try and plow through them?”

“Where’s the wild child?” Kestrel asked, snapping his fingers to get Jessica’s attention.

Turning back from the enemy, the dark-haired woman scanned the corridor and saw no signs of Yukio. Anger welled up inside her as she whispered, “I’m going to kill her myself.”

A soft chuckle escaped from Kestrel. “You’ll have to wait in line. A girl like her? She’s all sorts of good at pissing people off and getting under their skin. Bet she’s got a row of suitors just waiting to put her in the ground. I guess that’s what makes her one of the best.”

“So, she’s gone off the reservation, and you’re finding this funny?” Jessica shook her head in disbelief. Part of her wondered if Storm had picked her for the wrong mission. This was too large scale, too in-your-face for Jessica’s usual preferences. She preferred more intimate encounters, missions that were just her and the enemy, turning a dance of subterfuge and secrecy. Sighing, she added, “still, we need to find a way deeper into the bowels of this facility. Can you 'port both us?”

“Blindly?” he asked, meeting Jessica’s silent glare. The resistance melted from his face as he took in her serious air. “I can certainly try, just as long as you’re cool with the idea of getting merged with a wall, a box, or another human being. Just sayin’.”

“I’ll take my chances. It’s the best option we have,” she replied. Taking a step forward, she laid her hands on black man’s shoulders and took a deep breath. The air pressure shifted manically, and when she opened her eyes again, they were in a much different hallway. Letting go of her grip on Kestrel, she took a step backward and smiled. “See, that wasn’t as bad as you made it out to be.”

“Yes, lucky that you came down here, wasn’t it?” a voice asked from behind them. Swiveling in place, the pair of heroes found themselves facing a small contingent, led by a black woman in a hood. Her red, twisting locks flowed out from underneath the golden cloth, framing her face in a frazzled, yet intentional way. She raised both hands in front of her, palms front, and said, “don’t worry. We’re the cavalry. My name is Discord, and I’m also with the Underground.”

Jessica wasn’t buying that for a minute. They could be with the group upstairs, marauders set to pick the place over for their own profit, and Jessica certainly wasn’t taking any chances. Balling her right hand into a fist, she reeled back and threw her strongest, fastest punch toward the other woman. The punch sailed wide, missing its mark and casting Jessica off-balance. She stumbled warily into the waiting arms of a behemoth of a man, who gently set her down upon the floor. Shaking her head, she whispered, “how in the hell?”

The woman turned in place, once more facing Jessica. “I told you my name already. Why did you expect your luck to be any different?”

The one-time Spider-Woman shook her head. “I didn’t expect to miss, but that doesn’t matter anymore. You’ve got my ear for the time being. Make it count.”

“I’ll try to keep it brief,” Discord began. Pacing away from her entourage, the black woman rubbed her hands together, obviously looking for the right words. “Three days ago, my team leader—Zero Down—was fed intel that the Brit was on the move, that he’d split his operations in two and was making a grab at some serious tech. That serious tech is here, and it’s called a Z’noxx Chamber.

“Xavier constructed the first chamber with the express purpose of repelling an alien invasion. The chamber focused the latent mental abilities of the world’s population and turned back the invaders. Since then, the original chamber has been a fixture at the Xavier Academy, where it has been used primarily as a mental shield or a prison for the psychically advantaged…”

“How could you possibly know this?” Jessica blinked. She had been working with Storm for about three years now, and half of this was intel from the inside workings of the X-Men, something that Ororo had drawn a line between.

“Because the Brit isn’t the only one capable of worming someone into the inside of an operation,” Discord replied, and before Jessica could interrupt her again, she continued. “My point being, Xavier placed a second chamber here, in storage with his old colleague—Magneto. Xavier may have been high and mighty about his glorious dream, but he was humble enough to know that he might need a self-check in place, in case he went rogue at some point. The Brit is in-play for that second chamber. It’s easier to get to, there’s less opposition in the way, and he’s placed a qualified distraction in your way.”

“The data?”

Discord nodded. “The data. It doesn’t exist. Not in any way that’s reproducible, anyway. Why would a guy like Charles Xavier want to commit every sin and misdeed committed by his black shadows group to record? He wouldn’t. So, you have to ask yourself—what’s the real objective here?”

Jessica spun away from Discord and locked eyes with John Wraith. “Scout ahead. Find this chamber, and find Yukio. You have fifteen minutes of free roam, and then I want you back on my position, whether I’ve moved or not. I’m riding co with these folks and clearing a path for our back-up.” She turned back to Discord. “You okay with that plan?”

“We’re in.” Discord jerked a thumb toward her two companions. “This is Tremor and Whimper.”

“And your boss?”

“M.I.A. since the data fell into our hands.”

“Well, isn’t that good news?”

In his little corner of the world, Kenuichio Harada would have stormed the citadel with a thousand Hand foot soldiers at his beck and call. Today, he was doing it with a team of four—himself included. To say that he felt undermanned was an understatement.

Reaching to the bandolier hanging about his chest, the Silver Samurai removed a stack of hira-shuriken and infused them with tachyon particles, imbuing each metal star to the point of bursting. Silently, he mouthed a word of prayer to his ancestors and then gave flight to the shaken. The five stars impaled the side wall of the citadel in a nearly straight line, and when the fifth stuck its target, the foundation of the building was rocked by an explosion of tachyon energy.

When the dust and rubble cleared, their way was opened into the citadel. Bowing low to Storm, Kenuichio gestured toward the entrance and said, “our path is set before us. Let us meet with honor upon the field of battle.”

“Honor rewards those who act honorably, Mr. Harada, and you have proven your character in short time,” Ororo replied, hovering through the makeshift entrance. As she passed through the threshold, lightening danced from his fingertips and coalesced into a ball of light, casting the shadows back to the far corners. “Be on guard, our enemy should be soon…”

Her words were cut-off as a buffet of wind flung Storm against the ceiling and then back down the floor. Cracks appeared beneath the weather goddess as she struggled to push herself up from the onslaught. Anger lit across her face and she bellowed, “You dare to use the power of nature against me, stripling?”

Stepping from the far side of the room, Reysa Devare swirled the winds back around her and let them die back down. “There is no ownership, Wind Rider. None of us can claim lordship—or ladyship, as it may pertain—over the fabrics of the world. But those of us blessed to utilize them—and we are blessed, well and truly blessed—are just as manipulated by them as they are by us. It’s the give-and-take that makes us who we are—never forget that, and never turn your back on one who manipulates the air you breathe.”

The lightning bolt leapt from Ororo’s hands, and as Reysa dove away and rolled into a tuck, the lightning struck the floor with a snap. Reysa turned back and snapped her fingers. The winds climbed once more to life, picking up the dust and rubble, and started to build a dense cocoon around Storm. The walls of the cocoon tightened more and more, chunks cutting against Storm’s face and bare arms.

Across the room, Kenuichio was bringing up the rear. His hand went to the hilt of his sword, ready to pull it from the scabbard. From in front of him, Charlotte placed her hand down upon his wrist and shook her head. Tilting her head backward, Detective Jones said, “if you try to cut her loose, you run the risk of slicing through her, too. There’s no honor in jumping at risks. Let Storm take care of herself. This other chick didn’t come alone.”

“No, she didn’t—and she ain’t the most dangerous one here, either.” A dark-haired, pale man with scarlet tattoos said from their left. His gaze locked with Charlotte’s, and suddenly, her left thigh erupted with blood shooting from every pore. “Surrender now or I’ll bleed her out in a matter of seconds.”

Raising his gun in motion that was far quicker than Harada would have expected, Maverick lined up his sights and took the shot. One, two, three laser-driven rounds rippled through the man’s leg, entering and exiting in an identical pattern to what Sanguine had done to Charlotte. Keeping his gun aimed, Maverick said, “You or her, chum. I can add some more holes if you need some extra convincing to help make your decision.”

A blur of motion rocketed from across the room and stuck Maverick mid-section, carrying him back through the hole in the wall of the citadel. The turned back to the room and came once more for its assault. The Silver Samurai turned in place, drew his sword and sliced low. A scream of pain howled as the would-be attacker tripped and rolled against the floor, the lower tendons of his ankles severed. Rising back, Kenuichio positioned his katana in front of him and said to Sanguine, “Three choices now. Make it quick.”

“Useless whelps,” Reysa screamed from across the room. Suddenly, the air grew thinner and the heroes stumbled to their feet. “Must I do everything myself?”

Harada’s hands flew to his face, peeling back his signature face-mask as he gasped for air. There was none to be found, and soon, the world grew black.

Montana

The kid was untouchable. Trapped in his transient, intangible state, the young mutant known as Neophyte was both their responsibility and their impediment. Biting down on her lip, Rogue shook her head in disgust. Tapping her earpiece, she called to their backup, “Circuit, Ah need you to focus everything you got on these nanite-whatevers. I’m not comfortable making a grab for the kids if they’re infected with these things.”

“Doing what I can now, Rogue. Once Apex tied down the power source in the basement, I was able to get a grip on their inner workings,” the technomancer replied in a dulcet baritone. “Problem is, from what I can tell you, the nanites aren’t responsible for locking the prisoners down. They’re an intricate, five-senses hallucination generator. Basically, the hostages are being drugged by their captors, but otherwise, they have free roam of the facility. Probably why there wasn’t much in the way of opposition. That likely means that our inside man is being used to construct the actual prison walls.”

“You mean…?”

“They’re all in tangential harmony with Neophyte. Vibrational frequencies or however it functions outside the application of explored sciences. Fact of the matter is, until we take out that kid, you’re not going to free your prisoners.”

Rogue shook her head. “Well, isn’t that comforting?” Behind her, Grey Goose was patting her on the shoulder, informing her to Switchback’s absence. Just one more thing for her plate of concerns. “Goose, Ah’m going to do something I don’t particularly like, but we’re in some pretty desperate times. Ah want you to be prepared to receive the prisoners and to escort them to our transport as quickly as possible. You cool with that?”

“Yes, ma’am,” the young man answered, nodding in time with his words.

Raising her left hand, Rogue rolled the form-fitting glove down her forearm and tugged it from her fingers. Her flesh now bared, she drew a deep breath and said, “Ah don’t even know if this is gonna work.”

She reached forward tentatively. Running her hand along where Neophyte’s cheek would normally be, she made flesh-to-intangible flesh contact. A deep wince rolled through her body, and before her, the boy shimmered and sparked back into solidity. Pulling back as if she’d been stung by a bee, Rogue quickly stuffed her hand back into her glove and said, “The things they did to him, the things I saw in his head—they’re unforgivable…”

One by one, the prisoners phased back into view, sitting neatly in rows along the sides of the room. As they did, a computer-generated image pieced itself together into the form of a woman in a long, white medical coat. “If you are seeing this, you have no doubt freed our test subjects from their sedation programs. The days ahead will be troublesome and disorienting, and they may lead to outbursts from these young mutants, especially as the nanite probes wash from their systems and their manifesting abilities resurface. I do not envy you, and I am sorry for the trouble and grief that lies before you. Please know that what we did, we did in the name of science, in the name of furthering the mutant condition and breaking down the walls of hatred and loathing that pervade our social consciousness…”

“Circuit, shut that gibberish down,” Rogue bellowed, slamming his fist against the floor.

From around the far corner of the corridor, Switchback came running at a full sprint. Her eyes widened as they locked on the prisoners and scanned the crowd for the one friendly face. She brushed past Rogue without a word and knelt down before her former teammate. Lifting his chin with her fingers, she looked him in the eye and said, “Geoff, it’s me. Can you hear me? We’ve come to take you home…”

The boy only managed a mumble and said, “It’s so cold…”

“I know, but we’ll take ya someplace safe and warm.” She lifted the boy in her arms and turned back to Rogue. “Apex said to get a move on. The warden’s slipping free of his shackles, and we don’t have a lot of time.”

Behind them, Grey Goose had constructed a conveyor belt of solid darkness, and it was lifting the freed captives toward the jet waiting on the lawn outside. When he heard Switchback’s words, the shadow manipulator began to double-time it. “What about Apex?”

The silver-haired woman adopted a solemn look on her face. Her eyes glanced slightly to the left, and she said, “he told us to get airborne and get clear. He’ll follow behind when he’s certain we’re at a safe distance.”

“Like hell he will,” Rogue interrupted, trying to climb to her feet. Her legs gave out beneath her, and she started to flicker in and out of tangibility.

Goose looked from Switchback and then back to Rogue again, “We don’t have the time—and you don’t have the energy—to question his judgment. Trust him as he would trust in us, and we’ll pull through this.”

“You better be right, kid.”

The Savage Land

Standing outside the Z’noxx Chamber, Nigel Hawthorne ran his fingers along the cold metal that comprised its shell. From outside, it looked so simplistic, so refined, and he wondered how Xavier had ever concocted it. The technology was on-par with anything that the Shi’ar had given the X-Men, and yet, it predated all known contacts Charles had with the Shi’ar Empire. The construction of this marvel should have been impossible, and yet, here it was – ripe for the taking.

In all his wildest dreams, he had never imagined how far this plan would come. Chasing the Dream for all those years, Xavier’s beautiful and short-sighted dream, and here he stood, on the precipice of enacting that dream. Him. He would be the one to achieve it all.

The air quality changed around him, and with lightning fast reflexes, he reached upward and wrapped his fingers around Yukio’s neck. He twisted her in mid-flight and slammed her down against the floor. Sneering down at her, The Brit said, “Did you think you could sneak up on me, Wild One? I’ve been tracking you and your team since you set foot within this citadel, and I am far from an easy target.”

“Wasn’t trying to sneak up on you. I just needed to get in close. It’s more fun that way,” she said back to him in a half-wheeze. She spread her legs in a quick split, hoping to trip the man, but he dodged nimbly, still maintaining his grip. “How…”

The Brit shook his head. “Tut tut, child. We mustn’t give away all our secrets at once. Not with the war about to begin.”

From behind them, the clatter of footsteps flowed into the room, with John Wraith and Jessica Drew leading the charge. Jessica stepped away from the pack and said, “there’s not going to be a war. As we speak, my team is subduing your lackeys, and that leaves you without cover. You’re out-matched, outnumbered, and out-gunned. Step away from the chamber, and we might allow you report to a S.H.I.E.L.D prison with all your limbs intact.”

The humor of the moment was not lost upon him, and Nigel could not help but smile. “First, I feel we should clarify some misconceptions. Your team—or the three ineffective soldiers accompanying the weather goddess—has already been dispatched, courtesy of a saucy minx I picked up from a future timeline. If you’re lucky, she’s not torn them limb from limb—yet.

“And you should know, I am a man with a plan, and I do formulate my actions without planning contingencies. The junior leaguers at your flank are here because I have allowed them to be. I fed both of your groups countering pieces of intelligence, and I took their leader off the board as a potential threat. It would seem that the advantage is mine.” Hawthorne stood there, allowing the snide ambivalence to show prominently on his face.

From behind Jessica, Whimper broke free of the ranks and strode across the room. Stopping just short of Yukio and the Brit, Whimper lowered his voice to a whisper and said, “Tell me what you’ve done with Zero Down. Tell me now.”

“I’ll tell you two things, my dear,” Hawthorne replied. “First, your power of suggestive hypnosis has no sway over me. My mind is my own, and it far too complex for you to seize control over. And second, your leader is safe and sound. In fact, I’m sure he had a few things he’d like to say to you in person.”

Hawthorne stepped to the side, and the group could see Zero Down, sitting behind the controls to the Z’noxx chamber. Raising his left hand, the man positioned his fingers to look like a gun and said, “Whimper, you’re fired.”

A loud report echoed across the closed wall as three beams of energy zipped from Zero Down’s fingers. The energy flashed across the corner of Whimper’s head, tearing away hair and flesh and splattering blood across Jessica’s face. Whimper’s body had still not registered the trauma, and the man fell lifeless to his knees, teetered there for a moment, and then collapsed face-first to the floor.

At the back of the room, Discord’s choked out a cry. “How could you?”

Not permitting Zero Down to answer the question, The Brit jumped back in and said, “Everyone has a price, and nobody wants to be on the losing side. He’s been in my pocket since before Xavier took his leave of this world. That zero energy of his is incredibly useful—both as a weapon and as a mass teleportation function. For instance…”

Hawthorne gestured once more to the Z’noxx Chamber, and as he did, it shimmered and blinked out of existence. In its place, bare floor. “Game, set, and match to me and mine, I’d say. It’s too bad you won’t be able to properly appreciate the way all of this is going to play out. But then again, we are all of us heroes—but not all of us are martyrs. History will record your contribution to the cause.”

With that, he bowed low and pulled a dead-man’s trigger from his breast coat. “I bid you all adieu. I really must be going. Seeds to sow, and all that…”

A glimmer of light flowed back over him, as Zero Down reappeared in the room, placed his hands on Hawthorne’s shoulders, and the pair blinked out of existence. As they disappeared, the trigger fell to the floor. The bomb light switched from green to red, and the Savage Land began to quake.

Montana

“There is still time for you to flee,” Apex looked up the man, confused by the end to the silence that had formed over the last five minutes. Content to have Apex’s attention, the man known as Puzzlebox continued, “There is the slightest chance that you could make it to your teammates before I reassume control of the box—or before it resumes control of me, rather.”

Apex shook his head. He was tired of the pretension and dancing around the subject. “You do realize that I’ve been trolling through your thoughts this whole time, right? So let’s stop pretending that this is something it’s not. There was never a hope for my escape alongside my teammates, and you never had any intention of holding these kids hostage for any longer. This whole thing was setup as an under-the-table trade, and you know it.”

“Oh, do tell.”

“I’ve been the objective the whole time, and your puppet-master knew that my team would be the one to come. That’s why he baited it with one of our former teammates.”

A smile of recognition spread across the other man’s face. “And what of it?”

“I don’t think the ruse was for naught, though. There was legitimate research being done here—well, legitimate in the eyes of the people conducting it—and I’m sure they’ve even postulated some decent advances from the data they received. But the long game—and you guys have been running the game for a long, long time—was always about getting me here and now, locked down by an opponent I can’t hope to beat,” Apex replied. His shoulders slumped forward, suddenly tired of carrying the burden of the lies and subterfuge, the false bravado he’d put up in front of his teammates. “Worse, you showed it all to me the minute I entered the room. You dealt me the cards, and you called my motions before I even had a chance to formulate a plan of my own. I dare you to deny it.”

At that moment, the man’s consciousness slipped free from Apex’s mental grasp and slid back into the box. The intricate layout of the box’s surface simmered and glowed, re-shaping itself before firing a beam of energy at Apex. Screaming in pain, Apex felt his molecules unzip, separate, and then what seemed an eternity later, reform. For a moment, he passed out as his mind tried to reassess its sense of self.

When he reopened his eyes, Apex saw that he was in another place entirely. Cables were running in and out of his arms, and a helmet was affixed to the top of his head. The room he was in was small, cramped, and loaded down with technologies he didn’t recognize.

“I was wondering how soon you’d be rejoining us,” the Brit said, sitting in a chair in another room, the image relayed via a video monitor. “After all, it took so much effort to get you within my grasp. Imagine my surprise when you showed up at my headquarters looking for a fight. You must understand, it was the wrong time—we weren’t ready for you yet, and it would have been extraordinarily difficult to build a proper containment shell that could withstand the beastly essence inside of you.”

“You know?” Apex blinked.

“Dear boy,” the Brit replied, “the cosmic forces bound to your essence—that’s the entire reason I have a use for you. After all, every bomb needs a trigger, and I went after the most powerful one I could find. Coupled with the technologies of your prison, you are now the fuse that will ignite the world into full-out war.”

The Brit flipped back a panel at the end of his chair and pressed down on the button concealed beneath. Electricity rippled through Apex’s body, and a scream erupted from his lips. All the finite control he’d built over his vast mental abilities slipped away, and telepathic energy pulsed outward from his body like radioactivity. Thoughts flowed unbidden through his mind—human and mutant alike—and they were all panicked, in pain, and blinking out slowly.

Fire erupted from behind him, glowing black and orange ethereal fire, and the Phoenix form screamed with him.