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🕑 Added 2025-10-21 22:34:57 +0000 UTCPhoenix Under Siege
“Hey, your name’s Janet, right?” shouted Owen, turning his head to the side and raising his voice over the roar of wind and explosions.
The woman was on the other side of the ruined building, breathing heavily, panic in her eyes.
She lifted her head slightly; her face was a mixture of terror and confusion.
“It looks like you’re afraid of your own power. Maybe that’s what’s making it go out of control,” said Owen firmly. His tone sounded more like a command than a suggestion. “I once heard an old man say, if you’re afraid of doing something you need to do… then do it anyway—do it scared.”
Before Janet could respond, a flash of red flames tore through the air. Owen spun on his heel and leaped just in time; Phoenix’s attack grazed past him, burning the air itself.
At the same time, the rest of the group spread out, launching attacks from every direction, but Jean Grey—wrapped in that supernatural mantle of fire—repelled every strike as if they were nothing more than sparks.
“Then use an emotion stronger than fear!” Owen shouted. “Use anger; rage! Channel every bit of it to crush your fear. Direct your fury at whatever’s scaring you!”
With that, Owen threw his dagger forward with all his strength. The weapon, tethered to his wrist by a metallic cable, began to glow intensely; a red current ran through every fiber of the wire until it reached the blade, which ignited like living fire.
Jean frowned at the surge of power and moved gracefully through the air, dodging the dagger as it passed just inches from her face.
The weapon struck the ground, and a deafening explosion shook the entire battlefield. The earth cracked open, leaving a smoking crater as a wave of dust rose into the air.
Everyone stared in shock. Owen stood firm, watching the aftermath with a satisfied grin.
“Let it all out!” he yelled enthusiastically.
“She can’t do that! That’s the worst thing she could do!” shouted Emma from a distance, frowning.
“It works for the big guy,” replied Owen, pointing toward Hulk.
The green colossus roared and came crashing down, his fist descending like a meteor toward Jean. “GROOOWW!” he bellowed. Jean dodged his strike as easily as she had Owen’s, but the impact kicked up another wave of dust and debris, making the nearby buildings tremble.
“Come on, stop being a kid!” Owen barked, his tone pure command. “It’s your power! You control it, not the other way around! Now scream and aim at the damn witch who’s trying to kill you!”
Owen’s voice echoed like a drill sergeant’s order, so forceful that even Janet—who had no military training whatsoever—straightened instinctively. Her body reacted as if discipline were carved into her soul. After all, Owen had once been a high-ranking soldier, a commander who had led entire battalions through war zones. His voice carried authority by nature.
Janet looked at him, then turned her gaze back to Jean, who was effortlessly deflecting every attack from the heroes around her.
Her breathing quickened, fear melting into raw fury. Her face flushed red, and with both hands raised toward the enemy who had almost killed her and Doctor Emma, she screamed with all her strength.
Dozens, then hundreds of crystalline swords and daggers materialized around her. They floated for a heartbeat, then, with a sharp whistling sound, launched all at once toward Jean, slicing through the air and cutting apart everything in their path.
The car Hulk had thrown was shredded to pieces; the missile Tony had fired from his shoulder exploded midair; even the block of concrete Wanda had hurled with her magic was sliced into a thousand fragments by the storm of blades.
Jean lifted her gaze, her expression turning serious. With a single gesture, she stopped everything. The swords froze midair, suspended like an enormous ring of crystal locked in time.
“Well done,” said Owen with a grin. His feet glowed with a crimson light and, in a blink, he vanished from the ground, reappearing atop one of the floating swords.
With nearly impossible movements, he leaped from blade to blade, each one shattering from the force of his steps as he accelerated, leaving behind a red streak of energy.
He wasn’t using his power to stay airborne; that would consume far too much energy, and his reserves had only just begun to recover. Instead, he used Janet’s swords as footholds—a temporary path through the sky.
Within seconds, he was face-to-face with Jean. His fist ignited with a crimson aura that rose from his feet, coursed up his back, shoulders, and arms, and finally concentrated in his hand. The blow struck the invisible barrier protecting the mutant.
Jean was sent flying backward; the barrier held, but glowing cracks appeared across its surface like veins of light.
“Nice… looks like she’s not even fully connected yet,” muttered Owen as he fell from above. He extended the cable, hooking it onto one of the floating swords to slow his descent and land smoothly.
From the ground, he looked toward the spot where Jean had been thrown. She stared back at him, eyes cold, as if she had just identified her primary target.
“Hey, new powers?... Cool,” said Tony, approaching while firing laser beams from his palms and chest.
“I’ve got more power, but I was fighting that damn Superman before coming back,” Owen said with a cocky grin.
“What? No way—that’s a comic book,” Tony shot back, turning his head toward him just in time to dodge a red flare that flew past, vaporizing a nearby building.
“Everything can be real,” Owen replied arrogantly. “Didn’t they ever teach you about the multiverse?”
“And let me guess—you lost, right?” said Tony suspiciously.
“Of course not. I beat the crap out of him. Almost won, but we had to come back,” said Owen, smirking even wider.
“Yeah, sure… totally believable,” Tony muttered as he dodged another fiery blast.
Hulk tried to strike Jean again, but the mutant caught him effortlessly and hurled a bus his way, sending him crashing several meters across the street. He landed beside Owen, groaning, then shook his head and gave a goofy, satisfied grin.
“Owen, my friend,” said Hulk, his voice clearer than usual. In fact, he sounded almost… intelligent.
“I’ve been teaching him,” commented Nicholas over the radio. “He can even do math now. And run errands.”
“Can you all stop joking while the world is hanging by a thread?” interrupted a deep, unfamiliar voice to some of them. It was Colossus, member of the X-Men, carrying a massive slab of concrete before hurling it toward Jean.
“What’s the plan, Colt?” asked Cyclops tensely through the communicator that linked everyone.
“Obviously, for now, it’s to knock her out,” replied Owen, his expression turning serious. “Then let the psychics separate Jean Grey from… the evil Jean Grey.” He paused for a second. “Or whatever the hell she’s called.”
“Separate them?” asked Cyclops, confused.
“Just knock her out for now,” answered Owen firmly.
“Easier said than done. She seems to be getting stronger by the second,” replied Tony as he flew straight toward Jean. He extended his arms and aimed the sonic projectors on his armor at her. A sharp, vibrating roar filled the air; a wave of sound tore through Jean’s telekinetic defenses as if they were made of smoke.
For a moment, it seemed to work. Jean clutched her ears, screaming in pain, as the objects around her began to float. The ground shook violently.
“Well… doesn’t seem that hard,” Tony quipped with a grin. But before he could celebrate, Jean raised a hand and, without even looking at him, sent the same massive concrete block Colossus had thrown earlier hurtling straight into him, knocking him out of the sky.
Owen observed closely. He’d noticed something—right before Jean defended herself, her face had twitched, as if she had truly felt pain.
He gritted his teeth, twisting the cables in his hands as the daggers at their ends whistled sharply through the air.
“Janet! I need another foothold!” he shouted.
The woman, still trembling but with a new determination blazing in her eyes, lifted her hands. Her breathing was erratic, but fear no longer ruled her body; something different—furious resolve—had taken its place.
This time, it wasn’t hundreds of swords that appeared. It was thousands. The sky filled with crystalline blades gleaming like stars before they surged toward Jean, slicing the air with a deafening roar.
Jean didn’t try to stop them with her mind. Instead, she erected a barrier of pure energy, a fiery shield glowing with red and golden flames.
Owen propelled himself upward. Though the blades moved at incredible speed, he weaved between them without a single cut, each movement precise, almost inhuman. His daggers floated behind him, linked by cables, following like a swarm of crimson fire.
Then, suddenly, he stopped. Leaping backward, he extended both arms and pulled hard on the cables. Red energy surged through every metallic thread, flowing like a torrent toward the daggers.
But this time, he wasn’t aiming at Jean. The daggers met right in front of her barrier, clashing together with tremendous force.
The explosion was instant. A sonic wave erupted in all directions, scattering Janet’s blades through the air and shaking the ground like an earthquake. Owen was thrown back by the shockwave—along with anyone else nearby.
For a moment, there was only silence. Then the dust began to settle.
“You’ve gotta warn us when you do something like that!” yelled Steve Rogers, pressing his ears in pain as a high-pitched ringing filled the air.
Owen staggered to his feet amid the rubble, covered in dust. “Sorry, my bad,” he muttered with a grimace; his enhanced hearing had taken the full brunt of the blast.
Everyone turned toward where Jean had been. She still stood there, motionless within the haze. She waved her hand, and the smoke vanished instantly. Her face, now twisted in rage, looked almost divine—like an angry goddess. The flames around her burned hotter, and the air itself seemed to warp.
Her eyes glowed with fury as she aimed both hands at Owen.
“Aaaaaah!” Jean roared, unleashing a wave of black fire.
The attack thundered like a torrent of pure destruction, annihilating everything in its path. Dizzy and exhausted, Owen barely lifted his head. The fiery wave passed right beside him, erasing three entire buildings. Luckily, the civilians had already been evacuated—otherwise, it would have been a massacre.
Owen watched calmly as a thin trickle of blood ran from Jean’s ears. He smiled.
“It worked,” he said, raising his voice. “Now’s the time!”
He could feel Jean’s defenses fading just as she tried to destroy him. Tony reappeared behind her, activating the sonic cannons again—this time at full power. The vibrations struck Jean’s back, forcing her down to her knees.
She tried to rise, but a figure appeared before her—Emma Frost, her expression cold and composed.
“Sorry, but you tried to kill me, so don’t blame me for this,” she said, then punched Jean square in the face, knocking her unconscious.
“Hurry up! We only have one shot, and it won’t last long!” shouted Owen toward Charles, Wanda, and Emma.
The three rushed over immediately, surrounding Jean’s body. None of them knew exactly what to do, but there was no time to hesitate.
“What are we supposed to do?” asked Wanda, still bewildered.
“Attack her mind with everything you’ve got! Make entering Jean’s head feel like dying—make her want to escape! Meanwhile, Wanda, create a container for her!” Owen barked, urgency in his tone.
Wanda stared at him, confused. “A container? How am I supposed to do that?”
“Use your power. Make something that can hold her—a new body, a construct, whatever. Just make it work!” Owen snapped.
“And how the hell do you expect me to do that?!” Wanda shouted, on the verge of collapse.
“I don’t know—imagine it!” Owen yelled back, frustrated.
“Are you an idiot?!” Wanda screamed, finally venting all her pent-up anger.
“Just do it!” roared Owen.
“If you think it’s that easy, then do it yourself!” Wanda shot back furiously.
Meanwhile, the others looked on with a mix of concern and amusement, not sure whether to intervene or grab popcorn. Pietro appeared suddenly, covered in dust and breathing heavily. He’d been busy evacuating civilians from the danger zone.
“What the hell’s going on here?” he asked, bewildered.
“Couples’ quarrel,” commented Tony with his usual smug grin, even as he adjusted the damaged systems in his armor.
While they bickered, Emma and Charles remained focused, trying to break into Jean’s mind. Emma lacked Charles’s finesse, but the old professor guided her patiently, step by step, through the psychic inferno that was Jean’s consciousness.
“You want me to create life? Are you seriously asking me to have a child right now just so that witch can take over its body?!” Wanda shouted at Owen, incredulous.
Owen raised both hands in surrender, saying nothing—only making her even angrier.
Comments
Hannan Potashman
Thank you for the chapter
Nicolae
That end made me laugh, even though I know I shouldn't.
