Envisionings (2nd Edition) Part 11 💉🩸

Desktop Cerebro alerts to two mutant events.

Cyclops: "We'll take the Jet to Central Park. Colossus and Iceman, go on my motorcycle to the second location. And Colossus-"

"Da. No metal form while riding."

Central Park.

A quaking ripple spreads out from the epi-centre of an individual -a mutant with seismic --no, shockwave powers; able to send a destabilizing wave through even the air itself.

Screams are heard, though no real injuries --yet; people being evacuated as effectively as they can by the police while other officers train their weapons on the wayward threat.

Shockwave Mutant: "Space invaders!!"

Subordinate Officer: "What's he callin' us- aliens!?" 

Senior Officer: "Mutants and their twisted mentalities. Don't let 'em cloud ya-- what the-?"

As if on cue, a fog suddenly accumulates in the officers' lines of sight.

Subordinate Officer: "One a' those X-Men are a weather mutant, aren't they? Do we engage?"

The Senior Officer's look hardens with consideration. Possibly consternation. "Let's ensure this crowd stays back--" he turns to address his other officers and the crowd, "alright everyone back! Let's move it back!"

On the other side of the fox, the X-Men have a clear view of the other mutant.

Shockwave Mutant: "Who are you now?! Some kinda' special ops?!"

Cyclops: "People just like you. And we're here to help."

The other mutant responds with another shockwave -nearly sending the X-Men off balance.

"What are you gonna' do about it!"

They make to get in closer, but where his initial shockwaves were linear,

the next goes out in all directions.

"Make me stop!"

Reasoning seems out of the question as he ramps up the attack.

Cyclops: "He's makin' it too risky to take a shot -I can't steady it."

Rogue: "And ah can't reach 'im lahk this!"

Storm makes to fly out of the rippling reach to set up for an offensive move but the other mutant presses harder --resulting in the battle becoming less contained as he aims his aerial shockwaves to try and take down his flying foe --more screams heard as the crowd behind the fogline feels more of the assault --a distinct sound indicating something has crumbled.

Police crowd control can be overheard mixed with offensive coordination. "Move back in-- bring everything-- It could be us against every one. . ."

Things are going sideways. .

. .but Cyclops has noticed something through the targeted attack on Storm. Where the mutant isn't specifically focusing, the shockwaves are less. It could be enough.

"We're gonna' have to be fast!"

He starts blasting the ground --sending earth spraying up into their adversary's visual field from multiple points to disorient and primarily misdirect him.

Storm follows-through, soaring behind the other mutant before he notices she's gone, and sending a crashing bolt of lightening straight into him.

The quaking mutant goes down -however even unconsciousness isn't enough to stop the aftershock-sized waves from going out from his body! Their strength concentrated even more heavily on the ground now that he lays there.

If the X-Men don't find a permanent fix quick, they'll be looking at a fissure.

And so, Cyclops gives a command: "Time for a Southern Wind."

Quick as a squall, Storm catches Rogue in a mastered jet stream, sending her over the quaking ground and through the less turbulent airwaves to deftly deposit the younger X-Man in reaching distance --and having removed her glove on the way, Rogue now extends her hand towards the other mutant's exposed arm: "He asked for this!"

It takes Rogue a moment more not to release shockwaves from the borrowed

powers herself, but then finally, everything on this side of the fog is still. . .

. . .Meanwhile, at a construction site across the city, an unsteady game is being played.

We see a young teen boy touching sections of concrete making up a partially-constructed building; built enough to be serious trouble if it all came crashing down.

And from what the boy is specifically doing, it could.

A section disintegrates the span of his hand and about as deep, as he shifts from having his hand spread to a kind of reaching-in/holding motion.

The result being akin to have carved out and removed a chunk of wall, except with an equal amount of rubble spilling out of the hole.

With more effort, the boy is able to reintegrate this rubble, in effect reversing what he did; making the wall whole again.

He does this at intervals, testing what he can and can't remove before things seem unstable, like some odd game of life-size Jenga. And it looks like he's been at it for a while.

So long that it seems he may've reached his limit, as his next "move" sees him only disintegrating enough to leave a handprint as though in wet cement, only with

deeper fingertips. His quizzical expression evidencing his lack of intention to do this.

The young teen exhales, turning his hand over to stare at his palm, then looks up at and across the wall, seeing all he's done. With another sigh, he leaves his handprint and moves to a hole to see if he can reintegrate.

At first it's no-going, but then just as the young teen is about to leave with an unsettled conscience, he looks at his hand again as if some sudden sensation drew him to.

He tries again and reintegration is easy.

But a little grin is mixed with a discomfited knitting of his brows. .he fidgets in a certain way, like the sensation feels at least as uncomfortable as it feels good. . .and then his look back up at the wall speaks of an impulse. . .

. . . .leading to his next move.

First, he sets both his palms against the wall, clearly intending to go bigger before he goes home -yet his disintegration area surprises him. Second, all of his senses tell him he better put everything back before it's game over. Third, his fear impedes his ability to reintegrate -is it even his fear? While some of the chunk gets remade, the rest seems completely gone, as though he not only disintegrated too much but too thoroughly.

He frantically looks around for where the rest of the rubble should be-

-then back up at the building.

The young teen now paralyzed now in the shadow of what's threatening to come down--!

All of a sudden a sound like water from a firehose but sharper--

--the young teen watches as his gaps are filled in with ice coming from the hands of a man maneuvering around on a slide made of the same.

"Get out of here, kid!" Iceman stares at his work. "It isn't gonna' last long in this heat."

He slides over to where Colossus is sizing up concrete pipes.

Though instead of "getting out of here", the "kid" has come over to see if can he part of the solution. "I've got it!"

Stopping in front of one of the pipes, he positions his fingers as though holding a thick brick, intending to "cut-out" a like-chunk of the pipe. For the briefest moment he's managing to disintegrate only around the section he's "holding" while leaving the middle, but in the next he's watching, eyes wide, as a rippling disintegration spreads across the entire surface.

Colossus: "You have good attitude, bojskaut. But leave repairs to us."

The metallic X-Man then looks over towards a concrete mixer and bags of two of its components. He shifts attention to his comrade: "You think you can melt ice?"

Iceman considers before shooting his ice into a container, then creating a thick ice-lens to focus the sun; melting the contained ice expeditiously.

Transporting this into the drum of the mixer, Colossus then takes over -his organic metal form impervious to the particulate matter of the cement as he hauls it and the gravel into the drum. The keyless machine inert, Colossus proceeds to turn the drum himself, then -once the mixture is complete- disconnects it to bring it over to the destabilized building.

Iceman: "Maybe there's a job for you after all," he directs the young teen, "think you can disintegrate just my ice so he can fill the hole?"

Tentatively, the young teen tries it, touching one of the ice-filled holes with barely two of his fingers. It works -his powers not spreading across materials.

Colossus refills the cavity with the mutant-special concrete and, after doing this with all the holes in turn, all that's left is to erect a little framework and let time and science finish the job.

Afterward.

Iceman: "You should be more careful with your powers."

"I know. I just felt like- I just had to. It was making me crazy." He looks up, discomfort and concern mixed in his face. "It still is." He turns towards the building. "Like I just wanna. . !" He doesn't finish, either quieted by the enormity of his desire or not wanting to say it out loud.

"Mutations can hit hard sometimes." He glances at Colossus. "We get it."

The young teen looks back at them, wondering if they really do get it.

Colossus: "We come from a school for mutants. We can take you. You'll learn to manage along with normal studies."

The young teen casts them a careful stare. If that's true, he just experienced the result of their extracurriculars: "For real you guys went there?"

Iceman smiles: "We still live there."

Seeing him still considering, Colossus adds: "First we can speak to your parents."

The young teen suddenly shakes his head: "It's just my Dad. And he doesn't know."

Iceman recognizes his look: "Don't worry. He won't have to."

Meanwhile, in a location deemed safer should he start up again, the shockwave mutant awakes.

He looks at his hands similar to how the young teen had; as though looking at, or in this case, for something. He stands up, taking a stance like he's aiming when his eye is caught by the sun glinting off something that has just moved out from the shadows.

Cyclops fixes the man with a visored stare that quite plainly says: 'I'd make a different choice'.

The other mutant rounds on him. "What the hell'd you jerks do to me?!"

Rogue: "Just gave you a hand in calmin' down."

"I was finally scratchin' the itch! Feeling my power-- now look!"

He aims away from them with a frustrated focus, yet--nothing.

"You neutered me!!"

Rogue exchanges a look with Storm. "It should only be temporary. ."

Storm: "Maybe the next time you choose to 'feel your power' you will do so in a constructive way."

The other mutant's seething eyes rove over the uniformed trio, "privileged do-gooding-assholes," he practically spits beneath his breath, his hateful gaze lingering a second longer on Cyclops.

Tense with anger and anticipation that they'll stop him, he turns to leave.

But there isn't anything else to do; the situation has been neutralized.

With looks of mixed uncertainty, the X-Men momentarily watch him go. And if they were then about to make any comment on things, they're interrupted by Iceman's voice over comm.: "Whenever things are wrapped up on your guys' end, Colossus and I could use a lift."

Cyclops engages his device to respond: "What's wrong with my motorcycle?"

Iceman (hint of play): "We can't really take our new student on it."

Cyclops cracks a smile.

But all is not positive as we Cut-Back-To the others.

The construction crew have returned to their site, and joining them are a few civilians; faces reflecting anger and/or fear.

In response, Iceman and Colossus have taken protective stances in front of the young teen. Colossus speaks, gesturing back towards the building: "No damages! Look! No problem."

The construction crew is more interested in assessing if that's true, some eying the building while others take inventory of their supplies, while the small crowd has a different focus:

Civilian # 1: "I heard that boy! He'll bring it down if you let him-"

Civilian # 2: "-he was trying to! They're just covering their backs-"

Civilian # 3: "Aren't those two of the X-Men?"

Civilian # 1: "Protecting the thugs among them!"

Civilian # 2: "You should all be charged!"

But instead of tensions rising, it's a sudden wind. Similar to the fog back in Central Park, this wind is unnaturally divisive, seeing the crowd shielding their eyes while the duo of X-Men and their young charge seem to be just behind it.

Iceman: "Come on. That's the signal our ride is here."

He shepherds the young teen while Colossus peels off, and the wind barrier transitions to the second sudden fog New York will experience that day, while the aforeseen young teen witnesses the biggest surprise of his so far, as a Blackbird comes in for a landing on an accommodating stretch of asphalt.

We see where Colossus went as he -now in his non-mutated form- wheels Cyclops' motorcycle into the cargo hold, while Iceman introduces: "Everybody, this is Graysen."