Envisionings (2nd Edition) Part 22 ⛓👁

Acuity slider on his visor shifted, Cyclops keeps Jean from moving for a second as he fires an optic blast over her shoulder --the fog having mysteriously cleared enough to see some distance ahead.

When Jean does shift to now being beside him, there's a level of surprise - like whoever he just shot at wasn't who she had sensed - and he's surprised, too.

Jean: "What?"

Cyclops: ". . It was a tree." His expression speaks to a mental struggle; the mist triggering him is one thing, but he has no reason to be hallucinating an adversary. Still, could he have?

All at once the forest gets loud -- rustling leaves; cracking wood; growling earth -- ground shaking like the aftershock of an earthquake -- Jean goes down --We see the cause;

grayish hands gripping her legs -- gripping through her legs; the hands at once incorporeal and able to interact with matter.

--The next instant sees a thick branch of a tree striking Cyclops into the trunk of another some yards away, while thick roots now raise out of the ground under Jean, rolling her towards a part of the forest in the opposite direction; strangely more open.

The fog then pervades the space now separating Cyclops and Jean Grey.

Cyclops' state makes his recovery more gradual, and he moves cautiously in case of any more combative branches -the sounds of the forest giving nothing away; relative quiet settling back in.

"Sc-ott-!-" the call comes out in a strange, choked way.

His head turns -just ahead of hearing her voice inside it: 'Help-!-'

A breath of mutual distress, Cyclops moves at once -unsteady though clear on Jean's location -their psychic link driving him through the physical obscurity of the fog.

Not far on, he realizes his footsteps are strangely loud in his ears. His breathing the same.

Is he losing it again?

Jean's form gradually comes into view ahead, prone on the ground, a young mutant bent over her. Their appearance eerie; glowing green irises, dark veined, grayish skin; the owner of the hands we saw before. The hands we now see through Jean Grey's back.

It takes a second for this scene to be correctly comprehended, and we see Cyclops horrified. His thoughts clear--what are they doing? What have they done?

And what will happen if he blasts them while a part of them is still inside Jean?!

Not completely unconscious, one weak thought from Jean enters his mind in the space of that hesitation: 'Do it.'

--VZhoo--khh !

--The blast hits ground

Where'd the eerie mutant go?

Cyclops stays alert as he closes the remaining distance between himself and Jean, kneeling down to check on her as he keeps one hand poised at the side of his visor.

A sense like someone's watching him causes him to look up a second later, ruby lensed eyes "meeting" green irises visible through the mist about 10 feet away --then, a second later, directly in front of him. Cyclops never perceived the mutant moving.

--VZhoom!

Gone again.

The "rushhh" of disturbed leaves comes as unnaturally loud as the sounds before. . . . the crack of a tree ringing out clearly from one side as the leaf sounds shift like

surround sound, originally in front, now behind him . .

Understanding now, this comes as a tip off.

--VZhooom!-!

-- a trick shot done blind off the tree -- we see Cyclops react with a gasp as the eerie mutant's fingers had just made it inside his back before the hit -- Releasing his breath with focus, Cyclops whips around to deliver a more targeted, knock-out blow.

Watching a beat to confirm, attention then reverts to Jean -thankfully conscious.

A moan escaping her lips as she gradually collects her bearings; hand to her heart.

While Cyclops breathes like he's already exerted.

More cracking of trees can be heard. . .A temporary waning of the fog nearly escaping his perception. . .Cyclops zeroes in on movement just before the fog closes in on them again.

So he wasn't seeing things before. The trees are mobilizing!

He discharges a dialed-up blast through the fog --to his surprise getting set off balance by doing so. Unease and the sound of wood splitting into more distracts from the fact this isn't

a unidirectional assault -- movement -with a cry- from Jean brings Cyclops' focus back to behind him, where branches woven thick like a battering ram have just been blocked by

her forcefield - -the telekinetic shield nearly breaking with the impact.

The ram begins to swing away like a batter getting ready -- gearing up for a counterstrike--

Cyclops: "Lower it!"

--forcefield goes down--

--VZHOOM!!!

The heavy collection of branches falls as it's amputated by optic blast!

The fog lets up again, enough for more trees to focus on their targets before the forest battlefield is enshrouded anew -- the assault growing more sophisticated as the moves

are held until this point --with Cyclops and Jean Grey needing to capitalize on this interval.

Hurriedly they steady each other up -- Jean just managing to sense another blow in time to block it --

-- Cyclops blasts -- hard to say if he's doing so discriminately or in wild defense -- exertion increased as he has to work to keep steady against the kickback of his own power.

The formula repeats -- fog waning, X-Men targeted, vision obscured, reaction --

Hits gotten in from both combating parties.

Jean: "I can't lock-on to anyone-" Her hand aside her head conveys a telepathic struggle.

She eyes Cyclops, knowing he's struggling more -- energy waning like the fog; optic power insufficiently stockpiled since his depletion -- the fight literally taking a lot out of him.

But even as physical strength is faltering, the mind is still strong. The past two cycles has seen Jean left to concentrate on defense, while Cyclops has looked around - beyond the trees - searching. . .his hand shaking yet ever-ready aside his visor. . . . .

Just as the fog is closing back in, he notices it-

-a figure -- --VZHOOOM !!

--the last of what he has goes into the shot

--Unknown Figure: "NnGah!!"

While the dense fog remains, a sudden arrest of certain sound and action speaks to the trees' animation ceasing.

Cyclops brings himself to his hands and knees, trying to get a handle on a fainting feeling. Jean kneels to keep tabs on his position and state; heavy breaths heard, mind feeling as fogged over as their surroundings. . .

. . .Jean looks up, worried but ready, as the shroud dissipates once more.

Her eyes locking on a long, grey-haired figure before noticing the other, younger adult, recovering from Cyclops' blast some distance off to the side of the older one, and

looking determined.

It's as if the two want to make sure she sees what's coming next, and Jean watches as the trees are started up again, their movements even stranger. Branches encircling, the fog not closing in this time but the trees encasing.

With a just audible gasp Jean erects a forcefield around herself and Cyclops -pushing back against the trees. But her own energy spent, her power in part focused through her injured arm, we see the forcefield nictitating -- See Cyclops on his back, focusing as he can on the trees, hand back at the side of his visor -- equally unable to stop the trees from winding closer, weaving tighter with every blink.

Jean looks out through a remaining gap; face fearful but focused. No longer does she push back, only simply maintains. .

. .Trees twisting firmly shut before the next second elapses.

Darkness.

Like he was in his last time with Alex. . . . . .like he was in before Jean found him. . .

. . .But this time is different.

This darkness isn't complete.

Gaps in the branches above, casting light like an insufficiently boarded-up window. All suddenly still.

Quiet.

Forcefield down, Jean spends a few untrusting beats watching the trees. . .before turning her attention down: "Scott?" She touches his arm.

Cyclops (groggily): "They're gone?"

"I think. . .None of their minds feel like any I've encountered. Like they're only partially here. .

. .But I don't think they'll be back. There are teenagers missing from here," Jean informs, closing her eyes." They're who I sensed before. . ." Eyes open. "And their minds are unsteady like yours, right now."

"So whoever just fought us are intent on leaving people like this."

Jean massages her own arm. "At least the Professor has our coordinates. Though depending who's coming, your optic blast may still be the best way out." She looks down

at him, adding with tender concern. "In any case, you should take this time to rest."

A resigned exhale from Cyclops. . .while he lays recouping, Jean partly reverts attention to their arborious prison, and the ones somewhere beyond. . .Rescue is underway for her and Cyclops. . . By X-Men precept, they won't be the only ones recovered . . .

. . . In the meantime, we join Warren addressing certain other matters of captivity.

Trask Industries - Conference Room

Warren: "You fast-tracked approval of your collars, Mr. Trask, doing so on baseless grounds."

Trask meets Warren from across the room, standing in front of a wall of windows he could've impatiently been staring out of or pacing in front of before Warren's entry.

The distance between them uncompromising.

Trask: "Your conclusion is that I based this on the trouble from earlier this Summer*? I didn't miss the memo. But whether danger comes inherently or is influenced is beside the point."

*The 💉🩸 storyline,

of course!

He looks Warren dead in the eye. "Any side of the argument can see that."

Trask indeed resumes pacing, as though the act can move this along.

"The collars were in stages of development long before. Manufactured with mutants'

best interests in mind. And distributing them to the police?" He pauses, once more meeting Warren's gaze. His impatient manner giving way to self-assurance. "By what other means could you conceive for them to respond to criminality by powered individuals?"

He sees Warren is following.

"I could do worse, Mr. Worthington. I'm sure there are individuals who would like to collar children as a preventative measure against any X-Gene expression. Just one of the reasons why you will never see my product in the public market. If that disregard to my net worth doesn't convince you I'm working outside of my own interests, I don't know what more

I can tell you."

Warren exhales, seeing he'll have to try a different tact. "I can't see how you would've tested those collars for the length of time incarceration would require. Somehow they're inhibiting the expression of a gene. That has to have long term consequences. We at least request the papers detailing the collars' specifics and the thoroughness of your research." -'or lack thereof', his tone conveys.

Trask raises a brow. "I don't know, Mr. Worthington. The most recent events* have raised doubts around you and the X-Men. Tomorrow I might see you colluding with Magneto to the result of the collars and such future technology becoming ineffectual. I'm trying to help the mutant population. You can see then how releasing my private information to you could in fact have the opposite effect?"

*See Parts 6 and 7!

Warren (temper rising): "This isn't over, Trask. The ABMC* will be filing a complaint,

and insisting on no extended use of the collars until we know more about them.

We'll station ambassadors for the mutant community at the detention centers

if that's what it'll take!"

*Association for the Betterment of Mutant Citizens, in case you forgot! ~Tra

Trask: "You have your solutions and now I've presented another.

We will indeed see what it takes."

Back in the tree cell.

Cyclops murmurs in his sleep: "Weak isn't the mist. . . . . . Final Summers. . . "

Sympathy and question cross Jean's face, before giving way to a look of response to something.

While Cyclops now stirs, sleep apparently disturbed by where his unconscious mind had gone, Jean's attention has turned towards the bark wall; her hand placed upon it,

head bowed against, eyes closing.

A few moments pass, then she opens them. A knowing look on her face.

Cyclops: ". . can you communicate with them? Get us out without alerting the commander?"

"Maybe if I understood tree language. But we have been able to trace the mycorrhizal network back to the commander's mind."

Cyclops comes more to attention.

Xavier (telepathically to both): 'It is nearly time. Having used Jean's direct connection as a conduit, I will be influencing the commander to release you and the captured teenagers in the next few moments. But the commander's mind is a foreign space. To ensure the teenagers' escape, I will be hiding their release behind yours. Anything in their part of the forest will not register in the tree commander's mind. It is the best I can do. Storm will be maintaining an aerial position to clear the way for all of you, though she can come down

to further assist your exit once the locals are safe.'

Cyclops, shifted now into a kneel, understands what he's getting at.

'Better if we move. How much farther to the clearing?'

Xavier transmits the answer.

'I'll manage it.' He exchanges a look with Jean. 'We're ready on your action, Professor.'

In the following moments, the trees' hold reverses- twisted branches unfurling.

Jean and Cyclops begin to stand as the restriction of the space lets up.

Her hand goes to his shoulder: "You set the pace. I'll be right behind you."

With a nod, the still physically compromised Cyclops heads off through an uncannily fogless avenue, moving as adeptly as he can across the still uneven terrain --drawing on a source of strength and stamina only accessible when one absolutely needs.

On either side, it's as if the fog is wrestling with itself --"arms" being pulled back each time they "reach" into the cleared path -- A deafening, now-telltale sound of cracking trees followed by a -- - -CrrCRasSSsHHH!!!! of lightning-- diffused by the fog into a prismatic

splay.

Rising tree roots arrest- -but not before tripping up both Cyclops and Jean Grey.

"Ungh!!" He falls sideways, rolling into obscurity--

--Jean falls backwards.

Recovering she moves to find him, aided by the widening of their clear avenue--

--which reveals the eerie mutant squeezing Cyclops' lungs through his back!

We see him in a breathless struggle, unable to get them off--unable to angle a shot--until his body turns as if pulled/rolled--head aiming even as he draws a much needed breath,

visor button depressing as if on automatic from locking-on to his target--

--now blasted away into the mists.

We hear him catching more of his breath as we see Jean,

lowering her arm from an active position.

She comes down to his side--"Scott?"

Cyclops: "H-help me up. Keep going-"

Steadying him back to his feet, they go on.

- -CrrCRasSSsHHH! another prismatic splay along the fogged passage.

Xavier: 'You will come up on the clearing shortly. Your transport is waiting.'

Jean: 'The teenagers?'

'Have convened with the local search party. They are steps away from exiting.'

And as our heroes take their last vacating steps from the haunting forest, a last ditch effort of all-consuming fog is blown away--not by Storm's wind, but the blades of a Blackhawk helicopter.

Jean and Cyclops halt at the sight of the figure standing beside it;

a final adrenaline-driven rush of heat flooding through Cyclops' body.

Ahead of us seeing what they are, we hear Xavier's voice: 'You can relax, Scott.'

Magneto: "Charles collected on a debt."

Bracing looks give way to question, as Storm comes down from the sky to join them.

"He has not deviated so far. All the same, I have kept up my guard and will continue." Weary teammates are stewarded into the craft.

Magneto follows, casting a look at Cyclops.

"Is this some new type of defense against me? Having your blood so iron poor."

A still-winded Cyclops stares back, though Magneto has already headed for the cockpit.

It's clear the Professor's assurance hasn't gotten much mileage in Cyclops' mind. . .but the

X-Men's leader hasn't enough left in him to maintain his own vigilance. He just gets situated in the troop seat; Jean taking one beside.

While inside the cockpit, the modifications Magneto had been making earlier* become apparent. His hands held out towards where the controls should be; now only blank panels. Craft redesigned so the only way to engage with the interior mechanics is through magnetic mastery.

*Part 7!

A look of satisfaction crossing his face as the aircraft rises, it gives way to one more keen as he stares down at the forest. Eyes shifting towards the Blackhawk's cabin before reverting back; something worth keeping in mind, Magneto's expression seems to convey.