NOVEL NEXT Iris and Me
Chapter 72 : Dawn of a new era (A sinister soul)
Chapter 72 : Dawn of a new era (A sinister soul)
Unspecified location, unspecified time, the Astral Plane
To my great discomfort, because I’m sort of at a loss for words here, Jean’s sobbing didn’t quiet down for quite a while.
I take solace in the fact that Gwen apparently feels even more awkward about the situation than I do, standing there while not really knowing what to do about it and her eyes shifting, probably feeling guilty over the fact that she’d rather keep gawking at the incredible and nonsensical vistas around us than offer some token support to someone she ultimately doesn’t know.
The Phoenix is still silent, letting His future host grieve the loss of her ‘beautiful lie’.
Jean had collapsed on her knees a while ago, her face hidden behind her hands. I crouched next to her as soon as she did, trying to sooth her as much as I could.
It is, frankly speaking, a tall order.
What the fuck do you even say about this whole situation that doesn’t involve involuntarily twisting the knife?
So I default to my typical behavior when I don’t know what to say and someone I, tentatively, like is in pain.
Soft humming and back rubs.
I can’t help but think that I’m extremely lame but that’s honestly all I have until she gets a hold of herself and talks first.
Slowly, softly, her sobbing and sniffling quietens as time flows by.
I honestly have no idea how much time has passed when her head lands on my shoulder with a soft ‘thud’.
“Why?” Jean asks softly, her voice rough from her crying.
I startle a little, halting momentarily my rubbing motions before starting it again.
Thank all the gods that it stopped, I was getting really uncomfortable.
“It’s a long story.” I exhale, knowing what she’s asking about, albeit roughly, “In short, the Sinister prick here believed that the offspring that the two of you would eventually give birth to would manage to put down the man for whom he has been working for the past century.”
The redhead stills, her long locks sprawled on my shoulder.
I take that as my cue to carry on my explanation.
“Dr. Nathaniel Essex here, that’s his real name by the way, was a brilliant 19th century geneticist,” I explain, not really elaborating over the fact that it could be bollocks since it’s based around my flimsy knowledge and not cold hard facts that I would have gathered previously, “Who by happenstance stumbled upon the X-Gene way earlier than any of his peers.”
I scoff aloud, jolting her head a little.
“Obviously, since no one could reproduce his experiment, he just got laughed at by the London society and ended up shamed for it.” I carry on, softly shaking my head, my snow white curls dancing slowly around me, “He could have ended up as a history footnote or rediscovered later on as a misunderstood visionary, like so many Galilé before him. Instead, he got obsessed.”
I wince a little.
“So, he did a Mengele,” I pause, looking down at her, “You are familiar with the history of the second world war, correct?”
She wordlessly nods, her face still hidden.
“To reproduce his experiment, he, well, experimented.” I scowl, “It wasn’t pretty, certainly not moral and downright inhuman. When the London society discovered it, his scientific peers were appalled. He was promptly sent packing and vilified for it, so he ran in exile with his family.”
I pause, mulling over my thoughts.
“He traveled far and wide after that, still obsessed by the X-Gene and determined to prove that he was right all along.” I carry on evenly, “Until he stumbled upon the self-proclaimed King of all mutants, En Sabah Nur, better known under the moniker Apocalypse.”
I laugh mirthlessly.
“That’s when he goofed even harder. He thought that he could bargain with a sociopathic arsehole and got promptly short-changed for it in exchange for some powers of his own.” I elaborate, shaking my head in disbelief, “And so he ended up becoming his slave, promptly losing his family afterward and he has tried to break free since.”
I look down at her once more.
“That’s where you and Scott enter his big plan.” I explain slowly, feeling her perking up a little, “You remember when he brought me back a misshaped limb from the manor in January?”
Another wordless nod.
“Right. That, my dear, was proof that at some point in the future, you and him somehow traveled back in time and confronted En Sabah Nur, putting him at worst in a stalemate, at best defeating him temporarily.” I explain, combing her hair softly, “Why you chose to drop a piece of his body into the Professor's care in the past before going back from when you came from, I honestly don’t know.”
It proved extremely useful for me so ultimately, I don’t really care.
“The thing is, Essex, the cowardly prick that he is, knew what happened, probably safely hidden from a distance.” I carry on, my hand still trying to comb her mane of red hair, “So he got the idea in his head that if the two of you happened to conceive, your offspring would surely succeed where the both of you had barely failed at. Fast forward until the both of you are born, he finds you and tries to ensure that you end up in the same bed by implanting suggestions into Scott and you.”
I slowly exhale.
“Convoluted, messy, no regard for those it could hurt, a typical plan for the arsehole.” I comment offhandedly, “And it was far, far from foolproof.”
I let the silence stretch for a beat.
“The thing is, Jean, none of this is Scott or your fault.” I point out really softly, “He is the one responsible, totally, and you had no say in it.”
Maybe the Prof’ had one and chose to stay mute about it but that’s Jean’s problem and she is a big enough girl to reach that conclusion.
“You are both victims here, so, no matter what happened, try not to hold it against him.” I kept going, “I’d wager he is going to be as horrified and distraught as you are when I let him go.”
I exhale slowly once more.
“My point is, the two of you should talk about it and maybe see a shrink afterward.” I tell her truthfully.
And also because I’m definitely not good enough for the job nor want to do it in the first place.
Helping her with the Phoenix and her powers, sure.
Helping her deal with a trauma that I can’t even begin to imagine, less so.
The silence stretches heavily after my explanation.
Gwen is appropriately horrified, her expression having shown varied degrees of rage, bewilderment and sadness during my presentation.
The Phoenix has steadily burned ever brighted with each sentence that got out of my mouth and the temperature in the vicinity is barely tolerable.
I’m actually sweating bullets now, when I shouldn’t even be able to.
“You…” Jean whispers, a sob escaping her, “You know… A few months ago…”
She hiccups and I pale.
Please, don’t say it.
“I felt alone that night…” She carries on, shivering, “We…”
I have to refrain myself from swearing extremely hard.
Instead, I do the only thing possible before she can finish her halted sentence.
I hug her.
The redhead promptly starts to cry on my shoulder once more, bawling her eyes out as she clutches at me like a lifeline.
I immediately busy myself trying to soothe a bundle of teenage angst, despair and sorrow.
Gwen has apparently heard and come to the same realization as I because she looks positively ashen.
The Phoenix’s aura flares, exposing the three of us to the full might of what I can only imagine to be a sun’s corona in sheer, pure undiluted anger at His host’s despair.
Mercifully, it ends as soon as it came to pass because I’m not sure any of us could have withheld it for long.
I can only hum a wordless tune as I try my hardest to make the redhead feel better.
At least, we outplayed the arsehole.
And his reckoning is near.
***
It takes an ever longer time for Jean to calm herself after that.
I don’t hold it against her, I can’t even begin to imagine what she’s geoing through right now.
At multiple times, I asked myself what Marie would’ve said in my position.
I came short and I honestly doubt that even she would have managed to find something to say.
It honestly broke my heart to see the poor telepath so broken by the machination of one immoral prick.
At some point, I sort of vowed to myself that I’ll try as much as I can to prevent that kind of shit from happening to her again, or anybody I know for that matter.
But that's tomorrow's problem, we still have to deal with the pale faced prick and the Phoenix right now.
Jean’s grip on my upper torso relaxes and she wipes her cheeks from the last of her tears.
As we cross eyes, I see some steel in her green orbs.
She stands wordlessly, turning herself to face the frozen Astral body of Scott Summer.
“Could you…?” She asks, still not looking at me and gesturing at the temporary prison I weaved.
“Of course.” I answer softly, “Are you going to be alright?”
I wince, having blurted that without really meaning it to.
My social grace at its finest.
“...I’ll manage.” She answers back, her back still facing me and her hair dancing in a breeze I do not feel on my own skin.
I do not point out that her hands are clenched in a death grip to stop the tremors that have shaken them until a minute ago.
“...I want to be the one to tell him.” The redhead explains, her voice soft and full of sorrow.
Without the compulsions impairing her, the girl apparently has a lot of spine.
“Alright.” I concede with a little sigh, still feeling a bit protective about the girl, “Take all the time you need.”
I gesture and the dodecahedron fades, Scott’s still limp Astral body falling in Jean’s waiting arms.
Interestingly enough, his glasses manifest themselves as soon as his eyes flutter open, conditioned as he is to always shade them.
“Will they really be fine after this?” Gwen whispers as she steps next to me.
I side-eye her as I mull over my answer.
She looks at the both of them with a look of deep sorrow etched on her face as Scott starts to stir.
“I really don’t know, Gwennie.” I admit softly, “I’m afraid that’s an answer that I do not have.”
The silence stretches for a beat between us as the two mutants start to talk.
I gesture with my chin to Gwen that we should probably leave them alone for a bit as I turn around.
The Phoenix, silent until now, speaks as soon as I have.
-THANK YOU.- He says, His voice deep with relief, -I FIND MYSELF INDEBTED TO YOU, ARIA THE OUTSIDER.-
I freeze a little.
“Think nothing of it, oh Phoenix,” I answer demurely, my hands clasped in front of me once more, “I only did what anybody would have done in my situation.”
The bird of fire tilts His head clockwise.
-YET YOU WERE THE ONE WHO DID IT.- He points out.
I try to find a retort at that but come short.
-YOU DESIRED HIS KNOWLEDGE.- He says, His eyes narrowing as He looks on Essex terrified face, -I SHALL GIVE YOU SOMETHING BETTER.-
I feel sweat pouring along my spine.
“It’s really not nece…” I start politely.
The Phoenix, of course, doesn’t let me finish.
His aura rises once more, burning brighter than a thousand sun, the psychic weight suddenly making my knees buckle under me.
I gasp and fall, Gwen having preceded me an instant ago.
The raptor of life rises His wings majestically and the whole Astral plane stops breathing as He does.
He flaps once.
Sinister’s head is suddenly cut in two, leaving behind the disturbing image of his Astral body’s brain in plain view as his face, forever frozen in horror, falls.
He flaps a second time.
The look of utter shock and terror on one of Jean’s nemeses vanishes in a brasero that doesn’t last longer than a blink.
He flaps a third time.
Sinister’s dodecahedron starts to rotate on itself, compressing his now lifeless Astral body as it does, spooling back what remains of his tether into it as the whole of it starts to be consumed by golden flames.
The temperature around us reaches an even greater height and the Phoenix shines so bright that I have to look at the scene through nearly closed eyelids to follow what is happening.
With each rotation, the dodecahedron shirks even smaller at a rapid pace.
Soon, only a miniature form remains.
The Phoenix then flaps a fourth time.
The mini dodecahedron morphs, leaving behind a shimmering golden flame shaped like a diamond from which extends a ‘rope’ of translucent matter that ends in a misshapen, bizare, organ.
-THIS MAY HURT A LITTLE, MY APOLOGIES.- The Phoenix says.
That’s all the warning I get before the bird of fire, the raptor of life, flaps His wings one last time.
Next thing I know, the Phoenix’s creation hurls itself at me.
And I start to scream.
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