Chapter 168: The House at Midnight
The mansion was quiet, except for the steady click, clack, click of Beast's tools. Hank hunched over a small metallic rig, eyes narrowed through his glasses as the smell of solder filled the sub-basement. Wires glowed faintly with power, humming like a caged beast waiting to bite.
"This little beauty," Hank said, tapping the device, "is a neural scrambler calibrated to short-circuit psionic pathways. In plain English—it'll give Jean a splitting headache big enough to keep her from frying us."
Thunderbird crossed his arms. "That sounds like a torture toy, McCoy."
Hank didn't look up. "It's a tourniquet, John. Crude, yes. But would you rather let the wound bleed out and drown the world in fire?"
Storm paced slowly, eyes shadowed. "If this fails, there will be no world left to save."
Cyclops stood apart, visor gleaming. His fists clenched. He didn't say a word. Didn't trust his voice not to crack.
Logan leaned in the corner, arms folded, smoke curling from his cigar. "Build faster, furball. Jeannie ain't waitin' on ya."
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In the dead of night, Jean Grey stood before the familiar suburban house. The white siding gleamed under the streetlights, every window dark. She didn't even remember walking here. Didn't know why her feet brought her. But here she was, Dark Phoenix cloaked inside her chest, restless and prowling.
She pushed open the door. The faint smell of coffee, dust, and lavender rushed her nose. For one trembling second, she wasn't a god. She was a girl.
"Jean?" her father's voice, groggy but hopeful. He stumbled from the hallway in his robe, eyes widening. "Jean! My God, it's you!"
Her mother and little sister Sarah followed, voices trembling, wrapping her in warmth, concern, love. For a heartbeat, she wanted to sink into it. To stay.
But their thoughts weren't whispers—no, they were shouts in her skull. We love her. We're afraid. What has she become? She's not ours anymore.
The fear buried too deep for them to know… but Phoenix saw. Phoenix tasted it. And Phoenix snarled.
Her hand twitched. A tree outside the window shuddered—and in an instant, crystallized into glittering diamond. The family gasped.
Her father backed away, eyes hard. "Who are you? My daughter would never—NEVER—do this!"
Jean's lips trembled. Phoenix's flame flickered in her eyes.
Then came the fog. Thick, rolling, unnatural. Smothering the house in a blanket of gray. Her psychic senses hit a wall—blinded.
"What—?!" she growled, stepping outside.
A shimmer above. Then BAMF—sulfur and smoke. Nightcrawler appeared midair, desperation on his face. In his hand: the scrambler. He slammed it onto her head before she could react.
The scream tore the night apart.
Jean staggered, flames sputtering. Phoenix roared inside her skull, but the device clawed at her mind, scrambling every thought into static.
The X-Men struck.
Thunderbird lunged, fists hammering like pistons. Colossus swung heavy metal arms. Storm summoned lightning from the clouds. Cyclops held back, just a thin beam, trembling with restraint. Hank leapt, claws outstretched, precise and calculating.
"Don't hurt her!" Cyclops barked. "Just contain her!"
But Phoenix wasn't containable. Even hobbled, even writhing under the scrambler's bite, she lashed out—bolts of fire, shockwaves of thought. Thunderbird was hurled into the trees. Colossus staggered, metal chest scorched. Storm screamed as her own wind betrayed her, reversed, slammed her against the ground.
Nightcrawler clung to her arm desperately, tail wrapped around her wrist like a chain. "Jean, fight it!"
"She ain't listenin'!" Logan growled, stalking closer. His claws snikted out in three lethal notes.
The others froze.
Logan didn't. He pounced, both of them crashing into the nearby lake. Water hissed to steam as fire met cold. Bubbles exploded up as they thrashed beneath the surface.
Jean's face broke through the water, gasping, flames flickering… and then she wasn't Phoenix anymore. Just Jean. Just a broken girl. Tears mingled with lake water.
"Kill me," she whispered. "Please, Logan. Do it."
The claws hovered at her chest. The world froze.
Logan's face twisted, torn. He bent close, voice low, meant only for her. "I love you, Jeannie. Always did. Always will. Don't matter if you're the girl I knew… or somethin' else. You're still you to me."
The claws retracted with a hiss. He held her instead. Tight.
Above the lake, the others stared. Breathless.
And then came the sound of wheels on gravel. A voice, calm, sharp, commanding.
"Enough," Xavier said, rolling forward, eyes blazing with psychic fire. "It ends now."