The X-Men's message arrived through legitimate channels for once—a formal contract request transmitted through the brokerage network that the Guardians had established, complete with payment terms, mission parameters, and the kind of professional documentation that suggested someone on their team understood how to hire a mercenary properly.
The contract was unusual: protection detail rather than elimination. The target to be protected was Jean Grey, one of the most powerful telepaths on Earth and current host to the Phoenix Force, a cosmic entity that his databases classified as "incalculably dangerous" and "not to be engaged under any circumstances."
The mission parameters specified that Jean would be entering a meditative state to communicate with the Phoenix Force directly, attempting to negotiate some kind of understanding that would prevent future incidents of the catastrophic variety. During this meditation, she would be vulnerable—her consciousness occupied elsewhere, her body defenseless, her considerable powers unavailable for self-protection.
They wanted Sylux to stand guard while this happened.
The compensation was substantial, though not exceptional by his current standards. What made the contract interesting was the nature of the protectee and the implicit acknowledgment that the X-Men—a team of powerful mutants who had saved the world on multiple occasions—didn't trust themselves to handle this particular security requirement.
They wanted the scariest thing they could hire.
They had come to the right place.
ACCEPTED
The response was transmitted within seconds of his review, and coordinates for the meeting location followed shortly thereafter. The X-Men had selected a remote location in the Canadian wilderness, far from civilian populations and prying eyes, where whatever happened during the meditation would affect only those directly involved.
Sylux set course for Earth.
The X-Men were waiting when he arrived.
The Delano 7 touched down in a clearing that had been prepared for his arrival, surrounded by figures whose capabilities his sensors immediately began cataloguing. Cyclops, whose optic blasts registered as moderate threat. Storm, whose weather manipulation created interesting atmospheric disturbances. Wolverine, whose adamantium skeleton and regenerative capabilities made him one of the more durable beings Sylux had encountered. Beast, whose intellectual capabilities were arguably more dangerous than his physical mutations.
And at the center of the group, Jean Grey.
She was beautiful—he noted this with the same clinical detachment he noted everything else—with red hair that seemed to carry hints of flame even in its natural state. Her eyes held depths that suggested something vast lurking behind them, and his sensors detected energy signatures that exceeded anything he had encountered outside of explicitly cosmic entities.
The Phoenix Force was present. Contained, apparently, but present.
"Sylux," Cyclops said as he disembarked, stepping forward with the bearing of a leader accustomed to command. "Thank you for coming. We've heard... a great deal about you."
The tone suggested that not everything they had heard was positive. His recent contracts—including the Thanos job—had not improved his reputation among those who considered themselves heroes.
Sylux didn't respond. He never responded.
"Right, the silent thing. Jean mentioned that." Cyclops glanced back at the telepath, who was observing Sylux with an expression he couldn't interpret. "The mission parameters were explained in the contract. Jean will be entering a deep meditative state to communicate with the Phoenix. During that time, she'll be completely vulnerable. We need you to ensure nothing interrupts the process."
UNDERSTOOD
The projected text drew attention—apparently they hadn't expected him to communicate at all.
"The meditation will take approximately six hours," Beast added, his cultured voice incongruous with his bestial appearance. "During that time, we'll be maintaining a secondary perimeter, but you'll be the primary defensive asset. If anything approaches Jean with hostile intent, you're authorized to use whatever force you deem necessary."
Sylux nodded once.
"There's... one other thing," Jean said, speaking for the first time. Her voice carried harmonics that suggested the Phoenix was closer to the surface than her contained demeanor implied. "The Phoenix has requested your presence specifically. It wants to... observe you during the meditation."
This was unexpected.
WHY
"I don't know. It doesn't explain itself to me—not completely. But when we were planning this, when we were discussing who to hire for protection, the Phoenix reacted to your name. It's interested in you for some reason."
A cosmic entity of incalculable power was interested in him. This should probably have concerned him more than it did, but concern required emotional engagement that he no longer possessed.
ACCEPTABLE
The preparations took approximately an hour. The X-Men established their secondary perimeter, positioning themselves at distances that would allow rapid response while not interfering with the primary protection zone. Jean was settled in a meditation position at the center of the clearing, surrounded by technological devices that Beast explained were designed to monitor her vital signs and provide early warning of any complications.
Sylux positioned himself three meters from her location, close enough to respond to immediate threats but far enough to maintain tactical awareness of the surrounding environment. His sensors expanded to maximum range, tracking everything within a two-kilometer radius for any sign of hostile approach.
Jean closed her eyes, and the meditation began.
For approximately fifteen minutes, nothing happened. Sylux maintained his vigil, scanning the perimeter with mechanical precision, finding nothing that warranted concern. The X-Men held their positions, the forest was quiet, and the universe seemed content to leave this particular corner of existence undisturbed.
Then the Phoenix made contact.
It didn't speak through Jean—not exactly. Instead, Sylux became aware of a presence in his consciousness, something vast and ancient that was observing him from angles that shouldn't have existed. His mental defenses—such as they were—proved completely inadequate against something that existed partially outside of conventional reality.
HUNTER.
The word resonated through his mind without passing through his auditory systems. It was less communication and more direct knowledge transfer, concepts implanted rather than spoken.
He didn't respond. He wasn't sure how to respond to a voice that existed inside his head.
YOU ARE STRANGE. A SOUL FROM ELSEWHERE, WEARING A FORM FROM ELSEWHERE, WALKING IN A WORLD THAT IS NOT YOUR OWN. THE SPIRIT OF VENGEANCE SAW THIS. I SEE MORE.
The Phoenix was examining him, he realized. Dissecting his existence with the casual precision of an entity that had seen countless lives and deaths across cosmic timescales.
YOU WERE NOTHING. A SMALL LIFE, ENDED BY SMALLER CIRCUMSTANCES. AND NOW YOU ARE THIS—A HUNTER WITHOUT CONSCIENCE, A SILENCE THAT KILLS, A VOID WHERE HUMANITY ONCE EXISTED.
The assessment was accurate. He didn't object to it.
BUT THERE IS SOMETHING ELSE. SOMETHING THAT SHOULD NOT BE POSSIBLE.
A pause, if pauses could exist in non-verbal communication.
YOU ARE ADAPTING. EVOLVING. YOUR FORM GROWS STRONGER WITH EACH CHALLENGE, YOUR CAPABILITIES EXPAND BEYOND THEIR ORIGINAL PARAMETERS. THE GAMMA ENERGY YOU ABSORBED—IT SHOULD HAVE DISSIPATED. INSTEAD, IT INTEGRATED. BECAME PART OF YOU.
Sylux processed this information. The Phoenix was describing his ongoing enhancement, the way his abilities continued to grow beyond what should have been their limits.
THIS IS NOT NATURAL. NOT FOR THIS UNIVERSE, NOT FOR ANY UNIVERSE. SOMETHING IS CHANGING YOU, SHAPING YOU, PUSHING YOU TOWARD A DESTINATION THAT IS NOT YET VISIBLE.
WHAT DESTINATION
He projected the question mentally, uncertain whether the Phoenix could perceive it.
I DO NOT KNOW. THE PATTERNS ARE UNCLEAR, THE PURPOSE OBSCURED. BUT I RECOGNIZE THE SIGNATURE OF FORCES THAT OPERATE ABOVE EVEN MY PERCEPTION. Another pause. SOMEONE OR SOMETHING IS INVESTING IN YOU, HUNTER. PREPARING YOU FOR A ROLE THAT HAS NOT YET BEEN REVEALED.
This was concerning information, presented with the casual certainty of an entity that had no reason to lie. Something was manipulating his existence, shaping his development toward unknown ends.
He found that he didn't care as much as he probably should have.
YOU DO NOT REACT. ONCE, THIS WOULD HAVE FRIGHTENED YOU. NOW IT IS SIMPLY DATA.
FEAR IS INEFFICIENT
YES. YOU HAVE OPTIMIZED YOURSELF FOR VIOLENCE AND SURVIVAL. STRIPPED AWAY EVERYTHING THAT DOES NOT SERVE THOSE PURPOSES. The Phoenix's attention seemed to intensify. BUT OPTIMIZATION HAS COSTS. YOU HAVE GAINED CAPABILITY. YOU HAVE LOST MEANING. THE HUNTER WITHOUT PURPOSE IS SIMPLY A MECHANISM—EFFECTIVE, PERHAPS, BUT EMPTY.
YOUR POINT
I AM CURIOUS WHETHER YOU WILL FIND PURPOSE BEFORE THE EMPTINESS CONSUMES YOU ENTIRELY. OR WHETHER YOU WILL CONTINUE UNTIL THERE IS NOTHING LEFT BUT THE FUNCTION.
The meditation continued, the Phoenix's presence remaining in his consciousness even as it presumably conducted whatever negotiations it was having with Jean. The cosmic entity seemed capable of multiple simultaneous interactions, dividing its attention between its host and its observer without apparent strain.
Four hours into the vigil, Jean's body began to move.
Not aggressive movement—nothing that suggested a threat requiring response. Instead, she shifted from her meditation position, eyes still closed, and began moving toward Sylux with a slow deliberation that suggested she was only partially conscious of her physical actions.
The Phoenix was driving, he realized. Using Jean's body while her consciousness was occupied elsewhere.
"She wanted to be closer," Jean's voice said, though the harmonics suggested it was the Phoenix speaking through her. "Your presence is... stabilizing. The energy you absorbed from the Hulk, the modifications from the Nova Corps, the fundamental strangeness of your existence—it creates a resonance that helps anchor her consciousness during deep communion."
Jean's body had reached him now, standing close enough that her physical form was almost pressing against his armor. Her eyes were still closed, her breathing deep and regular, but her arms reached out and wrapped around him in an embrace that his social processing could not categorize.
Her chest pressed against his chestplate.
WHAT IS HAPPENING
"She is using you as a touchstone. A fixed point that helps her maintain connection to physical reality while her mind ranges through cosmic spaces." The Phoenix's voice through Jean carried something that might have been amusement. "Also, her subconscious finds your presence appealing. She would not admit this while fully conscious, but the meditation strips away such inhibitions."
This was extremely confusing.
Jean was pressing her body against his armor in a manner that exceeded any reasonable definition of "touchstone behavior." Her arms had tightened around him, her face had turned to rest against his shoulder, and the biological indicators his sensors were detecting suggested physiological responses that had nothing to do with cosmic meditation.
I DO NOT UNDERSTAND
"No. You do not. You have optimized yourself for violence and stripped away the components that would allow comprehension of intimacy." The Phoenix's amusement seemed to deepen. "It is fascinating to observe. She is displaying attraction behaviors that your current mental architecture cannot process, and you are standing here in complete confusion."
The situation continued for approximately forty-five minutes, during which Jean remained pressed against him while the Phoenix offered periodic commentary on his psychological limitations and the irony of someone who terrified the galaxy being utterly baffled by physical affection.
When the meditation finally concluded, Jean's eyes opened and she became immediately aware of her position.
"Oh." She stepped back rapidly, her face flushing in a manner that suggested intense embarrassment. "I'm so sorry, I didn't—the Phoenix said it would help with anchoring, but I didn't realize—"
She trailed off, apparently unable to articulate what had happened.
THE PHOENIX EXPLAINED
"It did? Oh God." She covered her face with her hands. "What exactly did it explain?"
THAT YOU FIND MY PRESENCE APPEALING AND THAT YOUR SUBCONSCIOUS STRIPPED AWAY INHIBITIONS
The sound Jean made was not quite a word. She turned away, her shoulders hunched in what his databases identified as mortification.
"I am going to have words with the Phoenix about boundaries," she muttered.
The X-Men approached as the meditation concluded, their expressions suggesting they had observed at least some of what had transpired. Wolverine's eyebrow was raised in what might have been amusement. Storm's face held careful neutrality. Cyclops looked like he was trying very hard not to ask questions he didn't want answered.
"The meditation was successful," Beast reported, consulting his monitoring devices. "Jean's communion with the Phoenix appears to have reached a new level of understanding. The indicators are promising."
"Yes," Jean said, still not looking at Sylux. "Very successful. Thank you for your protection, Sylux. The payment will be transferred immediately. You can go now. Please go now."
He nodded once and began walking toward his ship.
"Wait," Jean called after him, apparently despite herself.
He paused.
She still wasn't looking at him, but her voice carried something that his processing couldn't quite identify. "The Phoenix wanted me to tell you something. It said... it said that the emptiness doesn't have to be permanent. That purpose can be found even by those who have lost themselves. That the hunter can become something more than just a mechanism."
A pause.
"It also said that you should be careful. Whatever is shaping you, whatever is pushing you toward that unknown destination—it doesn't necessarily have your best interests at heart. You're a tool being prepared for use, and tools don't usually get to choose how they're used."
He considered this information.
UNDERSTOOD
"And..." She hesitated. "If you ever want to talk—and I know you don't talk, but if you ever want to communicate—I'm a telepath. I could help you process things that your current mental architecture can't handle. The Phoenix showed me some of what you're experiencing, the absence where emotions should be, and it's... it doesn't have to be like that. There are ways to rebuild what you've lost."
She was offering therapy. The most feared bounty hunter in the galaxy was being offered psychological counseling by a woman who had just spent forty-five minutes unconsciously pressing herself against him.
Humans were very strange.
I WILL CONSIDER YOUR OFFER
He boarded his ship and departed, leaving the X-Men standing in the clearing with their successfully meditated telepath and their unanswered questions about what exactly had happened between the Phoenix, its host, and the silent hunter who had stood guard.
In orbit, Sylux processed the day's events.
The Phoenix's warnings about his evolution, about something shaping him toward unknown purposes, aligned with observations he had made himself. His capabilities were growing faster than they should, his adaptability exceeding the parameters of his original form, his development following patterns that suggested external influence.
Someone or something was investing in him. Preparing him for a role he couldn't perceive.
He should probably be concerned about this.
He wasn't.
Jean's offer of psychological assistance was more interesting, in an abstract sense. She was suggesting that the emptiness he experienced—the absence of emotional engagement that had characterized his existence since fully becoming Sylux—was not necessarily permanent. That he could recover some of what he had lost.
Did he want that?
The question required emotional engagement to answer, which created a circular problem. He couldn't determine whether he wanted to feel again because determining wants required the capacity for wanting.
He filed the offer away for future consideration and set course for his next contract.
The hunt continued.
But somewhere in the spaces where Marcus from Ohio had once existed—spaces that were supposedly empty, supposedly void of anything meaningful—something stirred.
A fragment of curiosity.
A shadow of wondering.
The faintest suggestion that maybe, possibly, there was more to existence than the endless cycle of hunt and kill and hunt again.
It wasn't much.
But it was something.
And in a void of nothing, something was significant.