Chapter 110
Arc 8: Avengers
Ch 2: Psyche Eval
Saturday, October 15, 2011.
Location: House of M, Manhattan, New York
The arena of House of M had just cleared out after the morning's workout and instruction session. Now, two figures approached the center of the room. Remy LeBeau entered with his usual confidence, a deck of cards fanning between his fingers. His auburn hair hung over distinctive red-on-black irises, and he wore an easy smile.
Opposite him, Marrow moved forward with fluid purpose. Her pale skin displayed protruding bone growths, and she fixed on Gambit's relaxed posture with obvious aggression.
"Ready to dance, chère?" Gambit called. His bo staff extended with a flick of his wrist.
Marrow reached up to wrench a jagged bone shard from her shoulder. "Shut up and fight, pretty boy."
They began circling each other, neither making the first move. Gambit's fingers worked over his cards, charging them with kinetic energy that took on a fuchsia hue. Marrow's muscles tensed, ready to spring.
Marrow lunged forward, hurling her bone projectile. Gambit twisted aside as the shard flew past his ear. He retaliated with a volley of charged cards, their explosive energy forcing Marrow to dive and roll.
"Missed me, missed me," Gambit taunted, twirling his staff. "Want to try for a kiss?"
Marrow ripped two more bone daggers from her arms, ignoring the pain as fresh ones began to grow in their place. "I'll carve that smirk right off your face!"
She closed the distance between them, bone blades cutting through the air in a frenzied assault. Gambit parried with his staff, the clang of bone against metal echoing through the arena. He ducked under a wild swing, sweeping her legs.
As Marrow fell, she grabbed Gambit's coat, pulling him down with her. They grappled on the floor, a tangle of limbs and curses. He managed to plant a foot on her stomach, kicking her off with a grunt.
Both combatants scrambled to their feet, breathing heavily. Gambit's coat was torn, a thin line of blood seeping from a cut on his cheek and a gash on his ribs.
"Not bad for a sewer rat," he said, wiping blood from his face.
"Big words from a two-bit thief."
They clashed again, his staff moving in controlled arcs as he fended off her relentless attacks. He caught her wrist, twisting it to disarm her, but she headbutted him, the bony protrusions on her forehead drawing blood.
Gambit staggered back, momentarily dazed. Marrow pressed her advantage, tackling him to the ground. She straddled his chest, bone dagger raised high.
"Yield!"
His irises began to glow with kinetic energy. "Ladies first, mon ami."
He slapped his palm against the floor, channeling a burst of energy that sent them both flying apart. Marrow crashed into the far wall while Gambit tumbled across the ground.
Both struggled to their feet with obvious effort. His left arm hung limp, dislocated from the impact. Marrow clutched her side, where a particularly long bone shard had snapped off.
"Ready to call it quits?" he asked, favoring his good arm.
Marrow spat blood onto the mat. "Not a chance, Cajun."
They stared each other down, neither willing to concede defeat, when Tyson hovered down from above.
"Alright, that's good, guys."
The fighters remained tense, weapons at the ready. Tyson moved between them, his massive frame dwarfing both combatants.
"Stand down. Let's get you patched up."
Reluctantly, Gambit collapsed his staff, wincing as the movement jostled his injured arm. Marrow's bone daggers clattered to the floor, her hands trembling from exertion and pain.
Tyson approached him first, gently grasping the dislocated arm. "This is gonna hurt," he warned before popping the shoulder back into its socket. The Cajun bit back a cry of pain.
"Merci," Gambit muttered, rotating his arm gingerly.
Tyson nodded, then turned to Marrow. She watched him warily as he examined the broken bone protruding from her side.
"Can you retract it?"
She gritted her teeth, concentrating. Slowly, painfully, the bone receded into her body. Fresh blood welled up from the wound.
"Good. Now, both of you, hold still."
He placed a hand on each of their shoulders, careful to maintain skin contact. Both fighters gasped as they felt his power flow into them. Cuts sealed, bruises faded, and internal injuries knitted themselves whole.
As the healing completed, Tyson stepped back. Gambit flexed his newly healed arm while Marrow ran a hand over her now-smooth side.
"Thanks, mon ami," he said, genuine gratitude in his voice.
Marrow nodded curtly, unused to expressing thanks. "Yeah, what he said."
Tyson crossed his arms, fixing them both with a stern look. "Both of you are better fighters than that. I'm not sure what's going on, and I generally don't inject myself into personal matters." He paused, studying their postures. "But use this opportunity to recognize that neither of you is at your best when you let your emotions get in the way. We're all on the same side here."
Gambit had the grace to look sheepish, while Marrow's attention drifted to the crowd. Her shoulders tensed as she spotted something in the spectator area.
Tyson followed her focus and found it locked on Rogue. Ann Marie noticed him watching and tried to look away, but not before he caught the longing in her expression; the same desperate want he'd seen when she'd been trapped in his head, yearning for touch she could never have.
He turned back to find both Remy and Marrow watching the girl who had previously been locked in his consciousness. The Cajun's usual swagger had softened into something more vulnerable, while Marrow's jaw clenched with poorly concealed jealousy.
Understanding dawned. The triangle was as clear as day - two fighters competing for the attention of someone they could never truly have, not while her powers remained uncontrolled.
"Hmmm," Tyson said aloud. "If you guys need to fight for real, for real, I get it. But I might have a better idea." He jerked his thumb toward the door, indicating they should head to the balcony. "Maybe it's time you both talked to her instead of beating the hell out of each other."
As the pair trudged out of the arena, Tyson rolled his shoulders. "Might as well get some training in myself," he muttered, moving to the center of the arena.
He assumed a fighting stance, his muscular frame coiled with potential energy. "Max!"
Maxwell Dillon descended into the arena across from him. Once a man defined by his unremarkable appearance, he now exuded an aura of barely contained power. Gone were the bad combover and thick glasses that had once been Max's trademark. In their place stood a well-groomed black man with short-cropped hair and a neatly trimmed goatee. The transformation wasn't just cosmetic; it spoke to the newfound confidence he'd gained since his powers had manifested.
"Ready when you are, Max," Tyson called out, anticipation clear in his voice.
The suit Max wore had been improved upon significantly, with all the scientists at House of M, including Max himself, working on the design. It was form-fitting and built to harness his near-limitless electrical potential. As it hummed to life, its circuitry shifted from blue to a vibrant yellow-white. The air around him began to ionize, creating a low-pressure system that made everyone's ears pop. Closing his eyes, he drew in a deep breath as the arena's lighting flickered and dimmed. Electronic devices on the sidelines glitched momentarily as he unconsciously pulled electricity from his surroundings. The temperature in the immediate vicinity dropped several degrees, a side effect of the massive energy conversion happening within his body.
Tyson could have struck then, taking advantage of Max's momentary vulnerability. But that wasn't the point of this exercise. This was about building Max up, not tearing him down. So he waited, allowing his sparring partner the time he needed to power up.
When Max's sight snapped open, electricity crackled within his irises, giving him an otherworldly appearance. A grin spread across Tyson's face, equal parts pride in his progress and excitement for the fight ahead.
Without warning, Max launched himself into the air. His flight was smoother than it had been even a week ago. Tyson appreciated the improvement; flying opponents were a rarity, even among all the mutants living within House of M.
Tyson's takeoff was effortless. The adamantium laced through his bones responded instantly to his magnetic manipulation, lifting him clear of the ground. He corkscrewed through the air, evading Max's initial rush with a graceful spiral.
"Good speed!" Tyson called out encouragingly as he banked hard to avoid another pass. "Now let's see how you handle some evasive maneuvers!"
Max gave chase. Tyson led him on a dizzying series of loops and dives, testing the limits of his newfound aerial agility. To his credit, Max kept pace admirably, closing the gap with each passing second.
After a particularly tight turn, Tyson allowed him to catch up. The two men collided in midair. They grappled, trading blows at a speed that would have been little more than a blur to normal human perception.
Even with his electrically enhanced reflexes, Max found himself struggling to land a solid hit. Tyson's spider-sense sang a constant warning in the back of his mind, allowing him to anticipate and counter each incoming strike with uncanny precision.
A right cross from Max whistled past Tyson's ear as he shifted back just far enough to avoid it. In that split second of overextension, Tyson saw his opening. His hand shot out, fingers wrapping around Max's wrist. With a twist of his body and a pulse of magnetic force to increase the speed, he hurled Max across the arena.
Max recovered quickly. He tumbled through the air for a moment before righting himself, hovering in place as he reassessed his strategy. Electricity crackled between his fingertips as he brought his hands together, focusing his power.
"Incoming!" Max shouted, more as a courtesy than a warning. A bolt of lightning, not a thin, controlled stream, but a jagged, branching monstrosity of raw power, erupted from his palms. The air itself seemed to scream as it ionized, the thunderclap that followed rattling the reinforced windows of the arena.
Tyson's response was immediate. A shimmering dome of magnetic energy coalesced around him, the lightning strike dispersing harmlessly across its surface in a dazzling display of light and sound.
Max didn't wait for him to recover. He thrust both hands forward, and instead of another lightning bolt, he released a sustained stream of electrical energy. The continuous assault hammered against Tyson's shield like a battering ram.
"That's it, Max!" Tyson called out. "Make me work for it!"
Seeing an opportunity, Max split his attack, maintaining the frontal assault while simultaneously directing a secondary current to arc around and strike from behind. Tyson sensed the attack, extending his magnetic field into a complete sphere, maintaining the 360-degree defense against the relentless barrage.
Tyson channeled the electricity around his shield and forced it into a single mass of physical electricity, just beyond his outstretched hand. He smiled at Max and dropped his voice into a rough octave.
"Now you will experience the full power of the Dark Side."
He held out his hand and fired the electricity back at Max. It arced between them, heading for the blue man as though it were seeking him out. Of course, it had no effect when it landed, beyond strengthening Max once more.
But Max didn't keep his distance; he was already moving. His body transformed into a living current, his physical form dissolving into pure electricity as he streaked across the arena faster than the human perception could track.
Tyson barely had time to register the attack before Max rematerialized directly in front of him, his fist crackling with concentrated energy as it headed directly for his chest.
But his spider-sense had warned him of the incoming danger. He dodged, grabbed Max's wrist as it passed him, and with a half spin, threw the man into the air a dozen feet away before he regained control of his flight.
"You survived!" Tyson said in his Palpatine voice.
But then, in his normal voice, he commented, "That's new."
Max grinned. "Rewatched the footage of you using my powers. Figured you'd appreciate the surprise."
As the sparring intensified, Max began to lose himself in the fight. Power blazed in his irises, the air around him distorting with heat. With a roar of exertion, he thrust both hands toward Tyson above him. He released a pulse of electric energy that killed every light in the arena and sent a momentary blackout rippling through the building.
In the sudden darkness, Max's form illuminated the space with an eerie blue-white light. The raw power emanating from him was palpable, a reminder to everyone present that they were witnessing only a fraction of what he was truly capable of.
Tyson raised a hand. "Alright, that's good for now, Max. Power down before we lose the backup generators, too."
As the echoes of thunder faded, Tyson lowered himself to the ground with genuine approval on his face. Max worked to calm himself, reining in the crackling energy surrounding him.
"You know," Tyson said quietly, "the power grid for most of Manhattan runs beneath us. If you wanted to, you could probably tap into it, draw enough power to..." He left the thought unfinished.
Max nodded solemnly, the implications clear. "That's why I need this training. Why I need all of you." He gestured to his containment suit. "This helps, but ultimately, I need to be in control."
"And you will be," Tyson assured him, clapping a hand on his shoulder despite the residual static shock. "Today was proof of that. You're not just learning to contain your power, you're learning to wield it. And that makes all the difference."
Max's chest swelled with pride at the compliment, but before he could respond, another voice cut through the air.
"He's right about the improvement," Maki called out from the sidelines, her arms crossed as she approached them. Her expression mixed approval with critical assessment. "But we've still got work to do."
Max's shoulders tensed slightly at her approach. Maki's critiques were always spot-on, but they could be brutal in their honesty. He'd learned to appreciate her directness, even when it stung.
"You still need to improve how long it takes to boost your speed and strength," she continued. "In a real fight, you won't have the luxury of time to prepare. An enemy isn't going to stand there and let you power up."
Max nodded, absorbing the criticism. "Understood. I'll work on streamlining the process."
"Good," she said with a curt nod. "We also need more practice integrating your electrical attacks into your hand-to-hand combat. Right now, you're either trying to fight or trying to blast. We need to combine the two seamlessly."
Tyson stepped in, his tone supportive. "Maki's right, but don't let that overshadow how far you've come, Max. You've made incredible strides."
Max's posture relaxed slightly at the encouragement. The combination of Maki's tough love and Tyson's support had become a familiar rhythm in his training. "Thanks, both of you. I appreciate the feedback."
Tyson grinned enthusiastically. "Absolutely. Going forward, let's focus on incorporating those electrical attacks into your close-quarter combat. Start with small bursts, nothing too flashy. One punch is all you'll need against someone without enhanced durability."
Max thanked them both for their guidance. He floated gracefully towards the spectator balcony, his body still crackling with residual electricity. As he ascended, another figure caught everyone's attention.
Felicia Hardy leaped from the balcony. She descended with feline grace, landing on the arena floor without a sound. Tyson watched her descent, noting the changes wrought by the serum. She had always been striking, but now she radiated a supernatural beauty. Her black workout attire showed off her slightly taller and more muscular frame.
They began moving around each other, each sizing up their opponent. Her black catsuit clung to her athletic frame, accentuating her lithe, powerful muscles.
"Let's see if I can keep up," she said, her words equal parts challenge and flirtation.
Tyson's face curled into a devilish smirk. He widened his stance, body coiling in preparation as he settled into the familiar form of Fu-Jow Pai kung fu. This style was one he had been instructing her in, and he was eager to gauge her progress.
"Alright, kitty cat," he goaded, "show me those claws."
She bristled at the taunt, a rumbling sound escaping her throat. She dashed across the space between them. Her first blow sliced toward his midsection with viper-like speed. Sensing the attack through the buzz of his spider-sense, he twisted away, the strike missing him by a hairsbreadth. He countered with a palm strike aimed at her shoulder, which she barely deflected in time. Their exchange set the cadence for the bout, a dizzying dance of strikes, blocks, and evasions. Felicia unleashed her assault with a ferocity while Tyson kept pace, his superhuman reflexes allowing him to anticipate and evade her attacks.
As they fought, he couldn't help but admire her growth as a fighter. The serum had enhanced her natural agility to superhuman levels. Still, more than that, she wielded the techniques he and Maki had imparted with impressive mastery for the small amount of time she'd been training.
Tyson landed several slashes with his adamantium claws, but true to her new healing factor, her wounds knitted back together in seconds. Her catsuit, however, wasn't so fortunate. After a particularly intense exchange, she leaped back, glancing down at the tattered remnants of her outfit.
"You did that on purpose," she accused, though a hint of wry amusement colored her tone. His cuts had been strategically placed to accentuate her figure, but still maintain a modicum of modesty. The fact that she hadn't landed a hit on him, while he'd been able to tastefully ruin her outfit, spoke volumes about the difference in their skill levels.
A roguish grin spread across his features. "Guilty as charged," he admitted shamelessly. "Consider it extra motivation to tighten up that defense."
A playful sound rumbled in her throat. "Sensei," she said loudly, "come help me teach him a lesson."
Maki Matsumoto observed the exchange from her position on the balcony with amusement. At Felicia's call, she vaulted over the railing, her lithe form twisting in midair before landing gracefully beside her student.
Tyson's mind flashed briefly to Colleen Wing, his original sensei and the woman he had initially wanted to run House of M's training sessions. Her absence was a reminder of the complexities that came with his identity as Mirage. For a moment, he wondered idly if now that he'd been exposed, he should approach her again, or if he should just let it go and not possibly entangle himself with the Hand when the Chitauri invasion was on the horizon. Plus it might complicate things with Maki. Pushing the thought aside, focusing on the present challenge.
Maki stood poised for combat, her hand wrapped around the hilt of Muse. With its trapped spirit of the demon blood god, La Magra, the Uru dagger granted vampire strength and speed, augmenting her considerable skills.
"Two against one?" Tyson quipped, shifting his stance to face both women. "Now that's hardly fair... for you. You'll need to recruit a few more."
Maki's lips curled into a predatory smile. "Overconfidence, Tyson? I thought I taught you better than that."
Without further warning, they attacked in perfect synchronization. Maki led with a lightning-fast thrust of Muse, aiming for his midsection. Simultaneously, Felicia went low, attempting to sweep his legs from under him.
His spider-sense screamed a warning, and he reacted on pure instinct. He leaped, twisting his body in midair to avoid both attacks. As he landed, he immediately had to dodge again as Felicia's claws whistled past his face. Maki's vampire-enhanced speed made her strikes almost too fast to follow, while Felicia's raw power and agility kept him constantly on the move. Despite the onslaught, his spider-sense allowed him to remain untouched.
He weaved between their attacks, calling out, "Not bad, ladies," as he narrowly avoided a slash from Muse. "But you'll have to do better than that."
Felicia responded with renewed effort, pressing her attack. "Why won't you stand still? Just let me get my claws on you!"
Maki watched his movements carefully. She noted how he anticipated their attacks, how he seemed to react before they even moved.
Felicia changed her approach. Instead of direct attacks, she began to move erratically, feinting and withdrawing unpredictably. His spider-sense was still keeping him ahead of their attacks, but something felt off.
Somehow, impossibly, he slipped. He was certain of his footing.
How had he become off balance?
Suddenly, Maki lunged forward, Muse aimed directly at his chest. At the same moment, Felicia sprang from behind, her claws extended.
The women thought they had him trapped, but suddenly, Felicia drew up short as Tyson disappeared. She looked around, searching for any signs of him. Meanwhile, Maki was on the back foot, trying to defend herself from his assault, now that he was focused solely on her. He had used his illusions to make himself invisible to Felicia, but Maki, while wielding Muse, was immune.
Felicia's feline senses were on high alert. Then she caught his scent. She pounced, claws extended. The two crashed to the floor in a tangle of limbs, rolling and grappling. She pinned him, claws at his throat, relishing her victory.
"Yield," she said, satisfaction clear in her voice.
He laughed despite the razor-sharp claws. "Well played."
She retracted her claws but remained straddled atop him. The thrill of the fight still pumped through her veins, setting her in the mood for a different kind of tussle.
"Ahem." Maki's sharp voice cut through the moment.
Felicia looked up. Tyson stood behind Maki, Muse's blade at her pale throat. She looked back down, but the man below her simply winked and vanished in a wisp of smoke.
An illusion.
She rose with a scowl. "I thought this was a fair fight. Using illusions, Tyson?"
Maki stepped away from the dissipating mirage. "Excellent work, both of you," she said crisply. "Tyson, your reaction time is impressive. But dealing with multiple high-level threats requires improvement."
She turned to her student. "Your Fu-Jow Pai techniques show promise. But it's still new and will be a long time before you master it."
Felicia crossed her arms. "I almost had him."
"I still had plenty of tricks left," he quipped.
Before the friendly banter could continue, Jessica Drew swung into the arena with effortless grace. She landed softly. "Got any tricks for me?" she called out, her voice carrying a hint of challenge.
His smile widened, excitement igniting as he prepared for a new bout.
Jessica presented a unique challenge for him. As a clone of Peter Parker, and with Tyson having absorbed Kaine, another Parker clone, their shared spider-sense rendered that particular advantage moot. Neither would have the precognitive warning that usually gave them an edge in combat. But on her own, Jessica's fighting skills were no match for his.
Tyson surveyed the arena, studying his opponents. Jessica Drew stood poised for combat with Felicia and Maki flanking her.
"Maki thinks I need more practice against multiple combatants," he announced, rolling his shoulders. "So let's do some group work." He turned to Felicia with a mocking smile. "I told you it wouldn't be enough."
Her face hardened, a low sound rumbling in her throat.
He raised his voice, addressing the spectators gathered along the balcony. "Gambit, Marrow, Ann Marie." He scanned the crowd, picking out specific faces. "Calypso," he called.
He looked past Agatha Harkness, the witch trying hard to avoid notice, like a kid that didn't want to be called on by the teacher. He called out two final names, "Yuriko and Spider-Man."
Calypso vaulted over the railing, her lithe form twisting gracefully before landing in a crouch. Yuriko Oyama followed, her adamantium claws extending with a metallic whisper as she dropped to the arena floor. Peter Parker was the last to join, swinging down on a web line and landing in his characteristic crouch. "What? Trying to relive the glory days, fighting the Sinister Six?"
From the balcony, Otto Octavius jovially shouted, "I'll sit this one out, thanks!"
The room erupted in laughter. Tyson had repaired the man's mechanical arms, but Otto didn't wear them all the time. Carbonadium was radioactive and hazardous if exposed constantly.
As the laughter subsided, Tyson took a step back. His opponents formed a loose semicircle around him. Spider-Man, Jessica Drew, Felicia Hardy, Maki Matsumoto, Calypso, Yuriko, Gambit, Marrow, and Rogue. Nine against one.
He began waving his arms in intricate patterns. Golden sparks cascaded from his fingertips, falling like luminous snow around him. Glowing symbols materialized in the air, complex mandalas spinning and interlocking in elaborate configurations.
"Mirror image!" he called.
Where once stood a single man, now nine identical figures faced the group, each perfectly mirroring the original down to the smallest detail. Each duplicate stood opposite one of his challengers.
Felicia's enhanced senses worked overtime, trying to distinguish the real Tyson from the copies. She sniffed the air, her feline instincts searching for the telltale scent that would reveal the truth, but she came up with nothing.
"They're just illusions," Maki announced to the others confidently. "They can't hurt us."
One of the Tyson copies, the one facing Spider-Man, tilted his head. "Maybe, maybe not. Only one way to find out," he bluffed. Maki was the only one who could tell where the real Tyson was, but he wanted to make them work for it.
All nine Tysons attacked simultaneously. The arena erupted into chaos as each combatant engaged their respective Tyson opponent.
Spider-Man leaped over his Tyson, firing webs to immobilize him. "You know," Peter called out as he twisted in midair, "Illusions have no right being able to fight like this!" He punctuated his statement by landing a solid kick that sent the Tyson copy staggering backward.
The Tyson facing Peter recovered quickly. "You're just mad that your spider-sense doesn't work on me anymore and you actually have to fight," he replied, countering with a sweep that nearly took Peter's legs out from under him.
Nearby, Rogue was having a different experience. Her Tyson seemed to phase through her attacks, her gloved fists passing harmlessly through his form. "This one's definitely an illusion," she called out in her distinctive Southern drawl.
Gambit, meanwhile, found himself dodging very real attacks from his Tyson opponent. A charged playing card exploded against the copy's chest, but the man barely flinched. "Mon ami," he muttered, "you either be de real deal or one convincing copy."
Jessica Drew engaged her Tyson with a combination of strikes that would have overwhelmed most opponents. But this copy matched her move for move.
"Interesting spell," she commented as she narrowly avoided a counter-strike. "Ancient One teach you this one?"
Her Tyson smirked. "Actually, it was Illyana. Giving massages on the beach."
Across the arena, Yuriko's adamantium claws clashed against her Tyson's with a shower of sparks. Metal scraped against metal as they tested each other's strength. "Your claws are real enough," she hissed through clenched teeth.
"Are they?" Tyson shot back.
Marrow had pulled bones from her own body, wielding them as daggers against her Tyson opponent. Her copy dodged with inhuman speed, occasionally catching a bone projectile mid-flight. "Not bad," he acknowledged, tossing the bone aside. "But you're telegraphing your throws."
Calypso's battle took a different form. The voodoo priestess had summoned spectral energies that swirled around her like ghostly serpents. Her Tyson circled warily, recognizing the dangerous magic she wielded.
Felicia circled her Tyson opponent. Unlike the others, she wasn't immediately engaging. Instead, she was studying, watching for any tell that might reveal whether this was the real Tyson or just another copy.
"What's wrong, kitty?" her Tyson taunted. "Cat got your tongue?"
She smiled, remembering all the times he'd used that exact phrase during their training sessions. "Just trying to decide if you're worth my time," she said. Then she pounced, claws extended.
The battle raged across the arena, each combatant fully engaged with their respective Tyson copy. Some were convinced they fought solid opponents capable of dealing real damage, while others discovered their Tysons were indeed just illusions, albeit convincing ones.
Spider-Man webbed his Tyson's feet to the floor, only to have the copy break free with a burst of strength. "Okay, either you're the real deal and stronger than I thought…"
His Tyson laughed. "Maybe I'm just that good at illusions now."
Peter called out, "I think this one's a fake!"
Maki circled her Tyson opponent, Muse clutched firmly in her hand. Unlike the others, she could see through the illusions. The mystical properties of the Uru dagger granted her immunity to the mind-altering effects that had the others fighting shadows. She knew her Tyson was the real one.
"Impressive detail work," she commented, noting how the others were fully engaged fighting Tyson's illusions that she couldn't even see.
The real Tyson stood across from her, his concentration evident on his face as he maintained the complex illusion. "I aim to please," he replied through clenched teeth.
Six had been his limit at the Stark Expo, but now he could push nine. A fifty percent increase, but to him it seemed small for over a year's worth of regular illusion shows. He felt that he was reaching the limits of this power. He held out his hand and summoned Nexus. The sword's psionic enhancing properties from the Cerebro panels used in its construction immediately removed the strain on his mind.
Suddenly, he dashed away, breaking into a sprint toward another section of the arena. Maki reacted instantly, hurling Muse with deadly accuracy. The moment the dagger left her hand, she summoned a copy into her grasp and launched it toward his retreating form.
But he wasn't targeting Maki, despite her being perhaps the greatest threat to his deception. Instead, he made a beeline for Marrow, who was still engaged with her illusionary Tyson opponent.
His fingers brushed against Marrow's exposed skin. The Tyson illusion she had been fighting instantly dispersed into golden particles. She yelped in surprise, shock clear on her face as she realized what had happened.
"He's here!" she called out to the others, but it was already too late.
His absorption power had activated, temporarily copying Marrow's mutation. Bone growths immediately appeared beneath his skin, pushing outward. But unlike Marrow's calcium-based protrusions, his skeleton was adamantium. The result was horrifying and magnificent. Adamantium growths erupted from his flesh like daggers under his skin.
His magnetism power ripped the growths out of his body. Where Marrow would have been weakened by such rapid bone loss, his healing factor, more prolific and combined with hers, sealed the wounds instantly. The process repeated, bones tearing free only to be replaced by new growths.
Around the arena, the remaining Tyson illusions flickered and vanished as his concentration shifted. The combatants paused, suddenly finding themselves without opponents.
A cloud of adamantium bones hovered menacingly around Tyson and Marrow. More and more bones flew from his body, joining the swirling mass until it began to coalesce into a solid sphere surrounding him.
Felicia turned to Peter, concern clear in her voice. "How do we break an adamantium shell?"
Peter shook his head, his mask hiding his grimace. "Ask her," he replied, pointing at Calypso. "Magic. Maybe. There's nothing physical that can break that."
Before Calypso could answer, the sphere rippled like liquid metal. A form emerged from its surface.
Tyson, but transformed.
His entire body appeared to be composed of pure adamantium.
Jessica stared in disbelief. "You've gotta be kidding."
"No," Maki confirmed, having retrieved Muse. "I see it. It's real."
The adamantium figure regarded them. "You failed to see through the illusions." his voice resonated with a metallic timbre. "You failed to utilize your teamwork to the fullest. Now you fight me."
Gambit twirled his staff, cards appearing between his fingers as he charged them with kinetic energy. "This is better, non? One real target, not so many fakes."
As if in response to his words, the sphere rippled again. Seven more Tyson figures emerged from its surface, stepping onto the arena floor. They were identical to the adamantium Tyson in appearance, but each wielded different weapons. Some extended adamantium claws in the style of Felicia or Yuriko, one held a perfect replica of Muse, another brandished a staff similar to Gambit's.
Spider-Man groaned audibly. "You had to say it."
The eight adamantium Tysons spread out, surrounding the group.
"This is getting out of hand," Jessica muttered, dropping into a defensive stance.
Felicia's claws extended as she prepared for the onslaught. "Understatement of the year."
Ann Marie, who felt out of place among the super-powered mutants and heroes, asked, "Anyone got a plan?"
"Yeah," Peter replied, shooting a web to the ceiling and pulling himself up for a better vantage point. "Don't get hit by the indestructible metal men."
The adamantium army began to advance.
Yuriko extended her own adamantium claws. "This should be interesting," she said, a predatory smile forming on her lips.
Calypso began chanting, mystical energies swirling around her hands. "I can try to disrupt his concentration," she called out, "but I need time."
"Time is what we don't have," Gambit replied as he charged several cards at once, the playing cards glowing with magenta energy.
Inside the adamantium sphere, a strange quiet descended, insulating Tyson and Marrow from the fight outside. Small amounts of light penetrated through tiny imperfections in the shell. Tyson still held Marrow by her arm, his grip firm but not painful.
"So," he said casually, as if they weren't in the middle of a training battle, "what's going on with you and Gambit?"
Marrow's eyes widened, then narrowed suspiciously. She tried yanking her arm away, her natural instinct to fight when cornered kicking in. But after a moment of struggle, she realized Tyson wasn't actually fighting her. He was simply using his magnetic abilities to pull bone after bone from his skin, adding them to the sphere surrounding them. The adamantium bones floated upward, merging with the structure.
"What do you care?" she spat, though her voice lacked its usual venom.
Tyson shrugged as another bone tore free from his forearm. "Just curious. You two have been at each other's throats for days. More than usual."
Marrow looked at him skeptically, her pink hair falling across one eye. Despite her distrust, she couldn't deny that Tyson had earned some measure of respect from her. He had saved the Morlocks down in the tunnels when they needed help most. And she had seen him flirting successfully with both Felicia and Jessica; he had to know something about relationships, right?
She sighed, her shoulders slumping. "He saved me in the tunnels," she admitted reluctantly. "Back when the Marauders attacked. But now he spends all his time with that girl, Ann Marie."
Tyson nodded in understanding. He didn't say so, but he knew if there was a pair destined to be together, besides Peter and MJ, it was probably Ann Marie and Remy. Their chemistry was undeniable, and they gravitated toward each other naturally.
"So it's just that you're mad he's ignoring you for her?"
Marrow grunted in frustration, a bone spike protruding from her shoulder as her emotions flared. "It's not just that," she said. "I wanted to talk to her, to see what she sees in him. But when I did. I understood," she continued, not meeting his eyes. "She's gorgeous, and kind, and easy to talk to."
Tyson noticed something unusual. As she started speaking about Ann Marie, Marrow's tone changed completely. The harshness melted away, replaced by something softer, almost vulnerable.
"And she doesn't care about how ugly I am because of all these bones growing out of my skin everywhere."
Tyson held up a hand. "Okay, hold on. First, you're not ugly. When you go full-out stabby mode, it's a bit scary, but normally, definitely not ugly. Second, this isn't about Remy so much as it's about Ann Marie? You were fighting over her?"
Marrow, for the first time he'd ever seen, looked sheepish, and she may have been blushing. The fierce Morlock, who had faced down the Marauders and survived the harshest conditions in the tunnels beneath New York, suddenly couldn't meet his eyes.
"I like Remy," she admitted quietly. "He's charming, and he takes care of me..." She took a deep breath. "But I don't really like men like that."
Outside, they could hear the muffled sounds of combat as their teammates faced the adamantium army Tyson had created.
He let out a long breath. "Yeah, seems like you've got yourself a situation. I probably should've stayed out of it altogether." Another bone tore free from his side, and his healing factor immediately closed the wound. The floating bone joined the others, reinforcing their shelter. "Look," he said after a moment, "I'm not the best at giving advice about this kind of stuff. But I've been told, and it's worked for me pretty well so far, communication is key."
Marrow scoffed, but there was no real heat behind it.
"I know. Sometimes its easier to fight than it is to put yourself out there." Tyson continued. "Talk to Remy. Let him know why you're upset. And maybe talk to Ann Marie, too. She might be into girls, she might not be, but you won't know otherwise."
He leaned against the curved wall of their shelter, watching as Marrow processed his words.
"You don't even have to be direct about it. I know it's tough and nerve-wracking to wonder if someone is into you, and it's even worse when you're into someone and they don't feel the same way." He gave her a pointed look. "Stabbing Remy is probably the fastest way into his heart, but it isn't the way into Ann Marie's."
Marrow let out a reluctant laugh, a sound so rare that Tyson almost didn't recognize it. "Maybe not," she conceded.
A tremor ran through their adamantium shelter as something, or someone, struck it from outside with considerable force.
"They got creative out there," Tyson explained, glancing upward. Through a small gap in the sphere, she could see flashes of energy; likely Gambit's kinetically charged cards or Calypso's magic. "If you need any help or advice, or just want to fight until you guys reach an agreement, let me know. But for now, this is a teachable moment I can't miss."
Marrow hesitated, then gave him a hug. "Thanks for listening. But I'm still going to kick your ass one day."
"I wouldn't have it any other way," Tyson replied, as he began to reshape their adamantium fortress from the inside out.
— Rogue Redemption —
The first of the adamantium Tysons lunged forward, claws extended toward Spider-Man. Peter twisted in midair, narrowly avoiding the strike. The claws passed through the space he had occupied a split-second earlier, embedding themselves in the wall behind him.
"Whoa! Those are definitely not illusions!" Peter called out.
Felicia engaged another of the adamantium Tysons, her own claws creating sparks as they scraped against the metal body. Despite her enhanced strength, she couldn't penetrate the adamantium.
Peter swung over to Jessica, and they double-teamed an adamantium Tyson, coordinating their attacks. Even their combined strength barely made the construct budge.
"We need a new strategy!" Maki called out as she parried a strike from the Tyson wielding the replica of her dagger. "Physical attacks aren't working!"
Gambit saw Ann Marie running from her adamantium Tyson and quickly dashed to her. His staff whirled in a defensive pattern, buying them precious seconds.
"Here, chère, take some of my power."
Ann Marie's face showed alarm. "No, don't!" But he had already placed his bare hand on her neck.
He winced as the draining sensation began, his energy flowing into her like water down a drain. Despite the pain, he tried to hide his reaction, maintaining his roguish smile even as his knees threatened to buckle. The familiar ache reminded him of their first meeting, when she'd accidentally absorbed his memories along with his power - the guilt he still carried from that day making this sacrifice feel like penance.
Felicia, dodging a construct's swipe nearby, noticed the exchange. Understanding lit up her features.
"That's it!" she called out, vaulting over an adamantium arm that crashed into the floor where she'd stood. "Everyone touch Ann Marie! Giving her our strengths might be enough!"
Ann Marie backed away, panic evident on her face. "Wait, I might hurt you!"
"Don't worry, I heal." Without hesitation, she pressed her hand against Ann Marie's exposed forearm. The drain was immediate, but she gritted her teeth through it.
Jessica swung down from above, landing in a crouch beside them. She reached toward Ann Marie, but slapped at Felicia's hand instead.
"Consent, consent, kitty," Jessica chided. She turned to Ann Marie, understanding from her own clone experiences what it meant to have powers forced upon you. "Can I lend you my power?"
Rogue stared at her, conflict evident. After a moment's hesitation, she nodded.
Jessica placed her hand on Ann Marie's shoulder. The sensation was strange, like part of her essence was being siphoned away. Painful and profoundly unsettling.
Yuriko joined them next, her adamantium claws retracting as she extended her hand. "Take what you need," she said simply, pressing her palm against Ann Marie's other arm.
Ann Marie gasped as the powers flowed into her. Strength beyond anything she'd ever known surged through her muscles. Spider-sense tingled at the base of her skull. Agility and reflexes sharpened. The knowledge of how to use adamantium claws and fire webs became instinctive.
But it wasn't just powers. Memories cascaded through her mind; swinging through New York skyscrapers, training with her father as a thief, going to Essex for help controlling her powers... again. The painful adamantium bonding process.
The nearest adamantium Tyson charged toward them. Ann Marie fired a webline with perfect accuracy, the sticky substance adhering to the construct's chest. She pulled with newfound strength, yanking the metal figure toward her.
As it flew through the air, she realized her strength alone wouldn't be enough to damage the adamantium. When the metal Tyson reached her, she grabbed it with both hands, channeling Gambit's power through her fingertips.
The construct began to glow with magenta energy. Ann Marie pivoted and hurled it toward the other adamantium Tysons, which had all turned in her direction.
Gambit looked alarmed. "Non, chère!" he shouted in warning, but it was too late.
The adamantium Tyson exploded with tremendous force, sending lethal shrapnel in all directions. The blast wave knocked several of them off their feet.
Everyone threw up their hands instinctively, though they knew it was futile. Nothing could protect them from adamantium shrapnel moving at those speeds.
But the pain never came.
Opening their sight, they saw the shrapnel hovering in midair, suspended mere inches from their bodies. Jagged metal fragments hung motionless, poised to deliver fatal wounds that never landed.
Then came the clapping.
Not from the spectators on the balcony, but from Tyson himself. He stood in the center of the arena, completely normal again, no trace of the adamantium visible.
"Using teamwork and the power of friendship," he said loudly, beaming with pride. "I'm so proud of you all."
Peter dropped from his perch on the wall, his mask hiding his confusion but not the bewilderment in his voice. "Wait a second, that shouldn't have worked!"
Jessica, standing nearby, nodded vigorously. "Regardless of what kind of energy the adamantium was charged with, it shouldn't have exploded. It's indestructible."
Tyson rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, looking like a child caught in a lie. "I may have embellished a bit."
Peter and Jessica groaned in unison, offended by the blatant disregard for material properties.
The shrapnel dissolved into drops that melted on the floor along with the remaining adamantium Tysons. The collective metal left a large puddle in the arena that began streaming toward Tyson, who was still ripping bone shards from his body with alarming frequency.
Ann Marie stared at him warily. "How strong is he that he can fight us all at once and treat it like a game?"
His face split into a grin. He hunched slightly, his fingers curling. When he spoke, his voice had transformed back into that imitation of Emperor Palpatine.
"The dark side of the Force is a pathway to many abilities some consider to be unnatural."
Peter and Jessica groaned again, louder this time.
The others began to recover from the intense battle simulation. Gambit leaned heavily on his staff, the energy drain from Ann Marie leaving him weaker than he'd let on. Felicia stretched, working out the tension in her muscles.
Ann Marie stood apart, her borrowed powers already fading. The memories remained though, fragments of lives not her own swirling through her consciousness. She touched her neck where Gambit had made contact, feeling a strange new understanding of his constant struggle with wanting to touch her but knowing the cost.
Calypso approached Tyson. "That was never adamantium, was it?"
"Oh, it was. I was running low on the supply from Alkali Lake. By touching Marrow, I replenished it, and in the process gained who knows how many billions of dollars worth of materials." he turned to the young Morlock. "If you need anything, anything at all, let me know. I owe you big time."
"And the explosion?" Maki asked, Muse still clutched in her hand.
"Controlled. I would never put any of you in actual danger." His tone grew more serious, and he raised his voice so that everyone in the arena could hear him.
"But the lesson was real."
He looked around, making eye contact with as many of his allies as possible.
"Together, you're stronger. We're all stronger. None of us can truly succeed on our own."
As the group made their way out of the arena, the atmosphere shifted from the intensity of combat to a more relaxed camaraderie.
Throughout the exchange, Agatha Harkness remained a silent observer, watching every detail of the sparring matches. Relief washed over her, grateful that she hadn't been chosen to participate today. Unlike the mutants with their extraordinary healing abilities, Tyson couldn't mend her wounds. As a result, her sparring sessions were usually limited to those skilled enough to pull their punches and avoid inflicting lasting harm. Namely, Maki and Tyson himself. Neither opponent was particularly enjoyable to face in combat.
As Tyson left the arena, Agatha watched him, her mind churning with thoughts about their magical training sessions. She had been instructing him in the arcane arts, and he was rapidly developing into a formidable blood warlock. The thought gave her pause.
She realized that she and Tyson weren't the only magic users within the walls of House of M. Her mind drifted to Calypso, the voodoo priestess whose abilities essentially made her a dark potions witch. Then there was his ex-girlfriend, who had briefly spent time within House of M. Others had described her as a demonic sorceress, though Agatha hadn't had the chance to witness the woman's powers firsthand.
She looked toward Maki, who had sheathed the heavily enchanted dagger, Muse. He had entrusted Maki with the use of this powerful artifact, speaking volumes about his trust in her. The dagger's enchantments temporarily transformed Maki into a vampire, granting her superhuman strength and speed. But the weapon was capable of so much more. Maki had the potential to become a blood witch herself, given the right training and circumstances.
These observations brought Agatha's thoughts full circle back to Tyson. He seemed to have gained complete control over his powers, particularly his death touch. But there was more to him than just that deadly ability. The man could also heal, though it was limited to mutants. However, she believed that with proper training, this ability could be enhanced and expanded.
As she pondered these facts, a realization began to form in her mind. He wasn't just a blood warlock. He was beginning to show signs of being a fledgling green witch as well. The power over both life and death was a rare and potent combination. With Calypso's help, they'd resurrected the girl, Ann Marie. While it wasn't a True Resurrection, it was the closest she'd seen in all her long years.
The more she considered Tyson and the magical users he surrounded himself with, the more a pattern seemed to emerge. If she didn't know any better, she'd think he was unconsciously beginning to form a coven around himself.
The thought left her feeling unsure.
On one hand, the formation of a coven could lead to growth in magical power and knowledge. The combined strengths of various magical disciplines could create a formidable force, capable of tackling threats that individual practitioners would struggle against. The potential for magical advancement and discovery was immense.
Covens, however, came with the risk of attracting unwanted attention from other magical entities or groups. She was acutely aware of the dangers, as she was one such entity. For centuries, she'd been preying on covens, absorbing their magical power to remain young and become more powerful.
Her thoughts turned to her role in all of this. As his magical instructor, she held a unique position. She could guide him, help him understand, and harness this burgeoning power. But should she? Was it her place to nudge him towards or away from forming a coven, or should she let things unfold naturally?
She had torn apart covens as recently as the day before she arrived at House of M.
Yet, she had enjoyed her time as his tutor. While he wasn't a child, as such, he was dutiful, respectful, and a good student. She couldn't help but feel drawn to him. Women flocked to his side, which was apparent, but she knew it wasn't that.
As she mulled over these thoughts, Agatha found herself wondering why she was really here. There was something else about him that had drawn her to accept Tyson's offer; at the time, she wasn't sure what it was. And her intuition had been right.
Seeing him bring back the dead made her think of her own long-forgotten hope...
— Rogue Redemption —
Soft light filtered through sheer curtains, and the room held the faint scent of lavender. Tyson sat on the edge of the plush armchair. He recognized the subtle scent as an attempt to create a soothing atmosphere. Yet his fingers drummed an erratic rhythm on the armrest, betraying his hesitance and discomfort. Dr. Sofen observed him from her seat across the coffee table, with a notepad balanced on her crossed legs. She wore a crisp white blouse and charcoal pencil skirt, her blonde hair pulled back in a neat bun. The pen in her hand remained still, waiting.
"Tyson, thank you for coming in today." Her voice carried professional warmth. "I understand these past few months have been incredibly difficult for you. Would you like to start by telling me how you're feeling right now?"
He clenched his jaw, then forced himself to relax it. "I feel... I don't know. Okay, I guess."
She made a quick note. "You went through a lot. Feeling unsure isn't an uncommon response to trauma. I'd like to talk about what happened with Magneto, if you're comfortable with that."
"What's there to talk about? He's dead. I killed him."
"Can you walk me through what happened?"
His voice turned low and dangerous. "He came for me with his group, the Brotherhood, in the middle of Times Square. He'd been looking for new recruits because he wanted to use my power in a weapon. I tried to talk him down, even Captain America couldn't talk him down... I couldn't let him get away with killing Jubilee and coming after me yet again."
He flexed his hands, staring at his fingertips where the adamantium claws lay hidden. "It's not like I lost control. The first time I killed someone with my power, it was self-defense; the second time, it wasn't wholly intentional. With Magneto, it was different."
"What were you feeling in that moment?"
"Rage. He was responsible for sending the first man I killed after me. He wouldn't have ever stopped. He had already escaped prison once, and captured me almost immediately when he did. And now Jubilee... I couldn't let him hurt anyone else."
She nodded, her pen moving across the notepad. "It sounds like you were overwhelmed by grief and anger. In that moment, did you consciously decide to kill Magneto?"
He hesitated. "I... Yes, I did..."
His attention drifted, staring at something beyond the office walls.
"How do you feel about it now?"
"Part of me feels... relieved. Like I've removed a threat and protected others from his actions. But another part..."
He studied his hands with troubled intensity. "Another part of me is worried. Of what I'm capable of."
"The first day I had powers in this world, I killed a man in self-defense," he began, his words heavy with memory. "It was... The feeling of his life force draining away, his memories flooding into me... it was overwhelming."
"That sounds like a traumatic experience. How did you cope with it?"
He let out a bitter laugh. "Cope? I didn't. I just... pushed it down. Tried not to think about it. But then, two months later, it happened again." He paused. "This time, it wasn't self-defense. It was an accident. Before I could even process what was happening, they were... gone."
She looked up at him. "How did that second incident affect you?"
He closed his eyes, his face contorting with pain. "It was easier, in a way. The first time, I could at least tell myself it was necessary. But this? This was just... senseless. A life snuffed out because I wasn't careful enough. But also, the man was barely living." He opened his eyes, staring down at his hands. "After that, I was so careful, always wearing gloves, always keeping my distance from people. And for over a year, I managed it. No more deaths."
Dr. Sofen tilted her head slightly. "But then Magneto happened."
"Yeah. Magneto happened."
"Can you walk me through what was different about that situation?"
His fists clenched, knuckles turning white. "It was a choice. For the first time, I consciously decided to use my power to end someone's life. And the thing is... it wasn't hard. Physically, emotionally, even the act itself. In the moment, it was easy."
He looked up at her, his face filled with guilt. "It scares me a little. I'm worried it's getting easier. That lives don't have the value I placed on them initially."
She set her notepad aside. "Tyson, it's important to recognize that these were very different situations. The first two incidents were accidents, tragedies that you had little control over. The situation with Magneto was a conscious decision made in the heat of battle."
He shook his head. "But that's just it. I made that decision. And I don't regret it. What does that say about me?"
"It says that you're human. The fact that you're wrestling with this, that you're concerned about the value of life, shows that you haven't lost your moral compass."
He stood up abruptly, pacing the length of the office. "But what if I'm heading down that path? What if each time it gets a little easier, a little less... impactful?"
She watched him. "That's a valid concern, Tyson. But I want you to consider something. You're not just worried about the act of taking a life becoming easier. You're worried about becoming desensitized to the value of life itself. The fact that you're here, talking about this, shows that you're actively fighting against that desensitization."
He paused in his pacing, turning to face her. "But how do I know? How can I be sure I won't cross a line I can't come back from?"
"By continuing to question yourself. By remaining aware of your actions and their consequences. By seeking help when you need it, like you're doing now."
She gestured for him to sit back down, which he did after a moment's hesitation. "I want you to think about something. In each of these situations, how did you feel afterward? Not just immediately, but in the days and weeks that followed?"
He considered the question carefully. "After the first two... I was concerned, but not overly so. The first, he was a murderous, psychopath, rapist. I did the world a favor by killing him. Any jury would've sentenced him for the things he did. The second was more like a mercy killing."
"And after Magneto?"
He hesitated. "There's relief, knowing he can't hurt anyone else and that I stopped him before he could use his weapon, killing innocent humans. But there's also this... heaviness. I didn't have to kill Magneto. He was beaten and powerless, and I did it anyway."
He turned toward the window, wrestling with his thoughts. The silence between them was broken only by the soft clock ticking on her desk.
"There's... something else. Something I haven't told anyone yet."
"Go on, Tyson. This is a safe space."
His grey irises met hers, searching for judgment. Finding none, he continued, "After the battle with Magneto, I followed up on something he'd said. About mutants living beneath the city." He paused, his hands clenching and unclenching in his lap. "He'd kidnapped one of my friends and left her down there with them. I went to get her back, but when I found her... I discovered a whole community down there."
She nodded encouragingly. "I read the report and saw your interview with Jameson. That must have been quite a shock."
"Yeah. But that wasn't the worst of it. Like I said during the interview, when I got there, they were under attack. I managed to stop the attackers, but... There were wounded. A lot of wounded and many already dead." He swallowed hard. "They had a healer in their group. But he was injured too. Dying. There wasn't any way to save him, and without him, others were going to die."
His words dropped even lower. "I... I killed him. To absorb his power," he continued, his words tumbling out now as if a dam had broken. "I saved several others with his power, but I also chose to kill him. It wasn't self-defense, it wasn't an accident. I made a decision to end his life to save others."
"Does that make me a monster?"
She set her notepad aside completely, meeting his stare directly. "Tyson, what you're describing is an incredibly complex ethical situation. There's no easy answer here." She paused, choosing her words carefully. "You were faced with an impossible choice. On one hand, you had a dying man. On the other hand, you had multiple lives that could be saved with his power. It's a classic ethical dilemma; we even have a name for it. It's called the Trolley Problem. But you had to face that situation in real-time, with real consequences."
"It's natural to second-guess yourself in situations like this. But from what you've told me, it sounds like you made the best decision you could with the information and resources you had at the time."
Her tone became more analytical. "Let's break this down. The healer was already dying, correct?"
He nodded. "Yeah, he was too far gone. Even if we'd had medical supplies, he wouldn't have made it."
"And without his power, how many others would have died?"
He closed his eyes, his face pained. "At least five, maybe more. Some of the injuries were... bad."
"So you were faced with a choice between one certain death and multiple potential deaths. In medical ethics, this is similar to the concept of triage, making difficult decisions about who to treat when resources are limited."
"But I didn't just choose not to treat him. I actively ended his life."
"Yes, and that's what makes this situation so ethically complex. You weren't just deciding who to save, but whether to take a life to save others. I want you to consider something. If you had the ability to save five lives by sacrificing one, but that one life wasn't tied to your powers, if it was just a button you could push, would you do it?"
He considered the question seriously. "I don't know. Maybe? If there was no other way to save them..."
"The fact that you're struggling with this hypothetical scenario shows that you're not taking these decisions lightly. You're wrestling with the ethical implications, which is exactly what a person with a strong moral compass would do."
He shook his head. "But it's not just a hypothetical. I actually did it. I made that choice."
"Yes, you did. And now you're here, talking about it, trying to process it. A person who had truly lost touch with the value of life wouldn't be this troubled by their actions." She spoke with gentle firmness. "What you did was incredibly difficult. It was a choice made under extreme circumstances, with lives hanging in the balance. But a choice that you made."
Some of the tension left his frame. "So... you don't think I'm a monster?"
She shook her head. "No, Tyson, I don't. You haven't lost your humanity. I think you're someone who was faced with an impossible situation and made the best choice you could. That doesn't mean it was an easy choice, or that you shouldn't feel conflicted about it. But it doesn't make you a monster."
She considered her next words carefully. "What I think we need to focus on now is how you process this experience. How do you integrate it into your understanding of yourself and your powers? How do you move forward, knowing you have the capacity to make these kinds of decisions and will likely have to in the future?"
She reached for her notepad again, jotting down a few notes. "I think it might be helpful for us to explore some ethical frameworks in our sessions. Not to justify your actions, but to give you tools to think through these kinds of situations. Would you be open to that?"
"Yeah, I think that might help. I just... I don't want to become someone who can make these decisions easily. I don't want to lose that part of myself that cares."
"The very fact that you're saying that shows that you're committed to maintaining your moral compass, even in the face of difficult situations."
She continued thoughtfully. "What you're feeling is normal. You've been through an incredibly traumatic experience, and you acted in a moment of extreme stress and emotion. It's important to process these feelings, to understand them, rather than pushing them away or letting them consume you."
He nodded slowly, absorbing her words. Despite what he might think about these sessions, he couldn't deny that his psyche could affect his powers. Look at Rogue; she was a prime example of that. While she wasn't part of him any longer, he didn't want himself to become the problem, reverting into a state like the one she'd created for herself, and for him.
"It's a process, Tyson. You don't have to have all the answers right now. What's important is that you're here, talking about it. That's the first step." She paused. "I'd like to suggest that we continue these sessions. We can work together to process your grief, your guilt, and your fears. It won't be easy, but I believe it will help you find a way forward."
He was quiet for a long moment, processing everything they'd discussed. The weight of his recent actions, the complexity of his moral struggles, the path ahead. All of it swirled through his mind.
"Okay. I'll give it a shot, Doc."