[33] Would You Look At That?

Chapter 33: Would You Look At That?

—

The abandoned apartment building loomed before them like a monument to urban decay. Jean Grey suppressed a shudder as they approached, the psychic emanations from within making her temples throb. Fear, anger, and confusion all broadcasting at volumes that made her earlier intrusion attempt seem like a whisper.

Was the boy right? The thought came unbidden, unwelcome. Do I invade minds too easily?

Professor Xavier had taught her that her gifts came with responsibility. The power to read thoughts, to know the truth behind every lie, every hidden intention. It was a tool for protection, for understanding. He said it was alright to use it, because that was for the greater good, because she didn’t mean any harm. But the disgust in Ben’s eyes...

"Jean, you okay?" Kitty's voice, weary and concerned.

"Fine," Jean lied smoothly. "Just... the psychic noise is intense."

Scott took point as they entered, his hand ready at his visor. The lobby was a nightmare made manifest.

Every surface writhed with insect life, roaches carpeting the floors, flies thick enough to obscure the walls, spiders weaving webs between light fixtures. The sound was overwhelming, a constant drone that seemed to burrow into their skulls.

"Oh gross, oh gross, oh gross," Kitty chanted, phasing slightly so insects passed through her feet. Some attacked them immediately, and Jean had to work her powers.

She erected a bubble of psychic shield around her group, keeping the insects away. This mission was looking easy; insects were no danger as long as she kept this shield erect. The harder part would be conversing with the mutant.

"Well done, Jean. Kitty, stay focused," Scott ordered, though Jean noticed his jaw clenching with disgust.

They climbed the stairs carefully, following the psychic trail. The higher they went, the denser the swarms became. By the third floor, they were wading through knee-deep masses of crawling things.

The apartment door hung open, revealing a scene from a horror movie. Councilwoman Liang, who Jean recognized from the news, hung suspended against the far wall, wrapped in spider silk so thick only her terrified eyes were visible. Centipedes, each as long as Jean's forearm, crawled across the cocoon in lazy patterns.

And there, in the center of it all, stood Clancy.

He was younger than Jean expected, even with the messy beard, perhaps in his early twenties. Thin to the point of malnourishment, clothes hanging off his frame like rags. His hands moved in strange patterns, conducting his living orchestra with the desperation of someone who'd found power in powerlessness.

"Clancy?" Scott's voice was calm and diplomatic. Clancy flinched, realizing more people had trespassed his house. "My name is Scott Summers. We're here to help."

The young man spun around, eyes wild. "Y-you… Help? HELP?!" Insects responded to his agitation, swirling faster. "That's what they all say! Right before they try to gas us! Exterminate us! Well, I'm done being treated like a pest!"

"We're not here to hurt you," Jean added, projecting waves of calm. Not intrusive, just... available. Like emotional background music. "We're mutants too. We understand what you're going through."

"Mutants?" Clancy laughed, high and broken. "Is that what they're calling me now? Better than freaks, I guess. Or monsters. Or infestations that need to be cleared out."

"You're not a monster," Kitty said softly. "You're just scared. We get it. When my powers first manifested, I fell through my bedroom floor. Scared the hell out of my parents."

For a moment, Clancy's expression softened. The swarms slowed their frantic dance. Jean felt hope flutter in her chest.

Then Scott had to open his mouth.

"We want what's best for you, Clancy. The Xavier Institute can help you control your abilities, give you a place where you belong. Isn’t that what you want?" His tone shifted, becoming more authoritative. "But this has to stop. You're hurting innocent people. If you can't see that, if you won't come willingly... then we'll have to insist."

The temperature in the room seemed to drop. Jean wanted to scream at Scott, to take back those words that sounded far too much like an ultimatum. But it was too late.

"Force me?" Clancy's voice was quiet now, dangerous. "Just like everyone else."

"That's not what he meant—" Jean started.

"Actually," a new voice drawled from the connecting doorway, "that's exactly what he meant, sugar. Didn’t I tell you earlier?"

Jean's blood ran cold.

Rogue leaned against the doorframe like she owned the place. But this wasn't the soft and meek girl they'd tried to save years ago. This Rogue was harder, her green eyes cold as winter frost. The white streak in her hair seemed more pronounced, and she wore civilian clothes rather than any team uniform.

"See, bug boy?" Rogue's smile was sharp as broken glass. "Told you they'd come. Told you they'd try to drag you back to their precious school. Make you conform. Make you think you’re normal."

"A-Anna, is that you?" Kitty gasped. Seeing her best friend after so long made her tremble. "What are you doing here?"

"Same thing y'all are, Kitty cat. Recruiting." She cracked her knuckles, the sound unnaturally loud in the buzzing space. "The difference is, I'm honest about it. Much more than these professors you’re following. The Brotherhood doesn't pretend we're something we're not. We don't hide. We don't beg for acceptance from people who'll never give it."

"The Brotherhood?" Scott's hand went to his visor. “I heard they kicked you out, Rogue."

"Crazy how you dare keep tabs on me." For just a moment, pain flashed across her features. "Don’t act like you understand me, just because you know what’s going on around me. Not that any of you would understand. You got your perfect little family, your perfect little school. Some of us had to make our own way."

"It doesn't have to be like this," Jean pleaded. "Whatever happened, we can work through it. Professor Xavier—"

"Can stay out of my head!" Rogue snarled. "All of you can! I'm done being everyone's puppet."

She looked at Clancy, her expression softening with genuine understanding. "They'll never accept us, hon. Not really. They'll tolerate us, maybe, long as we play by their rules. But the second we step out of line? We’d be like her," she gestured at the cocooned councilwoman. "They'll turn on us. Just like they always do."

Clancy's breathing was ragged, panicked. His insects responded, growing more agitated. "I... I don't..."

"You don't have to decide anything right now," Rogue assured him. "Just let me handle them. Show you what real power looks like when you're not afraid to use it."

"Rogue, please," Jean tried one more time. "This isn't you. This isn't who you are."

"How would you know who I am?" Rogue's voice was quiet, deadly. "You've been in my head exactly once, Jean Grey. You think that makes you an expert on this Anna Marie?"

Jean's mouth opened to argue, but Rogue was already moving. "Anna, wait!" Kitty stepped forward, hands raised in desperation. "You don't have to do this!"

"Stop struggling, sugar," Rogue said without malice, her boots crunching over beetles as she crossed the room. "I love you the most, Kitty, so this ain’t personal."

Jean tried to brace her mind. “Rogue—please, listen—!”

Too late.

With a sound like thunder cracking through glass, Rogue drove her fist into the shimmering wall of Jean's psychic shield. It shattered instantly—no resistance, no time to reinforce.

The telepathic backlash hit Jean like a freight train. She screamed and went flying, her body slamming against the far wall in a heap of limbs and red hair. Kitty managed to phase instinctively, but the sheer kinetic shockwave blew her backward anyway, sending her tumbling through an old sofa and scattering a nest of horrified spiders.

Scott was hurled across the hallway, his visor twisting just enough to fire a wild optic blast into the ceiling. Chunks of concrete rained down. Jean coughed up blood.

Rogue stood in the center of it all, calm, composed, devastating. Jean blinked away the stars in her vision. Captain Marvel’s strength, ugh, dammit.

This was not good. Not at all.

They were so outmatched.

****

I watched Grandpa jog back toward us, another paper bag clutched in his hands and sweat beading on his forehead. The man looked like he'd been through a war zone, which, considering the state of Philadelphia right now, wasn't far from the truth.

"Kids! What are you doing out here?" His voice carried that particular brand of parental panic that transcended generations. "I told you to stay in the RV! This whole area is—"

"Grandpa!"

Gwen's cry cut through his lecture as she practically launched herself at him, wrapping her arms around his waist like he was the last life preserver on a sinking ship. Her whole body trembled against him, and I could see tears threatening at the corners of her eyes.

The sight hit me harder than expected. Gwen didn't cry. Gwen didn't show weakness. She was the one who kept her cool when alien bounty hunters attacked, who faced down magical sorcerers without flinching. Seeing her like this made something cold and angry settle in my stomach.

"Whoa there, kiddo." Grandpa's voice immediately softened, one weathered hand stroking her hair. "What's got you so spooked? The bugs? Or did Ben here try to transform into something disgusting again?"

She shook her head frantically against his chest. "No, it's not that. It's..." She pulled back, pointing a shaking finger at the apartment building. "The person behind the bug problem is supposed to be in there. We learned that from the X-Men who showed up and they—" Her voice cracked. "But I don’t know, the X-Men are weird. They were attacking Ben, and I barely stopped, so one of them tried to read our minds, Grandpa. Without asking. Without permission. And… I don’t know what else they’d have done other than just reading minds…"

“....” The transformation in Grandpa Max's face was immediate and terrifying. Even I flinched.

The gentle grandfather disappeared, replaced by someone who'd seen combat, who'd made hard choices in dark places. His eyes went cold as winter steel, jaw setting with the kind of resolve that had probably made alien warlords think twice about their life choices.

"The X-Men, huh." His voice was quiet, conversational, which somehow made it infinitely more menacing than if he'd shouted. "I looked into them after our last encounter. They’re Professor Xavier's little pet project, that bald man from before. They threatened my grandchildren, I see..."

Grandpa knew enough about the X-Men now, it seemed. And he didn’t have a pleasant opinion, judging by the way his knuckles went white around the paper bag.

"They tried what exactly?" Grandpa's voice dropped another octave, and I swear the temperature around us dropped with it.

"Remember the redhead we met last time? She tried to force her way into Ben's head," Gwen continued, anger replacing fear now that she had backup. "When that didn't work, the one with the visor wanted to try it on me. Like we were criminals or something. Like our thoughts and secrets were public property."

Oh, that was it. Grandpa Max was pissed.

I'd seen him annoyed before, frustrated, even genuinely angry. But this? This was something else entirely. This was the look of a man who'd spent decades protecting his family from threats they couldn't imagine, only to have some self-righteous do-gooders violate the most basic trust.

"Nobody," he said, each word precise as a scalpel, "and I mean nobody, touches my grandchildren's minds. Ever. I’ll show them. Let them come outside."

Damn, Grandpa.

Just then, the world exploded.

The third-floor wall of the apartment building simply ceased to exist, disintegrating in a shower of concrete and rebar. Two figures came flying out like they'd been fired from a cannon—the redhead and Cyclops, tumbling through the air with all the grace of broken dolls.

They hit the street hard, Cyclops rolling to absorb the impact while Jean Grey just... landed. Badly. Blood trickled from her nose as she struggled to her hands and knees, coughing up more blood.

And then, for the universe had a sense of dramatic timing, Rogue leaped from the gaping hole in the building.

[Image Here]

She landed in a perfect three-point superhero pose, completely unruffled, while concrete dust settled around her like snow. Her green eyes swept over the fallen X-Men with casual indifference as she spat near Scott’s feet. “Weaklings.”

The smile that spread across my face was probably visible from space.

"Would you look at that."

Satisfaction filled me.

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