SmilinKujo
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Chapter 66 – Five Paths, One Flame
🕑 Added 2025-04-11 04:22:17 +0000 UTCInside the Blackbird, the hum of electronics pulsed faintly under the din of wind outside. The subtle scent of wildflowers wafted in from a nearby open hatch, carried by the breeze.
Kurt Wagner—Nightcrawler—stirred. His eyes fluttered open, glowing faintly in the dim light. Every muscle in his body ached, and his head felt like it had been tossed in a dryer. He groaned and sat up slowly, looking around the cockpit.
The others were gone. He turned his head toward the nearest window. Through the reinforced glass, he saw something that made him pause.
The Blackbird wasn't flying. It was parked—firmly nestled on a clearing of grass and flower-laced earth in the middle of the island.
Kurt blinked. "The island... isn't attacking us anymore?" He turned from the window, still groggy. And nearly jumped out of his seat. "Aaaahhhh!" he yelped, scrambling backward into the seat, hands raised defensively. "Don't hurt me! I—I'm mostly fur and bones! Mein flesh does not taste goot!"
In front of him stood a strange figure—an ethereal, humanoid shape composed entirely of wind and flower petals. Its presence pulsed with calm, not malice. The petals danced gently in the air like the first breath of spring.
Kurt peeked through his fingers, trembling slightly. The being didn't move, but its voice came through like a breeze rustling through trees. "I'm sorry about your friend," it said quietly, gesturing toward Jean, still resting in the back. "I didn't mean to hurt her."
Kurt blinked. "You—are you… ze island?"
The being extended a shifting, petal-formed hand in an open gesture—a handshake. "My friend said this is how you show respect toward each other," it said. "I'm Krakoa. I am this island."
Kurt slowly lowered his hands, staring at the extended hand. Hesitantly, he reached out and shook it. The touch felt like a breeze and velvet moss at once. "I'm Nightcrawler. But mein friends call me Kurt."
Krakoa tilted its head. "Can I call you Kurt?"
Kurt smiled faintly. "Yeah… sure."
Krakoa shimmered slightly—visibly happy, its petals glowing a little brighter in hue.
Kurt glanced around again. "How long was I out?"
"You mean… sleep?" Krakoa asked, curious.
"Yes. How long did I sleep?"
Krakoa floated closer to the window and looked up, almost mimicking Kurt earlier. "Not that long. Your other friends said they would handle a missile coming toward us."
Kurt froze. "Missile?! Vait—you should move! You can move ze whole island, right?"
Krakoa looked back and answered calmly, "Don't worry. Jack and your friends said they would protect me."
Kurt staggered to his feet. "How can you just trust us like that?"
Krakoa replied, voice like a wind through stone. "Because I trust Jack. And he said... all will be fine."
Kurt stared for a long moment. Then he nodded. "Alright… I'll trust him too." He turned toward the unconscious form of Jean Grey, lying peacefully on a medical cot. Kurt knelt beside her, brushing a lock of hair from her forehead.
…
High above the northern horizon, a silver streak tore through the sky, its propulsion system glowing like a second sun. The north-bound missile surged toward Krakoa with apocalyptic speed, its payload more than enough to obliterate the entire island.
On a ledge overlooking the ocean, John Proudstar lifted a pair of binoculars to his eyes. Wind ripped through his hair as he adjusted the lens and tracked the missile. "Five more seconds," he muttered. "Five more…"
Beside him, the air twisted unnaturally. Ororo Munroe hovered just above the ground, arms outstretched, her white eyes glowing. Her hair floated like storm clouds, lightning curling around her fingers in crackling threads.
Beside her, Sunfire—Shiro Yoshida—was already in the air, heat distorting the space around his body. His suit burned red, trails of plasma dancing along his limbs. Fire churned at his core, spiraling in time with his breath.
Ororo called out, voice calm but commanding. "Shiro-san—now!"
Sunfire's reply was a roar. He blasted forward, unleashing a concentrated beam of plasma fire, white-hot and focused like a surgical laser. It streaked upward with staggering velocity—cutting straight for the missile's trajectory.
Behind him, Ororo directed a tornado, but not a wild cyclone—this was a precision wind funnel, controlled and compressed. It caught Sunfire's blast and amplified it, focusing the heat and speed upward like a magnifying lens for elemental power.
The combination of thermal acceleration and wind-assisted trajectory correction allowed their attack to reach the missile mid-flight—intercepting it just as it descended into terminal range.
The collision was immediate. A shattering boom erupted through the sky, one that ripped across the ocean floor, sending shockwaves into the shallows of Krakoa's coastline. Water exploded upward, forming a geyser hundreds of feet high. A tidal ripple pulsed outward like a drumbeat of the gods.
John winced, narrowing his eyes. "…Direct hit."
…
Meanwhile, at the western ridge—BOOM.
The team flinched at the distant sound of detonation to the north.
"Guess that means Sunfire and Storm nailed theirs," Alex Summers muttered, raising an arm as the wind from the explosion finally reached them.
Petra stood at the edge of the cliff, palms forward, manipulating the stone beneath their feet. The ground rumbled and rose, shifting into a wide plateau with a sheer edge—high enough to intercept the missile's descent path.
Alex turned to her. "I think our teachers are really great, huh?"
Petra arched an eyebrow. "Sunfire's not our teacher."
Alex shrugged. "Well, the way he used his powers all this time? That qualifies as a teaching moment. That's how effective it was, you know?"
"Scott!" Petra called. "This high enough?"
Scott Summers adjusted his visor, scanning the sky. "Yeah. We're good."
Alex turned and shouted over his shoulder. "Bobby! Get the ice slip 'n slide ready! We're going to need a safe way off this thing."
Bobby Drake, ready to form a sculpted ramp of glistening ice, smirked. "One tactical death slide, coming up."
Scott glanced at Logan, who stood near the rear, arms crossed, eyes on the sky. "And Logan—keep that growl-face going. It ties this whole plan together."
Logan smirked without looking. "Focus on your task, Slim. If you die, I'll drag your soul back just to slap you."
Scott chuckled. "Good to see the team relaxing."
Alex grinned. "Wait, was that Scott Summers making a joke?"
Scott took a deep breath. "No. I'm joking because I'm really nervous."
Alex clapped him on the back. "Same here."
They turned toward the sky together.
"Let's do this, brother," Alex said.
"Let's go," Scott replied.
And the Summers brothers raised their hands—ready to strike.
The missile streaked through the air, closing in fast, its path a crimson thread against the blue sky.
On the raised stone platform that Petra had created, Alex Summers stood, arms wide, chest glowing with solar energy. Lines of heat shimmered around his body as he charged, his breathing controlled but heavy.
Behind him, Scott adjusted his visor, stance solid. His focus wasn't on the missile—it was on Alex. "Keep it steady, brother," Scott said.
Alex grunted, the light in his chest intensifying. "This should be enough, right?"
Scott narrowed his eyes. "Better safe than sorry."
Alex cracked a grin. "Then you'll have to push it harder with your blast."
Scott nodded. "We were ready for this."
With a deep breath, Alex let go. He unleashed a massive burst of concentrated plasma—white-hot, roaring like the sun itself. At that exact moment, Scott opened his visor and fired a precise optic blast, fusing their powers mid-air.
The result was more intense than either expected. The beam didn't just grow stronger—it mutated, spiraling outward in a fusion of red and white heat, an uncontrollable force that turned the air around it into molten wind.
Alex staggered, body flickering with aftershock. His legs buckled—he slipped. "ALEX!" Petra cried. But Bobby was already moving. He launched a wave of ice, forming a slipstream in the air that caught Alex mid-fall. The ramp twisted like a frozen water slide, slowing him down and guiding him safely to the ground.
All eyes turned to Scott. He stood alone, visor glowing brighter than ever, the entire attack now resting on his shoulders. He gritted his teeth, focusing the wild fusion beam toward the missile. Alex, breathless and half-conscious, looked up and whispered, "You got this, brother…"
But then—the missile shifted. It changed trajectory, veering upward suddenly, mid-dive. Bad luck. Scott's mind raced. It's too late. His current angle would miss by seconds. And then—He imagined the island in flames. He imagined Jean, unconscious. Kurt. Logan. Ororo. His team. His family. Gone.
"AAAAAAAAAGGGHHHHHHHH!" Scott screamed, pouring everything he had into his blast. His body trembled as the beam intensified, cutting through the air like a divine sword.
And then—Impact.
A deafening boom tore through the sky. The explosion lit the air like a second sun, shockwaves rippling outward in all directions. The raised platform cracked apart, Petra's stonework disintegrating under the force.
Bobby tried to reform ice in time—but the heat disrupted his control.
"Scott!" Logan roared. Without hesitation, he sprinted across the crumbling ground and leapt—just as Scott's unconscious body fell backward off the platform. Logan caught him mid-air, tackling him down into a roll before coming to a stop, both bodies smoking but intact.
The ground trembled beneath them. They lay still for a moment, chests rising and falling in sync. Then—Alex scrambled toward them, stumbling on the uneven terrain. "Brother!"
Petra ran beside him, eyes scanning for injury. She knelt quickly, fingers to Scott's neck. "He's got a pulse—!"
Scott's eyes cracked open, barely. "Did we… did we do it?" he murmured.
Alex dropped beside him and pulled him into a hug, nearly sobbing with relief. "You did, man. You freaking did."
Bobby, still catching his breath nearby, grinned and called over, "Petra, how's his pulse? Is he still alive—or just really dramatic?"
Scott let out a groggy chuckle. "I'm alive, you ice moron…"
He weakly kicked a clump of sand toward Bobby, who raised his hands in mock defense. "Hey, hey—Can we appreciate how badass I was when I saved Alex!" Scott grinned, bruised but breathing. "Team effort," he said. "X-Men style."
…
The soft glow from Krakoa's petal-form cast a warm light inside the Blackbird's interior. Jean lay motionless on the cot, her expression peaceful, like she was caught mid-dream.
Kurt Wagner stood beside her, fingers twitching slightly in worry. Then the hatch creaked open. Heavy footsteps echoed inside. "Ah, Kurt. You're awake," came a deep, steady voice laced with a soft Russian cadence. Colossus stepped in—tall, broad, a mountain of metal wrapped in kindness.
"Teacher Colossus," Kurt said, his tail flicking behind him with tension. "How is Jean? Surely you know something?"
Colossus approached slowly, glancing at Jean with gentle eyes. "I just spoke with Hank," he said, folding his arms. "He said Jean… will not wake up until she is checked by Professor Xavier himself. He did not explain more. Said it was a matter of privacy, on her side."
Kurt's brows furrowed. "Then ve must hurry. She should not be left like this?"
Colossus shook his head. "Is alright, Kurt. I checked her vitals myself. Stronger than ever. Her body is fine—it is her mind that rests. We should let the Professor handle it." He looked at Kurt. "We know… nothing of telepathic powers. Da?"
Kurt nodded slowly, though his tail still coiled tightly. His gaze dropped to Jean's chest. A small silver cross rested there—one he had given her, once. Voice soft. "It will bring her good luck."
Then—BOOM.
The sound of an explosion shook the air like thunder from the gods. Dust trickled from the Blackbird's wing panels. The light inside flickered for a moment.
Kurt spun toward the window. "Was ist das?!"
Colossus didn't flinch. He looked upward, then smiled slightly. "That sound… means we can go back soon."
Kurt blinked, confused.
Then another boom—this time from the west. Krakoa, still in his gentle wind-flower form, stepped closer. "Your friends… they gave it their all."
Colossus smiled wider, the metallic plates of his face catching the light. "Of course," he said, voice filled with quiet pride. "That is what comrades do."
Comments
Vrael333
Thx for the chapter :) Maybe Jack could hit Xavier (just a little bit) for managing the situation with Jean as he did xD
