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Marvel MK: CH 126 – A Debt to a Phoenix
🕑 Added 2025-07-27 16:54:02 +0000 UTCThe second generation of X-Men, now in the throes of their teenage growth spurts, looked up from their various states of holiday lounging.
“That’s unfair!” Kurt Wagner teleported from the couch to the middle of the foyer, his tail twitching in protest. “How can you only take Tenzin out?”
Gabriel Summers, ever the master of the dramatic pout, chimed in. “Yeah, booo! Uncle Jack’s not cool!”
“Hey, that hurts,” Jack said, clutching his chest in mock pain. “And who said I don’t want to take all of you? But alas,” he sighed, his expression turning tragically somber, “I can’t.” He then pointed an accusatory finger at Colossus, who had been quietly observing from the side. “It was all because of him! That uncool teacher of yours has rules about international travel with minors. Alas, I am just a respectful, lawful god who cannot break the rules.”
As one, the children turned their betrayed, pleading eyes on Colossus. A chorus of “Please, Teacher Colossus!” and “Let us go!” erupted as they charged him, a small, determined army of holiday hopefuls. Jack just laughed, a wild, gleeful cackle, as the gentle giant of a man was forced into a hasty retreat.
Meanwhile, at the front of the mansion, the sounds of drilling and grunting could be heard. Alex, Scott, and Logan were in the process of installing a new, reinforced door.
“Oh, changing the door as the new year changes?” Jack asked cheerfully as he strolled over.
“We had to,” Alex grunted, tightening a bolt. “Because you just broke it again, you maniac.”
“We’ve had to order a spare door at this point,” Scott added, his voice a flat, weary sigh. “Just for the many visits you do to our mansion.”
Jack’s grin widened. He leaned over and playfully tickled Logan’s sideburns. “I bet this guy loves making more doors, right?”
With a snarl, Logan spun around, the power drill he had been using now aimed directly at Jack’s head. But Jack was already gone, dodging with an effortless, laughing sidestep.
“Kekekeke, as temperamental as ever,” Jack chirped. He then looked around. “Where’s Jean? I need to do another check-up on the bird.”
Scott pointed with his wrench toward the back of the mansion. “She’s in the Danger Room.”
As Jack began to walk nonchalantly away, Alex’s voice, hesitant and heavy, stopped him. “Jack… can you… can you really not help Lorna and Teacher Warren?”
The light, chaotic energy of the room instantly vanished. Logan and Scott both turned, their voices a sharp, protective command. “Alex, leave it.”
Jack stopped, turning his head just enough to look at Alex over his shoulder. “As of right now, no,” he said, his voice quiet, devoid of its usual manic energy. “But Jean can. The problem is, she can’t even control her own power without my guidance, so… no.” He paused, his expression softening for a fraction of a second. “But don’t worry. That’s why I came here. To check on Jean. At the very least, I owe a debt to her for her help.”
Then he walked forward, disappearing down the long corridor.
Logan and Scott looked at Alex, their expressions stern.
“What?” Alex said, his voice a low, defensive murmur. “There’s no hurt in asking again.”
Logan let out a long, weary sigh, the anger draining from his face, replaced by a grudging understanding. “He already told us he can’t, kid,” he said, his voice a low grumble. “And even though I haven’t known him that long… he’ll come on his own if he knows the way.”
As Jack walked through the familiar, now-repaired halls of the Xavier Mansion, the sounds of life returned. Laughter echoed from the common room, the scent of something vaguely burnt but edible wafted from the kitchen, and the general hum of a school full of super-powered teenagers filled the air.
He passed a small alcove where Bobby Drake and Petra were sitting, their hands shyly intertwined, both pretending to be deeply fascinated by the wallpaper.
Jack stopped, a slow, wicked grin spreading across his face. “Ooh,” he said, his voice a loud, dramatic whisper. “Holding hands before marriage? How scandalous. Professor Baldie would not approve of such lewd behavior.”
Bobby and Petra instantly snatched their hands apart, their faces turning a matching shade of crimson. “We were just—!” Bobby started.
“—comparing hand sizes for a science project,” Petra finished lamely.
Jack just cackled. “Kekekeke! Sure you were. Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me. For a small fee, of course. My silence can be bought with tacos.” He winked and continued on his way, leaving the two teenagers sputtering in embarrassed silence.
Further down the hall, he came across a heated game of Monopoly unfolding on the floor of the common room. Remy LeBeau and Anna Marie were locked in a tense negotiation over Park Place, while Kitty Pryde and Jubilation Lee were teaming up to bankrupt them both.
“Ah, a game of capitalism and betrayal,” Jack announced, striding into the room. “My favorite.”
“Jack!” Jubilee cheered. “Come play! Remy’s cheating!”
“Am not, chérie,” Remy said smoothly, subtly sliding a fifty-dollar bill from the bank.
Jack didn’t even ask. He simply picked up the dice, shook them with a dramatic flair, and rolled. They clattered across the board. A six. And another six.
“Twelve!” Kitty exclaimed.
Jack moved his piece—a small, silver thimble—twelve spaces. It landed, with a soft, final thud, directly on the “Go to Jail” space.
There was a beat of stunned silence.
Jack stared at the board. He looked at the dice. He looked at the smug little Monopoly man on the jail space. Then, his face twisted into a mask of pure, theatrical outrage.
“THIS GAME IS RIGGED!” he roared, flipping the board into the air. Paper money, tiny plastic houses, and all four game pieces went flying. “I AM A GOD! I DO NOT GO TO JAIL! I OWN THE JAIL!”
With that, he stormed out of the room, leaving the four X-Men staring at the overturned game, before they all burst into uncontrollable laughter.
As he neared the Danger Room, he passed the entrance to the gym. Calvin Montgomery Rankin and Armando Muñoz were just walking out, their faces flushed, their training gear soaked with sweat.
Jack stopped, giving them a slow, appraising look. “Well, well,” he said, his grin returning. “Look at you two. Getting all sweaty together. Building up those big, strong muscles.” He leaned in, his voice a conspiratorial whisper. “You know, in my experience, all that grunting and lifting is just a mating ritual. So, who’s trying to impress who?”
Calvin just rolled his eyes, but Armando couldn’t help but laugh. “We’re just training, Jack.”
“That’s what they all say,” Jack said with a wink, before continuing down the hall.
He finally arrived at the Danger Room’s observation deck. He was about to burst in with another grand, chaotic entrance, but what he saw through the reinforced glass made him stop.
Inside, Jean Grey was not training. She was a storm. She hovered in the center of the room, her eyes burning with a controlled fire. A swarm of simulated Sentinel drones descended upon her, their laser cannons firing in a deadly barrage.
She didn’t even flinch. With a graceful, fluid motion, she raised a hand, and the drones were frozen mid-air. Then, with a flick of her wrist, they were crushed into tiny, compact cubes of metal and wiring, which then dissolved into ash. She burned brightly, a phoenix in perfect control of her own inferno.
Jack stood there, watching, the usual manic energy in his eyes replaced by a quiet, profound sense of pride.
He smiled.
“I’m such a good teacher.”
Jack clapped his hands together, a single, sharp sound that was more than just an applause. The air in the observation deck vibrated, and inside the Danger Room, the holographic projection of drones flickered for a split second, a testament to the sheer, casual power behind the gesture.
The disturbance was enough to get Jean’s attention. She turned, her fiery aura instantly dimming as a bright, excited smile broke across her face. “Jack!”
“Calmly, calmly,” Jack said, his voice a steady, reassuring presence even through the reinforced glass. “Remember what I said. Your power stems from your emotion. Control the river, don’t become the flood.”
Jean instantly remembered their last training session. She had been so excited to see him that her power had surged uncontrollably, launching her into the air like a rocket and slamming her headfirst into the ceiling. This time, she took a deep, steadying breath. The fire around her receded, folding back into her with a soft, gentle hum. She floated down to the floor, her landing as soft as a falling feather.
Jack walked into the Danger Room, his grin full of pride. He reached out and patted her on the head. “You’re good.”
Jean swatted his hand away, a flash of annoyance in her eyes. She had been treated like this her whole life. “I’m not a kid,” she said, a hint of a pout in her voice. “And stop messing up my hair.”
Jack laughed, that familiar, unhinged cackle. “Kekekeke, and how old are you?”
“I’ll be twenty-two next year,” she said proudly.
“Kekekeke, and I’ll be…” Jack trailed off. He looked down at his own hand, a look of profound, dumbfounded confusion on his face. 'Wait,' he thought. 'Should I count my past life years as well? But then, should I only include my gangster life, or should I include the centuries I spent as Sun Wukong? Does time in a divine memory-coma count? What’s the conversion rate for cosmic years to human years?'
Jean just watched as Jack stared at his hand, his face turning completely blank as he was lost in a silent, existential math challenge. She sighed. “It doesn’t matter. I assume you want to talk to the Phoenix again?”
Her voice snapped him out of it. “Ah, yes, that,” he said, shaking his head as if to clear the cosmic cobwebs. “But that can be delayed. Right now, I want to check on you.” He looked at her, his usual manic energy softening into something more serious. “This training of your connection with the Phoenix is great and all, but I realize I’ve been neglecting one thing.”
“What’s that?” Jean asked.
Jack’s grin returned, this time full of a strange, wonderful, and utterly insane idea. “You,” he said. “You need more happy memories.” He threw an arm around her shoulder. “So, let’s go. We’re taking a tour cloud to Santa’s factory.”
…
The night sky over New York was a vast, glittering canvas of city lights and distant stars. A fleet of impossible figures cut through the cold winter air. At the head of the formation, Jack Hou flew on Zephyr, a serene, almost regal figure. Beside him, Ororo Munroe floated on a current of wind she commanded herself, her white hair a stark, beautiful contrast to the darkness. On Jack’s other side sat Tenzin, his small monk’s robes bundled around him, his eyes wide with a wonder that was pure and absolute.
Behind them, a chaotic, joyful armada followed. A dozen of Jack’s clones, each on their own miniature Zephyr cloud, carried the rest of the X-Men’s younger generation, their laughter echoing in the night.
Jack, never one to let a dramatic moment go to waste, turned to Ororo, a wicked, theatrical glint in his golden eyes. He began to sing, his voice a surprisingly smooth baritone.
“I can show you the world…”
He pointed a dramatic finger at the glittering cityscape below, then up at the stars and the full moon.
“Shining, shimmering, splendid…”
He saw Tenzin, completely lost in the beauty of the sky, and took his chance. He leaned in, gently taking Ororo’s chin in his hand, his gaze a perfect imitation of a smitten prince.
“Tell me, princess, now when did you last let your heart decide?”
Ororo was too stunned to speak. The moment was so absurd, so out of place, that she was completely disarmed.
But Jack, being Jack, immediately ruined it. He threw his head back and belted out the chorus at the top of his lungs.
“A WHOLE NEW WORLD!!!”
From behind them, the clones and the other X-kids, who had been watching the scene with a mixture of awe and secondhand embarrassment, erupted.
“A NEW FANTASTIC POINT OF VIEW!!” they roared in a chaotic, off-key, but utterly joyful chorus.
And so, on a cold winter night, a group of mutants and their chaotic, monkey-tailed god flew through the skies of New York City, their voices joined in a ridiculous, beautiful song on their way to Santa’s factory.
…
In a cozy apartment building overlooking the park, a little girl named Lily was helping her parents decorate their Christmas tree. The balcony door was open just a crack, letting in the crisp, cold air.
Then, she heard it. A faint, distant singing.
Curious, she tiptoed to the balcony and peeked outside. In the distance, high above the city, she saw a trail of shadows moving across the sky, their voices a faint, joyful melody. She couldn’t make out what they were, but in her heart, she knew.
She didn’t say anything. She just clapped her hands, a silent, secret joy blooming in her chest. It was Santa, preparing to spread his gifts.
Her mom came over, a warm smile on her face, and gently picked her up. “Young lady, what are you doing out here? It’s cold.”
Lily didn’t want to spoil the secret. She just shook her head. “Nothing.”
“Okay, little lady,” her mom said, carrying her back inside. “Shall we write our letter to Santa now?”
Lily’s eyes lit up. She adorably ran toward her room, but stopped at the door, turning to her parents with a serious expression. “Secret,” she said, putting a finger to her lips.
Her dad just laughed and snapped a picture as she disappeared inside. From the doorway, he sneakily took another as she sat at her small table, a large crayon clutched in her tiny fist, her brow furrowed in deep concentration.
In crude, wobbly, and slightly backward letters, she began to write.
Deer Santa,
I saw you fliying. If you dont want me to tel my mom and dad, giv me a monky doll.
Luv, Lily
…
In the so-called Santa factory, the lone cabin at the very top of the world, Hermes sat alone by a crackling fire. He sighed, the sound a quiet, lonely thing in the vast, empty space. He had been on Earth ever since the battle in Japan, avoiding the inevitable, thunderous fallout on Mount Olympus. The only family he kept in touch with was Hades; his uncle’s unrestrained, brutal honesty was the only thing he could deal with right now. Frankly, it was what he respected most about the man.
But there was one more thing that made Hermes’s divine heart ache. The Alfar. They were still on the battlefield, caught in a war that was not their own. He didn’t know all the details—the conflict was tied to Asgard’s jurisdiction, and the information that surfaced was murky at best. But Hermes was a god of trade, thieves, travelers, athletes, and most importantly, messengers. He knew the secret channels, the whispers that traveled between pantheons. From what he had gathered, the Asgardians were caught off guard, beset by betrayal after betrayal. He didn’t know how Laufey did it, but the Frost Jotun was still standing. This war was not his to fight, but what he could do was relay information to the Alfar, to make sure they all came back home.
He looked around the desolate factory. It was almost Christmas. Last year, this place had been vibrant, alive with the chaos Jack had brought. He missed it.
“I can’t believe I miss that monkey,” Hermes muttered to the empty room.
As if summoned by the thought, the front door of the cabin didn’t just open; it exploded inward, ripped clean off its frame in a shower of splintered wood and enchanted snow.
Jack Hou stood there, his signature, unhinged smile flashing in the firelight.
“Kekekeke! Did you miss me?”
A vein in Hermes’s temple throbbed. He regretted every positive thought he’d ever had about Jack. If he had known thinking about him would literally summon him, he would have focused on tax audits and dental appointments.
But then, the commotion of several children filled the doorway, and Hermes could only stare blankly. One by one, the younger X-Men, led by Ororo, came into the cabin, brushing the snow of the North Pole from their winter coats, their excited chatter filling the lonely silence.
Hermes, trying to keep his composure, his Saint Nicholas disguise still firmly in place, looked at Jack. “Jack, what the fu—I mean, what have you brought to my cabin?”
Jack smiled, spreading his arms wide as if presenting a grand gift. “A company for Christmas! Yeaayyy!”
“Yeaayyy!” the children cheered in response.
Hermes could only chuckle, the tension in his shoulders finally releasing. I guess it’s not that bad, having company for Christmas, he thought. The tradition he had started as a joke to troll the Alfar had now come back to him, a strange, chaotic, and wonderful gift in a moment when he missed his family the most.
