The apartment.
The next weekend around lunchtime.
Greg sat at his usual spot at the breakfast bar in his kitchen, working on spell forms on a sketch pad. The door to the apartment opened, and two unlikely companions walked in: Gwen and Eric Brooks.
“Do you have any Funions?” Gwen asked as she entered.
“That is an extremely specific request,” Greg said as he looked up from his work, but got up to check the cabinets anyway, “I haven’t ordered any recently, and I can’t imagine Jean would have either… if not, I can call down to the desk, there is a concierge in the building specifically for things like…”
Greg paused as he opened one of the barely used cupboards below the counter, “Oh, never mind. How many boxes do you need?”
“Boxes? For real?” Gwen said as she walked around the corner to the kitchen. Eric followed her into the apartment, still wearing sunglasses and a trenchcoat. “I made one mention to Jean that I was thinking of starting a D&D game, and she bought me boxes of Funions?”
“Yes, I’m seeing four boxes of the ‘kids bag’ packaging,” Greg nodded, staring at the mostly unused cupboard below the counter, “The woman is amazingly thoughtful. I don’t deserve her.”
“You don’t,” Gwen confirmed, and moved over to sit on the breakfast bar, grabbed the half full french press, and poured herself a cup. Eric awkwardly shifted to the back of the couch, leaning against it with his arms crossed. Gwen took a large sip of the brew and sighed, “Lukewarm, but still tasty. I love it when a writer is obsessed with good coffee. So much better than the bodega sludge I’m usually forced to drink.”
Greg ignored the casual 4th wall violation with his normal aplomb, took two boxes of Funions out of the cupboard, and set them on the bar before sitting back down himself.
“So you’re starting a D&D game?” Greg asked.
“Yeah,” Gwen answered, putting her mug down, “I just got done helping Eric make his character. It was a pain in the ass getting fifth-edition rules in 2007, but one of the readers was able to hook me up with a PDF through Megaupload.”
“Right,” Greg said, the word… frankly was tired of the overtime gag and was getting ready to form a union, then looked at Eric, “I wouldn’t think you were one to play D&D Eric.”
“Why,” asked Eric in his trademark low whispering growl, “Because I’m black?”
“No, because you’re…” said Greg as he shook his head, and motioned with his hand at the man in sunglasses and a trenchcoat in his comfortable and warm living room… at the man attempting to lean menacingly against the couch and failing due to the softness of the backrest cushions, “You.”
“Whaaaaat?” Gwen said, and waved her hand in disbelief, “Nah, Eric is like the poster boy for late nineties mall ninja that never grew up. Of COURSE he plays D&D.”
“Do I look like a greasy white boy to you,” Eric growled, and then turned to Greg to continue, “I usually prefer Shadowrun or Hunter: the Reckoning, but I’ll sit in on a D&D game when one comes up. Whistler used to run AD&D games for me and my friends when I was a teenager.”
“That checks out,” Gwen nodded sagely as she looked over Greg’s spell diagram, “Hey, so when are you going to officially make me one of your peerage oh great demon lord Greg?”
“We prefer Devil, not demon,” Greg answered, wagging his finger at Gwen, “Though I suppose the title was correct, Marquess is referred to as lord… but Demons are a separate race entirely that is native to this dimension. My own home dimension doesn’t have any.”
“Yeah yeah,” Gwen responded flatly, “Don’t avoid the question.”
“Yes, well, you’ll have to ask Jean about that,” Greg snatched his spell diagram sketchbook from the pink marauder and closed it before continuing, “I gave her the whole set a few days after the kerfuffle at the X-mansion. She was much more enthusiastic about finding me, and I quote, ‘capable women worthy of the pieces’ than I was. Frankly I was glad to wash my hands of the whole ordeal.”
“That makes sense, that mutant is super bay-cray. Is she still pressuring you to get with the baby-making?” Gwen asked.
“Yes,” Greg sighed, “I understand where she’s coming from, and I quite enjoy the process much to my own surprise, but…”
“Yeah,” Eric growled sympathetically, “It’s hard bein’ ACE in a society full of breeders. Everyone is always like ‘oh, you just haven’t met the right person yet, don’t worry’. It really pisses me off… you always feel the need to make excuses, like ‘Oh, I’m sorry, I’d rather concentrate on my career. Thousands of vampires aren’t going to kill themselves, you know?’”
“I KNOW,” squealed Gwen, “Thank god I have supportive friends back in 616. If I hear someone say, ‘Oh, aren’t you lonely being all by yourself like that,’ one more time… I mean, I’m not by myself doofus. I have, like, all of these great friends, am I such a freak because I don’t want to make out with any of them?”
“To be fair,” Greg answered, “They were right, in my case… mostly. Jean sort of bullied me into accepting a relationship, and I’m happier for it. The idea of adding any more women to our relationship gives me the creeps, though.”
Greg shuddered and shook his head before continuing.
“Anyway, I don’t want to talk myself into a panic attack over my aggressively bisexual girlfriend’s baby-mania. I’m asking because I was wondering if you need any more players today.”
“Wait Greg,” Gwen stopped, shocked, “You play D&D?”
“Why do you stress the ‘you’ so much,” Greg asked.
“I mean, you literally landed in this world just last year after 400 years floating between dimensions,” Gwen answered, “I can’t imagine Gary Gygax was spitting out games in the Underworld in the 15th century, even if it was an alternate universe. And what with the whole corporate takeover and the remodelling of the Hellfire Club, I doubt you’ve had much time to pick up the hobby.”
“Fair point,” Greg said, “Actually, I’ve never played. Auntie Fiona and I binged watched the first two seasons of Critical Role when I first arrived in the dimension. It was entertaining… but quite long. The seasons of Dimension 20 were much easier to digest.”
“Oh yeah,” Gwen muttered and put her finger on her chin, “I forgot you had a cosmic entity break the 4th wall for you in the 2nd chapter. That makes much more sense.”
“I’m not sure what you mean,” Greg huffed, looking around for damage to the apartment walls, “But Auntie thought I should have a well rounded education, and she didn’t feel we should be limited to the media of the current timeline. She also made me watch the entire MCU catalog up to Avengers Endgame, just so I could ‘understand how things work around here’.”
“Ugh, I feel for you,” Gwen said while giving Greg a sympathetic look, “If it makes you feel any better, most of the timelines don’t have Benedict Cumberbatch in them. Though Strange is pretty much an insufferable and unlikable prick in all of them. Oh, and Thanos has much more logically sound motivations usually… I mean, couldn’t you just double the amount of resources in the universe? Wouldn’t that accomplish the same thing?”
Gwen looked back at Eric, who looked completely unfazed and somehow completely lost in the conversation at the same time, and decided to bring the subject back around.
“Anyway, you’re welcome to come by and play while Jean is off raiding cloning facilities. We only have Doreen, Eric and Whistler right now… Man, I am not looking forward to explaining a new edition to an oldschool DM.”
Said cloning facility.
A few minutes ago.
The body of a generic armored clone soldier smashed through a reinforced laboratory door. The unconscious clone was followed shortly by an athletic blonde woman in a navy blue and white tracksuit with the word ‘Juicy’ printed on the rear end. The woman twirled one of the metal clubs in her hands as she casually paused at the top of the ramp leading to the larger facility.
A shorter girl, slightly younger and more voluptuous than athletic, with a full mane of red hair that was billowing in unseen winds while her eyes glowed with an orange flame, followed shortly after. The second woman wore an emerald-green sundress with a canary-yellow sash around her waist, and yellow-furred UGG boots on her feet.
The two women’s heads tracked around the room, taking in the underground chamber’s construction: the empty clone vats lining the walls, the grated floor dyed with unknown fluids, and the massive arching ceiling barely visible through a mishmash of tubing and wires. At the end of the room, two men stood… er, one stood. The other was definitively sitting down.
The first was a young man around the younger woman’s age, with short brown slicked back hair and a futuristic red visor hiding his eyes. He wore a semi-gloss faux leather body suit, thick and tactical enough to act as light armor, with far too many pockets and straps in asymmetrical locations. He stood with his hand on his visor, not yet attacking, but ready to fight at any time.
The second man was middle aged and mounted on a high tech mobility device, with a hairless head and a serene look of effortless condescension. This man wore his clothes more conservatively, with a light brown suit jacket over a pastel undershirt and charcoal black tie visible above the lip of the mobility device. The mobility device was no Walmart special, either, but sleek chrome crossed with wires and circuitry, dotted by LED lights blinking for no apparent reason, and hovering inches off of the floor below. It was the kind of machine designed by an engineer who lived by the code that his brilliant handiwork was meant to be shown to the world, rather than hidden behind petty things like protective coverings.
“Charles and Scott,” Jean’s voice took a sardonic tone as she casually floated down the ramp into the facility, “I would have never expected to see the two of you here. I see that when your plans to oppress me socially and psychically didn’t pan out, and I foiled your plans to do the same with my ‘sister’, you’ve resorted to allying with shady villain organizations.”
“Wow, you used to date that guy?” Bobbi said, taking up a position behind Jean as she glided down the ramp, “That tracks. He looks exactly like the type of guy I’d regret waking up next to after a night out with the girls.”
The blonde woman tilted her head to the side in thought as the distance shortened.
“I’d probably take a picture real quick while I was sneaking out, too. You know, just in case the girls don’t believe I landed the hot guy in the bar.”
“Jean… or, whoever you really are,” Scott said as the women approached, completely unfazed by their banter, “We’re here to make you give us the real Jean back. The Professor told me how you kidnapped her, how you’re brainwashing her to hate me. I should have known, the real Jean would never have gone off with another man she’d just met after destroying half of the mansion… Now, where is she? Where is my JEAN?”
“Oh Scott…” Jean paused to sigh and shake her head, “Manipulated by the man you respect most again and again, duped into a scheme to trap me. When are you going to understand that the man you respect the most only cares about controlling the rest of us. What will it take, Scott? Do I need to tell him about your ‘contingencies’ Professor?”
“The Professor told me not to believe your lies,” Scott shouted, “You’re an impostor, a Demon! You kidnapped the real Jean and tried to take her place! Now tell me where the real Jean is, or… I will… we’ll have to take the information from your unconscious mind!”
“Such a boyscout until the end,” Jean said as Bobbi inspected her nails and yawned, “I AM the real Jean. My ‘sister’ was a clone… a clone your mentor implanted with my memories, trying to pass her off as me… And she’s safe, by the way. Her name is Madelyne Grey, and she needs some time to process her current situation. If she still wants to date you when she figures things out, well, I don’t think I’d stand in her way.”
“No, you're a LIAR!" Scott screamed, using his fingers to tweak a button on his visor. A red beam fired at Jean. Instead of striking, it met a similar beam of orange flame projected from her eyes. A brief struggle between the two forces continued for a few moments, and then the orange beam completely overtook the red.
When the orange beam triumphed, it didn’t result in crispy fried brains, as would be expected. Instead, the aura enveloped Scott’s head, and he screamed in frustration and pain. Seconds later, Scott fell unconscious to the floor.
“Jean,” Charles said, looking down at Scott with a concerned expression, “What did you do to him?”
“Aw, Professor, it’s like you actually care,” Jean answered playfully, “He’s fine. He’s just processing the loss of a mental suggestion planted in his mind several years ago. If you surrender your mind to me, I can do the same for you.”
“It seems your mind is too far gone, Jean,” the Professor said, shaking his head with a downcast expression, “You leave me no choice. I must undo what that devil has done to you myself. Do not fight me Jean, I am not the same man I was last year. Thanks to my new ally, I have grown far more powerful. It will only hurt you in the end if you resist.”
“Fight you, Charles?” Jean’s eyes grew crazed, as her dark phoenix persona asserted itself in response to the man’s provocation, “No, I welcome you!”
The Mind of Jean Grey, Herald of the Phoenix on Earth-D3V1L.
Over the next ten million years of subjective time.
The massive eye of a flaming bird of prey focused on a miniscule speck of dust, barely worth a sneeze to the enormous raptor.
“YOU HAVE CHOSEN POORLY, MORTAL.”
Back at the underground laboratory.
Now.
The sound of a slow clap rang out through the lab, as Charles Xavier, the most powerful telepath on Earth, slumped over, drool leaking onto his chair and shorting out several of the exposed circuit boards. A massive hulk of a man with slicked back black hair sauntered into the room, with pale white skin, a thick Fu Manchu mustache, and a ruby jewel embedded in his forehead. The man was dressed in flamboyant Victorian era ‘cultist’ clothing, sporting a cobalt blue velvet inversion robe tied closed with a crimson silk tassel sash. The cuffs of a cobalt blue velvet leisure suit poked out of the sleeves of the robe, and bright red alligator leather loafers could be seen below the hem.
“Well well, Miss Grey, you have done better than I ever would have thought,” the man’s calm and urbane voice carried effortlessly through the empty lab, “As to be expected for the woman I have chosen to be my mother.”
The strange figure looked disdainfully at Scott’s collapsed form.
“I expected dear old dad to put in a bit more effort though.”
“Wow,” Bobbi muttered, completely unfazed at his appearance, “This guy on the other hand… I might have to do more than take a picture to get the girls to believe me.”
“Bobbi!” Jean looked askance at her friend.
“What,” Bobbi said, crossing her arms defensively, “I’m just saying. You know how every group of girlfriends has one of ‘those girls’. Yeah, well… that’s usually me.”
“While I find your playful banter to be fascinating, Mother… Barbara,” the white skinned man began.
“God I hate that name,” Bobbi muttered.
The man in the bathrobe stared at Bobbi for an awkward moment. The woman glanced back, realized he was looking at her, and shrugged her shoulders while waving her hand to signal for him to continue. The white skinned man turned back to Jean, and with a cough to clear his throat, continued.
“Now, Mother, while I respect your autonomy…”
“Oh fuck it,” Jean suddenly shouted, “I’m bored. I’m going to kill you now.”
A massive orange inferno burst around Jean as she slowly rose into the air. In less than a second, the flames condensed and descended violently on the strange man. The man instantly dropped to his knees, holding his hand above his head as a psychic shield held off the hellish aura. The man strained as he resisted, his raised palm trembling with effort.
“How rude, Mother,” the man said with a shaky tone as he pushed against the attack. He reached into the pocket of his robe and pulled out a small remote control device with a big red ‘push me’ button, “But I can’t have you RUINING! MY! MONOLOGUE!”
Reddish vapor rushed into the room, and the flames died down as the man heaved a breath of relief.
“That was harrowing,” the man said while releasing a massive sigh of relief, “If I hadn’t installed those X-Gene suppressors, I might have been worried. Now, as I was…”
Whatever the man was about to say was instantly cut off, as a 5’9” blur of white and navy blue slammed into him, smashing him into the laboratory wall, leaving a spiderweb of cracked concrete on the CMU block behind him.
“I got you Jean,” Bobbi yelled back… completely unaware that the idea of a five-foot-nine, 135-pound woman pushing a six-foot-five, 285-pound man into a wall was patently absurd and impossible.
To be fair, if there are any three words that have been left out of Bobbi Morse’s dictionary, they are ‘patently’, ‘absurd’ and ‘impossible’. Especially when you tried to put all three of those words together, “Man, accepting that knight piece really upped my game.”
“Miss Morse,” the man strained to speak around the tiny hand holding his throat, “This power and speed are amazing. Your file at SHIELD really needs to be updated. It’s a shame I’m not only a strong man, but also a powerful psychic. I will be controlling your… eh, why can’t I get into your mind?”
“Oh… did you think your red gas affected me?” Jean said, “Sorry, I just wanted to give Bobbi a chance to shine.”
“Aw, Jean, that’s so sweet.” Bobbi looked at her friend while holding the massive man effortlessly against the wall, her eyes misting up with emotion, “You’re such a great friend. I would kiss you if I wasn’t… you know.”
“Uh, Bobbi, maybe after we’ve left the creepy basement dripping with slime?”
“What? It's not the worst place I’ve drunkenly made out with one of my girlfriends, just sayin’.”
“MWAHAHAHAHAHAHA…*cough*...*wheeze*,” The man attempted a booming villainous laugh, interrupting the heartfelt moment, though the effect was entirely ruined by the dainty woman’s hand crushing his Adam's apple, “You may have won this battle, but I will be victorious in the end! You think you have killed me… but my bodies are as numerous as the stars… cut off one head, and two shall…”
*SNAP*
“Bobbi!” Jean yelled.
“What, sorry,” Bobbi shrugged and dropped the corpse into a puddle of green goo, “He was getting on my nerves. Can we go make out now?”