The X-Men gather

Betsy Braddock was a warrior, some call her an assassin, or the traditional types might even use the term kunoichi. Above all else, she was an X-Man. Not only a member, but one of the leaders, teachers, and protectors of her fellow mutants. Like the others, she would do anything it takes to protect them; it’s her job to worry, to always be ready, so that they don’t have to. And truth be told, she is always ready. One finger twitch away to unsheathing her psychic blades and entering battle whenever the situation arises. While she might not have been raised here, this is her home, these are her family, her children.

That said, today she wasn’t in that warrior state everyone who hears of the great and mysterious “Psylocke” expects. Today, she had been in her usual teacher getup, wearing a white button-up shirt with a tight black pencil skirt, a pair of glasses, and her hair tied up in a bun. But after finishing up her classes for the day and grading all the papers of her students, she was quick to unwind. The professionalism was only an act, and forgotten once her duties had been met. Now she was wearing a basic purple tank top, lined with a white trim, and the thinnest of shoulder straps. The top was tight and low-cut, revealing the deep valley of her cleavage, while the tank top itself was barely long enough to cover her entire belly, allowing her flat and toned stomach to be completely visible as it showed off the thin waistline above her black, tight, undersized booty shorts.

Her hair was a complete mess, falling over her shoulders and down her back, and her breath was hot while reeking of stale coffee. In fact, that’s what she was here for. The coffee maker in the teacher’s lounge was alright, but it paled in comparison to the absolute mechanical mastery of engineering genius that was the coffee maker in the War Room. A gift from the Fantastic Four, and designed by Susan and Reed Richards themselves; no one knows why they decided to go out of their way to give them such a luxurious device, but the X-Men didn’t really care. This thing made the best cup of coffee Betsy’s ever had. She had just returned from the gym, where she worked up a good sweat (she was distinctly aware of the blatantly damp sweat stains her breasts made on her top, but didn’t really care), and her mind was now craving some honest to god coffee. So when the automatic double doors to the War Room hissed open, and she was met by many members of the X-Men, gathered around their meeting table, she was both surprised, disappointed, and passively annoyed all at the same time. Yet, years of training allowed her blank, neutral facial expression to remain unchanging, as she eyed the room.

Nightcrawler, Magik, Beast, Jubilee, Rogue, Dazzler, Gambit, X-23, and Emma herself were all present; not every member was here, but everyone with any sense of authority over the students and access to these private chambers was. Well, everyone who was currently available and not busy on their own missions.

“Ah, hey Betsy, good timing.” Dr. Henry, the resident scientist of the team, greeted her with a sharp-toothed smile. Known as Beast, he scratched his blue furry arm as he turned away from a large holoprojected map of the world. “We were just talking about you. You know our friends here were making bets that you wouldn’t show.”

“Oh?” Psylocke replied, walking over to the coffee maker in the back of the room, “Why’s that?”

Rogue shrugged her shoulders, the motion making her chest strain and bounce against the skin-tight fabric of her uniform, “Ah don’t know, sugar. Maybe ’cause you always got your comm turned off ’round this hour. Then ya only notice once you’ve had your coffee fix.”

Gambit leaned lazily against the doorway, arms crossed, grin tugging at his lips. “Pfft. Non, non… if she here wit’ us, den she had it on, non? Else how she know where t’be?”

*Click*

The machine came to life with a hiss of steam.

“It’s off?” Psylocke frowned and tapped the side of her ear. Her violet eyes narrowed as she realized the silence in her channel. “Ah.”

With a sigh, Gambit dug into his coat, pulled out a folded bill, and flicked it her way with a grin. “Here ya go, chère. Don’t say Gambit don’ pay his debts.”

Rogue smirked, catching it between two fingers. “Well, ah’ll be—lookit you bein’ all proper~”

She patted down her flawless curves, running her hands over the snug latex of her uniform — hands roamed her chest, hips, even her thick thighs — fabric clinging like a second skin. Her smirk widened when she realized there wasn’t a single place to tuck it, not a single pocket lined this skin-tight uniform. “Hah… guess ah’m fresh outta pockets, sugar.” She pressed the bill back into his hand, eyes glittering. “Hold onto it for me… just for now.”

Sitting at the table in silence, Emma had had enough of rubbing her temple, the telepath was at her limits and needed a drink, “Ugh, what is it with you two? And the flirting? Get a hold of yourselves. We—”

Psylocke took a loud sip from her coffee; audible enough to cut over the blonde telepath’s words. Emma often is in need of an ego check, and this kunoichi wasn’t in fear of her or her psychic abilities; when needed, she’d remind Frost that the powers of her mind may be stronger, but even still, Emma can’t control her. After loudly swallowing and softly smirking at the look of annoyance on Emma’s face, she spoke up, “I’m sorry, were you saying something, Emma?”

“Yes.” Emma hissed, “I was saying, we ought to cut to the chase, after all, we are here to handle a Code. Yellow. Situation.”

The steaming cup of coffee fell from Psylocke’s hands. The porcelain and dark liquid only stopped centimeters from the ground by Emma’s own mind. It floated through the air and onto the X-shaped table in the center of the room, directly before her usual seat as Betsy turned around. Her violet eyes were wide and full of shock. “What!?” She asked, her blood running cold. “Where’s Jean?”

That made Emma’s right eye twitch, ever so slightly. However, no one seemed to notice.

This assumption, that everyone had, that Jean was the only possible outcome for an emergency of this level, was truly baffling. Everyone here truly feared the prospect of the Phoenix being corrupted and unleashed, while not realizing the White Queen was her equal, and often superior. They see it as humbling that Jean would create preparations and plans in the case that she herself somehow turns on her own people. “In case I am corrupted, you must have a backup plan. If I am somehow, someway, being controlled, I won’t hold back.” But truth be told, it was just a subtle flex of ego that no one but Emma herself could see through. How pretentious does one need to be to make a fail-safe for themselves? The thought made her want to scoff. The Hulk is a rampaging, nearly unstoppable **** once angered enough, yet Bruce Banner isn’t classified as a “Code Yellow.” No, Jean gets to decide who is a world-level threat if controlled. These fools haven’t the faintest idea that, while impossible for someone of her status, if the White Queen herself were mind-controlled, they’d need the same level of preparation, if not beyond, to stop whoever made her turn.

“We’re trying to pinpoint her exact location now…” Beast said, adjusting his spectacles as a cluster of glowing holoscreens bloomed into the air above the table. Fingers danced over the console, streams of data reflecting off his blue fur.

Rogue crossed her arms beneath her chest, brows knitting tight. “If she’s in trouble, shouldn’t we just rush over there? Ain’t no time to sit ’round starin’ at screens.”

Beast glanced up, calm but firm. “Charging in blindly would endanger not only her, but all of us. Precision, my dear Rogue, is the difference between a rescue and a disaster.”

“Gon’ be straight wit’ y’all,” Gambit drawled, arms folded as his red eyes glinted. “If dis really de Code Yellow, we tink it is… it ain’t Jean who be in danger. Non… dat’d be us.”

Emma took a deep breath, her large and round cleavage visibly rising high enough that reaching her chin wasn’t beyond its capacity. Her white skin gleamed under the harsh lights of the war room, the cups of her corset clung firm enough to have her boob flesh bulging and subtly spilling out around them. She spoke up, “That’s why I’m here, you dolt. I’ll be able to shield us all from any mental **** attempts.” She paused, taking a sip of water before continuing, “...and if there’s any chance Jean has been corrupted, my psychic abilities far surpass her own. It’s quite likely I can snap her out of it.”

“We are not here to debate who is the most powerful telepath,” Beast said firmly, his tone carrying the weight of both intellect and patience. “Your rivalry with Ms. Grey clouds your better judgment, Emma. With the Professor away alongside Scott, you and Betsy are our two strongest lines of defense. And we can all agree—even Ms. Braddock herself—that you, Emma, are the wall we need.”

Emma arched a brow, lounging back in her chair with arms folded below her chest, the movement causing the cups of her corset to strain the deepness of her cleavage. “Flattery won’t earn you brownie points, Hank, but it is appreciated.”

“I’d hope you’d at least recognize my sincerity.” He adjusted a control, a faint computerized ping echoing in the War Room as the holoscreens shifted. “In that same vein, you must recognize that if someone has managed to subvert Jean Grey’s mind, they may be capable of doing the same to you.”

Emma let out a silvery laugh that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Darling, if someone wishes to rummage through my head, they’ll find it a far less hospitable place than Jean’s.”

“Your rivalry with Jean may be fierce, but I know your love for your mutants burns fiercer still. I do not need to ask you to set aside your pride; I know you will always prioritize what truly matters.”

Emma tilted her chin, cool and imperious, though her silence carried the weight of **** agreement.

Another chime lit the air, and Beast’s expression brightened. “Now then… ah. Here she is.”

The holoscreen zoomed in, focusing on a digital blue render of an X-Jet soaring through the air. “Our satellites picked her up over New Jersey. Though interestingly enough, there is no one in the pilot seat. Auto-pilot isn’t enabled. Yet it’s flying all the same.” A series of holographic displays burst into life all around the room, streaming live data from the X-Jet. “And... It’s heading towards us.”

There was a grim silence that filled the air; all were unsure what to make of this. A mind-controlled Phoenix heading towards not just them, but an entire campus of young mutants made this threat level escalate beyond what it was already.

Dazzler, who had been rather quiet this whole time, finally spoke up, “Is it being piloted telepathically? Whoever managed to control Jean might be using her to puppet the plane.”

“I suspected she’d be using her powers instead, yet I am detecting no trace of her telepathic abilities,” Beast admitted, scratching his chin.

Rogue shifted her big butt on her seat, causing it to creak as she leaned forward, “Now hold up just a second. Since we’re all sittin’ here, somebody better explain why this is bein’ called a Code Yellow. Ah trust y’all, sure—but how exactly? It ain’t every day some punk can up an’ control Jean.”

Emma’s eyes flicked to Jubilee. The girl had been busy clicking away on her tablet since before Psylocke got there, her dark eyes focused on the device, her bubblegum blowing as her fingers tapped the screen, her lips popping each time she sucked it back into her mouth. “Y-Yeah.. um, okay... this is hard to explain, but-”

“Jean left this morning to handle the recruitment of a new student. Like usual, she left a verbal report log, in case anything went wrong, and brought Storm as backup.” Emma interrupted.

“What you just explained is standard student recruitment protocol. Jean and Scott invented that procedure themselves. I question how that turned into a code yellow. What is this kid’s mutant ability?”

“Achem~!” Jubilee glared at Emma, “Please don’t read my mind! I was about to say it myself!” she huffed, tapped a button, and the holographic display changed, projecting a detailed image of the student in question and all the reports Jean had written down. “But look.” She cleared her throat, “His name is Axel Star.”

Rogue gave a slow nod, eyes narrowing at the dossier. “Yeah, yeah… looks normal enough t’me. Eighteen, healthy libido—well, Lord knows we’ve all dealt with teens in puberty before.” Her brow furrowed as her gloved fingers swiped upward, expanding the holo-text. “Except… wish-based reality warp ability?” she muttered, leaning closer. Her lips glistened as her tongue traced them absentmindedly, a soft breath fogging the projection as the words grew larger in front of her. “Jean says he can alter reality itself with a trigger phrase—‘I wish.’” Rogue’s voice dropped, half incredulous, half uneasy. “What is this, some kinda… unlimited genie deal?”

“Under extra notes, she says the power causes a cloud to form, which is the catalyst for the shift in reality. Anything hit by the cloud is adjusted to fit the properties of his wish, but the cloud must make physical contact.” Dazzler read aloud.

“Interesting…” Beast hummed, fingers steepled beneath his chin as his mind worked. “If I could obtain a sample of these so-called clouds, I might better study their composition. But if I were to hazard a hypothesis—this ability manifests as a particulate mist capable of altering atomic structure itself. In essence, a re-arrangement of reality at its most fundamental level.” He reached for Psylocke’s abandoned coffee cup, holding it aloft delicately between two clawed fingers. “Take this cup. It is porcelain, yes, comprised of atoms in a fixed pattern. It is, for all intents and purposes, a cup. Now—” he set it back down with a soft clink, “if one were to deconstruct those very atoms and rebuild them into, say, a shoe, or a clock, or any other configuration… the cup would cease to be a cup. Not transformed in the illusory sense, but reconstructed. Reality rewritten.”

His gaze lifted, sharp and grave. “This, I suspect, is why Jean’s formidable mind could fall prey to it. Not because her psyche was overpowered—but because she, at her very atoms, was remade. This is not simple mind control. It is total molecular reconstruction.”

“So what? He’s the discount Scarlet Witch?” Emma scoffed, a roll shifted over her eyes, “Something Jean clearly knew, and went in to get warped anyway? Not surprising.”

“I’d argue that the Scarlet Witch’s powers lean more toward the arcane than the scientific,” Beast mused, tapping a claw thoughtfully against his jaw. “Yet, when examined at the most basic level, the effect is strikingly similar: both reconstruct the very atoms of reality itself.” He adjusted his spectacles, gaze flicking toward the holoscreen. “That said, Wanda is vastly superior. This young man, as Jean notes, requires a verbal trigger — ‘I wish’ — to even summon the cloud in question. A limitation. And clouds, or mists, by their very nature, remain subject to environmental conditions.” A small, approving nod. “It was wise of her to bring Ororo. If the key to his ability lies within a particulate medium, then Storm needs only to stall or disperse such formations. Deny him his cloud, and you deny him his power.”

Emma raised an eyebrow, “And despite that, we have a Code Yellow, meaning somehow Jean and Ororo both were compromised.”

“Zhey must have been caught off guard…” Nightcrawler murmured, tail flicking as he leaned forward. “If one could seize de mind, und de other de skies needed to unleash his power… ja, dat would be de only way.”

Dazzler looked around and blinked, “Wait, we just mentioned Scarlet Witch. Does anyone here have her phone number? Let’s just call her, if she can warp reality better than he can, that’s an easy fix.”

“Or..” X-23 sniffed loudly, much like the absent Wolverine, who was one more tuned with action rather than tedious conversation. “Nightcrawler or Magik teleport me up there, and I slice him in half before he can even try to wish anything.”

“That would work, except one, we don’t kill people.” Jubilee said, “And two... hello? Code Yellow? We’re talking about this guy’s power, but what about the fact that he has THE PHOENIX mind-controlled or something?! For all we know, she’d sense us coming and obliterate anyone the second they arrive!”

“Furthermore,” Beast continued, folding his hands behind his back as he paced, “Wanda is presently off-world with Stephen Strange. Thus, any hopes of employing her reality-warping abilities to correct this unfortunate situation will have to wait until her return.” He paused, then allowed the faintest smile. “But, alas, there is better news. We have Emma.” His gaze shifted toward her. “I trust she is even now shielding our minds from any potential incursions by the Phoenix. Jean may anticipate our movements, yes, but she cannot penetrate our current thoughts. Thanks to Emma, our minds remain our own.”

“Finally, my ego boost for today.” Emma smirked, “Yes, I can easily protect our thoughts. However, if this boy has the abilities you mention on top of full control over the Phoenix, that could prove problematic. And this information does explain a lot. I’d like you all to know, I believe the range of his ability might be quite large. I didn’t have much time to react, but Kitty Pride ran into my office with fear in her eyes. She managed to give me a warning before seemingly vanishing in a small cloud. Now it all makes more sense to me. I fear she was summoned.”

“Summoned?” Rogue repeated.

Emma nodded, “Kitty didn’t so much as get the time to finish her words. She disappeared mid-sentence, right in my office.”

“Dat mean we act now, before t’ings get worse, oui?” Gambit cut in, voice rough but quick.

“Hold on…” Beast mused aloud, his brow furrowing as a thought crystallized. Rising from his chair, he adjusted his glasses. “If the cloud manifested within your office, I may be able to analyze residual particulates in the air. With a sufficient sample, it is conceivable I could reverse-engineer a counteragent—perhaps even a means to nullify his ability outright.” He tapped a clawed finger against the console, considering. “Furthermore, if we advance under Emma’s psychic aegis, we could seize the opportunity to affix power-dampening restraints to the boy… and thus prevent any additional, ah, ill-considered wishes.”

“While I do admire your diligence, Hank, not every solution requires a lab coat and a pipette.” Emma’s tone dripped with silk and steel, her diamond-hard gaze sweeping the table. “They are coming here, are they not? Then all we need to do is wait until the jet drifts into the reach of my mind.” She lifted her chin slightly, lips curving in a faint smile. “The extent of my telepathy is far greater than any of you suspect. Once they are close enough, I shall simply suggest to our little interloper that he undo the disaster Jean has seen fit to unleash. Reality will tidy itself with the pop of a cloud.” Her eyes glittered coldly as she leaned back, utterly unbothered. “And should the Phoenix attempt to interfere… well. I will hold her attention. You won’t even need to lift a finger.”

Beast stroked his chin, “Hmmm… well, that could indeed work. But Emma, while your powers are formidable, even you are not without limitations.” He gestured to the hovering schematics on the holoscreen. “The X-Jet was designed with integrated telepathic dampeners—safeguards against precisely such intrusion. As it stands, your effective range would already be reduced by half. To circumvent this, we would either need to override the systems remotely or, alternatively, place you physically aboard the craft.” Beast exhaled softly through his nose, fingers tapping together. “Either method is feasible, but both will require… time. And time, I fear, is the one resource of which we have precious little.”

“I… could teleport aboard,” Kurt said gently, his voice low yet clear enough to carry across the room. “It vould not be difficult for me.”

“No need.” Emma waved a perfectly manicured hand, her tone dismissive as though brushing away an insect. “Hank, do run along to my office and indulge yourself with that reverse-synthesizing nonsense you so adore.” Her gaze flicked toward the younger mutants, cool and expectant. “Jubilee. You and Kitty both studied under Jean, did you not? She’s the one who saddled our jets with that infernal mental barrier. Surely you can undo it.”

“Uhh.. yeah! Yeah, I am pretty good at hacking stuff. I mean, I think I can do that.” Her lips pursed into a kissing face as she blew another bubble. “It won’t be easy, but I should be able to do it!”

“Good. Then go, my X-Men.” Emma’s lips curled into a smirk, satisfaction glittering in her pale eyes. With the Professor absent, Scott away, and Jean herself the greatest liability, leadership at last rested where it belonged—on her shoulders. A role she had long since deserved. She lifted her chin, diamond-cool and commanding. “I’ll maintain the shields. Our minds will remain our own, no matter what tricks are played. It would be foolish to lower our defenses now.” Her gaze swept across the room, landing on each in turn. “The rest of you…

*POOOOOOOOOOOOOOOF*

Emma’s eyes blinked open, a burst of smoke clouds burst around the area, and when they faded, Gambit was no longer in the room. No, Beast and Nightcrawler, too. “W-What!?” she bolted to her feet so fast she didn’t notice nore care how her gigantic jugs bounced and wobbled like massive water balloons. “Where—”

“NO!” Rogue’s southern voice gasped as she exploded up into the air, flying over the table, screaming, eyes on the chair next to her where Gambit had just been sitting, “REMY!”

Emma’s eyes snapped to Rogue, then scanned the room, realizing it was only the men who vanished. She quickly used the true extent of her power to telepathically communicate to Gambit, Nightcrawler, and Beast: “What’s going on? Where did you go?”

She got no reply.

Gritting her teeth, she closed her eyes and strengthened her mind, her tremble beginning to throb with a few pulses of pain. She extended her mental reach farther than she ever should for longer than a couple of seconds. Far past the ever-approaching X-jet, that she couldn’t enter due to the damn telepathic shield Jean had installed, the White Queen could touch the minds of the entire continent with only a simple thought. Yet, she reached for the ones who were just with her. And she found nothing, as if they weren’t there at all. Her range was massive in scope, yet she felt nothing in response.

Just how far did they go?

“They’re gone,” Psylocke said. “I can’t sense them. And I don’t think it’s because of the Phoenix either.”

“Tsk- If I can’t find them,” Emma recoiled, rubbing her head from the daze of going beyond her limits, “Then it is likely no one else can either.”

Rogue slammed her fist into her palm, her whole frame trembling with fury. “He messed with my man!” she shouted, voice breaking on the word. “That little punk ain’t gettin’ away with this!” Her green eyes blazed, chest heaving against her skin-tight uniform. “Ah’m goin’ after him, y’hear? An’ if Ah gotta whoop the ass of that damn Phoenix to get Remy back, then so be it! He laid one filthy hand on mah man—” she snarled, Southern drawl thickening, “—an’ Ah’ll punch his head clean off fer it!” She screamed, bursting through the ceiling, her thick body tunneled through the earth’s core like it was paper, avoiding any of the classrooms or dorms of the mansion, and instead she burst through the institute’s luxurious front yard, and zipped across the sky like a comet, streaking towards the oncoming X-Jet.

“Shit!” Emma cussed, turning to Magik, the only other teleporter they had, with Nightcrawler sent who knows where, “Illyana! Stop her! She’s going to give away our intentions! I need a few moments to... ngh~ gather myself..” Her head throbbed from overextending, on top of making sure everyone was protected from any attempts Jean might make on their minds.

“Fine.” Magik sighed at the chaos of the situation and rose to her feet, summoning her giant sword as it crackled with raw magical energy. The blade stabbed into the ground, and she pulled herself onto the hilt of the sword, and she vanished into the ground, appearing on top of a building in front of the absolute rocket that was an angered Rogue. The sight would be terrifying to anyone else. Truth be told, she was even a bit put back herself.

Magik swung, the magical blade cleaved right into Rogue’s line of flight, splitting the very air and creating a portal that the southern belle’s speed wouldn’t allow her to avoid.

*WHOOOOOOOOOOSH*

She went through the portal. And Illyana quickly hopped through before it closed behind her.

Back inside the War Room, the refreshments wall, including their one-of-a-kind and irreplaceable coffee maker from the Richards, was completely totaled. Destroyed would be an understatement; the sheer speed Rogue had been flying at made it explode into pieces. A pile of shattered porcelain cups, plates, bowls, and sheet rock littered the room.

“You emotional idiot,” Emma shook her head, slowly rubbing away her headache.

Rogue burst out of the rubble in a cloud of dust and flying debris, her uniform streaked with ash. She spotted Emma sitting calmly amid the chaos, untouched, unbothered. “What’s wrong with you!?” Rogue shouted, storming forward, her voice ragged with frustration. “What’re you doin’ just sittin’ there!? We need to do somethin’—now!”

“I am doing something. I’m shielding us, keeping us safe, you dumb cow!” She snapped back, “If you’d let me focus, I-”

“NO!” Rogue’s voice cracked into a growl, her fists clenching so tight the leather of her gloves squealed. “We waited, an’ now Remy’s gone! We can’t just sit here—” her chest heaved, nipples poking through the skin-tight uniform, eyes burning with rage and grief, “—we can’t keep doin’ nothin’!”

“Emma is doing plenty, Rogue.” Dazzler sighed. “She’s keeping us safe from-”

“DID SHE KEEP REMY SAFE!?” She rose higher into the air, not realizing or caring how the sudden crash caused the latex body-suit to give her big butt an obvious wedgie

Emma dusted the debris Rogue had spilled into the air off her attire, a hand flicked into the dark valley of her cleavage to sweep out a small bit of debris, before she took a seat, a deep sigh exiting her lips as her eyes slowly opened, “Calm down, or I’ll make you. If you want your boyfriend back, we need to play this smart. You don’t know what’s on that jet, and I can’t see what’s on it.”

Rogue’s eyes burned, her voice shaking with unbridled rage.

“No. You go on an’ waste time, riskin’ more lives if you want. But me? Ah’m gonna obliterate that brat, show him exactly what happens when you mess with MY MA—“*POOF*

Before she could finish her sentence, before Emma could just command her to shut up and calm down. Before anyone could do anything, really. Rogue, and all that fire, that anger, and protectiveness over one guy, was gone.

This time, everyone had been looking at the person in question. Emma blinked, her lips parted. “Fuck.”

It became clear. This wasn’t a Code Yellow. Jean wasn’t the problem. It was the mutant.