Chapter 102
Arc 7 - Ch 19: Two Hours Later
Date: Thursday, September 1, 2011.
Location: House of M, Manhattan, New York
Illyana Rasputin stepped back to Earth with her arms wrapped around Tyson. The shimmer around them faded to reveal they were outside the House of M. He reached out to cup Illyana's face, his thumb tracing the line of her cheekbone. Leaning in, he captured her lips in a kiss that she returned with equal enthusiasm. As their lips met, Tyson opened himself up, drawing upon Illyana's power. The rush of energy coursed through him, adding her arcane knowledge and her teleportation magic to him. When they finally parted, both were slightly breathless.
"Thank you. For everything."
Before Illyana could formulate a response, Tyson vanished in a flash of light, reappearing on the roof of the House of M. She snorted at his abrupt departure. Reaching out with her senses, she pinpointed his location. "You know. I still have the rest of the day. It's only been a few hours," she called out, amused.
Tyson's response floated down from above, tinged with regret. "I know, love. But I need to do this. I'm not sure how long it's going to take."
"I'll find some way to entertain myself then," she shouted.
With a gesture, Tyson opened a massive portal to Limbo and began dragging through an assortment of metals and equipment from Alkali Lake. Illyana watched momentarily before teleporting inside the House of M.
As he continued to pull materials through the portal, Tyson quickly realized the limitations holding him back from bringing over all the salvage. The Flatiron Armory, the building that housed the House of M, wasn't designed to support the sheer weight of the volume of metal he intended to store.
With a thought, Tyson began to liquefy the metal, coating the exterior of the building, reinforcing its structure against the strain. Focusing intently, he applied a thin layer of adamantium to line the vertical corners of the foundation. The precious metal was worth a fortune; this wasn't a permanent development, just a temporary necessity. He wasn't a structural engineer, and he didn't have the luxury of time to figure out precise load-bearing calculations.
Using the reinforced corners as anchor points, Tyson began constructing additional floors atop the Flatiron Armory. Each new level was slightly smaller than the one below, creating a tapered, almost pyramid-like shape. He over-engineered every aspect, erring on the side of caution. He worked, manipulating tons of metal with nothing more than his will. The House of M needed to be fortified, expanded, and turned into a true haven for mutants. He owed it to his people, and this was his promise to Magneto. So, he labored, and the House of M slowly grew several stories taller.
Though he was focused, his enhanced senses picked up a crowd gathering at the base of the building. But these weren't just New Yorkers passing by, watching one of their heroes using their powers in the open. Angry voices rose to him. Through his enhanced senses, he picked up snippets of their chants, each dripping with venom against mutantkind.
It seemed the year of peace he'd mentioned to the Magneto fragment within his head had ended. The harsh reality of human prejudice had come crashing back into his life.
Tyson briefly considered messing with the protestors when the familiar whine of repulsors cut through the air, drawing his gaze skyward. A gleaming red and gold figure streaked through the sky in his direction from the north.
Iron Man.
As Tony Stark touched down on the roof, his faceplate retracted. "Hey kid," he said out. "Sorry, I'm late."
Tyson held his hand out for a fist bump, then lowered himself to one of the flat sections of the roof, letting his legs dangle over the edge. He gestured for Tony to join him, which the older man did with a hiss of his armor's hydraulics.
"Not your fault," Tyson replied, looking back down on the protesters below. Their fervor seemed to increase now that they had two of New York's heroes looking down at them; their shouts grew louder and more pointed.
Tony followed Tyson's gaze, his expression hardening. "Quite the welcoming committee you've got there," he quipped, though the humor didn't quite reach his eyes.
A man stumbled down the street with three large Rottweilers straining at their leashes. The dogs' deep barks caused pedestrians to give them a wide berth. The man's grip on the leashes slipped as he caught his foot on an uneven section of sidewalk, and the massive dogs broke free, charging straight toward the group of protesters.
Screams erupted from the crowd as they caught sight of the snarling canines bearing down on them. The protesters scattered in panic, dropping their signs and shoving each other aside in their desperation to escape.
Within seconds, the previously packed street had cleared, leaving only discarded protest signs and scattered pamphlets fluttering in the breeze.
"Convenient that those dogs got loose, huh?" Tony remarked, his tone dry but knowing.
Tyson offered a weak smile. "It's the least violent way I could have gotten them to back off."
"I got that. Better than using that sword on your back. If any of them were filming, they'll realize that the dogs weren't real."
"You're right." Tyson sighed. "I've gotta be better about combating my nemesis... cameras."
The scattered protesters began to regroup at a safe distance. A few pointed up at Tyson and Tony, their angry shouts now tinged with accusations about mutant trickery. The "dog owner" had vanished into the crowd and the remnants of Tyson's illusory dogs faded away, leaving no trace of their existence except in the minds of those who had fled from them. A few of the braver protesters had already cautiously begun to venture back to retrieve their abandoned signs.
"How's Pepper?"
Tony's face softened at the mention of his girlfriend. "Distraught over what happened to you," he admitted. "She practically shoved me out the door as soon as we got back, insisting I come to check on you."
Silence stretched between them, broken only by the muffled shouts from below.
"How are you handling things? Really?"
Tyson's gaze remained fixed on the horizon, his voice distant. "It was touch and go for a bit," he confessed. "I hid in a hellish dimension for about two weeks. But I'm doing a little better now." A wry smile twisted his lips. "Some people drown their demons. I fucked mine."
Concern etched lines across Tony's forehead. "Okay, I'm gonna need you to back up there. It hasn't been two weeks, it's only been three days. You're not making much sense, and I'm starting to worry."
A laugh bubbled up from Tyson's chest, surprising even himself. "My ex-girlfriend," he explained, shaking his head at the absurdity of it all. "She's a sorceress who has access to a dimension where time doesn't pass. When she channels too much magic, she turns into a demon."
It was Tony's turn to laugh. "That's ridiculous. But I can't say it's worse than some of the things I've done during hard times." He said, clapping Tyson on the shoulder. As their laughter faded, his tone shifted, becoming more business-like. "You know, the city tends to frown upon unauthorized building additions like this."
Tyson shrugged. "How much could it be? I'll pay the fine."
Tony winced, sucking air through his teeth. "I did just go through this myself," he said, shaking his head. "Let me give you a crash course in New York City housing laws."
A rapid-fire explanation of zoning regulations, permit requirements, and the bureaucracy of the city's Department of Buildings followed. Tyson's eyes glazed over as Tony rattled off statutes and ordinances.
"...and that's not even getting into the structural integrity assessments you'll need," Tony finished, barely pausing for breath. "Trust me, kid, I've been down this road. It's not pretty."
"I reinforced the structure with adamantium. Doubt the inspectors can factor that onto their assessments." Tyson groaned, rubbing his temples. "But what you're saying is, I should have consulted a lawyer before playing Minecraft with my building?"
Tony barked out a laugh. "Exactly. Consider this your first lesson in the exciting world of corporate liability."
"I've got Maki working on hiring a law firm to handle stuff for House of M. Worst case, I just take it down. Not like I need to hire a construction crew anymore."
"So," Tony said finally, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Tell me more about this demon ex-girlfriend of yours. She wouldn't happen to have an equally demonic, yet single older sister, would she?"
Tyson laughed. "No. But I won't tell Pepper you asked."
"Thanks for checking in," Tyson said warmly. "Listen, I've got something that might interest you. Adamantium."
Tony's eyebrows shot up. "Go on," he prompted, a hint of excitement creeping into his voice.
"If you're working on a new suit, let me know when it's ready," Tyson continued. "I could give it a nice coating," he added with a wry smile, "Though I'm not sure if you can paint over adamantium. I wouldn't want to mess with your signature look. Maybe as an underlayer?"
Tony stroked his goatee, his mind already racing with possibilities. "That's... incredibly generous, kid," he said, genuine appreciation in his tone. "As it happens, I am working on something new. I'll take you up on that offer when it's ready."
Tyson shrugged, trying to downplay the magnitude of his offer. "You sent me Wednesday. Consider us even." His expression darkened slightly. "Though she did end up selling me out to my ex."
"Oh, that AI had its quirks. Glad you're getting along. But we're not quite even yet. You gave me an idea when we first met, and I've been working on something since. It was supposed to be for me initially, but I think you'll be able to put it to better use. I should've finished it weeks ago, but the project turned out to be more complex than I anticipated. I had to put together a team to focus on it. I'll send it over as soon as it's ready. Consider it a belated birthday present."
Tyson's eyes narrowed warily. "It's not another AI, is it? I'm not sure I'd survive a repeat of Wednesday."
"Nah, this is something new. Maybe even better. And I'll only charge you 5% royalties on any profits it generates." At that, Tyson quirked a curious eyebrow. "Don't worry, you'll love it," Tony assured him. "This tech could open up possibilities for you. Trust me, it'll be worth the wait."
Tyson couldn't suppress his anticipation. Tony had a knack for creating revolutionary inventions seemingly out of thin air. Whatever he had been developing was bound to be extraordinary. With a whir of servos, Tony's faceplate snapped back into place. "See you around, kid," he said with his voice now slightly modulated by the suit's speakers. Iron Man's repulsors flared to life and Tony streaked off, leaving a trail of ionized air in his wake.
Tyson watched him go. It was good to know he had allies.
Illyana's borrowed power had faded, but he could still feel her within House of M. He hovered down from the roof and made his way inside to the VIP lounge.
Three women sat in a loose semicircle, their conversation dying away as they turned to face him. Illyana sat closest to him. To her left lounged Jessica Drew. Completing the trio was Felicia Hardy. She perched on the edge of her seat, one leg crossed over the other.
Tyson hesitated, suddenly feeling like an intruder. "Am I interrupting?"
Illyana replied, "We were just discussing recent... events."
— Rogue Redemption —
Illyana strode into The VIP lounge of House of M. The area had been cleaned and the smell of sex and sweat had faded. The furniture had been rearranged and the room looked as if it had been returned to normal after the previous night's escapades. To the women present in the room, it had been mere hours since Tyson's departure. For Illyana, it had been two weeks.
Felicia Hardy lounged on one of the sofa; her emerald eyes narrowed slightly as Illyana entered. Jessica Drew shifted to sit more formally, her posture tense. She instantly looked uncertain and felt out of place.
Illyana's gaze swept over the room, lingering on each woman in turn. "Felicia," she nodded, then turned to the other occupant. "And... Jessica, right?"
"That's right," she confirmed.
Illyana focused on Felicia, recognizing her as the key to navigating this complex dynamic. "Felicia, I think it's time we addressed the elephant in the room."
Felicia arched an eyebrow. "Just one elephant? Darling, this room is practically a circus."
"Fair point. But let's start with us." She paused, gathering her thoughts. "The first time we met, I was... jealous. It felt like you had replaced me in Tyson's life."
The admission hung in the air, heavy with months of unspoken resentment. Felicia's smirk faded. She was caught off guard, surprised by Illyana's admission. "Diving right in, are we? Alright," she said. A hint of softness crept in as she admitted. "I was jealous too. The way Tyson talked about you and the connection you shared was intimidating. You saved him from Magneto, for crying out loud. How could I compete with that? If you hadn't left, I don't know if I'd have a place in his life…"
A chuckle escaped Illyana, breaking some of the tension in the room. But her expression quickly sobered. "I have to leave again tonight," she said. "Just like last time."
"I figured as much. It can't be easy, coming and going like this."
"It's not," Illyana admitted. She glanced at Jessica, who had remained silent throughout the exchange. "But it's not just about us anymore. Jessica, you're part of this dynamic now too."
Jessica startled, her eyes widening. "What? No, I'm not... I mean, Tyson and I aren't..."
"He defended you," Illyana cut in gently. "When I spoke harshly, he stood up for you. That means something."
"I... I don't know what to say," Jessica stammered. "This is all so confusing. And now, these feelings..." She trailed off, her cheeks flushing slightly.
Illyana moved closer, her voice soft but insistent. "That's why it's important we talk about this. All of us. Whether we planned it or not, we're all part of Tyson's life now."
"I'm not sure what everything that happened last night means, or what I want it to mean." Jessica looked down at her hands, which were fidgeting in her lap. "Before I met Tyson, everything seemed so... straightforward. I was just trying to figure out who I was beyond being a clone." She took a deep breath, gathering her courage. "But then he came along, and suddenly there were all these new feelings I'd never experienced before. He saw me, really saw me, as Jessica, not just as Spider-Woman or a copy of someone else."
"And then last night happened, and..." Jessica shook her head, as if trying to clear her thoughts. "I've never felt that way with anyone before. Not with a man, not with a woman, not in my memories. It was like... for the first time, I got past thinking about my identity or my purpose. I was just feeling."
She looked up, meeting first Felicia's eyes, then Illyana's. "Tyson has become the most important person in my life. He's the first person who made me feel like I matter as me, not as someone else or someone else's creation. But I don't even know if I'm ready for any of this."
"Welcome to the club, honey," Felicia purred. "Tyson has a way of complicating things, doesn't he?"
Illyana agreed, "That he does. But that's why we need to figure this out. For our sake, and for his."
The atmosphere in the room shifted, the initial tension giving way to a cautious openness. Felicia spoke up, her voice uncharacteristically serious. "I'm worried about him, you know. When you leave, Illyana... it'll take a toll on him."
Illyana's face fell, guilt washing over her features. "I know. Believe me, I know. If there was any other way..."
"It's not easy, being second or third in his life." Felicia admitted, "Always wondering."
"Is that how you feel?" Jessica asked, surprised. "Felicia, you know... he fought through two superpowered groups to get you back. I even noticed how worried he was and how happy he was to see you. And the way he looks at you, trusts you, and relies on you. Meanwhile, I'm still figuring out which way is up most days."
"I think... I think we've all been afraid of losing him. Of not being enough. And that fear has made us cold towards each other." Illyana said.
Felicia nodded slowly. "You're right. It's easier to see each other as competition than to admit how vulnerable we all are."
Jessica looked between the two of them, her brow furrowed in thought. "So what do we do? How do we navigate... this?" She gestured vaguely, encompassing the three of them and the absent Tyson. "I... I don't know how to explain," she began, her voice barely above a whisper. "These past few days with Tyson... It's been intense. Confusing. Exhilarating. I want to be there for him, to support him. But how can I when I'm not just realizing who I am, myself?"
"Oh, honey," Felicia said, "There's no rulebook for this kind of thing. The most important thing is to give yourself time. Explore those feelings without putting pressure on yourself to have all the answers."
"You're not... bothered by this?"
Felicia shook her head. "Bothered? No. A little jealous?" She said, looking between the other two women, "Sure. But that's my issue to work through, not yours." She paused, considering her next words carefully. "Look, I've been where you are. Questioning, confused, scared of what it all means. My journey to accepting my sexuality wasn't exactly a smooth ride."
"How did you... I mean, how did you know?" Jessica asked, leaning in closer.
A mischievous glint appeared in Felicia's eyes. "I didn't know for sure. Let's just say it involved a party, a bottle of wine, and a spider-girl with the most amazing abs." Illyana raised an eyebrow, but Felicia continued, "But seriously, it's different for everyone. The key is to be patient with yourself. And know that whatever you discover, it's valid."
From her position by the window, Illyana let out a small snort. "What's so confusing about enjoying sex with Tyson?" she asked bluntly.
Jessica's cheeks flushed crimson, while Felicia shot Illyana a warning look. The blonde sorceress held up her hands in a placating gesture. "Sorry, sorry." Her expression sobered. "But seriously, Jessica, it doesn't matter if someone is a man or a woman. You love who you love. You want who you want. It's simple."
"Maybe for you," Jessica murmured.
Illyana's face fell slightly, a shadow passing over her features. "Look, I know I'm not exactly the poster child for emotional stability. And with me leaving again..." She trailed off. "I'm scared too, you know. Scared of losing my connection with Tyson while I'm gone. Scared that he'll realize he doesn't need me anymore."
"He'll always need you, Illyana."
Illyana turned to Felicia and responded, "Thank you for being there for Tyson when I can't be. For loving him in ways I'm not always capable of."
Felicia's eyes widened in surprise. "I... you're welcome," she managed, clearly caught off guard by the sudden show of vulnerability.
Illyana's gaze shifted to Jessica. "Think you can keep them out of trouble when I'm not around to bail them out."
"I'll do my best, but no promises. Trouble seems to follow you us like a magnet."
The laughter that followed felt like a release valve, dispelling the last remnants of tension in the room. As it faded, Illyana's expression grew serious once more. "I know we've had our differences," she said, addressing Felicia directly. "But I respect you. In another life, we might have been quite the duo."
Felicia arched an eyebrow, a hint of her usual sass returning. "Who says we can't be in this life?"
A slow smile spread across Illyana's face. "I'd like that," she said softly.
Jessica looked between the two of them. "So what happens now? How will we stay in touch while you're away at..."
"Nepal," Illyana supplied. "And mostly by cell phone, believe it or not. Reception is a bitch, but I make it work."
As if on cue, the door to the VIP lounge opened and Tyson walked in. The three women exchanged glances, a silent understanding passing between them.
"Am I interrupting?" he asked, his voice carrying a note of uncertainty.
Illyana said, her voice carefully neutral. "We were just discussing recent... events."
Her posture was deceptively casual. Felicia perched on the arm of a nearby sofa, her emerald eyes gleaming with amusement. Jessica sat more formally, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, a faint blush coloring her cheeks.
Tyson swallowed hard, his usual confidence nowhere to be found. "I... I don't know what to say," he began.
Illyana rolled her eyes. "We're not here to slut shame, Tyson," she interrupted. "Don't be shy."
Felicia let out a harsh laugh, but there was no real sting in it. "She's not wrong, you know. Just share what you feel. We're all friends here." The last word carried a weight of meaning, hinting at the complex web of emotions that bound them all together.
When he spoke again, his voice was stronger, filled with a quiet conviction. "You're all important to me," he said, his gaze moving from one woman to the next. "Each of you has become an essential part of my life."
He turned to Illyana first. "Lyana, you've been there from the beginning. You've seen me at my worst and pulled me back from the brink. Your strength... it anchors me." Illyana's smirk faded, replaced by a look of genuine emotion.
Tyson's gaze shifted to Felicia. "Felicia, your wit, your passion, your diligence... it has kept me grounded and ensured my success." Felicia's usual sultry demeanor slipped for a moment, revealing a flash of vulnerability beneath.
Finally, Tyson turned to Jessica. His voice grew softer, tinged with a mix of affection and uncertainty. "Jessica, I... I'm not sure how you feel about all of this. About me. But I want you to know that I've enjoyed every moment we've spent together. Our lunch, and... well, what happened between us last night." Jessica's eyes widened and her blush deepened. But there was a spark of something in her gaze; hope, perhaps, or the stirrings of understanding.
Tyson continued, addressing all three women now. "I can't deny what I feel. You're all important to me, in different ways, and I..." he trailed off.
"That's sweet," Illyana said with only the barest hint of sarcasm. But beneath the snark was a warmth.
"Well, well," Felicia said as she uncrossed her legs. A hint of her usual mischief returned to her voice. "Aren't we the lucky ones, ladies? Our boy here certainly knows how to make a girl feel special."
Jessica remained quiet, but she offered him a small, hesitant smile.
Tyson opened his mouth to speak again, but Illyana cut him off with a wave of her hand. "Save the speeches, lover boy," she said, but there was no real bite behind her words. "We've already had our heart-to-heart. Now it's your turn to listen. Let's get one thing straight. Despite what happened between us, I'm not your girlfriend." She paused, letting the words sink in. "I can't date someone who's so far away. And with such a wandering eye."
Jessica, who had been quiet for most of the exchange, suddenly perked up. "He does have a wandering eye," she mumbled, a blush creeping up her cheeks. "You should have seen how he checked me out the first time he saw me."
Felicia's laugh was a sultry purr that filled the room. "Oh, honey, it's not just his eyes that wander," she drawled. "We're all privy to that little fact."
The three women exchanged knowing glances. Tyson's confident demeanor faltered, his eyes widening with sudden nervousness. He turned to Felicia, his gaze pleading for help.
"Don't look at me like that," she purred. "I'm not your girlfriend either. I'm just the administrative assistant who's willing to crawl under your desk after a long day."
Illyana shook her head, but failed to hide her smile. Jessica's blush deepened. Tyson sighed dramatically, but playfully rolled his eyes. His gaze settled on Jessica. She caught his look and decided to play along with the banter. "I'm just here to put in a job application," she said, gaining confidence. "I'm tired of selling pictures of myself. Looking for steady, honest work, you know?" She paused, glancing at Felicia with a mischievous smile. "Though I'm not looking to crawl under your desk or anything... Well maybe if you ask nicely."
Tyson shook his head, but he couldn't help the smile that formed. The playful atmosphere was a welcome relief. It was clear that the women had come to some kind of understanding during his absence, and while he wasn't entirely sure what that meant for him, he was grateful for the lighter mood.
"Cursed to be forever without a girlfriend," Tyson mumbled dramatically.
Suddenly, a new voice chimed in, filling the room with its synthesized tones. "Don't worry, boss," Wednesday interjected. "You still have me." Without warning, the opening chords of a familiar song began to play. The raw, angry vocals of a scorned woman filled the air, the lyrics speaking of betrayal and lingering affection.
I want you to know
That I'm happy for you
I wish nothing, but
The best for you both
An older version of me
Tyson groaned, burying his face in his hands. "Really, Wednesday? Now? Again?"
The AI's response was to increase the volume slightly. Illyana burst out laughing. "I think your AI might be jealous," she managed between chuckles.
Is she perverted like me?
Would she go down on you in a theatre?
"Or maybe she's trying to warn us," Felicia suggested, her voice dripping with false innocence. "What do you think, ladies? Should we heed Wednesday's advice?"
Jessica cracked a smile. "Maybe, I'm not sure."
You, you, you oughta know.
As the song continued to play, Tyson looked around at the three women who had, in their own unique ways, captured his heart. Despite the teasing and the complicated nature of their relationships, he felt a warmth spreading through his chest. They might not be his girlfriends in the traditional sense, but what they had. This strange, wonderful, messy tangle of emotions and connections was something special.
Did you forget about me
Mr. Duplicity? I hate to bug you in the middle of dinner
But it was a slap in the face
How quickly I was replaced
And are you thinking of me when you fuck her.
"Alright, Wednesday," Tyson called out. "You've made your point."
— Rogue Redemption —
A knock on the VIP lounge door interrupted the lighthearted atmosphere.
"I'm sorry if I'm interrupting, sir, but I saw that you returned," Maki said. "I was intending to push back your meetings, but if you're interested, I was about to meet with a representative from Hogarth, Chao & Benowitz. Also, your virtual meeting is still scheduled afterward."
Tyson nodded, rising from his seat. "Alright, excuse me, ladies."
Illyana's voice followed him as he moved towards the door. "See you soon."
Felicia's eyes narrowed as she watched Tyson prepare to leave. "Hey, I know it might seem normal to us, but maybe you shouldn't bring the sword to your meeting."
Tyson stopped and frowned. The adamantium blade against his back felt so natural that he barely registered it. "You're right."
But leaving Nexus anywhere felt wrong to him. The sword was part of him, connected to him. He could feel it. Not in a sense that he could feel it because it was adamantium and had a unique signature. He knew where Logan was, because adamantium was unique within his senses. But Nexus was different. Now that he thought about it, he could feel Illyana too. She'd always said she could sense the fragment of Limbo within him, but now, he realized, he too could feel her, like she'd given a fragment of herself to help him create Nexus, which she essentially had.
Jessica leaned forward on the couch, curiosity lighting her features. "Where did you even get a sword? Did you make it?"
"It's a magic weapon I crafted in Limbo. Calling it a Magic item is an understatement. It's probably a Legendary, maybe an Artifact, no big deal."
She snorted like it was a joke, but then her smile faded as she studied his face. "Wait, you're serious?"
Illyana saw his frown and how he hesitated."You made your own Soulsword. So just store it in your soul."
She said it so casually, like storing a sword inside the ephemeral part of his existence was a simple matter. The concept seemed absurd yet somehow logical coming from her.
Tyson pulled the sword from where it stuck to his back and stared at it, trying to will it... into his soul. To his surprise, it disappeared almost immediately. He got nervous for a second, but flexed his will, and the sword reappeared in his hand. Again he willed it to return to his soul, and it disappeared.
He nodded in satisfaction, then winked at the girls and followed Maki out of the room. She led him through the corridors of the House of M to one of the meeting rooms. Inside, a woman sat waiting. She exuded an air of confidence and authority. She had sharp features, short dark hair, and wore a tailored suit that spoke of wealth.
Tyson muttered under his breath, "Trinity."
She stood as he entered, offering her hand. Her grip was firm, matching the intensity in her eyes.
"Jeri Hogarth," she introduced herself, her voice crisp and professional.
"Would you prefer to be known as Tyson, Mr. Smith, or Mirage?" she asked.
"Tyson is fine."
Hogarth's expression remained serious as she spoke. "You've found yourself in some trouble, Tyson."
"It seems to follow me everywhere I go," he agreed, his humor fading as he sensed the gravity in her tone.
"Let's start with the protesters outside," Hogarth said, getting straight to business.
Tyson's brow furrowed. "Is that a legal problem?"
"Not directly," she replied. "They are members of a group called the Friends of Humanity. They're a... let's call them a pro-human hate group."
"Fantastic," Tyson mumbled sarcastically.
"That's only the beginning of your issues. They've got backers in high places, and they're turning that financial power into political power. They're pushing to reintroduce the Mutant Registration Act." Tyson cursed under his breath. "If that upsets you, they're also pushing to get Norman Osborn's sentence revoked."
"How?" Tyson asked flatly. "He publicly murdered people."
"So did you." Hogarth's response was swift and pointed.
Tyson's lips puckered, the truth of her words stinging more than he cared to admit.
"They why; because you're a mutant. As for the how, several points are helping their cause," Hogarth continued, counting them off. "Oscorp is pushing for a mistrial. You apprehended the Green Goblin when you were a minor. You were also listed in Oscorp records as an intern. Harry Osborn has accused you of harassment in the past, and you have a history with him in your personal life. You used excessive force, hamstringing both his legs and causing mental trauma by blinding him, even if temporarily."
"Mental trauma? He was insane before I got to him." Tyson shook his head in disbelief. "I was working under SHIELD," he protested.
Hogarth's explanation was clinical and detached. "SHIELD occupies a complex legal space. It's an international organization more akin to the UN than the US Armed Forces or police. You're protected from legal ramifications for your actions, but the subjects of your actions are afforded a different set of rights."
"So Norman escaped custody and he's just... free?" Tyson complained.
"That's SHIELD's legal battle, not yours," Hogarth clarified.
Tyson cursed again. "Alright, what else?" he asked, bracing himself for more bad news.
Hogarth's demeanor shifted slightly as she smiled, recognizing she had hooked him. "That's your freebie. You want more, you're going to have to hire me."
Tyson turned to Maki, who had been silently observing the exchange. "Do you have any objections?"
Maki's response was immediate and professional. "No, sir."
Tyson turned back to Hogarth, his decision made. "You're hired."
The air in the room seemed to change, the tension giving way to a sense of purpose. Hogarth nodded, satisfied with the outcome. She reached into her briefcase, pulling out a stack of papers which she slid over to Maki, who began reviewing them. Tyson watched the exchange curiously.
"Mostly formalities," Hogarth explained. "Standard agreement for hiring our firm."
"All good," he said, then paused, considering his next words carefully. "So, is any of that stuff you mentioned a legal problem, or were you just trying to remind me how much things suck?"
Hogarth's eyes held a hint of approval. "There are, in fact, legal issues," she replied, her voice carrying a note of satisfaction that her newest client was somewhat sharp. "The Oscorp harassment suit is small potatoes. They'll likely drop it since they're using you as part of their case for freeing Norman Osborn."
Tyson's brow furrowed. "How are they using me, besides the stuff you mentioned?"
Without a word, Hogarth reached for her phone, tapping the screen a few times before a familiar voice filled the room. It was Tyson's own words, crystal clear, from the interview he'd done with J. Jonah Jameson on Graduation Day.
"I don't harbor any personal grievances against the Osborns or Oscorp as an entity. It's crucial to distinguish between Norman Osborn, the man, and the monster he became. My confrontation was with the Green Goblin, not Norman... Before his tragic transformation, I had the opportunity to meet Norman Osborn. Do you know what I thought of him? He was charismatic, gracious, and undeniably brilliant. The decision to experiment with that serum was Norman's downfall, transforming him into the Green Goblin. That's the entity I was compelled to confront, not Norman himself."
As the recording ended, Tyson leaned back in his chair, tilting his head towards the ceiling and taking a deep breath.
"Yeah, okay," he said, frustrated. "That was a fucking mistake."
"I get it." He straightened up, meeting Hogarth's gaze. "They're going to drop their claims against me, then play up my actions as a hero and say that even I thought Norman had psychological issues."
"They're saying that if Norman resurfaces, they can fix his psychosis."
"I don't buy that."
"I recommend you stay out of it," Hogarth advised, her tone firm but not unkind. "If Norman does show himself, gets off, and takes this 'cure'... Which is a lot of ifs. Then when he acts out of line again, he's done for."
Tyson sat in silence for a moment, weighing his options. The room seemed to hold its breath, waiting for his response. Finally, he spoke, "Fine. I don't like it, but I can play ball."
Hogarth nodded, a hint of approval in her eyes. "Good," she said, her tone professional. "Now, let's move on to the next issue at hand."
She reached into her briefcase, pulling out another set of documents. "The Friends of Humanity are pushing for more than just Norman Osborn's freedom," she began, her voice taking on a more serious tone. "They're advocating for stricter regulations on mutant activities, including limitations on public gatherings and mandatory registration."
"That's a violation of basic rights."
"It is," Hogarth agreed, "but they're framing it as a public safety measure. They're using recent events, including your confrontation with Magneto, as evidence of the danger mutants pose to society."
"What's our play here?"
Hogarth's lips curved into a slight smile, appreciating his quick shift from anger to strategy. "We need to change the narrative," she explained. "Right now, you're being painted as a loose cannon, a powerful mutant who took the law into his own hands. We need to reframe you as a protector, someone who acted to save lives when traditional law enforcement couldn't."
"What's the best way to do that?" Tyson asked.
"We start with a carefully crafted public statement," Hogarth replied, sliding a draft across the table. "We emphasize the lives saved, the property damage prevented. We highlight your cooperation with authorities, your cleanup after the fight, and your commitment to justice, not vengeance."
Tyson scanned the document, nodding slowly. "This could work," he murmured. "I talked to Felicia about hiring a face for public relations. We can make this her first assignment."
"Additionally," Hogarth continued, "we need to address the House of M. It's being seen as a potential threat, a fortress for mutants. We need to reframe it as a sanctuary, a place of support."
As they continued to discuss strategies, Maki finished reviewing the documents and slid them back to Hogarth. "Everything seems to be in order."
Hogarth continued, "In the vein of trying to make House of M not look like a fortress, I recommend you undo the changes to the building you were making when I arrived."
"That space was supposed to be housing for the refugee mutants that were living in the sewers," he explained.
Jeri's response was swift and matter-of-fact. "Which is also against the law."
Tyson sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. "So I've heard," he muttered. After a moment, he looked up at Hogarth, his eyes searching for answers. "What am I supposed to do here?"
"Officially, you can relocate them to shelters or facilities that take in mutants."
Tyson was already shaking his head before she finished speaking. The first facility that came to his mind was Xavier's Institute.
But, fuck Xavier.
Hogarth, unfazed, proposed another option. "You can purchase a residential property."
Tyson's response was immediate. "I want them close so I can protect them."
"You seem like a good guy, with good intentions," Hogarth began, her tone softening slightly. "And I say this with the most possible respect, but can you protect them?" Hogarth continued before he could speak. "The whole world saw the Battle in Times Square. We all know you can defend yourself, but your friend died." Her words were blunt, but not unkind. "When the forces are arranged against you, can you keep all of them safe?"
Tyson's jaw clenched; the memory of Jubilee's death was still raw and painful. He remained silent, allowing Hogarth to continue.
"By building a pyramid on the roof of this place and turning it into a fortress, you paint a target on it," she explained, "You being here alone paints a target on it. Is that what's best for them?"
Tyson ran his tongue along his teeth as he processed Hogarth's words. He didn't like what she was saying, but he couldn't deny the logic behind her argument.
"Okay. Take down the obvious housing, and hide the refugees somewhere safe. Got it."
Hogarth nodded with a hint of approval in her eyes. "It's a wise decision, Tyson. Now, let's discuss how we can implement this change without drawing unnecessary attention or breaking the law."
"I've got it covered," he said confidently.
Jeri's eyebrows raised slightly. "I really think you should tell me what you have planned. So I can advise you. It's what you're paying me for, after all."
Tyson nodded, acknowledging her point. "Alright," he conceded, leaning forward slightly. "I found them in the sewers, but that's not entirely accurate. There's an underground abandoned military project that runs the length of Manhattan and beyond. They were squatting in those tunnels."
"If I can't build up, I'll build down. The tunnels aren't far from here. They were closed off, but I think I can open them."
Jeri sat back, her expression thoughtful. "It somewhat solves your problem," she finally said, "but it certainly isn't legal. You'd never be able to get permission to use the abandoned structures or military facilities."
Tyson waited for her to continue.
"I'd advise you against this route. But if you're set on this idea, I'd say, don't get caught." She leaned forward, her voice lowering slightly as if sharing a secret. "You'd probably have a bigger issue with the military than the city. I'd advise avoiding interrupting any existing underground structures."
He appreciated her candor. Jeri finished, "Just remember, discretion is key here. The fewer people who know about this, the better."
"Understood," Tyson replied seriously. "I'll be careful."
"If you do proceed with this plan," she said, drawing their attention back to her, "make sure you have a contingency in place."
"I'll start working on that right away. As a side measure, Maki, let's begin looking at residential properties nearby. And by nearby, I mean the buildings adjacent to the Armory." Jeri watched this interaction with interest, making a mental note of the dynamic between Tyson and his assistant.
Next, he asked, "I got expelled from Empire State University. Is there anything you can do about that?"
Maki slid a paper across the table to Jeri. The lawyer's eyes scanned the document.
"It's a stretch," Jeri said, looking up from the paper. "If you had fought at a school function, on campus, or had been charged for the fight, then they would have solid grounds for expulsion. We could probably fight this, and win." She paused. "The question is, do you want to? If the university administration is so quick to expel you when the fight was broadcast so widely, and you were not the aggressor..." She trailed off, letting the implication hang.
Tyson's jaw clenched in evident frustration. "Granted, killing Magneto on live TV might not have been the best move," he admitted, "They might be doing it for optics, but they also might have an anti-mutant agenda."
"I don't know the administration's motivations. But what would it look like for you to attend Empire State University now?" Jeri's voice took on a more pointed tone. "During that interview with Jameson, you wouldn't reveal what high school you went to because you didn't want to paint a target on it, and now your identity is public. You'd be painting a target on the University too."
Tyson sighed heavily. "I won't be able to go to any schools," he said.
"Not true," Jeri countered. "I'm sure while ESU doesn't want you on campus, there will be plenty of other schools itching to have you attend."
"Really?"
"Absolutely. Your presence could be seen as a significant draw for some institutions. You're not just a student; you're a public figure, a hero to many. Some universities would jump at the chance to have you on their roster."
Maki spoke up. "If I may, sir, we could compile a list of potential universities that might be more... accommodating to your unique situation."
Tyson paused, considering Maki's proposal. Empire State University was a convenient choice, close to home, and his friends also attended. But now, everything had changed.
Jubilee...
What was the point of continuing his education when his original motivations no longer applied? His mind drifted to his conversation with Illyana in Limbo. The possibility of bringing Jubilee back loomed large in his thoughts. He mentally cataloged the Infinity Stones he would need. Soul. Or Reality and Time. Or Reality and Power. The Reality Stone seemed to be the key, appearing in both potential scenarios, since he wouldn't sacrifice someone he loved to bring back the one he loved and lost.
He considered what he recalled about the Reality Stone's first appearance. Jane Foster would encounter it during the Convergence, during the events surrounding Thor: The Dark World. That would happen in England, which raised a new problem.
How could he be in England when he was supposed to be training at Kamar-Taj?
He realized he would need to pinpoint the exact timing of the Convergence to plan around it effectively. After a long, silent contemplation, Tyson's focus returned to the present. He turned to Maki, who had been patiently waiting for his response.
"Thank you, Maki. For now, let's not actively pursue this route. If any universities contact us, particularly ones located in the city, or in the United Kingdom, please let me know."
Maki didn't question his instructions. With her usual efficiency, she made a note and responded with a simple, "Yes, Sir."
Tyson nodded, satisfied with the plan for now. He knew there were still many variables to consider, many pieces of the puzzle to fit together. He turned his attention back to Jeri and asked, "Is there anything else we need to discuss today?"
"That's a reasonable start," she said. "I'll reach out to a few PR firms and see who can launch an effective counter-campaign against Oscorp and these hate groups." She tapped her pen absently on her notepad. "Another interview might help too if we can find the right outlet. I know your last talk with Jameson came back to haunt you, but you handled his accusatory questions with poise. I'm happy to help coach you for any future interviews if you want."
"I appreciate the offer for media coaching," he replied. "It seems I could use some guidance on speaking carefully but candidly." He stood and extended his hand to Jeri. "Thank you for your counsel. I'm grateful to have you in my corner."
She shook his hand firmly. "Of course. That's my role here. To always have your back. Regardless of what happens."
After exchanging goodbyes, Maki led Tyson to his next meeting, a video conference with Edgar Lascombe, a leader of Hydra.
— Rogue Redemption —
Tyson sat at the computer, his fingers drumming lightly on the desk as Maki finished setting up the video call. The screen flickered to life, revealing an older white man with a bald head and no facial hair.
"Mr. Lascombe," Tyson greeted.
"Tyson, it's nice to meet you," Lascombe replied. "Well, at least it is for me."
Tyson's face remained impassive, but his mind raced. Lascombe had just implied, well revealed, that he knew about their previous encounter. Months earlier, Tyson had followed Maki after she ambushed him with a group from the Hand. She'd led him to Lascombe, who'd been involved with the abduction and relocation of Cindy Moon. Tyson had used his illusions to cover his presence, or so he thought.
After a calculated pause, Tyson replied, "Ah, my old nemesis rears its head again. Damned security cameras." He leaned back in his chair, feigning nonchalance. "So I assume that's why we're having a video call instead of meeting in person?"
"It is. The only reason we're talking cordially is because the other heads believe you're an asset. For me, you took my spider blood, you infiltrated my building, used your tricks on me, and stole my best asset."
Tyson's eyebrow quirked up at the last point. "Asset?"
"Maki," Lascombe clarified. "She's compromised. You can keep her."
"Thanks," Tyson said dryly.
"I suppose I should applaud your efforts. You did all that while flying blind. Amateur work, but effective. You were recruited by Hydra not once but twice, and you have yet to do anything for us. It's truly impressive."
"Is that the reason we're talking?"
Lascombe's expression hardened. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves, Mr. Smith. Your actions have consequences, and while some may see potential in you, I see a liability."
"I'm curious, Mr. Lascombe. What exactly do you think I owe Hydra?"
Lascombe's laugh was cold and humorless. "Owe? That's an interesting choice of words. Hydra doesn't deal in debts. We deal in loyalty and results."
"And yet, here we are," Tyson countered. "Having a cordial conversation about my apparent lack of both."
Lascombe's eyes narrowed. "Don't mistake this conversation for cordiality. It's a courtesy, nothing more. Your actions have put you on our radar in ways you might not fully appreciate."
"I appreciate more than you might think, Mr. Lascombe. But I'm still waiting to hear the point of this call. If it's not a job offer, and it's not a threat, then what exactly are we doing here?"
"We're establishing parameters, Mr. Smith. You've shown initiative, skill, and a remarkable ability to navigate complex situations. These are qualities Hydra values. But you've also shown a disregard for authority and a tendency to act on your own agenda. That's... problematic. And it's why you've been benched. We've pushed for you to be sidelined. You're bold, a loose cannon. We're reining you in."
Tyson knew that already, Fury had subtly warned him as much. But still he showed surprise on his face, maintaining the ruse. "So that was you. I see." He paused. "What is it you want?"
"Your worldwide broadcast has made you the face of mutant representation. Although you've been difficult to predict, you haven't outed us to SHIELD, which shows you've got at least a basic level of loyalty. We want you to continue representing mutants as you have."
Tyson waited, expecting more. When Lascombe remained silent, he couldn't help but ask, "That's it? Just keep doing what I'm doing? You chastised me for not doing anything for you, you say you deal with loyalty and results. Yet simultaneously, you say I've demonstrated loyalty, and my actions have been what you want me to do anyway..." He shook his head, a hint of disbelief in his voice. "Mr. Lascombe, no offense, but this meeting could've been an email."
Lascombe smiled, but it was humorless, cruel. "You'll keep representing mutants and in doing so, you sow social discord. People split, they take sides. The more you push for equality, the more fanatical men push back against the rise of the mutant threat." Tyson's eyes narrowed and his jaw tightened as he began to grasp the implications of Lascombe's words. "Disharmony divides the masses, providing Hydra opportunities to gain further influence and control. So yes, keep doing what you're doing. Intentionally or not, you've been working for our cause. Which is why you've been allowed to continue operating."
Tyson felt a surge of anger and disgust. "So you're telling me that my efforts to help mutants, to push for equality and acceptance, are serving Hydra's agenda?"
Lascombe smiled smugly. "Precisely. The more you advocate for mutant rights, the more resistance you create. It's a beautiful cycle."
"And what makes you think I'll continue to play along now that I know this?"
Lascombe's smile widened. "Because, Mr. Smith, you don't have a choice. If you stop now, you'll abandon the people you claim to protect. And if you try to expose us, well... let's say we have contingencies in place."
"If I wanted to expose you, I would've done it already," Tyson said, "What I want is Cindy."
"No."
Lascombe said the word with finality. "I want you to keep an eye on Steve Rogers, too," he added, his tone leaving no room for argument.
Tyson tilted his head and squinted in disbelief and irritation at the audacity of Lascombe's demands. "I'm not really seeing the benefits of working with you. You've given me nothing. You've offered no assistance or benefits. You deny my requests, and you make demands of me in turn. What am I getting out of this?"
"You misunderstand, Tyson," he said, his voice smooth as silk but sharp as a blade. "Hydra is not here to do you favors. You're here to provide whatever Hydra needs. In return, you secure your place in our new world."
"And what place would that be?"
"That, Mr. Smith, depends entirely on your performance and loyalty."
"Performance and loyalty," he repeated, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Funny how those words sound an awful lot like 'obedience' and 'servitude' when you say them."
Lascombe's eyes flashed with anger, but his voice remained calm. "Call it what you will. The fact remains that your actions have consequences. You've drawn attention to yourself, and now you must deal with the results."
Tyson leaned back in his chair, his posture deliberately relaxed despite the tension thrumming through his body. "And if I refuse? What then, Mr. Lascombe? Are you going to threaten me? My friends? The mutants I'm trying to protect?"
"Threats are crude, Mr. Smith. We prefer to think of it as... motivation. You have a unique position, a platform that can be incredibly useful. It would be a shame to see that platform... compromised."
Tyson felt his anger rising, but he forced it down, keeping his voice level. "So that's it then? I play along with your games, or you'll what? Discredit me?"
Lascombe's laugh was short and humorless. "Oh, Tyson. You underestimate us. We don't need to discredit you. We simply need to ensure that your efforts align with our goals."
"And if they don't... well, you might find more protesters outside your little house."
Tyson caught Lascombes' meaning. Hydra, Marchand Pharmaceuticals, or maybe Lascombe himself was funding the protesters and maybe the anti-mutant or pro-Oscorp measures Hogarth had spoken of.
"You might think you have all the cards, but you're forgetting one crucial thing."
Lascombe raised an eyebrow. "And what's that?"
"I'm not just some pawn you can push around. I have powers. You've seen the threats I've faced. And I've come out stronger every time."
Lascombe's smile was thin and predatory. "Brave words, Mr. Smith. But remember, powers don't always equal power."
He knew Lascombe was right, in a way. His powers, as vast as they were, couldn't protect everyone he cared about. He couldn't be everywhere at once, couldn't shield every mutant from the consequences of his actions. Despite that weakness, Tyson responded defiantly.
"In my case, powers do equal power, and I have them in spades."
Lascombe reached down and grabbed an object outside of the camera's view. He raised it, placing it on his head.
It was Magneto's helmet.
It must have been one of the duplicates gathered after the Battle in Times Square. Lascombe's smug smile returned as he said, "Powers can fail."
Tyson let out a deep bellowing laugh. He leaned in close enough to the camera that it caught his pupil lengthening into a slit. "You think that helmet can stop me? You think it will make any difference? I could tear your skyscraper from the ground and turn it into another bridge to Roosevelt Island. Or compress it down to the size of a softball with you at its center."
"Then you'll guarantee the Mutant Registration Act reaches the President's desk."
Tyson sat back and relaxed. He did his best to suppress the anger in his voice. "Fine. You want me to keep doing what I'm doing? I can do that."
Lascombe nodded in satisfaction. "That's all we ask, Mr. Smith. Keep advocating for mutant rights. Keep pushing for equality. And keep an eye on Captain Rogers. We'll be in touch if we need anything else."
"Is that all?" Tyson asked through clenched teeth.
Lascombe's smile was cold and triumphant. "For now, yes. But remember, Tyson. We'll be watching. Always watching."
The video call ended, leaving Tyson alone with his thoughts. He stood up, pacing the room as he tried to process everything. He knew he couldn't just go along with Hydra's plans, but he also couldn't risk openly defying them. Not yet, at least.
He turned to Maki, who had sat silently through the short meeting. His eyes narrowed as he studied her.
"So, you're mine now?" Tyson asked.
"Yes, sir."
Tyson frowned, a crease forming between his brows. "How long had he known you were compromised?"
"Since shortly after that night. We have not met in person since that night when you were there."
Tyson admitted, "I've used my illusions to deceive you." Then he asked, "Have I been fair with you in the time we've been working together?"
"You have," she confirmed.
Tyson held his hand out, palm up. Maki's eyes flicked from his face to his outstretched hand and back again.
"You need to ensure my loyalty?" she asked.
"It seems that's what Hydra requires."
Maki's eyebrow arched slightly. "You do as they ask now?"
Tyson snorted. "Fuck no. But I do need your loyalty. Lascombe implied that he had agents inside the House of M."
"We're always watching." He said mockingly.
"The dumb fuck just gave the game away. Now that I can control my power, I can check everyone one-by-one without risking hurting anyone innocent and without others noticing. It won't be hard to find moles. And I'm going to start with you."
Maki's expression remained impassive, but her eyes sharpened. "And if I can't be trusted, what then? Will you kill me with your touch? Or bend me to your will, control me as Hydra wishes to control you?"
Tyson shook his head. "Maybe turn you over to SHIELD, maybe send you back to the Hand. I don't know. Depends on what I see."
"I would have thrown in with you anyway. It's only a matter of time before you replace Lascombe. He's so aggressive with you because you're a direct threat to him. But he can't go after you, likely because the other heads are pleased. Your actions have proved your worth and your strength. Your wealth and influence aren't at his level, but they're too great to dismiss or replace easily."
She reached out and took Tyson's hand. "I trust your judgment, sir."
Tyson looked down at their joined hands, slightly surprised at her willingness, then back up at Maki's face, searching for any sign of deception.
"You understand what this means?" Tyson asked. "I'm going to see everything. Your memories, your thoughts, your loyalties. There's no hiding from this."
"I understand. I have nothing to hide from you, sir."
Slowly, he allowed his power to flow, reaching out to touch Maki's mind.
Images flashed through his consciousness, a kaleidoscope of memories and emotions. He saw Maki's training with the Hand, her recruitment by Hydra, her first encounter with him. He felt her initial wariness, recognition of his strength, character, and growing respect. Then, she decided to align herself with him rather than her previous masters.
Tyson delved deeper, searching for any hint of deception or hidden loyalty.
He found none.
Instead, he discovered an unwavering commitment to survival and success.
As he withdrew from Maki's mind, she was watching him intently. "Well?" The quiver in her voice betrayed her nervousness.
Tyson released her hand. He studied her for a long moment before speaking. "You're clean. No hidden loyalties, no secret agendas. You really have thrown in your lot with me."
Maki's shoulders relaxed slightly. "As I said, sir. I trust your judgment."
"Alright. Then, let's talk strategy. Lascombe thinks he's cornered me, but he's just shown his hand. We need to use this information to our advantage."
"What did you have in mind, sir?"
"First, we need to identify any other Hydra moles in our organization. Then, we can use them. Through illusions, we'll start feeding them carefully curated information. At the same time, we send a mole of our own to get close to him. And when the moment is right, we remove him from the board… And I know just the person for the job." Tyson raised his voice and asked…
"Hey Wednesday, where's Mystique?"