Chapter 116 - Arc 7 - Ch 25: Rogue

Chapter 108

Arc 7 - Ch 25: Rogue

Monday, September 19, 2011.

Location: House of M, Manhattan, New York

The fourth night arrived. Tyson and Calypso made their way through the tunnels of the Alley.

The scent of damp earth and lingering incense filled their senses as they entered the room. Calypso wasted no time and began arranging various items around the shallow graves where both Rogue and Vertigo lay buried.

She placed her hand in his without hesitation. Their hands joined, and Tyson felt the familiar pull of his power activating, drawing Calypso's mystical knowledge and energy into himself. He absorbed carefully, avoiding draining her life force or causing harm.

When he finally released her hand, he said, "Thank you."

"Your power runs deep. That is why I stand with you," she replied. "Use it with wisdom."

After completing the preparatory steps, Calypso began the ritual. She created a veve on the ground using cornmeal, representing the loa they would summon. She positioned candles at strategic points where their flames danced in the still air.

Tyson stood at the edge of the circle, opposite the grave.

Calypso began a melodic chant, calling to Baron Samedi, the loa of death and resurrection, asking him to guide their ritual.

"Papa Samedi, nous vous appelons," she intoned, her voice resonating with power. "Guide us through this transition, protect the souls under our care."

She sprinkled rum around the circle. Tyson felt the hairs on his neck rise as unseen energy built within the room. Calypso moved with increasing animation, her body swaying to an unheard rhythm. She shook a sacred rattle that sounded like dry bones rattling. The candles flickered wildly, casting shadows across the walls.

"Ann Marie," Calypso called, her eyes rolling backward. "Hear our summons. The time has come for you to claim your vessel."

Tyson felt a sudden pressure in his head, and his voice emerged strangely altered. "I hear you."

Calypso nodded and reached for a knife on the altar. With swift precision, she pricked her finger and allowed a single drop of blood to fall onto the veve. The cornmeal symbol pulsed with newfound energy.

"By blood and bone, by flesh and spirit, we command the transition," Calypso chanted. She turned toward Tyson with the knife extended. "Your blood now, to seal de pact."

Tyson accepted the knife; he knew, through Calypso's knowledge, that he only needed to prick his finger. Instead, he sliced his palm, letting the blood flow for a moment before his healing factor closed the wound. He watched as his blood mixed with Calypso's on the veve.

He would put as much of himself into this ritual as he could without imbalancing it.

His head throbbed as Ann Marie stirred within his consciousness.

Calypso chanted with increasing urgency, calling upon Baron Samedi again, imploring him to open the gates between life and death. The ground beneath them trembled.

A ghostly figure materialized within the circle. Tall and skeletal, dressed in formal attire with a top hat, it could only be Baron Samedi himself. His empty eye sockets seemed to pierce through them.

Calypso knelt and offered a bottle of rum to the loa. "Great Baron, we seek your assistance in this transition of souls."

The spectral figure took the bottle and tipped it back, drinking deeply. His voice scraped like gravel against bone. "Such requests come at a price. Are you prepared to pay it?"

"We are," Tyson answered.

Baron Samedi turned his hollow gaze upon Tyson. "The one who walks between life and death. Your abilities intrigue me. Very well, we shall proceed."

The loa raised his bony hands, and the earth covering Rogue began to shift. Her form rose slowly from the ground, hovering before them. Despite days underground, her body not only showed no decay, but it also appeared vibrant and rejuvenated.

Calypso resumed her chanting, now directing her words at Ann Marie. "Esprit lye ak kò ki pa ou, reponn apèl nou. Veso ou ap tann."

"Spirit bound to flesh not your own, answer our call. Your vessel awaits."

Her voice swelled with power, each note dripping with intent as she infused her words with magic, pulling from the deep roots of voodoo tradition. She continued weaving her chant, invoking not just the power of the loa but the very essence of nature itself, calling forth the spiritual guardians to aid in their sacred work. "Gran lespri ki mache ant domèn, prête nou fòs ou, gidé nou vre. Nou chèche fè travèse chas la ant lavi ak lanmò."

"Great spirits that walk between realms, lend us your strength, guide us true. We seek to bridge the chasm of life and death."

Tyson could feel the pulsing energy resonating from Calypso, the vibrations coursing through him, merging with his own power. He concentrated, centering himself and mentally preparing to facilitate the connection. As the symbols he could barely see danced in the air around them, he focused on the bond he shared with Ann Marie, feeling the flickerings of her presence still anchored within him. He knew their bond held the key to this ritual's success.

With each passing moment, as Calypso called forth the spirits, Tyson could sense the weight of the world shifting around them. He raised his hands, palms outstretched towards both Ann Marie and Rogue's bodies, consciously creating a channel of energy. "Gran lespri, tande souvni mwen," he echoed, joining Calypso's call with fervor. "Ka volonte ou gide nou nan ini sa a."

"Great spirits, hear my plea. May your will guide us in this union."

As the beat of Calypso's rattle created a rhythm that caused Tyson's focus to intensify. He visualized the connection growing stronger, Ann Marie's spirit leading the way home. As he summoned his energy for the task ahead, he felt a crackling surge of power from within, mixing with the energies that Calypso was drawing forth.

He watched as the earth around Rogue parted, turning into a swirling mass of shadow and light. Calypso reached deeper into her pouch, drawing forth ritual components. A vial of rum, a lock of hair, and a feather. Each item held significance not only in their earthly realm but also in the spiritual universe they sought to bridge. As she sprinkled rum around the circle once again, Tyson could feel the tension in the room ripple like a tightrope stretched to its limit.

"Gran Baron, nou envite ou! Pèmèt nou fè retou Ann Marie nan kò ki a li!" "We beseech you, grant us passage to the spirits so we may guide her home!"

Tyson could feel the pressure building within him. Glowing mist began to seep from his eyes and mouth, forming a vaguely humanoid shape above his body. It shimmered and flickered as if caught between realms, vacillating in response to the calls of the spirits and the depth of their magic.

"Now, gidé li nan nouvo kay li," Calypso commanded, her voice brimming with authoritative fervor.

"Now, guide her to her new home," Tyson repeated.

The moment summoned urgency within Tyson. He reached out, channeling the energy he had absorbed from Calypso, creating a powerful bridge between the ephemeral spirit of Ann Marie and the lifeless form of Rogue. The strain hit him instantly, as he fought to maintain the connection, pushing beyond his own physical boundaries in a desperate attempt to forge the path.

Ann Marie's spirit wavered, caught between Tyson and the waiting body of her former self. The pull from both sides was strong, but Tyson could feel doubt creeping in, questioning if she would embrace her past life or flee it forever.

"Pa ezite," he urged softly. "Sa a se kay ou. Retounen, ou vle."

"Don't hesitate. This is your home. Come back, you are wanted."

Suddenly, as if the spirits had heeded his words, Ann Marie's essence surged forward along the luminous path Tyson had crafted. The moment she entered Rogue's body, blinding light cascaded through the chamber. It illuminated every shadow, forcing both Tyson and Calypso to shield their eyes against the radiant brilliance. The light enveloped them, cascading like a waterfall, each droplet a fragment of the energy they had conjured. As the warmth spread through him, Tyson felt the profound connection solidify. And then, the brilliance began to fade, returning the world to its natural state.

As their surroundings settled back into darkness, Tyson fell to his knees, the weight of what he had just experienced crashing down upon him. It was as if the very essence of his own being had been tugged upon, leaving a hollow ache behind.

"It is done. The soul has found its home." Baron Samedi turned his skeletal gaze on Tyson. "De price was low dis time, as de requirements were met. But remember, mortal, balance must always prevail."

With those cryptic words, the loa vanished, leaving only the faint scent of rum and graveyard soil.

Tyson's strength returned quickly, and he rushed to Rogue's side and checked for signs of life. Relief washed over him when he felt a steady pulse beneath his fingers. Slowly, her eyes opened, confusion apparent in their depths.

"Ann Marie?" Tyson asked cautiously. "Are you there?"

The woman who had been Rogue blinked, focusing on Tyson. When she spoke, her voice carried a familiar Southern drawl. "I… I'm alive?"

"Ann Marie," Tyson whispered, relieved. "The ritual succeeded. We pulled your soul from me and returned it to your body."

She tried to sit up but fell back, disoriented. "How is this possible? I was dead." Her fingers trembled as she touched her face and her arms.

"Not entirely gone," Tyson explained as he knelt beside her. "I was created from your genes. A fragment of your soul was left within me." His voice softened. "You lived inside me. A shadow in my mind, memories, thoughts, emotions that were never mine." He gestured to Calypso. "We rejuvenated your body, returned your spirit, made it whole again."

Ann Marie looked down at her hands in wonder. "So I am me? The real me?"

"You are exactly who you were," Calypso affirmed. "Your soul, memories, and personality all intact. The spirits do not create imitations."

"So I still have my power? I'll hurt anyone I touch?"

Tyson extended his bare hand to help her stand. Ann Marie flinched away instinctively, pressing herself against the ground.

"No," she warned, panic evident in her voice. "I could kill you. You know what my skin does."

"Do you remember how it was in my mind? How we touched and you couldn't hurt me," Tyson said softly. "We're the same."

Ann Marie stared at his uncovered hand, terror and desperate hope warring in her expression. Hesitantly, she reached out, her fingertips stopping just short of his.

"Trust me," he said.

Her bottom lip quivered. "You know what I am. What I do."

"I know who you are," Tyson corrected gently. "And you trusted me, right? Don't stop now."

Taking a shuddering breath, Ann Marie placed her bare hand in his. She closed her eyes tightly, her entire body tensing as she braced for the familiar rush of absorbing another person, the invasion of their memories, the painful transfer of energy that had driven her to seek help, and ultimately to her death.

Nothing happened.

Her eyes flew open. "I feel nothing," she muttered. "No pull, no transfer." She gripped his hand tightly, searching desperately for any sign of her powers activating.

Tyson smiled. "See, I told you. You can't hurt me. And eventually you'll learn to trust yourself, and you won't hurt others either."

A sob broke from Ann Marie's throat as the implications crashed over her. She grabbed his other hand, pressing both against her face, feeling human warmth against her skin without consequence for the first time since her powers manifested.

"I can touch," she repeated, her voice breaking as tears streamed down her face. "After all the isolation, hurting everyone I ever cared for..." She looked up at him. "How did you know?"

"Like I said, we're the same."

"I never thought I would feel this again. To touch someone without fear." Without warning, she threw her arms around him, burying her face against his chest, sobbing openly as her loneliness and isolation tumbled out in an instant.

Tyson held her, his own eyes glistening with tears. He pressed his cheek against the top of her head, marveling at the simple human contact that had been denied to her for so long.

Calypso sagged with exhaustion, the ritual clearly taking its toll as her hands trembled. "The transfer succeeded beyond our expectations."

Tyson helped Ann Marie as she shakily stood, still clinging to him as if afraid he might vanish.

He supported her, feeling oddly empty yet whole.

— Rogue Redemption —

Tyson stood within his mindscape, marveling at the vivid environment that had once been only the White Room. Colors burst forth, painting a landscape of diverse sanctuaries for the psyches he had absorbed. Sabertooth prowled his wilderness, Magneto found solace in a secluded cottage, and Healer tended to lush botanical gardens. His path took him past where Rogue's cozy room had been. The space was now empty, the door standing open to reveal nothing but peaceful stillness within. A profound sense of relief washed over him. After all this time, after carrying Ann Marie's troubled psyche since his very arrival in this world, she was finally gone, returned to her body through Calypso's ritual.

Tyson closed his eyes, savoring the moment. Ann Marie's presence had been a constant weight, her trauma becoming his own. Her inability to touch anyone without harming them had infected his abilities, forcing him into a life of long sleeves and careful distance. Her fears had become his chains.

But now... now he was free. The control he'd fought so hard to establish was finally his. With a gentle wave of his hand, Tyson dissolved Rogue's empty room, watching as it shimmered and faded into the fabric of his mindscape. One less complication. One less voice crying out in his head.

The elation was short-lived, however, as his gaze fell upon the stark white door at the end of the mental corridor. Behind it waited Kaine, the newest and most volatile addition to his psychological landscape. Unlike the other absorbed psyches who had found their equilibrium within his mind, Kaine remained isolated within the stark confines of the White Room, pacing restlessly within its blank walls.

Taking a deep breath, Tyson approached the door, bracing himself for the inevitable confrontation. From the moment Kaine's psyche had entered his mind, Tyson had felt the difference. Unlike the others, Kaine's presence felt jagged, discordant, like broken glass scraping against his consciousness. He could compare it to the anger Magneto or Sabertooth felt, but without the clear motivation. Magneto was far more subtle. He was angry at the injustices he and mutants faced. Sabertooth's anger was savage, primal, seeking to escape from its restraints. But Kaine was angry at the world, angry that he was a shadow of the man he wanted to be and couldn't.

Once Kaine registered his presence, he whirled on him, eyes blazing with fury and accusation. "You're trying to steal Gwen!" Kaine snarled, lunging at Tyson. "You killed me just to get closer to her!"

He dodged the attack, conjuring illusions to confuse and evade Kaine's frenzied assault. Duplicates of Tyson flickered in and out of existence, keeping the enraged clone at bay. Kaine's spider-sense allowed him to evade Tyson's counterattacks with equal agility, leading to a frustrating stalemate.

Within his mindscape, Tyson could access the same spider-sense that guided Kaine's movements. He felt the prickling awareness at the base of his skull, the heightened perception that slowed time and revealed threats before they materialized. But Kaine's strength, agility, and senses only further led to their stalemate. These shared abilities couldn't help Tyson resolve their fundamental issues.

"You won't win," Kaine taunted. "You can't win. I'll be with Gwen, no matter what you do."

Tyson's hand began to glow as he attempted to use the Healer's power, but nothing happened. The ability only worked on mutants, and Kaine, though powered, wasn't one.

"You're torturing me. You took everything good in my life away."

Tyson shook his head; his response was firm but compassionate. "That wasn't me who did that. It was Doctor Warren." He extended his hand toward Kaine. "Let me try to help you."

"You can't help me," Kaine spat, his voice breaking. "No one can. I'm broken."

Shifting tactics, he conjured an illusion over Kaine himself. He manifested a mirror and held it up, allowing Kaine to see his reflection. Andrew Garfield's face stared back, unblemished and unscarred.

For the first time, Kaine saw the man he could have been.

He froze, transfixed by his image.

Seizing the moment, Tyson searched for a solution. He realized that he couldn't fix Kaine and needed to change his tactics. He transformed the White Room into Gwen Stacy's bedroom. It was the place where Kaine had experienced his only moment of peace, that fleeting instant of happiness with Gwen before Peter's interruption. In a flash of inspiration, he crafted an illusion of Gwen Stacy, hoping to calm the volatile clone. The illusory Gwen approached Kaine

As the illusion took shape, a memory, not his own, Kaine's memory, flooded Tyson's consciousness. He saw Gwen's bedroom through his eyes. Pale blue walls, floral bedding, photos of loved ones, stacks of textbooks. Gwen was at her desk, working on calculus equations. The memory carried an overwhelming emotional weight. It was a rare moment of pure happiness in Kaine's tortured existence.

Tyson vanished from sight, leaving Kaine alone with the illusion of Gwen and using the memory to reinforce the area he was crafting in his mindscape.

"Well, hey there, Spider-Guy," memory-Gwen said, her voice bubbly and playful. "I thought we weren't meeting until later."

Kaine shook his head violently. "No, it can't be. It's a trick! You tried to stab me, to kill me!"

"I didn't have a choice," the Gwen illusion pleaded. "You wouldn't stop."

Kaine hesitated, his voice uncertain. "What about Tyson? What about your dad?"

Gwen's laugh was light and carefree. "Tyson is the one with the tricks, but he's busy running his shows. As for my dad... he won't be coming back. It's just us."

From outside the room, cloaked by his illusion, Tyson watched the scene unfold. He couldn't truly fix Kaine; he didn't know how. But this moment of fabricated happiness was the best he could offer the troubled clone.

Tyson knew it wasn't perfect. Unlike the other psyches within his mind, Kaine needed to be contained, at least for now. If the deranged clone wanted to live out his fantasy of being with Gwen and blaming others for his actions, Tyson would isolate him in this room, giving him what he desired.

As Kaine tentatively embraced the illusion of Gwen, Tyson reinforced the mental barriers around the room. He couldn't risk Kaine disrupting the delicate balance he had achieved with the other absorbed psyches. He was grateful that Ann Marie wasn't in his head anymore. Having her there to see how unsettled and discontent Kaine was might have ruined the progress he had made with her and affected his ability to control the absorption power.

Part of him felt guilty for trapping Kaine in this illusion, knowing it was built on lies. Another part recognized the necessity of containing the unstable clone to protect both his inner world and his personality outside.

The scene was both heartwarming and unsettling. Kaine, finally at peace, basked in the warmth of Gwen's illusory presence. Yet Tyson couldn't shake the knowledge that it was all a carefully constructed falsehood.

Was this truly the best solution? Or was he merely postponing an inevitable confrontation?

For now, at least, Kaine seemed content. The rage and pain that had consumed him earlier had subsided, replaced by a fragile peace. Tyson hoped that in time, perhaps he could find a way to truly help Kaine, to heal the deep wounds that scarred his psyche and Tyson's psyche by proxy. But until then, this illusion would have to suffice. It was a temporary solution, a bandage over a gaping wound, but it was the best Tyson could offer for now.

With a final glance, he withdrew his mind.

His mind slowly returned to the present as he emerged from his meditative state. The familiar surroundings of his private quarters at the House of M came into focus.

"Wednesday," he called out, his voice slightly hoarse from disuse, "how long was I meditating?"

The AI's voice responded, "Approximately 18 hours. I trust your inner journey was... illuminating?"

Tyson stretched. "I'm not sure if I'm getting faster, or if that was normal," he mused, more to himself than to Wednesday.

"I could've finished that in milliseconds," Wednesday quipped. "But then again, I'm not burdened with the limitations of a human brain."

Tyson chuckled, shaking his head. "Can't argue there, Wednesday. And I admit I'm not the smartest cookie in the jar."

"Oh, don't sell yourself short," Wednesday retorted. "You're at least... a moderately intelligent biscuit."

"Gee, thanks," Tyson replied, rolling his eyes. "Your vote of confidence is overwhelming."

"Always happy to boost your ego, sir," Wednesday said, her tone dripping with playful sarcasm. "Now, if you're done with your introspection, might I remind you that you need to head to the airport to say goodbye to Ms. Stacy?"

Tyson's eyes widened as he remembered. "Right, thanks for the reminder." He quickly got to his feet, grabbing his jacket. "How long do I have?"

"If you leave now, you should make it with time to spare," Wednesday informed him. "Your motorcycle is in the garage. Try not to leave it at the airport, or wherever, this time."

"You're a lifesaver, Wednesday," Tyson said, heading for the door.

"I know," the AI responded smugly.

Tyson made his way to the garage, where his sleek motorcycle waited. He swung his leg over the seat, revved the engine, and peeled out onto the streets of Manhattan. The wind whipped past him as he weaved through traffic, heading up the FDR Drive. As he rode, his eyes were drawn to Stark Tower. The building, nearly complete, dominated the skyline. The recent attack by the Lizard had barely slowed its construction. Workers swarmed over the structure like ants, repairing the damage and pushing forward with the final stages of completion. The sight of the tower brought Dr. Connors to mind.

Tyson's thoughts drifted to the scientist's current situation. Connors was recuperating at home with his family, a small mercy after the recent events. It seemed that his cure, the treatment he'd developed to restore his arm and control the Lizard transformation, wasn't inherently flawed. Calypso had admitted that her potion was responsible for sending Connors into a frenzy. After assuring Tony Stark that the situation was under control, things had largely returned to normal for Connors, and he should be attending tonight's show.

However, the same couldn't be said for Tyson. He was still facing blowback from SHIELD for housing the Lizard without informing them. It was complicating an already tense situation, given that Fury had sidelined him even before the battle with the Sinister Six. The only saving grace was that he hadn't initiated the fight, only defending himself when attacked. He'd also managed to take out any cameras in the vicinity, ensuring that the more brutal details of the battle weren't recorded. While Wednesday had observed the events through people's devices, she had also scrubbed the recordings afterward, leaving no trace of the more questionable aspects of the confrontation. Which raised questions about her capabilities, but he wasn't about to complain; she'd saved him a ton of trouble. Tyson knew the pressure from SHIELD was the doing of Edgar Lascombe, a local head of Hydra, placing his finger on the scales. He would handle Lascombe eventually, but he needed to be smart about it. Mystique was doing her thing behind the scenes, and he'd have faith in her ability to position herself appropriately. Tyson himself was still solidifying his position within SHIELD and the city itself. Starting a war with Hydra before he was ready for the potential fallout would be disastrous for what he was building and for the future.

As Tyson approached the final leg of his journey, a sense of nostalgia washed over him. LaGuardia wasn't far from Midtown High, and the second half of the ride followed the same route he'd taken to school every day. The familiar streets and buildings brought back memories of simpler times.

Well, sort of simpler times, anyway.

Turning north onto 278 toward the airport, Tyson felt a mix of emotions. He was glad to be there for Gwen, to say goodbye before she embarked on her new adventure. But there was also a tinge of sadness, knowing that her departure marked the end of an era. As he pulled into the departures terminal at LaGuardia, Tyson scanned the crowd. It wasn't hard to spot Peter and Gwen among the throng of travelers. Peter's lanky frame and Gwen's blonde hair stood out; the two of them huddled close together near the entrance.

Tyson parked his motorcycle and removed his helmet, taking a deep breath before approaching his friends. This was it. The moment to say goodbye to Gwen, to wish her well on her journey to Oxford. As he walked towards them, he couldn't help but wonder how this departure would change things, not just for Gwen, but for all of them.

Peter and Gwen seemed to have been waiting for a while. Their postures and the way they stood close together suggested they had already said their goodbyes. As Tyson drew near, Peter gave Gwen a final hug and a gentle kiss on the cheek.

"Take care, Gwen," Peter said softly, his voice thick with emotion. "Show those Brits what a real science whiz looks like."

Gwen laughed, wiping away a tear. "I will. Don't do anything too crazy while I'm gone, okay?"

Peter turned to Tyson, extending his hand. They clasped hands and pulled each other into a quick, firm hug.

"I'm heading out," Peter said. "Gotta get ready for tonight's show."

"I'll see you in a few hours."

As Peter walked away, Tyson found himself alone with Gwen. He looked at her, really looked at her, and felt a surprising surge of fondness, and pulled her into a big hug.

"I'm so happy for you, Gwen," Tyson said, his voice muffled against her hair. "Oxford's lucky to have you. But I can't help being a little nervous about your safety, you know? I hear that there's a big anti-mutant push in the UK."

Gwen pulled back. "Says the guy who fights supervillains regularly. But you're right about the mutant hate there. Once I thought going there would be a possibility, I started following their politics. A conservative named James Jaspers is campaigning to be Prime Minister. He's very anti-mutant. But technically, I'm not a mutant, so it's all good."

Tyson chuckled. "Fair point. Still, I'm going to miss you."

"I'll miss you, too, Tyson. We've been through a lot together, haven't we?"

"Yeah, we have," Tyson agreed. "Remember when we first met? Mrs. Morita's chemistry class."

Gwen's face lit up with recognition. "How could I forget? You looked so lost with that reagent."

"And you were so patient," Tyson said, smiling at the memory. "Leveling it off just right, showing me how it's done. Chemistry whiz from day one."

"You weren't so bad yourself, once you got the hang of it," Gwen replied. "Though I think I was more impressed that you stood up for Peter against Flash that morning."

Tyson shrugged, mirroring his response from that day. "Couldn't just stand there, you know?"

"And you still can't," she said softly. "That's what makes you who you are."

The camaraderie was palpable. They'd formed a strong friendship through extraordinary circumstances and a year of sitting together in the chemistry lab. But even Gwen noticed that Tyson seemed more affectionate than usual.

"You okay?" she asked.

"I'm good. It's just... I can't believe this is how things turned out. I didn't know if we'd ever make it to be standing here, saying goodbye as you head off to Oxford." What he didn't say was that there was a strong chance, without his intervention, that Gwen wouldn't have made it to this point. Either Kaine or the Green Goblin, hell, maybe even Electro, would've caused her death.

"Life's funny that way," she said, her smile tinged with nostalgia. "Hey, if you ever feel like you need a vacation..." She left the words hanging in a clear invitation.

Tyson's eyes lit up with amusement. "Are you suggesting I come crash on your dorm room floor?"

"Well, you know," Gwen continued mischievously, "while Empire State didn't want you, maybe Oxford would."

"Don't know if I have the grades for that."

"Maybe you can get in on merit," Gwen suggested. "Or with a superhero exemption. I'm sure they have those, right?"

Tyson's laughter grew louder, drawing curious glances from nearby travelers. "Oh yeah, I'm sure that's a thing. 'Dear Oxford Admissions, please accept me because I can clean up and recycle all the aluminum litter into campus statues, or put on illusion shows in the quad.'"

The thought of Oxford lingered in his mind for a moment. Under different circumstances, it might have been appealing. But Tyson knew what was coming. Loki and the Chitauri invasion would be later this year. Being expelled from Empire State might be for the best, freeing him to focus on the preparations needed for the battles ahead.

Some paths weren't meant to be taken.

As their laughter subsided, Tyson pulled Gwen in for another big hug, holding her tightly.

"You know, Gwen," he said, his voice growing serious, "I'm so glad to see you going out there, pursuing your dreams, using your brilliance to improve the world. You're one of the strongest people I know. Not just because you can swing from buildings now or catch cars, but because of who you are. Your determination, your intelligence, your heart. You're going to do great things at Oxford and beyond. I know it."

Gwen blinked rapidly, fighting back tears. "Tyson, I..."

Gwen's voice trailed off, her eyes searching Tyson's face. There was something unspoken hanging in the air between them, a tension that neither dared to acknowledge fully.

Tyson cleared his throat, his hand lingering on Gwen's arm. "I, uh, I got you something." He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out several metallic blocks. "It's not wrapped, but I needed you to make it perfect."

Gwen's brow furrowed in confusion as she looked at the metal pieces. "What are these?"

"Your gift." He glanced around the busy airport terminal, then subtly gestured with his hand. Distortions appeared in the air around them, creating a bubble of privacy. To anyone looking their way, they appeared to be having a normal conversation. "No one can see what I'm about to do."

The metal blocks began to levitate between them, rotating slowly in the air. "These are all adamantium alloy blocks; this white one is palladium," Tyson explained. "It'll give you a perfect silvery-white for the main sections." The palladium-adamantium block started to fragment, thin streams of metal flowing through the air like liquid mercury.

"The pink was trickier," he continued, bringing forward a reddish block. "Copper. I had to experiment with the ratios. About fifteen percent mixed with the adamantium base makes it a perfect pink."

Gwen watched in fascination as the metals began to dance through the air, forming impossibly thin wires that started weaving together. "And yet you claimed you didn't know chemistry… Tyson, what are you making?"

"Something I've been practicing," he said, the concentration evident on his face and in his voice. "I've made so many costumes recently; Illyana's first, then Felicia's and Jessica's. I realized I could push the technique further. Watch this."

The metal wires were forming tiny rings, each no more than a millimeter in diameter.

"They're hollow," he explained. "Makes them lighter without sacrificing strength. I discovered the technique while working with Nexus." His expression grew slightly more serious. "Uh, Nexus is my sword. I didn't get a chance to show it off before you grabbed it to threaten Kaine. Did you know it has a monomolecular blade? True single-molecule edge. I had guessed it initially, but Connors and Vanko confirmed. Made me realize just how precisely I could manipulate metal at the smallest scales."

At the mention of Kaine, something stirred in the back of Tyson's mind. It was an echo of the clone's obsession with Gwen, his desperation to be with her. Tyson pushed the feeling aside, unsettled by how the absorbed psyche's emotions seemed to bleed into his consciousness despite his attempts to pacify it.

The rings began interlocking at an incredible speed, forming a chainmail so fine it looked almost like fabric. The white palladium formed the base, with streaks of pink copper creating a web pattern.

"For the black sections, oxidized titanium. Creates that perfect deep black while maintaining the flexibility. It needed a higher ratio than the others to maintain the color, but it still shouldn't sacrifice the adamantium's indestructible nature."

Gwen's eyes widened as the costume took shape before her. The hood formed first, the white material with a pink interior design. The body suit followed, with the distinctive web patterns emerging under the arms as the copper was expertly woven through the palladium base. The gloves formed next, the pink extending perfectly from the fingers up the forearms, blending into the white. Tyson moved thousands of tiny metal rings into perfect formation.

"How does it look so smooth?" Gwen asked, mesmerized. "It's chainmail, but it looks like spandex."

"The rings are so small and so tightly interwoven that they create an almost fabric-like surface," Tyson explained. He paused, focusing on the mask area. "The eyes are the tricky part," Tyson said, his fingers making minute adjustments in the air. "Can't swing blind, right?"

"I'm creating microperforations in the metal," he explained as his concentration intensified. "Thousands of tiny holes, each smaller than the tip of a needle. From the outside, they'll look solid white, but from the inside..."

Gwen leaned closer, watching the metal shift. "It's like one-way glass?"

"Exactly," Tyson confirmed. "The holes are angled slightly outward to reduce glare and give you better peripheral vision. I'm spacing them in a hexagonal pattern, nature's most efficient arrangement. Like spider eyes, appropriately enough."

The eye sections solidified into what appeared to be opaque white panels, but Gwen could see tiny points of light through them as Tyson held the mask up to the terminal lighting.

"That's incredible. It looks completely solid, but..."

"But you'll be able to see perfectly," Tyson finished. "Better than a regular mask, actually. The metal's natural properties will help filter out excessive brightness while maintaining clarity."

As the costume neared completion, Tyson added the finishing touches; the web patterns on the hood, the subtle color gradations where pink met white. The entire process had taken only minutes, but the result was stunning.

"It's incredibly thin," Tyson said, holding up the completed costume. "Maybe half a millimeter total thickness. But because we're working with these materials at this scale, it's... Let's say it's very protective."

Gwen reached out tentatively, running her fingers over the material. It felt smooth, almost silky, but with an underlying strength that was unmistakable.

"Tyson, this is... amazing," she breathed. "You made this for me?"

He nodded, suddenly looking almost shy. "This will keep you safe."

The gift was more than just a costume. It was a promise, a protection, a piece of himself that would go with her across the ocean and keep her safe when he couldn't.

"Thank you," Gwen whispered. "I'll treasure it."

"Just don't forget about us little people when you're off becoming a world-renowned scientist slash superhero, okay?"

Gwen laughed, the sound tinged with a hint of sadness. "As if I could ever forget you, my senior-year lab partner, my hero, Tyson Smith."

They stood there for a moment, neither quite sure what to say next, when an announcement echoed through the terminal. "First boarding call for British Airways flight 178 to London Heathrow. All remaining passengers, please proceed immediately to gate 23."

"I should probably get going," Gwen said finally, glancing at the security checkpoint. "Don't want to miss my flight."

"Right, of course. Wouldn't want that."

Gwen picked up her carry-on bag, slinging it over her shoulder. "Take care of yourself, okay? And look after Peter for me."

"I will," Tyson promised. "And you show those Brits what a real New Yorker is made of."

Gwen grinned, some of her usual spark returning. "Oh, I plan to."

They hugged one last time, holding on a little longer than strictly necessary. As they pulled apart, Gwen jumped up and placed a quick, soft kiss on Tyson's cheek.

"Goodbye, Mirage."

"Goodbye, Spider-Gwen."

Gwen chuckled softly. She turned and walked towards the security checkpoint, but she paused, looking back and mumbled, "I liked what you said during your little speech… Ghost Spider. I'll think about it." While her words were barely audible, she knew he'd heard with his enhanced hearing.

Tyson watched as she disappeared into the crowd. He touched his cheek where she had kissed him. The lingering scent of her, vanilla and apple blossom with subtle notes of fresh paper and a hint of silk, stayed with him, along with the memory of their conversation. They'd come so far together from that first day in chemistry class to this goodbye at the airport.

He stood there for a long moment, lost in thought, before finally turning to leave.

At his home in Queens, Peter Parker sat in his room. He was a bit melancholy after leaving Gwen at the airport. The weight of her departure hung heavy in the air, mingling with the familiar scents of Aunt May's cooking wafting up from the kitchen below. Peter's eyes wandered to the framed photo on his desk, a snapshot of him and Gwen laughing together.

"Peter?" Aunt May's voice called from downstairs, interrupting his reverie. "Could you take out the trash, dear?"

"Coming!" Peter called back, his voice cracking slightly. He cleared his throat and stood up, stretching his lanky frame.

Peter made his way down the creaky stairs, each step a reminder of the home's age and the memories it held. Fixing the stairs was something he would've done with his Uncle Ben, but now, thanks to Tyson's shows, they had more than enough money to fix the place up.

He grabbed the garbage from the bin in the kitchen. Stepping out into the small backyard, Peter breathed in the crisp evening air. He carried the trash to the large can at the far end of the yard, as he dumped the bag in, a voice called out from over the fence.

"Hey, Pete!"

Peter looked up, recognizing the voice immediately. It was Mary Jane Watson, his next-door neighbor. Her vibrant red hair bounced as she approached the fence separating their yards.

"Oh, hey, MJ," Peter replied, walking over to meet her.

They stood on their respective sides of the fence. Mary Jane leaned against it, her green eyes showing a mixture of warmth and uncertainty. "How are classes going?"

Peter shrugged, his hands finding their way into his pockets. "Still canceled, actually. After the campus was attacked, they're taking some time to get things back in order."

"Yeah, that's tough," MJ said, her brow furrowing in sympathy. "Must be weird, having all this unexpected free time."

Peter thought about how he'd been filling that time with more Spider-Man patrols and spending what little time he had left with Gwen before she left. "How about you?" he asked, eager to shift the conversation away from himself. "What have you been up to?"

MJ tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, looking down briefly before meeting his eyes again. "I was working as a waitress, believe it or not."

Peter's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "You're right. I don't believe it," he said with a light chuckle.

MJ laughed, the sound light but tinged with a hint of self-consciousness. "Yeah, it wasn't exactly my dream. But I've got some good news, I think. I found a new job."

"Oh?" Peter perked up, genuinely interested. "Where at?"

"Over at House of M, actually," MJ replied, her voice lifting slightly. "I tried out for a few acting auditions and put out some headshots for modeling gigs, but nothing was working out." She glanced away momentarily, as if embarrassed by the admission. "Then I got a call from Felicia Hardy." At the mention of Felicia's name, memories of their recent adventure flashed through his mind. MJ continued, oblivious to Peter's momentary distraction. "She'd seen some of my photos and said they were looking for a new spokesperson. I guess my theater background was enough, which is a little strange because I don't remember either Felicia or Tyson going to any showings of the school play or musical. But still, they offered me the position."

"Wow, MJ, that's great!" Peter said, genuinely happy for her.

"I was a little surprised, honestly. I didn't even apply. She just called me out of the blue." MJ admitted, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "I mean, Felicia's so pretty. Like, why couldn't she be the Public Relations person, you know? I keep thinking they'll realize they made a mistake."

Peter nodded, thinking about how Felicia's other activities might make it difficult for her to be the public face of House of M. Not just her duties running the place, but her newly-revealed powers, which thankfully hadn't made the newscycle.

"But then she mentioned that you and your Aunt had been doing charity work," MJ added, her eyes softening. "It's great that with everything you have going on, you still took the time to volunteer over there. And I bet May dropped my name a few times to spark something in either Felicia's or Tyson's mind. I'll have to thank her later."

Peter felt a twinge of guilt. While he had helped out at House of M, it was mostly in his capacity as Spider-Man, not as Peter Parker. And he'd been so tied up in everything that he hadn't even thought of MJ recently, nor knew of her post-high school struggles.

"Yeah, Tyson found himself in a tough spot," he said vaguely.

MJ's expression turned curious. "But it's crazy that he's Mirage, huh? You guys were best friends. I bet you knew the whole time, didn't you?"

Peter looked sheepish, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. "Not the whole time," he admitted, "but I did find out, yeah."

"Sneaky, sneaky Parker," MJ teased playfully.

She hesitated momentarily, then added with a slightly nervous edge to her voice, "So, um, there's this private show at House of M tonight. Tyson's performing a new illusion act. He invited me, even though I haven't started working yet. Are you going?"

Peter blinked, caught off guard by the question.

"Because," MJ continued, the words coming out in a rush, "I was thinking maybe we could go together? If you're not busy or anything."

Gwen had left just hours ago, and the ache of her departure was still fresh. He could still feel the ghost of her goodbye hug, still see her face as he left the airport, returning to his life as Peter Parker, and Spider-Man, without her. Their relationship was over; they'd both acknowledged that, but it didn't make it any easier.

And yet, looking at MJ's hopeful expression, Peter felt something stir inside him. A slight warmth, a possibility. Gwen had been with him and known his secret almost from his beginnings as Spider-Man. But she was starting her new chapter at Oxford. Maybe it was time for him to turn the page as well.

"You know what? That sounds great," Peter said with a genuine smile. "I'd love to go with you, MJ."

Her face lit up. "Really? That's... that's awesome, Pete! Tyson's sending a car for me. Ride with me? I'll see you at seven?"

"Seven it is," Peter confirmed, feeling a flutter of anticipation.

"See you then, Tiger," she said softly. With a small wave, she turned and headed back inside her house, leaving Peter standing by the fence.

As he watched her go, he felt a pang of guilt, quickly followed by a sense of acceptance. He couldn't hide his smile as he entered the house. He'd had a crush on MJ since they were kids… All the way up until Gwen came into his life.

— Rogue Redemption —

"Hey buddy," Tyson called out to a familiar figure hanging around the Morlock apartments beneath House of M. "What are you doing down here?"

Max turned with a sheepish smile. "I've been spending lots of time down here. I hope it isn't a problem. I feel at home with them. If there's anyone who feels like they aren't seen by society, like I have most of my life, it's the Morlocks."

"That's deep. And you're not wrong. Look, Max, I'm sorry I haven't spent a lot of time with you. It was a rough week."

"I get it. You lost your girl. That takes a toll on anyone."

"Listen, if you want to help people in a more direct way, like actually work on becoming a hero, you should join our training sessions."

Max's eyes widened with excitement, but it was quickly tempered as he asked, "Is that safe? I know I have this suit to help, but I don't want to hurt anyone."

Vanko had created a suit that could harness and contain Max's power. It was a bit bulky right now, as was most of Vanko's designs unless he specifically focused otherwise.

"Then you can just fight with me. I can handle your shocks if your control slips," he grinned, remembering his original purpose for seeking out Max. "It's been days, and I think I owe you a show. You still interested?"

Max's face lit up with excitement. "Heck yes!"

"Quick stop, I'm going to grab someone else, then we're heading to the VIP lounge for a drink first."

"Sounds good," Max nodded, following Tyson's lead.

"Whatever you think is best," Max added, clearly deferring to Tyson's judgment. The elevator hummed as it carried them to the upper levels of House of M.

They reached the elevator and made their way through the corridor until they reached Tyson's office. He walked directly to a closet in the corner and pulled out a garment bag.

"Here," he said, handing the bag to Max. Inside were a pair of suits.

"Really? A suit?"

Tyson grinned. "My shows are pretty exclusive."

Max nodded as if that explanation made perfect sense. "But what about my power? I wouldn't want to ruin this nice suit?"

"Don't worry, both suits should fit. One would go under Vanko's suit, the other, over it. It depends on the look you're going for; one will hide the suit, and the other will show it off. Noone will be bothered either way."

"Go ahead and get changed," he instructed, picking up another box. "I need to drop this dress off."

Max took the suit and headed toward the adjacent bathroom while Tyson exited the office. He walked a few doors down the hallway and knocked firmly on a door marked with a small "A" on a brass plate.

"Come on in," called a feminine voice with a distinctive Southern drawl.

Tyson pushed open the door to find Ann Marie sitting at a desk, turning the pages of a book. Her brown hair was pulled back in a simple ponytail, and she wore a long-sleeved turtleneck.

"Hey, let's go to a party," Tyson announced without preamble, holding up the box.

Ann Marie looked up, her green eyes widening slightly. "Not sure I'm ready for that, hon. Me and crowded places don't do too well." Her voice carried concern about what happened when she got too close to others.

Tyson's expression softened with understanding. "I know the feeling." He placed the box on her bed and opened it, revealing an elegant emerald and yellow dress. "I got you this nice expensive dress. Felicia picked it out. Long sleeves, turtleneck, matches your eyes, and comes with matching gloves and a brown coat too."

He sat down on the corner of her bed, the mattress barely dipping under his weight. "Look, I know this is hard for you, but everyone there will understand. Either they know about your power, because I dealt with the same drawback, or they're mutants too and know what it's like."

Ann Marie stood up and approached the dress cautiously, as if it might somehow bite her. Her gloved fingers traced the fabric with a gentleness that spoke of someone unused to touching things freely.

"It's beautiful," she admitted. "But what if something happens? What if I accidentally touch someone?"

"That's why I'm inviting you. I can't get hurt by your power. You'll need to leave this room sometime, and I can help if anything goes wrong." He paused, watching the internal struggle on her face. "Plus, Max is coming. He's got power issues too, still learning to control his electricity instead of life force, but still."

Ann Marie picked up the dress, holding it against herself. "You really think I can do this?"

"I wouldn't ask if I didn't," Tyson replied. "Besides, you've been cooped up in here, and before that, you were trapped in my head for a year. A little socialization would do you good."

Ann Marie looked at the dress again, then at Tyson. Her expression shifted from uncertainty to tentative resolve. "Alright, but you stay close, you hear?"

"Deal. And hey, this is just a warm-up. The real show is later tonight."

"One step at a time, sugar," Ann Marie cautioned.

"I'll give you some privacy to change," Tyson said, heading for the door. "Meet us in the hallway in fifteen minutes?"

Ann Marie nodded, already laying the dress out on her bed. "Fifteen minutes it is."

Tyson closed the door behind him and found Max waiting in the hallway, looking uncomfortable but undeniably sharp in his new suit.

"This feels weird," Max admitted, tugging at his collar. "I'm more of a jeans and t-shirt guy."

"Trust me," Tyson assured him, "you look great. And where we're going, this is the dress code."

Max adjusted his cuffs nervously. "Who are we waiting for?"

"Ann Marie," Tyson replied. "She's new here, too. Has some power issues like you do, but different. She can't touch people without hurting them."

Max's expression shifted from discomfort to empathy. "That's rough. At least I can control mine somewhat now."

"Exactly why I thought you two might get along," Tyson said. "Sometimes the best way to deal with your own struggles is to help someone else with theirs."

They waited in companionable silence, Max occasionally shifting his weight from one foot to the other, clearly unused to formal attire.

The door opened, and Ann Marie stepped out, transformed by the emerald dress that complemented her eyes perfectly. Her hair was hastily styled, now loose around her shoulders, and she'd applied subtle makeup that enhanced her natural beauty. The long gloves reached past her elbows, and she held herself with cautious dignity.

"You look amazing," Tyson said sincerely.

"Thank you, sugar," she replied warily. "This is about as dressed up as I've been in a long time."

Tyson performed a quick introduction. "Ann Marie, this is Max Dillon. Max, Ann Marie."

Max extended his hand automatically, then caught himself and awkwardly converted the gesture into a small wave. "Nice to meet you. I, uh, I shoot electricity sometimes. By accident."

Ann Marie's lips curved into a genuine smile. "I absorb people's life force and memories by touch. Also by accident."

"Sounds like we'll make a great pair at a party," Max joked, his tension visibly easing.

"The perfect storm," Ann Marie agreed with a small laugh.

Tyson watched their interaction with satisfaction. "Alright, VIP lounge first for drinks, then the show. And don't worry, both of you are in good hands."

Tyson opened the door for Max into the VIP lounge, and they were met with a shouted, "Surprise!" The lounge was filled with people. Max froze, his eyes wide with shock as he took in the crowd of unfamiliar faces all focused on him.

"I told you I'd throw you a birthday party and introduce you to all my superhero friends," Tyson said, clapping Max on the shoulder. The touch grounded Max, who seemed momentarily overwhelmed by the attention.

Ann Marie hung back slightly, her gloved hands clasped tightly together, and she maintained a careful distance from the other guests.

"Everyone," Tyson announced, "this is Max Dillon, the birthday boy, and Ann Marie, who's new to our little family here at House of M."

The crowd responded with warm welcomes and raised glasses. The VIP lounge had been decorated, nothing too garish, but elegant touches that spoke of celebration. A banner reading "Happy Birthday Max" hung across one wall, over a table with gifts.

Tyson guided Max and Ann Marie through the room, making introductions with practiced ease. "Max, Ann Marie, I want you to meet Steve Rogers and Logan."

Steve stepped forward with that perfect Captain America smile, extending his hand to Max. "Happy birthday. It's good to see you again, Max."

Max shook his hand, awe written across his face. "Captain America. Wow. I mean, we met, but it's good to meet you again. I used to have your trading cards when I was a kid."

Logan stood slightly apart, nursing a whiskey. He nodded curtly. "Nice to meet you both." He said nothing more, though his gaze lingered on her a moment longer.

Max, meanwhile, was beginning to relax, the initial shock wearing off. "This is amazing," he said to Tyson. "I never expected anything like this."

"Only the best for my friends," Tyson replied, guiding them toward another group.

"Jessica, Maki, Felicia," Tyson called out. "Come meet our guests of honor."

Jessica Drew approached with a warm smile. "Happy birthday, Max. Tyson tells me you've got quite the electrical personality."

Max laughed, surprised by the joke. "That's one way to put it."

Felicia Hardy moved with catlike grace, her white hair catching the light. "So you're the birthday boy," she purred. "Tyson's been planning this for days."

Maki bowed slightly, her expression professional but friendly. "We hope you enjoy the celebration."

Ann Marie stood slightly behind Tyson, observing the interactions with cautious interest. When Felicia moved too close, she took a small step back, maintaining her bubble of safety.

"And over here," Tyson continued, leading them to a corner where four distinctive individuals stood together, "are the Morlock leaders. Angel, Yuriko, Gambit, and Marrow."

Angel nodded in greeting. Yuriko inclined her head. Marrow, her bone protrusions clearly visible, gave a half-smile that didn't reach her eyes.

Gambit stepped forward. "Welcome to de party," he said in his thick Cajun accent. His gaze moved from Max to Ann Marie, where it stopped and changed subtly.

His red eyes lingered on Ann Marie, his usual smooth demeanor faltering for a moment. "Enchante, chere," he said. "Remy LeBeau, though most call me Gambit."

"Ann Marie," she replied, her Southern drawl matching his Cajun accent. "Pleasure to meet you."

"De pleasure is all mine," Gambit responded, producing a playing card from seemingly nowhere and turning it between his fingers. "Don't often meet someone who shares my taste in Southern hospitality up here in de North."

"Mississippi," Ann Marie offered, finding herself relaxing despite her usual guardedness.

"Louisiana," Gambit countered with a grin. "Seems we're practically neighbors, non?"

Ann Marie adjusted her gloves unconsciously, a gesture that didn't escape Gambit's notice. "Don't worry about dose, chere. We all got our burdens to bear."

"Some burdens are heavier than others," Ann Marie replied, but there was less tension in her voice now.

"Weight only matters if you carry it alone." He flicked the Queen of Hearts toward her, the card spinning through the air before stopping right at her eye level.

Ann Marie plucked it with her gloved hand. "Quite the trick."

"No trick, chere. Just a small gift for a beautiful lady." His smile was genuine, lacking the usual rakish charm he displayed to others. "Besides, seems to me you might make de perfect partner for a card game."

"You assuming I know how to play?"

"If you don't, I'd be happy to teach you." Gambit produced a full deck. "Sometimes de best conversations happen over a game of cards."

"Might take you up on that offer," Ann Marie answered.

Tyson watched the exchange with knowing eyes but kept his observations to himself. Max, meanwhile, had drifted toward the Morlock leaders.

"Perhaps later tonight," Gambit suggested hopefully. "After de birthday celebrations wind down?"

Ann Marie found herself nodding before she could second-guess herself. "I'd like that," she said softly.

"Den it seems we both got something to look forward to," Gambit replied, his red eyes twinkling with genuine warmth. He maintained the perfect distance. Close enough to show interest, far enough to respect her boundaries.

"And finally," Tyson said, moving toward a young couple near the bar, "Peter Parker and MJ."

Peter Parker, looking somewhat uncomfortable in formal attire, tugged at his collar. "Is this thing supposed to be this tight? I feel like I'm being slowly strangled by fashion." He caught himself and offered a lopsided smile. "Oh, uh, happy birthday, Max. Sorry about the complaining."

MJ, stunning in a simple black dress, elbowed Peter playfully. "What my socially awkward friend is trying to say is that he's thrilled to be here." She extended her hand to Ann Marie, careful to note the gloves. "I'm MJ. I've heard about your... situation. If you ever need fashion advice for full coverage that doesn't scream 'I'm hiding from the world,' I've got some ideas."

Ann Marie's eyebrows rose in surprise. "That's... actually really thoughtful. Most people just avoid the topic entirely."

MJ shrugged. "Life's too short for tiptoeing." She turned to Tyson, her expression shifting to one of sincere gratitude. "And you, giving me this gig, was life-changing. I never thought I'd actually get to do any modeling or acting professionally."

Peter watched MJ with undisguised admiration. "She was terrified. Called me three times about her dress."

"Peter!" MJ swatted his arm, her cheeks flushing.

"What? It's cute! And now look at you, looking the part of a professional model. MJ Watson, who casually hangs out with superheroes at birthday parties."

"He's right, though," Max added, finding his voice. "You blend right in."

Tyson smiled warmly. "You're perfect for it, MJ. You'll connect with people in ways I never could."

MJ glanced around the room, taking in the diverse gathering. It was the first time she had seen Tyson in this context, surrounded by heroes and mutants, clearly respected and at ease in his role as leader. Her eyes widened slightly as she seemed to truly see him as a hero for the first time. "I had no idea," she admitted quietly. "I mean, I realized who you were during the broadcast, like everyone else, but seeing everyone here, seeing how they look at you... It's different."

Peter squeezed her hand gently. "Yeah, he's come a long way from that guy who used to sit next to Gwen in chemistry class."

"Speaking of chemistry," Tyson said, "how about we get everyone a drink? Max, what's your poison?"

"Just a beer is fine," Max replied.

"Nothing for me, sugar," Ann Marie said.

"Come on," MJ linked her arm through Peter's. "Felicia showed me that the good stuff is kept. Though she said Logan probably claimed all the expensive whiskey already."

Max, overwhelmed by all the introductions, finally found his voice again. "This is incredible, Tyson. I never expected anything like this. I mean, I'm just... me."

"That's exactly why you deserve it," Tyson replied. "Because you're you."

Ann Marie remained close to Tyson, her eyes continually drawn back to Gambit, who seemed equally unable to look away from her.

"Why don't you go talk to him?"

Ann Marie hesitated. "What if something happens?"

"He's a big boy, just tell him about your power and see if it deters him," Tyson assured her. "Go on."

As Ann Marie cautiously approached Gambit, Max turned to Tyson. "Thank you," he said simply. "This is the best birthday I've ever had."

Tyson smiled, watching as his friends mingled, new connections forming before his eyes. "It's just getting started, Max. Just getting started."

Tyson guided Max toward a corner of the VIP lounge where three men stood in what appeared to be a heated debate. Dr. Otto Octavius gesticulated wildly with his hands, a habit that remained even after being 'deprogrammed' and separated from his mechanical arms. Dr. Connors shook his head emphatically while Ivan Vanko observed with narrowed eyes, occasionally muttering something in Russian.

Vanko snorted. "Both of you overthink. Solution is simple—"

"Max, I want you to meet Dr. Otto Octavius," Tyson interrupted. "Otto, this is Max Dillon, the genius behind Oscorp's bioelectric grid system."

Otto's demeanor transformed instantly, academic rivalry forgotten as his eyes lit up with genuine interest. "Dillon! I've been wanting to meet you for ages. Your paper on biological electricity conductivity patterns was revolutionary. Though I did have some questions about your methodology on page 47..."

"The methodology was sound," Vanko interjected bluntly. "His conclusions, however..." He made a so-so gesture with his hand.

Max's earlier nervousness evaporated in the face of scientific critique—familiar territory. "My conclusions were based on limited equipment. With proper resources, I could have taken those experiments much further. Your fusion containment theories inspired my grid design," Max told Otto, who preened visibly at the compliment.

"Please, call me Otto. I'd love to hear your thoughts on applying your principles to fusion containment."

Vanko rolled his eyes. "Here he goes again, stealing ideas."

"I don't steal, I collaborate," Otto shot back without looking at Vanko. "Something you might try sometime."

"Really?" Max's face lit up. "I'd be honored, Doctor... I mean, Otto."

"Your theories on bioelectric cell regeneration complement my own research," Connors said, extending his hand to shake Max's. "A cross-disciplinary approach has merit."

"I work alone," Vanko stated, then paused. "But... perhaps could review results."

"Really?" Max's face lit up. "I'd be honored to work with all of you."

Within minutes, the four scientists had commandeered a table, sketching diagrams on cocktail napkins, their excited discussion growing more animated by the minute. Vanko's stoic facade cracked as he aggressively scratched at a part of Otto's drawing, while Connors tried to mediate, and Max offered comments.

Tyson left the scientists to their animated discussion, satisfied that Max was finding his place.

He approached where a bald woman in flowing robes stood conversing with a younger blonde woman, and slid his arms around Illyana's waist from behind. She stiffened momentarily before recognizing his touch, then leaned back against his chest.

"Thank you for coming. It means a lot."

The Ancient One inclined her head slightly. "The pleasure is mine. Your hospitality extends beyond boundaries, much like your influence."

"And Illyana," Tyson continued, his voice warming. "How nice to see you again."

Illyana Rasputin's lips curved into a smile that held secrets. "I would not miss it," she said. "It seems like just yesterday the last time I saw you."

"I heard you had another fight. Conveniently, there was no video evidence," the Ancient One mentioned. "Did you perhaps get to use your new magical weapon?"

Illyana turned slightly in Tyson's embrace. "Yes, how did it do?"

"I didn't get a chance to test it fully," Tyson admitted, his fingers absently tracing patterns on Illyana's arm. "Why are you both so curious?"

"You now possess two of the strongest enchanted weapons in the world," The Ancient One said. "I'd be remiss in my duties if I didn't inquire."

Tyson frowned. "I knew Nexus was good, but from what you're saying, it sounds like a Legendary weapon. I didn't think such things were so easy to make?" he asked, though it wasn't really a question.

"They are not."

Tyson nodded slowly, piecing together the implications. "Rare materials, and I must have used my legendary spark."

The Ancient One's voice carried a note of warning. "More particularly, your soul. I wouldn't recommend doing so again. Give too much of yourself and there may not be enough left for you, particularly given your other passengers."

Tyson understood the significance of her warning. "I understand."

Her hands folded within the sleeves of her robes. "The price of power is rarely advertised," she said. "But it is always collected."

"Sometimes the price is worth it," Tyson said.

The Ancient One inclined her head slightly. "A noble sentiment. But remember, Tyson Smith, they need you whole, not just your power."

Illyana's hand found his, her fingers intertwining with his. The Sorcerer Supreme's word struck her. "She is right," she said softly. "What good is saving the world if you are not in it?"

Tyson squeezed her hand gently. "I'm not planning on going anywhere."

"Few who end up leaving this world plan to," the Ancient One replied cryptically.

"I've already left this world. And I'm pretty sure I've already saved it. I doubt it will be the last time, for either."

Nick Fury approached with Maria Hill at his side, his leather coat swinging with each deliberate step. "We can only hope."

"Don't worry, I can carry the weight of the world on my shoulders." Tyson gestured expansively. "Maybe literally with my magnetism."

"Please, don't." Fury's eye fixed on Tyson with weary resignation. "I've got enough to worry about."

The Ancient One nodded serenely. "I agree."

Tyson grinned mischievously. "How convenient. I was going to introduce you two properly. I figured you could bond over being bald."

Fury's expression remained stoically unamused. "Oh, Ha ha." His single eye narrowed dangerously. "You know who else is bald? Your friend Dr. Connors, when he transforms into the Lizard. Whom you didn't tell me you were housing here."

Tyson's smile didn't falter, but his posture straightened slightly. "I know you're unhappy about that, but you promoted me, remember? I've always been a field agent. I read that SHIELD manual, even though I know you think I didn't." He tapped his temple. "I'm expected to have a measure of autonomy. I made a judgment call, and you ultimately agreed with me. I know you did because Connors is still free, and still here, and so is Octavius."

Illyana's lips curved into an amused smirk. "Still having problems with authority figures?"

Tyson pointed at her accusingly. "If I remember correctly, at the Institute, you were the one with the authority issues."

"Oh, well then, why don't we ask the Professor? Did you invite him tonight?" Illyana shot back without missing a beat.

Tyson let out a surprised laugh. "Goddamn, Lyana. Low blow. Alright. I concede, you win this round. "

She winked at him, leaning in close enough that her breath tickled his ear. "Don't look so salty. You ended up on top the last time... and on the bottom... and behind me."

Fury cleared his throat loudly, his eye practically radiating disapproval. He was about to interrupt when Maria Hill, in an uncharacteristic move, linked her arm with his. The corner of her mouth twitched upward.

Even more surprisingly, the Ancient One gracefully linked her arm through Fury's other one, her serene expression never changing. "Perhaps discussing our lack of hair would be preferable after all," she said mildly, though there was a hint of amusement in her eyes.

Fury looked down at both women with an expression of bewildered resignation, as if wondering how his life had come to this moment.

"Look at that," Tyson murmured to Illyana. "The world's most powerful sorcerer and the most dangerous spy, together."

Before Tyson could respond, a figure in a black and red dress collided with Illyana from behind, nearly toppling both women. Jessica Drew's arms wrapped around Illyana's shoulders as she pressed her cheek against the sorceress's.

"There she is! The badass Russian witch!" Jessica announced loudly, her words slightly slurred. "Illyana Rasputin, queen of Limbo and... other things." She waggled her eyebrows suggestively at Tyson.

Felicia sauntered up behind them. "Sorry about that. Spider-Woman here decided she needed to personally greet everyone at the party."

"What got into you?" Tyson asked, steadying Illyana, who was looking more amused than annoyed at Jessica's unexpected affection.

Felicia's smile was pure mischief. "We went shot for shot at the bar with Logan."

"You and Logan have healing factors," Tyson pointed out.

"Exactly," Felicia purred, looking entirely too pleased with herself.

Tyson shook his head, watching as Jessica continued to hang off Illyana. "Oh, Jess."

Jessica was now playing with one of Illyana's long blonde bangs, twirling it around her finger. "He talks about you so much," she confided in what she probably thought was a whisper but was loud enough for everyone nearby to hear. "How you fought demons and Magneto together, and how you can teleport, and—" she leaned in closer, her voice dropping dramatically "—he also said that you're a demon... in bed."

Jessica dissolved into giggles at her own joke, her face flushing deeper red. She swayed slightly, still using Illyana as support.

To Tyson's surprise, Illyana didn't push Jessica away. Instead, a slow, dangerous smile spread across her face as she turned to face the inebriated hero. "Is that what he said?"

Jessica nodded emphatically. "Mmhmm. Said you could go all night, just like us."

Illyana leaned in, her lips close to Jessica's ear. "Maybe one day I'll show you," she said, just loud enough for Tyson to hear.

Jessica's eyes widened, and for a moment, she seemed to sober slightly. "I... um... that would be..." she stammered, suddenly finding herself on the receiving end of the flirtation.

Felicia laughed. "Careful, Jess. Some spiders get eaten after mating."

MJ, who was just out of earshot but watching their group, asked Peter, "Wait, I thought Tyson was still dating Felicia."

Pete had no answer, unintelligibly muttering, "Uhhh."

Felicia and Tyson, who had enhanced hearing, picked up the exchange, and the white-haired woman turned and winked at MJ.

"We'd better get this show started before anyone else makes promises they might regret in the morning."

"No regrets," Jessica insisted, finally releasing Illyana but maintaining intense eye contact with her. "Raincheck?"

Illyana's smile was enigmatic. "We'll see, little spider."

Tyson raised his voice, addressing the room. "If everyone's got their drinks, please make your way to the arena. The show's about to begin."

As the guests began filing toward the doors, Felicia sidled up to Tyson. "Don't worry," she murmured, "I'll make sure Jessica doesn't embarrass herself too much more tonight." She winked and sauntered after Jessica, who was now enthusiastically describing a mission to Peter and MJ, complete with exaggerated hand gestures.

Illyana watched them go, an amused expression on her face. "Your friends are... interesting."

"That's one word for it," Tyson agreed, offering her his arm. "Shall we?"

Tyson raised his voice, his arm still around Illyana as he addressed the room. "Alright, if everyone's got their drinks, please make your way to the arena. The show's about to begin."

The crowd began to move, conversation flowing freely. Logan grabbed another whiskey from the bar while Peter helped MJ navigate through the group. Max broke away from his animated discussion with the scientists, his eyes bright with excitement. Ann Marie and Gambit walked close together, though careful not to touch, their conversation continuing in low Southern-tinged murmurs.

Maria Hill asked, "No Stark tonight?"

Tyson said, "He couldn't make it, unfortunately. Or not, depending. He probably would've had a few jokes about what Jessica said."

She surveyed the eclectic group with professional interest. "Quite the gathering you've managed here, Smith."

"Looking to recruit some new talent?" Tyson asked, guiding Illyana toward the door with a gentle touch at her waist.

Steve Rogers fell into step beside them. "It's good to see people coming together like this. Reminds me why we do what we do."

The group filtered through the doors, making their way to the arena. Tyson led them to the upper level, then he hovered down to the arena floor, where Quentin Beck and his crew were still in the process of setting up their equipment. Technicians adjusted lights and positioned holographic projectors.

"Alright, guys. If you're going to be reproducing the shows we do at House of M, I think you should experience one first."

Beck and his team exchanged excited glances, their work momentarily forgotten.

"Grab a seat and sit back," Tyson continued, gesturing to the empty seats above.

Once everyone had a seat, more began streaming in. The Morlocks filed through the doors, their distinctive appearances drawing curious glances from those already seated. Marrow led them; behind her came dozens more. Mutants whose appearances had forced them underground were now walking proudly into the raised seating area.

Tyson waited, hovering just above the arena floor, watching as they found their places. The Ancient One sat with perfect posture, with Illyana beside her. Logan slouched in his seat. Max sat between Dr. Octavius and Dr. Connors, their earlier conversation paused as they turned their attention to the arena. Ann Marie had chosen a seat next to Gambit, their shoulders almost but not quite touching. When the last Morlocks had settled, Tyson rose higher into the air until he was visible to everyone in the arena. The lights dimmed except for a single spotlight that followed him upward.

"Tonight," Tyson began. "I'm putting on this show, and it's very special to me." His eyes swept across the audience, connecting with all the familiar faces. "The night this show was supposed to premiere, I was attacked. And my very dear friend, Jubilee, was killed." A hush fell over the crowd. Even those who hadn't known Jubilee felt the weight of her absence in Tyson's voice. "It was brought to my attention that events like that change people. Changed me. Changed the world."

Tyson's hands conjured a minor illusion of a sparkling firework that faded into darkness. "At first, I couldn't see past her death. Even now, I barely can." He descended slightly, his expression softening. "Before the attack, I met Max." Tyson cast an illusionary spotlight on Max, who blinked in surprise as all eyes turned to him. "It was Max's birthday, and he had tickets to that night's show."

Max shifted uncomfortably under the sudden attention, but managed a small smile.

"So tonight, I'm doing this show for him, because he missed out on his birthday gift." Tyson's voice warmed. "But that night, he also gave me a gift."

"Like many of you here know, the day that a mutant gains their powers can be harrowing. For some of us, it's because of the circumstances where our powers manifest. For others, it's because of the powers themselves." Nods of understanding rippled through the crowd, particularly among the Morlocks. "For some, it's the best day of our lives. For others, it's the worst." Tyson's gaze found Ann Marie. "But on that day, almost immediately after almost being killed, Max believed in me, and he let me borrow his power so that I could fight Magneto."

Max straightened in his seat, pride replacing his earlier discomfort.

"Jubilee still died," Tyson continued, "but without him, I might have died too. And along with me, millions of others, when Magneto's failed machine used me as a battery for his weapon of mass destruction."

He gestured toward Max again. "His courage is why I'm still here today."

"And he's not the only one. There are so many of you here today who have had a profound impact on my life. I want to mention all of you, but I don't want to postpone this show too long. It's already more than two weeks late."

The illusions faded, replaced by a single figure that slowly took shape behind Tyson, a silhouette that those who knew him recognized.

"But I do want to thank one other person. The man who tonight's show is about." Tyson's expression grew more serious. "Like I said, for many mutants, when our powers manifest, it can be a bad day. My power is one of those powers that made it a bad day."

Tyson held up his bare hand. "Anyone I touched started to die. Some of you know what it's like to have a power that makes you a danger to everyone around you, and know what it's like to have to worry about hurting others, even if you don't wish it." Ann Marie's gaze was fixed on Tyson intently. "That was me. I first realized I had a power when I woke up in the back of a truck in Canada. I had no idea how I'd gotten there. I had no friends, money, nothing but the clothes on my back."

The silhouette behind him grew more distinct, taking on the unmistakable shape of a man with wild hair and a powerful build.

"I got thrown out of a bar at shotgun-point because I was a mutant," Tyson said, letting the words sink in. The arena was completely silent now, every person hanging on his words.

"But there was another mutant in that bar that night. One who could've kept his head down and left me there. But he didn't. He took me in."

Logan shifted in his seat.

"It started the grand adventure that led me here, and all of you to me," Tyson said, his voice filled with genuine emotion. "I'm forever grateful."

The silhouette behind Tyson solidified into a perfect illusion of Logan, complete with his trademark scowl and stance.

"That man's name is Logan," Tyson said, looking directly at the real Logan in the audience. "And this... is his story."

"You'll be the first to see House of M: Wolverine..."

Tyson closed his eyes, calling upon his powers of illusion. As he opened them again, the arena began to transform around them.

The walls of the House of M faded away, replaced by a nineteenth-century battlefield. The audience gasped as cannon fire boomed in the distance, and the acrid smell of gunpowder filled the air. The year "1861" appeared in ghostly numbers above the scene.

A young soldier, recognizably Logan despite his youth, charged across a Civil War battlefield, Union uniform torn and bloodied. As Confederate bullets tore through him, he kept advancing, wounds closing almost as quickly as they formed. The horror on the faces of his enemies was palpable as this seemingly unkillable soldier cut through their ranks.

Logan was in a muddy trench, surrounded by soldiers with haunted eyes. World War I raged around them, the hellscape of No Man's Land stretching before them. When the whistle blew, Logan was first over the top, leading men through machine gun fire, his body absorbing punishment that would have killed any normal man.

Logan fighting alongside Captain America in World War II.

Logan wandering alone through wilderness, trying to escape his violent past only to be drawn back into conflict again and again.

The timeline slowed as it reached the 1970s. The audience watched in horror as Logan, strapped to a metal table, screamed while molten adamantium was bonded to his skeleton.

Ann Marie flinched visibly at this scene, her gloved hand unconsciously reaching for Gambit's, stopping just short of contact.

Logan offered a skinny Tyson a ride after he was threatened and driven from the Canadian bar where they'd first met. Then they were ambushed by a large man, and Tyson took on the appearance that the world recognized.

The story continued, showing Logan's journey to Xavier's Institute, his reluctant mentorship of young mutants, and his gradual acceptance of his role as protector rather than just warrior.

The pain of loss, the struggle for identity, and the drive to protect those he cared about all found expression in the tale. Throughout it all, one theme remained constant. A man fighting not just external enemies, but his nature.

As the show reached its climax, Logan stood on a cliff within a hellish landscape, claws extended.

"I am the best there is at what I do. But what I do isn't very nice."

Then he dove off after a bone-white demon.

The illusion faded, leaving the arena in darkness for a moment before the house lights gradually rose. The audience erupted in applause, many rising to their feet. Beck and his crew looked stunned, frantically speaking among themselves about technical aspects they needed to implement.

Tyson's gaze sought out Logan, who remained seated while others stood around him. The Wolverine's face was unreadable, jaw clenched tight, but his eyes held something Tyson had rarely witnessed. Vulnerability.

As the applause began to die down, Logan rose abruptly and made his way toward the exit. Tyson excused himself from the congratulations and followed, catching up to Logan in the corridor.

"Too much?" Tyson asked quietly.

"You embellished."

"I took some creative liberties. Not much, honestly."

Logan finally turned, his expression conflicted. "Why me? Out of all the stories you could tell."

"Because without you, there is no me," Tyson answered. "No House of M, none of it."

Logan's laugh was harsh. "Don't put that on me, kid. I just gave you a ride."

"You gave me a chance," Tyson countered. "You could have left me in that parking lot."

"Maybe I should have," Logan muttered, but there was no heat in it.

"Would have saved some people a lot of trouble," Tyson agreed.

Logan's posture relaxed slightly. "It's a good show. Too good. Makes me look like more of a hero than I am."

"That's what stories do, Logan. They pull out the truth beneath the facts."

Logan considered this, then reached into his jacket and pulled out a cigar. "Just don't expect me to start signing autographs." He turned to leave, then paused. "That kid in there, the one who can't touch people—"

"Ann Marie."

"Yeah." Logan's expression softened almost imperceptibly. "She reminds me of you. When I first found you. Same lost look. Same dangerous gift." He lit his cigar, the brief flare illuminating his face.

"Powers like this... they can make you forget who you are. Or never learn who you could be."

Logan grunted in agreement. "She'll need someone who understands. Not many do."

As he turned to walk away, Tyson called after him, "You leaving again?"

Logan stopped, blowing out a cloud of smoke. "Nah. Think I found what I was missing. Besides, you owe me big time after this show. Figure you can pay for my cigars and booze for a while."

"Your tab at the bar is already legendary," Tyson laughed.

"Yeah, well." Logan shrugged. "Good thing you're loaded." He started walking again, adding gruffly, "Don't wait up. Got some thinking to do."

"The door's always open," Tyson said.

Logan raised a hand in acknowledgment without looking back, disappearing around a corner as Tyson returned to the celebration, satisfied that the Wolverine wasn't running away; he was taking a walk.

Now, to check on Jessica and see if she was trying to cash that raincheck.

— Rogue Redemption —

Behind the Scenes

- And thus concludes Arc 7. I hope you all enjoyed it, and the conclusions are satisfying. This Arc was similar in length to Arcs 1-4 combined (247k vs 250k)

This is the culmination of all the stuff we've seen since Arc 4 (which ended last March). Arc 4 saw the introduction of Peter, Gwen, Green Goblin, Kraven, Kaine, Dr. Warren, and so many others. But most of their stories are complete, for now. We got the Sinister Six out of the way, and what I considered in my headcanon as the 'Clone saga' is tied up. Going forward, we move into MCU territory, and the cast shifts, just like it did back during Arcs 3 and 4 when Tyson went to Midtown.

I tried to bring the story somewhat full circle. Arc 7 begins with what should be the opening morning/day/night for the House of M: Wolverine show. Here we end with the show finally happening. But it also ends with Tyson and Logan, which is how the story began. In chapter 1, Tyson replaces Rogue; in this chapter, Tyson replaces Rogue, placing her back in her body.

At the start of this Arc, on some of the public sites, I split this into a second story. In hindsight, this chapter should have been the end of 'Rogue Replacement' and the next, the start of the second story. C'est la vie. I hadn't finished writing this Arc when I started posting it, and didn't see the symmetry until well after I'd made the change.

- There was a poll a few months back about who the Arc 9 (now Arc 10) Love interest would be. I hesitantly listed Gwen as one of the options, since she's a fan favorite. But personally, I thought it would be a betrayal of Peter.

It was nice to see that those of you who voted shared the same opinion. Gwen lost the poll.

Her goodbye scene was written somewhat as a meta-commentary on what could have been. It also has a small easter egg that sets up much of the setting around Arc 10. Those of you who read comics, or who saw the other options in the poll, might discern the direction that Arc 10 is going.

- Just as Kaine's introduction at the end of Arc 4 set up his presence in 6 and 7, Arc 10 has been properly foreshadowed throughout this Arc if you look carefully enough. Likewise, what I have planned for Arc 12 is set up during Arc 8. Arcs 9 and likely 11 are more like side quests, but should be fun romps.

- Wednesday's joke about Tyson leaving his motorcycle wherever was a callback to Arcs 4 and 5, when I never kept track of it.

- Bringing Rogue back into the story was something I'd always considered, but had no idea how to do. I had flexibility because she hadn't ever made an appearance. This Arc allowed me to address that in its entirety. The threads of Rogue still existing in Tyson's head and being the source of his uncontrolled power were laid back in Arc 2. Calypso was introduced in the last scene of Arc 1. Initially, I tossed her in because I knew I'd eventually want to do a Sinister Six, but I didn't know who the Six would be, and she'd serve as an extra 'just in case'. When Arc 4 came, I introduced more seeds of the potential Sinister Six: Green Goblin, Rhino, Scorpion, Harry as a vengeance-seeking potential Goblin, Octavius, and Kaine. There was even a line in the Arc 6 interview with Jameson where he says something like, "You're not special, my son is an astronaut." Hinting at a possible origin for Venom. I ended up cutting it because I knew I wasn't going to fit Venom into this Arc, it was too crowded, and he deserved space to develop.

Back to Calypso, in Spider-Man #1-5, she takes control of the Lizard using voodoo. Here, we also learn that she sacrificed her sister to gain greater powers. In Peter Parker, The Spectacular Spider-Man #65, Calypso assists Kraven by drugging Spider-Man with a hallucinogen. I tried to make her portrayal comic accurate, with my own spin, of course, to fit the story, while respecting what I could research of real-world voodoo practice.

As for bringing Rogue into the story… When I first started this, it was intended to be a slow-burn male power fantasy. Over time, I feel like it became more akin to a superhero-themed male-centric paranormal romance. However, this Arc may have steered it back toward power fantasy with Tyson's explosive power growth and the harem signaling. I just hope that all the setup made it feel earned and appropriate. Still, I didn't want to bring Rogue back, just so Tyson could smash. I'm sure there are people who only know Rogue from the meme, and I didn't want to make her into that. And if you've made it this far into the story, you know there's more to her than that. Tying her to Gambit so soon may have been abrupt, but it was somewhat necessary. Due to the nature of Arc 8, Ann Marie won't have much development time. I know some of you might be thinking…

Rogue and Gambit, but Magneto… and Tyson is Magneto!

Chill. *Looks at Rogue meme* Eh. Ask me again if I make it to Arc 15.

- It's always bittersweet for me to post these chapters. I started writing Arc 7 on May 18th, 2024, and this chapter will be posted for Patrons on May 28th, 2025. An entire year was sunk into this Arc from the first word of the draft to the completion of its final edited version. Overall, I'm very happy with how it turned out.

Next week begins Arc 8. I've gotten into the habit of doing the last chapters as an Epilogue. Well, for Arc 8, we get a Prologue instead! It'll be the first chapter that doesn't feature Tyson, so we'll see how it goes.