Chapter 3

  Arc 1 - Ch 3: Fight Back

  Date: Thursday, June 3, 2010.

  Location: Alberta, ada

  Tyson cursed under his breath as he peered through the jagged hole in the windshield. Logan's unscious body y sprawled across the dented hood of the camper, unmoving. Tyson stretched his arm through where Logan had crashed through the gss. His fiips barely brushed the tip of Wolverine's ear.

  It was enough. A jolt of vitality coursed through Tyson as he absorbed Logan's life force. Memories rushed in and his healing factor lifted the fog of cussion from his mind. The gash on his forehead knit closed and he sighed with relief.

  Still, the situation was dire.

  He was trapped. But not for long. Not with Logan's powers.

  Three bone cws erupted from his knuckles, mirr Wolverine's. He turned his new cws on the seatbelt, slig through the tough nylon material. The strap snapped bad he sucked in a breath, finally free.

  But when he sucked in, the acrid st of fire spreading in the back of the camper filled his nostrils. There wasn't much time before the wrecked vehicle went up in fmes.

  Tyson scrambled out of the burning camper, ung himself over the colpsed dashboard and through the twisted open driver's side door. Cold adian air bsted his face. In his frantic escape from the camper, he had momentarily lost sight of Sabertooth.

  A vicious snarl filled Tyson's ears. Before he could react, a cwed hand gripped the back of his jacket, hoisting him effortlessly into the air as if he were no more than a ragdoll. Looming over him, Sabertooth stood nearly seveall. His lips curled back exposing jagged yellow fangs as he roared directly into Tyson's face.

  But Tyson was far from helpless now.

  With Sabertooth holding him nearly face-to-face, he reached out and ed his hands around the hulking mutant's head. When their skin ected, an influx of energy coursed through Tyson as he siphoned life force directly from Sabertooth's body.

  He developed powers as a child and killed his brother, Luther, over a piece of pie on Luther's birthday. He was imprisoned by his father, who would regurly remove his sharp teeth and cws, but they always grew back. He escaped by biting through his cuffed arm and then proceeded to kill his parents. He left his other brother, Saul alive, but would find him every year a him on his birthday. One year, he found Saul dead and hunted his killer, eventually finding Logan. He realized they were simir, and sidered Logan a substitute for Saul hunting him every year on his birthday. Embroiled in their rivalry, he raped and killed the woman Logan loved. From then on, with each battle, their feud deepened, marked by hatred. He had the power tee from injuries in mere moments, heightened sehat made the world more vibrant aailed, and enharength and agility. Over the years he honed his skill sets of hunting, trag, hand-to-hand bat, and various on expertise. His heightened senses paihe world in sharper, more vivid detail. He held a deep-rooted delight in inflig pain, both physically aally. The world yground where the weak could be toyed with and the strong challenged. Every iion became an opportunity to assert his domio relish in the fear and anguish of others. After Team X, he went into the adian wildero live a feral existence. He became stronger, deadlier. His thoughts became hazy as he fell into the role of the hunter. He was found by Mago, who gave him other targets to hunt.

  Sabertooth's razor-sharp cws shredded through Tyson's jacket as if it were no more than flimsy paper. Tysohe cws tear into his flesh, leaving painful trails in their wake. With each violent swing, Sabertooth seemed i on ripping Tyson apart.

  The attacks shredded his clothes, creating additional tact between them, serving to accelerate the rate at which he drained Sabertooth's life force. And with the blend of Wolverine and Sabertooth's regeive healing factors now c through his veins, the gashes and tears across Tyson's body knit closed as quickly as they appeared. Tyson could feel Sabertooth weakening in his grasp as he siphoned away the feral mutant's energy.

  A new, darker urge whispered for him not to let go.

  The satisfa of dominating this fierce mutant was addictive. Tyson's blood ran freely down his back from the relentless raking of Sabertooth's cws, but the pain was overshadowed by the intoxig rush of abs such power.

  Initially, Tyson had barely kept pace with Sabertooth's wild strength and animalistic brutality. Yet, with every passing sed, the bance shifted.

  A hint of sadistic pleasure gleamed in Tyson's eyes as he felt his power eclipse that of the weakened Sabertooth. His fingers flexed, the nails lengthening and hardening into talons that mimicked Sabertooth's own. He sank them into the feral mutant's fad scalp, using them to maintain his grip.

  A perverse pleasure began to creep into Tyson's mind. Though Sabertooth had initially fought with wild strength and animalistic brutality, his struggles were weakening now, diminishing as Tyson tio siphon his power.

  But Tyson, drunk ohrill of impending victory, barely noticed. He was lost in savage satisfa, oblivious to everything but the intoxig rush of abs the mutant's life force.

  And then it hit.

  A torrential flood of energy with an almost physical potency.

  Tyso it crash through him, a wildfire igniting every cell and was like a dam had burst inside him, releasing a tidal wave of raw, untrolled power, instincts, and knowledge.

  Sabertooth's essence poured into Tyson, a plete synthesis of the mutant's being.

  He was no longer drawing from Sabertooth. He had ed him fully.

  The instant of Sabertooth's death was unmistakable. The flood of energy surged into Tyson, wild and untamed, and then ceased abruptly. The sudden absence was as shog as the initial torrent had been.

  A cold realization washed over Tysorating the dark haze of savage pleasure that had ed him.

  He had killed Sabertooth.

  Tyson's hands fell away as the realization that he'd killed struck him. The once mighty mutant's body colpsed limply to the ground, now just ay shell.

  A torrent of flig emotions swept over Tyson iermath.

  There was a relief, undoubtedly, that he had survived the fight and emerged triumphant. But alongside this sense of victory y a ing bination of remorse, regret, and even a twisted glimmer of dark satisfa. He had taken a life, snuffed out aence forever, yet somewhere in the murky depths of his psyche, this act of violeirred a savage pleasure.

  Before Tyson could fully process his feelings, a voice drew him back to the present. "Are you alright?" it asked gently, startling him from his thoughts.

  He turo find the voice beloo a breathtaking woman. Her fwless brown skin trasted strikingly with her silvery white hair and vibrant blue eyes. She was a biform with a promi X over her chest. Tysnized Ororo Muherwise known as Storm of the X-Men.

  Beside Storm stood a man in a simir uniform, though his featured a distinctive ruby-quartz visor over his eyes.

  Scott Summers, Cyclops.

  He walked over to the battered camper, retrieving Wolverine's unscious body from the hood.

  The snow fell softly around them as Storm's pierg blue eyes fixed on Tyson. "You should e with us," she said, her tole yet urgent.

  Tyson stood numbly. The adrenalihat had fueled him earlier was fading. He g Sabertooth's lifeless body, the mutant's face frozen in an expression of agony. Tyson's eyes then moved to Wolverine's unscious form carried in Cyclops' arms.

  "I..." Tyson started to reply, then paused. He took a deep breath, the frigid air stinging his lungs, and nodded slowly. There was nothi for him here now. "Alright," he agreed.

  As Tyson moved toward Storm, her features so perfectly mirr those of the actress who had pyed her, she extended a slender hand toward him in fort. But he stopped abruptly short, fling away from her reach with a pained expression.

  "You 't touch me," Tyson said hoarsely, gesturing toward Sabertooth's body. "Or what happeo him will happen to you."

  A spectacur aircraft stood nearby. Sleek a-bck, with pulsing blue lights lining its sides. An 'X' emblem was embzoned on the aircraft's fnk, marking it as the famed Bckbird jet of the X-Men. Its design appeared to be based on the SR-71 military spyp modified extensively. The sight momentarily distracted Tyson from the harsh reality of his situation.

  Tyson followed Cyclops, who carried the unscious Wolverine in his arms. As the Bckbird's hatch hissed closed behind them, Tyson's mind became a whirlwind of emotions.

  He had taken a life today.

  But above all, he felt a profound sense of isotion.

  Tysohen that he was alone now in a way he had never been before. His deadly touch meant he could never get close to another person again without killing them. That lohought weighed heavily on him, even as the Bckbird's engines roared to life and lifted the jet into the bleak adian skies heading toward the Xavier Institute.

  How would the other mutants rea now that he had blood on his hands? And the most gring question of all… How could he possibly hide his otherworldly ins from the telepaths he would soon be fronted by?

  — Rogue Rept —

  When the Bckbird yson was led through corridors that seemed pulled straight from a sce fi film. , stark walls reflected the futuristic aesthetic of the Xavier Institute's lower levels. They made their way to a small, utilitarian ging room. Ihe gray walls were interrupted only by a full-length mirror and a simple metal bench.

  Tyson's clothes were little more than tatters after the life-or-death battle against Sabertooth. He stripped off the rags, letting them fall to the floor, aantly turoward the mirror.

  What stared back at him was fn.

  His eyes, once a soft brown, now burned an intense, predatory amber. The same unnatural color as Sabertooth's. His high cheekbones were now highlighted by a rugged edge, his jawline angur and hardened. His hair had lengthened and rexed from a short afro into a wild, wavy mahough his skin remais inal light brown, his physique had expaarkly. Where before he had been thin, almost emaciated, he now held himself with the raw, urength of Sabertooth. Muscles rippled beh his skin, evidence of his enhanced physicality.

  Tyso a dissoween the man he had been and the refle before him. His body had transformed into a t, muscur form. He couldn't fight the grim smile as he admired his new physique. Beh the passing satisfa at his strength lurked a darker thrill, stemming from the thoughts of the damage this body could inflict if unleashed.

  A knock at the door prompted Tyson to step out of the room. His eyes were instantly drawn to the woman waiting for him.

  Storm wore a form-fitting charcoal gray turtlened bck denim jeans which g to her athletic figure. A pair of low-heeled boots pleted the look. Her distinctive short white hair was styled, but it was her pierg blue eyes that truly captivated.

  Tyson was momentarily transfixed by her strikiy. Unbidden, aggressive thoughts arose, focused on how he would cim her, make her his.

  The iy startled him.

  He quickly shook his head, trying to dislodge the sudden possessive, domineering impulse.

  Where had that e from?

  But he already khe answer. Sabertooth.

  When he had absorbed the feral mutant's powers, Tyson had not only taken on his poortions of his appeara also aspects of his psyche. And it was obviously affeg him in disturbing ways. He would o be vigint, remain aware, and guard against the influence of Sabertooth's encroag thoughts.

  Stazed at him expetly, oblivious to his iruggle. As a teacher at a school for young mutants, she was aced to teenage boys' wandering eyes.

  "The Professor would like to see you now," she informed him, her voice warm and ated in a way he couldn't quite pce.

  Tyson took a breath, pushing back the unwele remnants of Sabertooth's sciouso the recesses of his mind. He managed a nod. "Lead the way."

  Tyson forced his gaze away from Ororo's captivatiures and tried to focus his thoughts. "Who's this Professor you mentioned?" he asked. Though he already khe answer, he was trying to divert his mind from the alluring woman before him.

  Ororo's smile held a trace of uanding as she replied, "We're in the Xavier Institute fher Learning. It's a sanctuary for our kind. Mutants." She paused, giving Tyson a moment to absorb this information before tinuing. "The Professor is Charles Xavier. He fouhis school and has devoted his life to promoting peace between humans and mutants. Here, we learn and develop our abilities in safety." Siy rang clear in her ated voice, and Tyso a small measure of the tension ebb from his shoulders.

  As they asded to the main level, Tyson couldn't help but marvel at the institute around him. The walls, floors, and ceilings exuded a level of sophistication ah that gave the impression that this pce was more a museum than a school. Faint echoes of ughter and lively voices of instructors eg the halls said otherwise. They passed s where lessons were underway, a library brimming with books, and a game room where young mutants were engaged in an intense ping-pong match.

  With each step, Tyson's apprehension lessened. Ororo's presend the institute's weling atmosphere slowly soothed his s.

  Tyson worried about his treatment, given that Ororo and Cyclops had seen him kill Sabertooth. But would they be leading him through the school if they thought him dangerous? Perhaps he wasn't in trouble after all.

  Ororo led Tyson into the spacious office. He sed the shelves lining the walls, filled with books on advanced physics, cssic literature, and everything iween. In one er sat an antique chess set, its pieces meticulously arranged on the board. A rge mahogany desk ahe ter of the room. Behind it, silhouetted against the backdrop of a floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the sprawling grounds beyond, sat the unmistakable figure of Professor Charles Xavier in his state-of-the-art wheelchair. His fingers steepled in ption as his eyes fixed on Tyson with an expression mingling wisdom, kindness, and curiosity.

  "Tyson," he greeted warmly, his voice carrying the care of a teacher weling a udent.

  Tyson stared at the man, struck by the strange urge to call him Captain. He wasn't sure where the impulse came from.

  Professor Xavier's voice broke Tyson from his thoughts. "Wele to the Xavier Institute. I'm Charles Xavier, though most students here call me Professor X. I've been looking forward to meeting you."

  His face held uanding, yet Tyson couldn't help but feel the man could see right through to his core. He didn't feel threatehough. Instead, a strange sense of acceptance washed over him, as if he was exactly where he was meant to be.

  "I'm aware of your abilities, Tyson," Professor X said, "You have a very unique power. Ohat you must hah great care."

  "Am I in trouble?" Tyson asked, getting straight to the point. He expected there might be sequences for killing Sabertooth.

  "No, Tyson," Xavier replied, "You're not in trouble. Rather, I believe you stand at a crossroads, and that's why I wao speak with you."

  Tyson exhaled in relief, but his ay didn’t fully abate.

  The professor tinued, "Your power does not merely copy another mutant's abilities. It absorbs their very essence, for ck of a better term. When you absorbed Sabertooth's powers, you also took on his aggressive tendencies, whily pounded simir, traits absorbed from Logan. Your mi was signifitly altered. You are not responsible for his death."

  Xavier's ses mirrored Tyson's ret experiences; particurly the uncharacteristic aggression that had ed him during the brutal fight with Sabertooth.

  "I'm truly sorry for what happeo the man who attacked you," Xavier tinued, sorrow evident in his gentle voice. "Storm and Cyclops were rag to your location, but unfortunately, they arrived too te." He paused, allowing a moment of mournful silence before proceeding. "That is precisely why this school exists. It is not merely a sanctuary to shield mutants from the outside world, but also a pce to guide them in trolling their powers and using them responsibly, to avoid unintended sequences," the professor expined. "We aim to mentor young mutants like yourself, helping you to uand your abilities so that you may wield them in a sidered, stious manner."

  The siy radiating from Professor X alpable.

  Tyson stared at Professor X. Though his face was stoic, the question that had been tumbling around in his mind slipped out. "What about my past?"

  The professor hesitated, folding his hands in his p as he sidered his response. After a prolonged silence, he finally spoke. "My abilities allow me to explore the minds of others in ways that most 't prehend. However, even my psychic talents have their limitations."

  Tyson waited, barely daring to breathe.

  Xavier expression turned grave. "There are rare occasions where certaiails mao elude even my mental powers. I've entered this phenomenon before, and it never fails to baffle me. It's akin to reading a book where entire chapters have been torn out, leaving gaping holes in the narrative."

  He paused, gauging the young man's rea. Tyson's face remained impassive, but his fingers dug into the arms of the chair.

  "In the case of your associate Logan," the professor tinued, "there are surprisingly substantial portions of his personal history that I ot access. For you, I am uo uncover anything prior to when you awoke in that tru ada. The presence of the sed set of memories floating through your psyche creates a formidable psychic barrier. It provides you with a signifit resistao telepathitrusion that I ot easily circumvent."

  His mysterious ins in this world, it seemed, would remain just that.

  A mystery.

  "While we may not be able to uhe details of your former life," Xavier said gently, "we certainly assist you in navigating the path that lies before you now."

  A pregnant silence followed the professor's words. Tyson chewed his lower lip, dropping his gaze to his hands. Xavier's offer was tempting. It recisely the kind of guidance he needed, given his untrolble power. But this was also a lot to take in all at ohese people were still strao him. He knew nothing of this school or this world, beyond what he'd seen in movies.

  After a long moment of sidering his options, Tyson finally raised his eyes to meet Xavier's patient gaze. He gave a single nod, signaling his acceptance of the professor's proposal. "What happens now?" he asked quietly.

  Xavier's eyes kled at the ers, a warm smile spreading across his face. "Now, we attempt to get you settled in."

  Tyson echoed the professor's words, "Settled in?" Though he tried to keep his voice even, uainty tinged his tone.

  "Yes," Xavier responded gently.

  A muffled knock sou the door. It cracked open and aic voice piped up, "You called for me, Professor?"

  "Yes, please e in," Xavier invited warmly.

  The door swung open wider, revealing a petite young woman who couldn't have been more than eee her small stature, she exuded aic vitality that seemed thteudy. Dressed in an unbuttoned yellow trench coat over a pink midriff-baring top and tight blue jean shorts, her edgy style showcased her athletic build. Choppy medium-length bck hair stuck up at odd angles, framing almond-shaped eyes. Everything about her from her vibrant clothing to her fident stance radiated ag exuberance.

  Xavier gestured towards Tyson. "This is Tyson. He's o our institute. Tyso Jubition Lee. We all call her Jubilee."

  Behind the Ses

  - This se is directly inspired by the events of X-Men (2000)

  - Jubilee is shown briefly in X-Men (2000) when Rogue sits in css.

  - Sabertooth's in as written in Tyson's memory is rgely ion.

  - Rogue having some degree of telepathy resistance is somewhat insistent in ics but seemed appropriate to me.

  - In id the old X-Men cartoue has the powers of Captain Marvel. As Carol is off the p after the events of her MCU movie, that doesn’t fit with the tinuity of this story. Sabertooth seemed a fitting rept. His power scales to Wolverine’s and his tribution to the films was minor. Their fight demonstrates the drawback ue’s power, but how against certain oppos it creates a terrible mismatbsp;

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