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XGO : CHAPTER 59 Reckoning and Rifts
🕑 Added 2025-05-21 17:17:04 +0000 UTCThe cataclysmic energies that had torn Alkali Lake asunder slowly subsided, leaving behind a landscape irrevocably scarred. The great dam was a shattered ruin, its concrete heart ripped out, unleashing the full fury of the vast reservoir. Where Stryker’s subterranean fortress had once hummed with malevolent purpose, now only a churning, debris-filled maelstrom remained, a watery grave for his genocidal ambitions. The sky, moments before a canvas of shrieking, impossible colors and swirling cyclonic winds, began to clear, the Aurora Borealis fading as the raw psychic energies dissipated.
High above the deluge, the immense, radiant form of Mega Mewtwo Y hovered, the last vestiges of the Decepticon energy infusion shimmering around him like a fading afterglow. Cradled gently in his telekinetic hold was the unconscious, fragile form of Rogue. The violent violet aura that had consumed her was gone, her features, though pale and etched with exhaustion, were peaceful. Her breathing was shallow but steady. She was herself again, the alien entity and the serum’s destructive influence seemingly purged, or at least driven into a deep, dormant state by Alex’s psychic intervention.
With a sigh that seemed to carry the weight of worlds, the light around Alex’s Mega Evolved form softened, contracted. The sleek, alien contours flowed back into the familiar, powerful purple and white physique of his standard Mewtwo transformation. He was still immense, still radiating an aura of focused psionic might, but the almost unbearable intensity of the Mega form had receded.
He descended slowly, carefully, towards a relatively stable outcrop of rock and shattered trees on what had once been the lakeshore. The ground was a ruin, a testament to the godlike power that had been unleashed. He laid Rogue down with a gentleness that belied his formidable appearance, arranging her as comfortably as possible on a bed of miraculously untouched moss.
For a long moment, Mewtwo simply stood there, observing her. The cost of this victory, the sheer destructive potential he had witnessed in her, and by extension, the echo of it within himself, was a sobering thought. He had saved her, yes. But what had she become? What had he become?
A soft, internal chime from the Omnitrix on his chest broke his reverie. The psychic strain of maintaining even the standard Mewtwo form after such an expenditure of energy was considerable. With another flash of blue light, the towering psychic alien dissolved, and Alex stood there in his human form, looking impossibly young and weary amidst the devastation. He ran a hand through his dark hair, his breathing still a little ragged.
He looked at Rogue, then down at the Omnitrix. His brow furrowed. There was one alien, one power in his arsenal that could potentially undo this, or at least mitigate the damage to her, to her mind, perhaps even to the timeline that had led to this horror. A Chronosapien. The ability to manipulate time itself. It was a dangerous, almost forbidden thought.
His fingers moved towards the dial, a flicker of desperate resolve in his eyes.
"You toy with forces far beyond your youthful comprehension, Alexander."
The voice was calm resonated not in his ears, but directly within his mind. Alex spun around, his body instantly tensing, every combat instinct flaring. He hadn't sensed an approach.
Standing a few feet away, seemingly untouched by the surrounding chaos, her saffron robes immaculate, was the Ancient One. Her gaze, serene yet piercing, was fixed on him.
"You seem to have a habit of showing up right when I'm about to do something universe-alteringly interesting," Alex said, his voice a low growl, dropping his hand from the Omnitrix. "Are you telling me I should just let her suffer the consequences of powers she never asked for, powers that are partly my fault?"
The Ancient One glided closer, her movements fluid, almost ethereal. "The consequences of power are a burden all who wield it must eventually bear, yourself included. What happened to the girl was a confluence of unfortunate events—Stryker's machinations, the psychic assault, and yes, the unstable echo of your own formidable abilities within her." She paused, her eyes, which seemed to hold the wisdom of countless eons, studying him intently. "But to unravel the threads of time, to attempt to rewrite what has been woven into the fabric of this reality… that is a path fraught with perils that would make today's battle seem like a child's squabble."
Alex scoffed, turning away to look at Rogue's still form. "Perils? What's more perilous than her mind shattering, or her power consuming her completely? I have a Chronosapien form. I can go back, just a few hours. Stop Stryker from doing whatever the hell he did to her. Stop Ross from even getting to the school."
"The Chronosapiens," the Ancient One stated, her voice carrying an undeniable weight of knowledge, "are guardians of their own temporal streams, bound by cosmic laws far older than your Omnitrix. To wield their power without true understanding, without the consent of the universe's inherent balance, is to invite paradox, to risk fractures in reality that could consume entire worlds." Her gaze was unwavering. "You do not possess the wisdom or the right to make such a gamble, no matter how noble your intentions."
Alex turned back sharply, his eyes narrowed with suspicion. "Hold on. 'Chronosapiens'? 'Guardians of temporal streams'? You're talking about them like you've had them over for tea and biscuits. How do you know so much about a species that's, let's just say, not exactly common knowledge, even for someone with your... extensive interdimensional library card?"
The Ancient One’s lips curved into that enigmatic, knowing smile that always seemed to hint at universes of understanding just beyond his grasp. "That particular piece of counsel, Alexander," she said, her voice soft yet resonant, "is not mine to give, but rather mine to relay. It comes with a... temporal echo. From someone who understands the weight of such power intimately." Her eyes held a flicker of something unreadable – amusement? Sadness? "Your future self sends his regards, and his rather emphatic warnings. That is all I am permitted to share on that specific matter, for now."
Alex stared at her, momentarily speechless. His future self? The implications were staggering, almost too much to process on top of everything else that had happened. He clenched his fists, frustration warring with the undeniable logic in her words, now laced with an even more unsettling layer of temporal mystery. "So, what?" he finally managed, his voice tight. "I'm just supposed to accept this? Accept that my power, even indirectly, led to her becoming... this? You're telling me to cage my own abilities, to limit what I can do to fix my own damn mistakes because some future version of me said so?"
"I am telling you that some mistakes cannot be 'fixed' by simply turning back the clock, Alexander," the Ancient One replied, her serenity unruffled. "They must be understood, learned from, and their consequences managed with wisdom, not brute temporal force. The power she now carries is immense, yes. Dangerous, certainly. But it is also a part of her. To forcibly remove it, even if you could without harming her further, would be another violation of her being."
Alex sighed, a sound heavy with weariness and the weight of too many impossible choices. He looked back at Rogue’s still, pale form. "So, what do you suggest, oh wise and temporally-informed one? Leave her like this? Wait for her to wake up and potentially level another continent because she stubs her toe?"
"She needs guidance, Alexander," the Ancient One said softly. "Specialized training. Someone who understands the nature of such overwhelming psychic power, someone who can teach her to integrate it, to control it, perhaps even to heal the scars it has left on her spirit." She paused, her gaze direct and unwavering. "Leave her to me. I can take her to Kamar-Taj. There, she will learn disciplines that can help her master what is within, without resorting to the crude interventions of science or the dangerous allure of temporal manipulation."
Alex stared at her, suspicion flaring again, though now mixed with a grudging curiosity. "You? Train her? Why? What's in it for you, Ancient One? You don't strike me as the charitable type without a cosmic angle."
"A soul in torment is a ripple in the cosmic balance," the Ancient One answered serenely. "And a power of that magnitude, uncontrolled, is a threat to all realities. It is my duty to mitigate such threats and to offer aid to those who are lost in the currents of power. Besides," a faint, almost imperceptible smile touched her lips again, "we both know, Alexander, that for all your… considerable talents… you are not renowned for your patience or your pedagogical skills. Teaching her to control this would require a finesse you rarely employ, and frankly, a level of emotional investment you seem determined to avoid."
Alex actually snorted at that, a brief, sharp sound. "You got me there. Patience isn't exactly my strong suit, and emotional investment is just asking for trouble." He looked at Rogue, then back at the Ancient One, his expression unreadable. "I don't know if she'll even agree. The X-Men, Xavier's school… that’s her family. Her home. Or what's left of it."
"Then let us ask the child herself when she awakens," the Ancient One suggested. "The choice must ultimately be hers."
As if summoned by their words, Rogue stirred. Her eyelids fluttered, then opened. The violent violet was gone, replaced by her familiar green, though now shot through with tiny, lingering flecks of amethyst that shimmered in the dim light. She looked around, dazed, her gaze falling on Alex, then on the Ancient One. Memory, and the crushing weight of what had happened, seemed to return to her all at once.
"Alex…?" she whispered, her voice hoarse, cracked. "What… what did I do?" The devastation around them, the lingering scent of ozone and destruction, was a terrifying testament.
"You fought," Alex said, his voice surprisingly gentle, almost soft. "And you won. In your own way." He gestured towards the Ancient One. "This is… a friend. She has an offer for you. A way to understand what's happened to you."
The Ancient One stepped forward, her presence exuding a profound sense of calm and reassurance that seemed to soothe Rogue’s raw nerves. She explained her offer—the sanctuary of Kamar-Taj, the chance to learn ancient disciplines, to control the immense power now thrumming within her, to understand its nature and her own.
Rogue listened intently, her gaze shifting between the Ancient One’s serene, knowing face and Alex’s more guarded, complex expression. When the sorceress had finished, Rogue was silent for a long moment, her eyes fixed on her own hands, which still trembled slightly. The memory of the destructive force she had unleashed, the feeling of being consumed by that alien entity, was still terrifyingly fresh.
"If… if you can teach me," Rogue finally said, her voice gaining a fragile strength, a sliver of hope. "If you can help me stop… that… from ever happening again… then I'll go. I have to." She looked at Alex, a complex mixture of gratitude, fear, and a newfound, desperate determination in her eyes. "I can't live like that, Alex. A walking time bomb. A danger to everyone I care about."
Alex nodded slowly, his expression unreadable. "It's your choice, Rogue. Always." He hesitated, then added, his voice softer than she’d ever heard it, almost vulnerable. "You know… I have other… abilities. Other forms. I could… try to take it all away. The power you absorbed from me, the stuff Stryker did to you. Maybe get you back to how you were before all this."
Rogue looked at her hands, then back at him, a faint, weary smile touching her lips. "I know you could, sugar. And part of me… Lord, part of me would give anything for that. To just be… normal again." She took a shaky breath, the weight of her past, her curse, settling heavily on her. "But another part of me… after all this… after feeling that… I want to know what this world really has to offer. I need to understand what I am now." She looked at him, a touch of her old spark, her resilience, returning. "Who would've thought," she added, a hint of wry amusement in her voice, "that someone like you, Alex, the big bad 'Death Bringer', would even show this much… I dunno… respect? Concern for little ol' me?"
Alex looked away, a faint flush rising on his neck, clearly uncomfortable with the display of emotion. "Don't give her any wrong ideas," he muttered, more to the Ancient One than to Rogue. "I just don't like loose cannons. They make a mess."
The Ancient One chuckled, a sound like wind chimes in a gentle breeze. "And do I not warrant a measure of respect, young Alexander? I am, after all, considerably older than your entire recorded history, and I have managed to avoid making quite so many… messes."
Alex sighed, running a hand through his hair again, a gesture of exasperation. "Yeah, yeah, you're ancient, I get it. You're the responsible adult in the room." He looked back at Rogue, his expression softening almost imperceptibly. "So, you're really going with her? To… wherever Kamar-Taj is?"
Rogue nodded, a new resolve hardening her gaze, the flecks of amethyst in her eyes seeming to glow with a quiet inner strength. "I am. But I need to tell the X-Men. Or what's left of them. One last time. They deserve to know from me, not just find me gone."
"Well, the girl has to pack, metaphorically speaking," the Ancient One said, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "And I have a rather serious conversation to conduct with certain… adults… about her future guardianship. And the immediate cessation of any further ill-advised military adventures in this particular region of the planet." Her eyes held a glint of steel that promised a very uncomfortable and non-negotiable discussion for whoever was on the receiving end of that conversation.
"Need any help convincing them?" Alex asked, a dangerous, predatory edge returning to his voice, his earlier discomfort forgotten. "I'm pretty good at… forceful persuasion."
The Ancient One smiled serenely, a smile that held the power of mountains and the patience of rivers. "No, Alexander. I believe I can be quite… persuasive… on my own. I will handle it." She turned to Rogue. "Rest for a moment, child. Gather your strength. We will depart when you are ready."
Rogue nodded, then looked at Alex, a lingering question in her eyes. "What about Stryker? He was behind all of this. He hurt so many… He needs to pay."
Alex’s expression turned to ice, his eyes becoming chips of frozen sapphire. "Stryker," he said, his voice a low, deadly whisper that seemed to drop the temperature in the immediate vicinity by several degrees, "has already been taken care of. By a particularly… enthusiastic and creatively vicious nutjob I happen to have on call."
Scene Change: Hours Earlier, Alkali Lake Subterranean Escape Tunnel – Deep within the Collapsing Facility
Colonel William Stryker ran, his breath rasping in his lungs like a broken bellows, the distant, thunderous sounds of the cataclysmic battle above and the groaning collapse of his fortress muffled by tons of rock and earth. The emergency lights in the narrow, damp escape tunnel flickered erratically, casting long, dancing shadows that seemed to claw at him. He had to get out. His plan, his perfect, meticulous plan for a world cleansed, had shattered into a million pieces. Xavier, Cerebro, Jason… all lost. And that boy, Alexander… the power he wielded was beyond anything Stryker had ever conceived, a force of nature, an alien god of destruction.
He stumbled, his expensive suit torn and filthy, catching himself against the cold, wet concrete wall. He could hear the roar of rushing water somewhere nearby – the dam must have finally breached completely. He had to reach the emergency extraction point, a secondary, hidden sub-peninsula designed for just such a contingency.
A faint, metallic scraping sound from the oppressive darkness ahead made him freeze, his heart leaping into his throat.
"Who's there?" Stryker called out, his voice hoarse, adrenaline making it tremble despite his efforts at control. His hand instinctively went to the high-caliber sidearm still holstered at his hip.
A pair of glowing red optics materialized in the gloom, like malevolent embers igniting in the void. They were followed by a tall, slender, impossibly angular metallic figure stepping into the flickering, unreliable light. It was Starscream, one of Alex's Decepticon forms, though Stryker, in his terror, wouldn't know or care about the specifics. He just saw another monster, another abomination of metal and alien power.
"Boo," Starscream said, his voice a high-pitched, arrogant, grating sneer that echoed unnervingly in the confined, claustrophobic space. He sauntered forward with a bizarre, almost mincing gait, his movements a disturbing combination of predatory grace and preening, narcissistic vanity. "Well, well, well. What have we here? A little human rat, scurrying from his sinking ship? How… predictable."
Stryker fumbled for his weapon, his hands shaking too much to get a clean grip. "Stay back, creature! Abomination!"
Starscream laughed, a harsh, grating, metallic sound that scraped against Stryker’s frayed nerves like nails on a chalkboard. "Creature? Abomination? Oh, you wound me, fleshling! I am Starscream! Lord of the Seekers! Commander of the Decepticon Air Armada! Future undisputed ruler of the Decepticons! And you," he leaned in, his glowing red optics boring into Stryker's terrified eyes with an intensity that promised excruciating pain, "are an insignificant, soft-shelled, organic speck who dared to inconvenience my… associate."
"Your associate?" Stryker stammered, backing away until he hit the cold, unyielding rockfall that now blocked the tunnel behind him. Trapped.
"The one with the fancy watch and the rather… explosive temper," Starscream clarified, gesturing vaguely with a long, sharply clawed metallic hand. "He doesn't like it when insignificant little meat-bags like you mess with his… projects. And you, my little human, have messed most spectacularly. Caused quite the ruckus, haven't you?" He took another slow, deliberate step, cornering Stryker against the rockfall, enjoying the man’s palpable terror. "To think," Starscream mused, tapping a long, razor-sharp finger-talon against his metallic chin in a parody of thought, "a primitive, soft-shelled, easily squashed organism like yourself actually believed you could outsmart me? Starscream? The greatest military strategist Cybertron has ever known? The sheer, unmitigated audacity is almost… amusing." He chuckled again, a dry, humorless sound, then his expression, if a robot could be said to have one, turned cold, his optics narrowing into slits of crimson light. "Almost."
His null ray cannons, mounted on his forearms, whined audibly as they powered up, their tips glowing with a sickly, malevolent green energy that promised swift, agonizing disintegration.
"You see, fleshling," Starscream purred, his voice now a silken whisper of impending doom, "my associate has a certain… flair for dramatic exits. A real showman, that one. And he asked me, personally, to ensure yours was particularly… memorable. Consider it a personal favor. From one superior intellect to a soon-to-be-painfully-disintegrated one. No hard feelings, just… business."
Stryker finally managed to draw his pistol, his hands trembling so violently he could barely aim. He fired blindly, the bullets sparking harmlessly, pathetically, against Starscream’s nigh-invulnerable armored chest, ricocheting off into the darkness.
Starscream sighed theatrically, a sound like escaping steam from a faulty valve. "So uncivilized. So… messy."
The null rays fired. Stryker didn't even have time to scream. His body was enveloped in crackling, corrosive green energy. His atoms, the very building blocks of his being, were violently, painfully, unmaking themselves, dissolving into their constituent parts. In a microsecond, all that remained of Colonel William Stryker, the architect of mutant genocide, was a faint, lingering smell of ozone and a rapidly dissipating cloud of fine, grey dust that settled gently on the damp floor of the collapsing escape tunnel.
Starscream surveyed the empty space, a look of profound, narcissistic satisfaction on his metallic face. "Ah, perfection. Lord Megatron would be… moderately pleased. Perhaps even impressed enough to finally recognize my inherent superiority and rightful claim to leadership! This was a masterpiece of tactical elimination!" He struck a dramatic, heroic pose, then, remembering his audience was now non-existent and decidedly unappreciative, huffed in metallic annoyance. "Wasted on this subterranean sewer. No one to witness my brilliance."
With a final, contemptuous glance at the spot where Stryker had stood, a dismissive flick of his wrist, Starscream transformed with a blur of complex motion back into his sleek, silver and blue jet mode and rocketed out of the collapsing escape tunnel, leaving only darkness, the roar of rushing water, and the faint, lingering scent of terror and disintegrated ambition behind.
Comments
Michael Ling
Good a dead stryker
firerock laser
Damn that was a well deserved ending
