Chapter 90

  Arc 7 - Ch 7: Favor for a Favor

  Date: Monday, August 29, 2011.

  Location: House of M, Manhattan, New York

  Tyson's gaze immediately locked onto a cascade of golden hair draped over the back of the guest chair across from his desk. Even without seeing her face, he knew who it was.

  Amora The Entress.

  His body tensed, muscles coiling as if preparing for a fight. Surprisingly, Amora didn't even turn to aowledge his preseyson tried to decipher her iions. Was this a trap? Aname? Or something else entirely?

  Slowly, deliberately, he made his way to his desk. Crossing the room, he ook his eyes off the Asgardian. L himself into his chair, he finally came face to face with Amora.

  Her beauty was as breathtaking as ever. Fwless skin, pierg green eyes, aures that seemed sculpted by the gods themselves. But there was something different about her tonight. A solemnity that he'd never seen before. He'd never seen her looking anything short of perfect. But this time, it was obvious she'd been g. Her mascara had run down her cheeks. Instead of her normal green corset and skirt, she wore a bck sweater dress, clearly purchased here oh.

  Finally, she broke the silence. "Hello, Tyson." Her voice was soft, almost somber.

  "Amora," he respoersely.

  "Please, allow me to speak," she requested, her voice carrying an earhat gave Tyson pause. "I'm sure you aren't ied in games right now, but I have a matter of importao discuss." He studied her face, searg for any hint of deception. Finding none, he ined his head slightly, biddio tinue.

  "I watched tonight's battle. I thought it might finally be what I was waiting for. The moment you embraced your power and seized your destiny."

  "I smiled when you quoted me, invoking the rule of three. I cheered when you gaihose powers and held your own against overwhelming odds." Her expression darkened. "And I mourned with you when your mistress… your friend passed on."

  Tyson's jaw ched. Amora's voice took on a more somber tone. "But it's the Rule of Three which brings me here tonight. I find that I have erred, and you have suffered the sequences."

  He raised an eyebrow, not prehending. "What do you mean?"

  "I heard your request for aid but I ig, hoping you would bee stronger on your own. And you have." She paused, a flicker ret crossing her features. "However, it was at the cost of your mistress. The same mistress for whom I withheld my blood. I thought by being a vampire, she would bee stronger, and you stronger by proxy from havi your side."

  His hands ched into fists, his knuckles turning white.

  "Her death is not what I wanted," Amora said softly. "I accept partial bme."

  "That day, I challenged you to get stronger; I challenged her as well. I told her that she may yet prove herself a suitable mistress. And she did so. Fantastically. I watch you, and so I saw her. And though she never knew me beyond that one versation, I will miss her."

  The Entress dabbed her cheek before tinuing, "You ihe rule of three tonight. The st time we spoke, I warned you that I might, as well, if you made another request of me. As you know, I have already helped you twice. Once by bolstering your power on Asgard and again by my blood for the ritual to save your friend. I told you that a third freely offered favor would put you in my debt."

  "However, it is I who have pced myself in your debt with my as."

  Tyson's brow furrowed. "How so?"

  "Three times you asked for my assistance. First, on Asgard before fighting Loki. I denied your request, and Loki defeated you. Sed, you requested my blood to prevent your mistress from turning into a vampire. I initially denied you, and she died, being one of them. Third, tonight, you requested my aid, and I ignored you. Your mistress died."

  The weight of her words hung heavy in the air between them.

  "Three times you have made a request of me," Amora tinued. "Three times I have withheld helping you, and three times you have failed where, with my assistance, you would have succeeded."

  Tyson sat ba his chair, sidering the implications of what she was saying.

  Amora's voice softened. "I'm here to settle my debt."

  The room fell silent. He could barely breathe. He struggled to hold back the wetness f in his eyes, daring to hope for the impossible.

  " y her back?" he asked quietly.

  Amora's expressirave. "You must uand the gravity of what you're asking. Resurre... it's not a simple matter, even for one as powerful as I am."

  "But is it possible?"

  The Entress sighed, her gaze drifted. "There are ways t back the dead," she said slowly, carefully choosing her words. "None e easily, ly, or without a signifit cost."

  Tyson interrupted. "I don't care about the cost…"

  He stopped speaking abruptly. His thoughts were suddenly far from the Entress before him. Amora looked at him questioningly, but he merely echoed his st word.

  "Cost."

  The A One.

  Last year, when he first came to New York seeking out the Sanctum San, the A One accepted his now ex-girlfriend, Illyana, allowio study the mystic arts. But the A One had refused Tyson, cryptically telling him that he had not yet paid the necessary cost to walk the path of magic. She never specified rice he must pay, only that it would reveal itself in time. When he'd sought her help after Jubilee had been turned into a vampire, the A One had called it a down payment on his 'cost' for learning sorcery.

  Tyson's anger and displeasure at the memory must have been evident on his face, for Amora took on a guarded stance as if preparing to defend herself.

  Seeing the Entress tense warily, he realized how he must have appeared at that moment, lost in his resentful thoughts. He rexed his posture and spoke apologetically, "I beg your pardon. Your words reminded me that there is another with whom I must speak..." Tyson took a deep breath, steadying himself before meeting Amora's gaze. "Please, tinue."

  Amora's emerald eyes softened with sympathy a. "I am not an expert ih's magical creatures, but I know of no way t back a vampire that has been sin. With no body remaining, all methods of resurre I know of are unavaible." Tyson's jaw ched, and the flicker of hope died in his chest. Amora tinued, "Save a True Resurre, which is regrettably far beyond my magical capabilities. None on Asgard could perform such a magical feat save the Allfather. And even then, it would e at a great cost to himself."

  Tyson licked his teeth, trying to hide the storm of emotions within him, but Amora saw through his facade. She reached out, her hand. After a moment's hesitatioook it.

  Amora possessed a magic that allowed her to e Tyson's draining touch. She was one of the few people he'd met who could make physical tact with him without being harmed. Her touch was a small fort but one he desperately that moment.

  Amora stood, gently guiding Tyson to his feet. Though she might not look it, the Asgardian was far strohan him, ae being over six-feet tall, she still o look up at him slightly wheood face-to-face. She led him to the cou the office. As they sat, Amora leaned back, bidding Tyson to y in her arms. He plied, too emotionally draio resist the offer of fort. Amora held him close, her fingers gently stroking his hair. The simple act of being held, of allowing himself this moment of vulnerability, threateo break the dam holding back Tysoions.

  "Your mistresses have left you alone, yet I remain," Amora whispered, her breath warm against his ear.

  He looked up at her, fusion mixing with his grief. "What do you mean?"

  Amora's lips curved into a sad smile as she eborated. "The demoness tinues her studies, far from your side. The cat is captured, taken from you. The spider spins her web oher side of the world. And now... the vampire has been sin."

  Tyson sidered her words and how she referred to the other women who had e into and out of his life. It was an odd choice of terminology, even for Amora. "Why do you call them mistresses?" he asked, curiosity momentarily overriding his sorrow.

  Amora looked down at him, her expression a mix of amusement and something more profound, more calg. Her tone was light, but her eyes were intense. "I believe that term mistress enpasses them appropriately. Women who are masters in their areas of expertise. And also those who are engaging with one who will be a king but are not his queen."

  He couldn't help but snort at her assessment of his previous romantic partners and himself. "I'm to be a king?" he asked skeptically, raising an eyebrow. "King of what, Amora? Maybe if I turned House of M into a castle." He shook his head, a bitter ugh esg his lips. "This try doesn't have a king."

  Amora's response was simple yet filled with an unshakeable certainty. "It is iable."

  Tyson rolled his eyes but found himself leaning further into her embrace. Despite his skepticism at her words, Amora's presence was f. Her strength provided a sense of security and her gentle caresses soothed him in a way he hadn't realized he needed. As they sat there in silence, his mind wandered. He thought about the women Amora had mentioyson wasn't sure how she even knew about her, but the demoness studying far away referenced Illyana. The captured cat was certainly Felicia, who he'd be leaving to rescue shortly. The spider spinning her web must mean Natasha, the Bck Widow. And... Jubilee. The vampire. Her loss was still too raw, too painful to even think about.

  Each of them had left their mark on his life. And now, here he was, alone, in the arms of Amora. An Asgardian sorceress who spoke of destiny as casually as others might discuss the weather.

  Amora's voice was ge carried a weight of wisdom as she spoke. "You wielded Gungnir. You lifted Mjolnir. I watched closely." Her tone was intense and unwavering. "You ouched Thor, never absorbed him until afterward. It was you that was deemed worthy. It was not by proxy; it was not some trick of your powers. It was you." Tyson remembered the incredible feeling of holding Thor's hammer. "You stand equal to Thor, Prince of Asgard. You stood above Loki, and you stand above me." Amora insisted. "And just as Thor, you are destio be king."

  He opened his mouth to protest, but Amora pressed on. "There are many ways to approach being king. Many kings are strong, querors. They take that which they desire, carving a kingdom for themselves. Some asd to the throh cleverness and manipution, like Loki had. Yet others inspire those around them, bringio their cause, raising them up, along with themselves." Her lips curved into a knowing smile. "You embody all these traits with your as."

  He narrowed his eyes, not liking the implication that he was a queror or maniputor. But before he could voice his obje, Amora tinued.

  "You cimed you were a leader, but not the kind that Mago wanted you to be. He led with violence while you took another path. But did you not quer him? Taking his power for your own through violence?" Her tone wasn't accusatory, merely matter-of-fact. "Yes, you did not seek him out, but you prepared specifically to fight him. I digress; you could have killed others and takeer power, but you show restraint.

  "Tyson the Mirage always showing such restraint... But it is a sign of a good king." She paused, her fingers still gently stroking his hair. "And you ot deny your maniputions. I saw your life, and I've been watg you since. Half your allies and this pce itself were gaihrough manipution." He tensed, but Amora's voice remained calm. "I do not judge. All leaders must manipute their subjects in one way or another. Some subtly, some not, some with promises, gold, or security. All are maniputions, even if they're not beled as such. And you are undeniably a leader among men. You speak out for your kind. You vihe electri to follow you, turning him from a path that could have easily led him to cim vengeance. You did that with your words, not with your power."

  Amora wasn't wrong, but this entire discussion was making him unfortable. Seeing his as id bare, so starkly described from an outsider's perspective, was uling.

  "You are of Asgard," she stated certainly.

  "Pretty sure I'm not," he objected.

  The Entress didn't falter. "There is a part of me inside you," she replied, making her case. "And Thor and Lady Sif. You cimed Gungnir, the spear of the king, from an unworthy ruler in bat. You lifted Mjolnir, and your mistress ted into Valhal."

  Tyson froze, his body suddenly rigid in Amora's embrace.

  "What did you say?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

  Amora's expression softened, a hint of sympathy creeping into her features. "Your mistress," she repeated gently, "she's in Valhal."

  Disbelief surged through him. "How?" he demanded, his voice crag with emotion. "Are you sure?"

  The Entress regarded him carefully, her fingers still absently stroking his hair. "What happeo the other vampires you've killed?" she asked leadingly.

  "They turo ash," he answered, recalling the many vampires he'd killed after graduation.

  Amora nodded slowly, her eyes never leaving his face. "And Jubilee?"

  He recalled that terrible moment in Times Square. But as he focused on the memory, he remembered something was different. "There was no ash," he said slowly. "Jubilee... she turned into motes of light."

  "Now you see," she said softly. "Jubilee died fighting for a prince of Asgard. Those who die in battle in defense of Asgard go to Valhal."

  Tyson shook his head, struggling to prehend the implications of her words. "It 't be," he muttered, more to himself than to Amora.

  "I would not say so if I did not believe it."

  He sat up abruptly, breaking free from Amora's embrace. He paced the length of the office, his mind whirling with possibilities. Could it be true? Could Jubilee really be in Valhal?

  "But I'm not Asgardian," he protested, turning back to face Amora. "I'm a mutant from Earth. How could I possibly be a prince of Asgard?"

  Amora rose gracefully from the couch. "You have absorbed the essence of Asgardians," she expined patiently. "Our power flows through you. Our memories are a part of you. In a very real sense, you carry Asgard within you."

  "But that doesn't make me Asgardian," he argued. "It doesn't make me a prince."

  "Doesn't it?" Amora challenged.

  "But even if that's true," Tyson said slowly, "how does that make Jubilee's death a battle in defense of Asgard? We were fighting Mago and the Brotherhood, not some threat to the Nine Realms."

  Amora's lips curled into a knowing smile. "You are Asgard, Tyson," she said softly. "Whether you accept it or not, Jubilee died defending you. In the eyes of Valhal, that is a noble death indeed."

  Tyson colpsed onto the leather couch, his head cradled in his hands as he struggled to prehend Amora's words. Could Jubilee truly be in Valhal? He rifled through the memories aaknowledge in his mind, seeking anything that could firm the Entress's cim. An echo of Thor's voice during the events narok stirred to the surface. As he tried to recall the exact line, he mumbled aloud, "Asgard is not a pce. It's a people."

  Amora's smile widened, "You have gained an uanding that seldom few Asgardians attain," she said, firming his suspi. "I say this with as much certainty as my turies of life have granted me. I see no falsehood in my words, nor in your revetion. But only the Allfather knows beyond doubt."

  He searched her face, finding no hint of deception. Amora believed with utter vi that Jubilee now walked the halls of Valhal. But there wasn't anything he could do about that now. Seeking to shift the subject, Tyson asked, "You said you were here to settle your debt. Did you mean only to e?" A hint of his usual wit crept into his voice. "Is your role here as my queen? Or would it be queen sort?"

  Amhed, a musical sound that filled the room. She spped him lightly on the arm. "Careful with that tongue," she warhough her eyes sparkled with amusement. "You get ahead of yourself." He hat she hadn't denied what he said, but he didn't dare to push the issue further. He was enjoying Amora's presend didn't want to inse her. "I back the woman you lost," Amora said, her tone growing serious once more. "But I help you with one who remains."

  "How?" Tyson asked curiously.

  Amora reached into her sweater dress pocket and pulled out a small vial filled with a shimmering, golden liquid. "This is what your aors called the Elixir of Life," she expined. "It is difficult to make, and most of the ingredients ot be found in this world, but this potion is the most fitting rept I have for what was taken from you. Anyone who drinks this will be returo their prime age and stay there forever. They still be killed, but they'll be immuo the ravages of time and disease."

  His eyes widened as he stared at the vial. "Vampires do not age," Amora tinued. "And now you may choose another who will her."

  Tysohe formality of Amora's offer. He mentally prepared an appropriate acceptance, but before he could speak, Amora pced a sileng finger on his lips.

  "That's one," she said. "For your sed favor, I offer you transportation to one of your other mistresses. Should you wish to expedite your rescue of the cat, or visit the spider, I am at your disposal." Her voice took on an almost ritualistic ce. "Thirdly, I promise that the ime you request my aid, I shall e, no questions asked, and provide support, including boosting your pain, should the need arise."

  Finally, she removed her finger from Tyson's lips. He took a moment to gather his thoughts, overwhelmed by the magnitude of her offers.

  "Amora. I appreciate the generosity of your offer. Truly. And I see the siy with which it's given."

  He paused, choosing his words carefully. "But our iions... they always seem so forced, so transaal. Does it o be this way?" Amora's eyebrow raised, and a flicker of surprise crossed her features. Tyson pressed on. "Instead of trading favors as, now that we're even, might we have a less antagonistic retionship?"

  Amora hesitated, her usual fidence wavering for a moment. "Most of my dealings have been barters to gain knowledge, power, or status," she admitted relutly.

  Tyson smiled with genuine warmth in his expression. "I know. But it doesn't have to be like that." Seeing Amora's unvinced look, he tinued, "Wheuro Earth after leaving Asgard, you left my apartment before I had a ce to offer you lodging. You deprived me of the ce to be a good host."

  A smile tugged at Amora's lips as she pulled him back down to the coud resumed stroking his hair. "Your suite has been rather crowded retly," she ented.

  Tyson couldn't help but chuckle. "Amoddess of magid peeping," he teased.

  Her melodic ugh filled the room with warmth, which seemed to chase away some of the lingering shadows.

  "As you said earlier, I'm alone now. Jubilee is gone."

  Amora's eyes narrowed slightly at his w. She hesitated before asking in an uncharacteristically quiet voice, "And the other?"

  His brows furrowed in fusion for a brief moment before realizatio in. "You mean Agatha? She lives in the apartment downstairs."

  The entress frowned, a shadow passing over her face. "Her geas owerful, indeed," she murmured under her breath.

  Tyson looked at her questioningly, but she shook her head, the guarded expression slipping from her face as quickly as it had surfaced. "Don't mind my rambling," she said, the smooth fideurning to her voice. "Know this, Tyson Smith. I provide for myself. I have no need for favors or pity."

  He merely ined his head in aowledgment. "Of course. I meant no offense," he replied. "sider my offer an open invitation should you ever desire pany or versation. But ns attached, nains. I offer lodging with no expectation of reimbursement or debts between us. Does that suit you, my dy?"

  The er of Amora's mouth quirked upward slightly at the courteous address. She looked pleased but still shook her head. "Such a thing would be inappropriate unless we were formally c."

  The words hung in the air, charged with possibility. But before Tyson could respond, Amora's expression shifted.

  "You are emotional. M," she said softly. "Rest. Soon, you'll depart to save your mistress, but sleep until then."

  Amora whispered a spell, her lips brushing against his forehead. As if a switch had been flipped, Tysohe weight of exhaustion crash over him. His eyelids grew heavy, and he drifted into a deep sleep.

  — Rogue Redemption —

  Tyson's eyes snapped open, and his heart raced as he jolted awake. For a moment, disorientation clouded his mind; Amora's firm yet gentle embrace quickly grounded him. Her presence reminded him of their earlier versation.

  "How long was I out?" he asked, his voice still rough with sleep.

  "Only an hour," she replied, her toinged with amusement. "Though I suspect it felt far loo you."

  He marveled at how refreshed he felt. It was as if all his exhaustion had been wiped away in that brief time. Before he could dwell on it further, Amora tinued speaking.

  "Your ninja returned. She said your friend Logan awaits, and the other spider has arrived."

  Tyson's brow furrowed in fusion. "Other spider?" he mumbled, his mind still shaking off the st vestiges of sleep. Then, he realized. Peter and Jessica. A pang of guilt shot through him. He'd never followed up with them after everything that had happened.

  Pushing aside his regret, he turo face Amora fully. "Thank you," he said softly, "for this." A genuine smile spread as he quipped, "It was nice waking up and finding you still here."

  Amora's expression softened momentarily before her usual air of detached amusemeurned. "Don't get used to it," she warhough there was no real bite to her words. "You've grown, but you've got far to go. Especially if you seek to earn my affe."

  Tyson nodded, aowledging the truth iatement. As much as he'd ehis moment of peace, reality was already creeping ba. "I know where Felicia is. She isn't far. Might I save that portal offer for a future time?"

  Amora ined her head gracefully. "You may," she said, her voice carrying the weight of a formal agreement.

  "How will I tact you?" he asked, realizing they hadn't discussed the logistics of their new... arra.

  A mysterious smile pyed across Amora's lips. "I'm sure you'll find a way," she replied enigmatically. "I'm never far."

  With a wave of her hand, a shimmering portal materialized in the middle of the office. Amora rose gracefully and stepped towards the portal, pausing at its threshold to bid Tyson farewell.

  He returned her farewell but couldn't resist adding, "Amora, should you need me, it's friends, not favors."

  Amora rolled her eyes dramatically, but Tyson caught the ghost of a smile on her lips as she waved her hand, closing the portal and vanishing from sight.

  As the st sparkles of magic faded from the air, he felt surprisingly refreshed. He took a moment to gather his thoughts, prioritizing the tasks ahead. Logan was waiting, aher Peter or Jessica had arrived. He o find out whie and what had happened with Gwen. And then there was Felicia...

  No matter what else was happening, he would find her and bring her home.

  Moving towards the door, he repyed the versation with Amora. It had raised questions about his path.

  King, she had called him. The word echoed in his mind. Was that truly his fate? He pushed those thoughts aside for now. There were more immediate s to deal with. Felieeded him in the here and now.

  With o g the spot where Amora's portal had been, Tyson stepped out of his office. He strode purposefully through the halls of House of M, mentally cataloging the tasks ahead. But first, he o cheax Dillon. The man had been thrust into araordinary situation, and Tyso responsible for his well-being.

  He reached the guest rooms and knocked on Max's door. After a moment, he heard a muffled "e in" from the other side.

  Tysoered to find Max sitting on the edge of the bed, his hands csped tightly in his p.

  "Mirage?" Max asked uainly.

  "You call me Tyson if you want. I'm sure the rest of the world will be soon enough. How are you feeling, Max?"

  "I... I'm not sure. Everything happened so fast. One minute I was at work, the ..." He trailed off, shaking his head.

  Tyson pulled up a chair and sat across from Max. "I know how overwhelming this must be for you. All mutants gh what you experieonight, though most of us are fortunate enough that it doesn't happen so publicly or spectacurly," he said softly.

  "I owe you an apology."

  Max looked up, surprised. "An apology? For what?"

  "For abs your power so suddenly," Tyson expined. "I know it must have been jarring, and I'm sorry I didn't have time to expin fully in the moment."

  "But you saved me. You stopped me from hurting anyone." Max seemed to sider this before shaking his head. "No, I... I'm gd you did it. I was angry, but I didn't want to lose trol. You helped me."

  "Max, I want you to uand something. Allowio use your power... you're the real hero here."

  Max's eyes widened in disbelief. "Me? But I didn't do anything."

  "You did everything," Tyson insisted. "Without your power, I might have died. You saved tless lives today, including mine."

  "I... I hadn't thought of it that way."

  "Well, it's the truth. You're a hero, Max Dillon. Don't ever fet that."

  "Thank you. That... that means a lot."

  Tyson stood. "Now, what do you say we go see about getting you some help? I have some friends who specialize in dealing with unusual cases like yours."

  Max hesitated for a moment before standing. "You really think they help?"

  "I know they ," Tyson assured.

  He led Max through the corridors of the House of M. As they approached the b, Tyson sensed Max's nervous energy. "Rex. Dr. ors is one of the best in his field. If anyone help you uand your new abilities, it's him." He said, pushing open the b doors. At the ter of the room stood Dr. Curt ors, his attention focused on a plex series of equations on a whiteboard before him.

  "Dr. ors," Tyson called out, causing the stist to look up. "I'd like you to meet Max Dillon."

  Dr. ors' face lit up as he approached them, extending his hand. "Mr. Dillon, it's a pleasure to meet you."

  Max shook his hand, a hint of awe in his voice. "Dr. ors, I... I'm familiar with your work. I'm an engi Oscorp."

  "Ah, Oscorp," Dr. ors looked abashed. "They've been doing some fasating research tely. But I'm more ied in hearing about you, Mr. Dillon. I uand you've had quite an experience."

  Max g Tyson, who nodded encingly. Taking a deep breath, Max began to ret his story. "It was just a normal day at work," he started, "I was called to fix an issue in one of the bs. There was a malfun, and I... I got electrocuted." He paused, his eyes distant as he recalled the moment. "The hing I knew, I was falling. I ended up in the geically modified eel tank. The pain was... indescribable."

  Dr. ors listened ily. "And after that?" he prompted gently.

  Max ran a hand through his hair. "When I woke up, everything was different. I could see the electricity around me, in the walls, underground. And when I tried to touething..." He trailed off, looking at his hands.

  "You ducted the electricity," Dr. ors finished for him. "Fasating. It seems the bination of the electric shod the eels' bioelectric fields and maybe even their geic modifications have fually altered your physiology."

  " you help me?" Max asked hesitantly.

  Dr. ors pced a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Mr. Dillon, I assure you, we'll do everything in our power to help you uand and trol your new abilities. This is a unique case, but that makes it so exg from a stific standpoint."

  Tyson, who had been quietly the exge, said, "You're in good hands, Max. Dr. ors and his team are the best at dealing with unique physiological ges. I'll leave you two to get started," he said, moving towards the door. "Doc, keep me updated on any progress."

  "Of course," Dr. ors replied, already guiding Max to one of the examination areas. "We'll begin with some basic tests to measure the extent of your electrical output..."

  As Tyson stepped out of the b, he could hear Dr. ors ung into a detailed expnation of the tests they would be running. He smiled to himself, fident that Max was in capable hands.

  With that taken care of, he turo his ask.

  He stepped into the VIP lou the bar, Logan hunched ss of single malt scotch, a half-smoked cigar dangling from his fingers. The acrid smell of tobaingled with the rich aroma of aged whiskey.

  o Logan sat Jessica Drew, still her vibrant Spider-Woman e. She nursed a steaming cup of coffee, her fingers ed tightly around the mug as if seeking warmth.

  "You sure you don't want something stronger?"

  Jessica shook her head, but as Tyson approached, she murmured, "Maybe just a little."

  Logan reached for a bottle of Irish cream with a knowing smirk, p a generous spsh into Jessica's coffee. Tyson slid onto the barstool o Jessica. Without a word, Logan slid a shot gss past her, the amber liquid sloshing slightly as it came to rest before Tyson. He knocked back the shot smoothly, weling the burn as it slid down his throat.

  Logan's cigar smoke curled zily as he said, "Hope you don't mind me smoking in your fancy lounge."

  Tyson waved him off. "Old Man, you do whatever you want in my house."

  Jessica's voice was barely above a whisper. "I 't believe she's gone."

  He nodded, a lump f in his throat. "I'm still numb," he admitted. After a moment, he turo Jessica, a question in his eyes. "Gwen?"

  Jessica sipped her spiked coffee, her face sg at the ued strength. She shot Logan a reproachful look. "I said a little."

  The stocky man shrugged, uant. "It wasn't that much."

  Shaking her head, Jessica turned back to Tyson. Her eyes were slightly unfocused as she recalled the events. "Kaine dropped her from the Empire State Building. He webbed Spider-Man and me up, so we couldn't reach her in time to save her."

  The sario she described drew a frown from him, as it reminded him of Gwen's fate in The Amazing Spider-Man 2.

  "But then, at the st moment, she fired a webline and swung, saving herself." Jessica paused, taking another sip of coffee. "After we talked, she told us that she'd gotten spider powers after the night she was attacked by Kaine. When she woke up in the hospital, she was like us. When I left, she was with Spider-Man."

  Tyson stared at Jessica for a long moment, processing her words. Then, uedly, he began to ugh. It started as a low chuckle but quickly grew into a full-bellied ugh that echoed through the lounge.

  Logan eyed him warily. "You losing it, kid?"

  He shook his head, wiping tears from his eyes. "Nope. Just something I did months ago paid off. I thought it was a wasted effort."

  Jessica leaned forward, her eyes narrow. "You had something to do with Gweing her powers?"

  Tyson nodded in affirmation. "You know I was there that day when Spider-Man got his. What you didn't know was that I captured the spider after it bit him." Jessica's jaw dropped, her coffee fotten. He pressed on, the words tumbling out now. "I kept the spider in a terrarium in my apartment for months. Until Kaine broke in and dropped Gwen in my living room and wrecked my pce. When I got bad saw the broken terrarium, I thought I'd lost the spider forever. But I guess it bit Gwen before it escaped."

  Silence fell over the group, broken only by the soft k of i Logan's gss. Finally, Jessica found her voice. "You just kept a superpranting spider in your apartment?"

  Logan burst out ughing, reag for the bottle to pour another round. Tyson replied with a hint of defensiveness in his tone. "We did analyze it. I couldn't have it bite me. My touch would've killed it, and my healing factor would have probably overrode whatever it did to grant powers. By the time I got my hands on a mutation inhibitor colr to suppress my abilities, the spider was already gone."

  Jessica shook her head, still processing the implications, while Logan slid another shot to Tyson. She asked, "How could you have known? Why capture the spider?"

  He hesitated, then expined, "Think back to that day. We were in a b filled with geically-engineered super-spiders. There was one clearly missing from its tainer; audent even poi out. Then, one lowers itself from the ceiling. Wouldn't you try to catch it?" Jessiarrowed her eyes suspicious of his expnation, but he tinued, "We talk about it with Spider-Man ter. Right now, I o go rescue Felicia. She was kidnapped by Mago's group."

  Jessica's head snapped up. "Felicia Hardy?"

  "One and the same," Tyson firmed.

  Logan drained his gss, his expression hardening. "Alright, one problem at a time then. Where's she at?"

  "In the sewers, sort of." His answer was met with a collective groan.

  Logan mumbled, reag for the bottle again. "I'm going to need another drink."

  Tyson stood. "Bring the bottle. We've already waited too long."

  Jessica rose as well, she decred firmly. "I'm ing."

  Tyson raised an eyebrow, but before he could protest, she tinued. "I'm stig with you. You cared enough to send Spider-Man and me away. It worked out for us, but you suffered because of it. I might have been able to make a difference." Her voice softened slightly. "Gwen has Pe-- Spider-Man, and I have no o you... so I'm ing."

  Logan grabbed the bottle, his cigar bobbing as he spoke. "I'm sending you the undry and dry ing bill."

  Tyson's lips quirked into a half-smile. "No sweat, business expense." He turo Jessica, who met his gaze steadily.

  "I've spent more time in the sewers than any of you, back when I was hunting the Lizard," she stated matter-of-factly before he could object.

  He raised his hands in surrender. "I'm not going to fight you on this."

  Logan chuckled, g Tyson on the shoulder. "Smart man."

  The urio made their way through the House of M, each lost in their own thoughts. Logan's cigar smoke trailed behind them. As they reached the exit, Tyson paused, his hand on the door. He turo his panions, his expression a mix of gratitude and resolve. "Thank you. It means a lot that both of you are here."

  Logan grunted. "Save it, kid. Haven't you made enough speeches tonight?"

  Jessica chuckled. "Let's g Felicia home."

  — Rogue Redemption —

  Remy LeBeau's boot spshed into a puddle of foul-smelling water as he desded into the dank sewers beh New York City. The stench of decay and waste assaulted his nostrils, but he pressed on, part of a motley crew of mutant meraries delving deeper into the underground byrinth. The fshlights cast eerie shadows on the curved walls as they moved through the tunnels.

  "Dis be de st time I do anyt'ing for Essex," Remy muttered under his breath, his at thick with frustration. He ran a gloved hand through his auburn hair, pushing it back from his distinctive red-on-bck eyes. The trench coat he wore fpped softly against his legs as he walked.

  When their rge group ehe sewers, they split due to the tight fines. Leading Remy's pack was Sabretooth, a feral mutant with long, wild blonde hair and razor-sharp cws. His lips were curled in a perpetual snarl, revealing elongated es that gave him his namesake. Behind him, the crystalline form of Prism glittered, each facet of his body refleg the murky surroundings. The mutant's entire body was posed of an opaque, crystal-like substance. Beside him lumbered Blockbuster, a mountain of a man whose bald head nearly scraped the ceiling of the sewer tunnel.

  Remy's mind wao the events that had led them here. Just moments ago, they'd been topside, eyes glued to ss broadcasting the shog revetion that Captain America was alive. A legend, thought lost to time, had somehow survived decades. It was a discovery that had sent shockwaves through the world above. But their curiosity had been short-lived. One offhand ent about mutants livih the streets had set their employer, Nathaniel Essex, into a frenzy. Before Remy could even finish watg if the situation devolved into a fight, they were dispatched below ground on some cryptic mission.

  "I don' like dis, mes amis," Remy spoke up, his voice carrying a note of caution. "We don' even know what we're lookin' for down here."

  Sabretooth turned, fixing Remy with a predatre. "I know what Essex has us looking for, . Your job isn't to ask questions. It's to do what you're told."

  Remy bristled at the rebuke but held his tongue. He owed Essex, after all. The geicist had performed a delicate surgery that allowed Remy to gaier trol over his mutant ability to charge objects with kiiergy. Without that intervention, Remy's powers might have ed him entirely.

  If what the man in the broadcast said was true, then was there a mutant unity that lived down here? Who were they? Why had they chosen to make their home in this dank, dark pce? And more importantly, what did Essex want with them?

  The group came to a fork iunnel, and Sabretooth held up a hand, signaling them to stop. He she air, his enhanced senses pig up something the others couldn't detect.

  "This way," he growled, pointing down the left path. "I smell fear."

  Remy's stomach ed at those words. Whatever they were about to enter, it wasn't going to be pretty. He reached into his coat pocket, fingering the deck of cards he always kept close at hand. With his mutant ability, even these simple pying cards could bee deadly projectiles.

  They emerged inte chamber where several tunnels verged. The sound of rushing water echoed off the damp stone walls. At the far end of the cavernous room, a slender figure stood motionless.

  As they drew closer, Remy made out the details of the lone woman. She appeared young, with bright pink hair that fell in messy waves past her shoulders. Her body was covered in bony spikes and ridges that jutted out at unnatural angles. She watched their approach with eyes wide in fear and mistrust.

  Remy tensed, ready to draw the deck of cards from his pocket. This woman was clearly a mutant like them, but her iions were unknown.

  The woman took a hesitant step back as Remy and the others advanced. Her gaze flicked over each of them in turn, as if gauging whether they posed a threat.

  "Well, well," Sabretooth growled, smiling cruelly. "Looks like we found ourselves a Morlock."

  The young woman took a defeance, her hands h he bone growths on her arms. "Stay back," she warned, her voice trembling slightly. "Please. I don't want any trouble."

  Sabretooth let out a low chuckle. "Honey, I go and do whatever I damn well please." He took a menag step forward, his cws extending.

  Remy felt a surge of uhis wasn't right. They couldn't have beeo terrorize i mutants. "Hold on, Sabretooth," he said, steppiween the feral mutant and the woman. "We doo do dis."

  Sabretooth's eyes fshed with anger. "Get out of the way, . Essex wants one of the Morlocks. We need information, and I'm going to get it. No witnesses."

  Before Remy could react, Sabretooth shoved him aside and lu the young mutant. She let out a cry of fear and pain as Sabretooth's cws raked across her arm, drawing blood.

  "Non!" Remy shouted. He pulled out a handful of cards, charging them with kiiergy. "Dis ain't right!"

  He flung the cards at Sabretooth, the explosion f the feral mutant back. The woman took advantage of the distra, pulling a sharp bone from her arm and hurling it at Sabretooth. It embedded itself in his shoulder, elig a roar of pain and rage.

  Blockbuster and Prism hesitated for a moment before moving to Sabretooth's side.

  "What the hell are you doing, LeBeau?" Blockbuster demanded, his massive fists g.

  Remy stood his ground, more cards at the ready. "I signed up to do a job, not to hurt i people. Dis ain't what I agreed to."

  Prism's crystalline form shimmered as he took a step forward. "You're making a big mistake, Gambit."

  Sabretooth pulled the bone from his shoulder, the wound quickly healing before he fixed Remy with a murderous gre. "I'm going to enjoy tearing you apart, traitor."

  Remy knew he was outmatched. He g the girl, who was clutg her wounded arm. Just like Sabertooth, her wound began healing, but it happened much slower than it had for the feral mutant. Fear was evident on her face. "When I say run, you run," he muttered to her. "Uood?"

  She nodded, her eyes dartiween Remy and the other mutants.

  Sabretooth charged forward, cws extended. Remy met him halfway, using his staff to vault over the feral mutant's lunge. As he sailed through the air, he flung a barrage of charged cards at the ceiling.

  "Run!" Remy shouted as the cards exploded, bringing down a shower of rocks and debris.

  She bolted for one of the side tunnels, Remy hot on her heels. Behind them, they could hear the enraged roars of Sabretooth and the sounds of shifting rubble as Blockbuster attempted to clear the cave-in. As they ran through the winding tunnels, Remy felt a sharp pain in his side. One of Sabertooth's cws must have caught him during his vault. But there was no time to stop and assess the damage. They o put as much distaween themselves and Sabretooth's team as possible.

  "This way," she gasped, pulling Remy down a narrow side passage. "I knoce we hide."

  Remy followed, his breath ing in ragged gasps. The adrenaline was starting to wear off, and he could feel the full extent of his injuries. But he pressed on, knowing that stopping now could meah for both of them.

  After what felt like an hour's worth of twists and turns, she led them into a small, hidden chamber. The space was cramped but defensible. She eyed Remy warily. "Why did you help me? You're one of them."

  Remy grimaced, both from pain and the weight of their situation. "I'm sorry 'bout all dis, petite. I didn't know what they had pnned." Remy shook his head, a bitter ugh esg his lips. "Not wit dem anymore, I t'ink. Gambit may be many t'ings, but he ain't no murderer."

  As they sat there in the darkness listening for any signs of pursuit, Remy LeBeau found himself at a crossroads. He'd betrayed Essex, burned bridges with his team, and thrown in his lot with a stranger. But for the first time in a long while, he felt like he'd dohe right thing.

  "Gambit? They call me Marrow. What happens now?"

  Remy sighed. The sounds of distant searg echoed through the tunnels. "Now, chere, we figure out how to get out of dis mess."

  Behind the Ses

  - Yes, that was Sabertooth i se. No, it's not a tinuity error or a mistake on my part; it is iional. You may know what's ing and how he's here if you're familiar with the ics.

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