Rogue Replacement: A Marvel Story

Chapter 83

Arc 6 - Ch 16: Meeting Day

Date: Wednesday, June 29, 2011.

Location: House of M, Manhattan, New York

The atmosphere in Dr. Connors' lab was one of weary relief. Tyson, Jubilee, Blade, and Karen had returned after foiling Deacon Frost's attempt at raising the blood god, La Magra, at the Bank of Erebus just hours earlier. Tyson had called ahead, directing Dr. Connors to secure all of their blood safely in storage before the others arrived. He didn't need Blade catching a whiff of the unusual samples. Karen, drawing on her extensive background in medical research, had joined Connors in a deep discussion, sharing her detailed notes on vampire physiology and the peculiarities of the vampirism infection. Connors listened with rapt attention, comparing her findings to his own observations.

"Jubilee administered your experimental cure to Whistler. Would you like to review our observations so far?"

Tyson leaned quietly against a lab counter across the room, watching them work with a profound sense of relief that the night's events had ended relatively well.

Jubilee, who had been silently observing the interactions, finally spoke up, her voice breaking the intense atmosphere that had settled over the lab. "So what's next for us? Are we going to become full-time vampire hunters now, or was this more of a one-and-done kind of deal?"

Tyson chuckled softly. "Let's hope it doesn't come to that."

He leaned against the counter, regarding Jubilee. Though the events of the past few days had ended well, her transformation into a vampire still weighed on his mind.

She met his gaze knowingly. "I know what you're going to say, Ty. But here's the thing… I like being a vampire. With your blood, there are no downsides for me. I'm stronger and faster, and I can be out in the sun. I feel powerful and alive. And I can fight at your side instead of hiding behind you."

"Jubes, I understand the appeal, believe me," he said gently. "But have you considered the long-term consequences? You'll be dependent on me for survival."

"I've thought about it a lot, Tyson. It's a huge decision, I know. But this is part of who I am now. I can do good with these abilities, and help people. I haven't felt any blood cravings or urge to hurt anyone." She stepped closer, her eyes pleading for understanding. "I don't want to give this up. We can find a way to make this work."

"I worry, Jubilee. I worry about what this means for you, what it means for us."

Jubilee stepped closer, her expression softening as she met his concerned gaze. "I know you do. But I've never felt more capable, more fully myself than I do now. This hasn't changed who I am at heart, Tyson. I'm still me. I'm still your Jubilee. Besides, you didn't seem that worried when I was rocking your world."

They shared a quiet laugh, but Tyson's eyes still held a trace of doubt. Jubilee took his hand, squeezing it gently, willing him to understand. "Hey, look at me," she said earnestly. "I know you might not be used to getting wins like this. We can touch. I'm stronger. We stopped a god and trapped it in Muse, giving you a badass weapon." She paused for emphasis. "This has been good, Ty. We're good. Whatever happens next, we're in this together. You're not getting rid of me that easily, Tyson Smith."

"In this together," he affirmed, the anxiety in his eyes easing just a fraction. "And I wouldn't dream of getting rid of you, Jubes. But we're going to keep some of that cure ready just in case. Promise me you'll consider it if things change."

"I promise," Jubilee replied, "Besides, if I took the cure, we couldn't touch anymore." She linked her hand with his, savoring the contact.

"Yeah. That'd be tragic." He noted, "But you'd be able to see my illusions again, and experience all those worlds. Naruto, Pokemon, so many you'll miss out on if you stay a vampire."

Jubilee squeezed his hand. With a twinkle in her eyes, she challenged, "You'll just have to make it up to me then, won't you?"

Felicia entered Dr. Connors' lab with Whistler following close behind her, looking remarkably vigorous compared to the last time Blade had seen him, bleeding and near-death.

"You stupid sons of bitches did it," Whistler declared with a broad grin as he approached Blade. Without waiting for a response, he wrapped the normally stoic vampire hunter in a rare hug, catching Blade slightly off guard but not entirely unwelcome. After releasing Blade from the unexpected embrace, Whistler turned to Tyson. "Thanks for pulling our asses out of the fire," he said sincerely.

Tyson felt relief at the sight of Whistler back to normal. It proved Karen's cure had worked its magic. If Jubilee ever needed it, at least they knew it worked.

"No sweat, old man," he replied.

Whistler's demeanor then turned serious as he looked around at the assembled group. "So, what's next?" he asked plainly.

Blade crossed his arms over his chest as he considered Whistler's question. After a few contemplative moments, he finally spoke. "We should move on," he said decisively. "The vampires here will be driven underground for years after La Magra. There are other places where we're needed more."

Tyson chimed in, "Have you thought about accepting our offer going forward?" he asked earnestly.

Before Blade could respond, Whistler spoke up. "Don't say something dumb now, Blade. We can clearly use their help."

Blade looked between Tyson, Jubilee, and Whistler, considering their words. After a pause, he conceded with a nod. "You're right. We could use the help," he admitted openly. "We stopped La Magra, but this fight is far from over. If you're willing, there is much we can accomplish together."

Whistler gave Blade an approving clap on the shoulder. "That wasn't so hard, was it?"

"Felicia, can you set aside the revenue from one show a month for Blade and Whistler?" Tyson asked.

Whistler's face creased into an incredulous look, and he blurted out, "One show? What's that going to buy us? Gas for a week?"

Tyson shot back, "You spend a hundred grand on gas every week?"

"You make a hundred grand a show?" Whistler asked, his disbelief evident.

"Yup," Tyson confirmed. "Does that cover your silver budget?"

Blade's stoic expression remained unchanged. "That would be a good start." Whistler snorted derisively. But the dhampir held up a hand, silencing Whistler's tirade. "I appreciate the offer," he interjected, his tone diplomatic. "But I believe we need to thoroughly discuss the terms of this partnership."

"Alright. If you want me to help fund your vampire-hunting organization, I'm going to need you to focus on hunting vampires."

The others stared at Tyson as if he was an idiot when he didn't continue.

Whistler prodded impatiently, "And?"

Tyson shrugged nonchalantly. "That's it. I know you're skeptical, but I don't have any hidden agendas here. As long as I'm profitable, I'll set aside funds so you can spend more time hunting and less worrying about finances. I've seen you in action." Pausing in thought, he added, "I don't really spend any time patrolling. This is my way of helping. If you need more support, I could do some shows telling your story. I pay royalties to Spider-Man for his show, so I could do the same for you if you're interested."

Blade shook his head firmly. "If you publicly revealed vampires existed, they would target you. They have a vested interest in secrecy."

"So that's out," Felicia said, "I'll establish a separate account for their operation."

Tyson turned to Karen and asked, "Doctor, will you be staying in the city? As you can see, I fund research as well."

Karen looked at Blade and Whistler. "Actually, I was hoping to stick with you," she said finally. "Seems like you can use the help. It's not like I can go back to the hospital and pretend the past week hasn't happened. Knowing vampires are out there changes everything."

Blade nodded. Whistler, on the other hand, let out a derisive snort. "You're a dumbass, Doc," he said bluntly. "Giving up a swanky doctor life to hang out with us? We're not exactly the most stable bunch."

"I've seen what vampires can do," she said quietly. "I want to help stop them."

Tyson nodded in understanding. "Well, good luck with them, then," he said.

"Thanks for your help, Tyson. We owe you one." Blade said.

Tyson waved his hand dismissively. "No need to thank me. Just be careful out there. Where are you heading next?"

"Moscow," the dhampir decided.

The group exchanged pleasantries. As they prepared to leave, Felicia stepped forward to guide them back to the street, falling into step beside Blade and Whistler.

Jubilee, sensing Tyson's mood, stepped closer, her hand brushing against his. "Hey, you okay?" she asked softly.

Tyson's mismatched eyes followed the departing group as they made their way toward the exit. He was lost in thought, his mind flashing to Natasha. She was currently undercover on a covert mission for S.H.I.E.L.D. in Moscow, and he wondered if she knew about the existence of vampires. He wished he could contact her somehow, just to speak with her. But he knew it wasn't possible. She was completely off the grid.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he assured her. I'm just thinking about Natasha and hoping her mission is going well."

Jubilee's eyes narrowed slightly, though her tone held a hint of playful jealousy. "What, I'm not enough for you?" She teased. Then, lowering her voice so only Tyson could pick up her words with his supernatural hearing, she added sincerely, "You know she's going to be fine, right? She's a badass super spy, and you said she'll be back here in time for the battle."

Tyson relaxed, the tension easing from his shoulders. "I know," he admitted, reaching out to give Jubilee's hand a grateful squeeze. "You're more than enough, Jubes. I just can't help worrying about her."

— Rogue Replacement —

In the lobby of the House of M, Maki Matsumoto sat in perfect posture on an avant-garde designer chair, waiting patiently for her interview. She was dressed professionally in a tailored slate gray suit, the pencil skirt ending just above her knees. Her dark hair was pulled tightly back into a neat bun.

The receptionist signaled that it was Maki's turn. Maki stood smoothly, smoothing nonexistent wrinkles from her skirt, and followed the receptionist's heels click-clack through the hallways until they reached the executive lounge.

Inside, Felicia Hardy lounged casually against the marble bar, sipping an amber drink. Her demeanor was sharp and alert, missing nothing. Felicia's platinum blond hair and striking features were complemented by her relaxed yet somehow still business-appropriate attire.

"Ms. Matsumoto, please come in," Felicia greeted cordially, pushing off from the bar and moving to greet her guest. "I'm Felicia Hardy. I oversee operations here at House of M."

"Thank you, Ms. Hardy," Maki replied, her voice low and melodic, as she approached the executive with a composed, professional air. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"I do hope you don't mind the informal setting for our interview. We tend to do things a bit differently here at House of M," Felicia explained breezily as she briefly scanned the woman's impressive resume. "Your qualifications are remarkable. Extensive training in various martial arts, advanced firearms proficiency, and you even have a law degree. Might I ask what prompted you to apply for a position as a personal bodyguard here, specifically assigned to Mirage?"

"I witnessed Mirage's intervention on the television during the chaos at the Stark Expo and the destructive rampage in Harlem with that monstrous creature. His selfless actions to protect the innocent and vulnerable resonate deeply with me. To safeguard one gifted with immense power yet dedicated to helping those in need aligns perfectly with my expertise and personal aspirations," Maki explained in cool, measured tones. "From what I could gather from the news, Mirage often seems to find himself in situations that place him in danger. With my extensive training and experience, I am confident I can provide additional protection and assistance."

Felicia nodded thoughtfully. "An appropriate if somewhat text-book answer. But it almost sounds like you're applying for a position as his sidekick, not his bodyguard." she held her hand up, forstalling any response. "Just outwardly musing to myself. Looking over your resume, your references and qualifications are certainly impressive. But this position requires loyalty and discretion. Mirage has made dangerous enemies. How would you handle threats not just of a direct nature but those involving manipulation, deception, or subterfuge?" she asked pointedly.

"I approach all challenges with a clear mind and commitment to my principal's safety," Maki stated evenly. "While direct threats are straightforward to address, manipulation and subterfuge require enhanced awareness and anticipation. I ensure I am always several steps ahead, discerning the hidden motives and potential maneuvers of any we encounter."

"A prudent answer. However, I wonder if you're truly prepared for the threats superpowers or supernatural adversaries pose. What if your identity as a bodyguard was itself weaponized against you, or someone attempted to compromise you personally?"

"The risk of personal compromise comes with any security position," Maki responded smoothly and unruffled. My first priority would be mitigating any potential damage or exposure and then swiftly neutralizing the threat. Maintaining clear professional and personal boundaries provides insulation and minimizes risks."

Felicia leaned back in her chair, carefully assessing Maki's responses and demeanor. There was a calm certainty to the young woman that Felicia found compelling. "Alright, two final questions. Why should we entrust you with Mirage's life and safety, Ms. Matsumoto? And what makes you think that Mirage is in need of your protection services at all?"

Maki's response was immediate. "My dedication to my duties is absolute and unwavering. I thrive under pressure and challenging circumstances. I'm not merely looking for a job here. I'm seeking a higher purpose. Protecting Mirage would be far more than a professional duty to me; it would be a solemn commitment." She paused briefly, considering her next words. "As for why Mirage needs protection... everyone needs someone they can truly count on to watch their back. While I observed Spider-Man assist Mirage at the Stark Expo in Queens, later in Harlem, he was alone against an enormous threat. It worked out in Mirage's favor that time, but how many more monsters and villains can he face before something goes terribly wrong? He is doing important work out there. Work that clearly has made powerful enemies. He shouldn't have to challenge those threats without someone dedicated solely to his safety. I can be that person for him."

"If you don't mind my asking, during the interview, will I have an opportunity to meet Mirage?" As she finished speaking, Maki noticed something peculiar. Felicia's eyes were mismatched, one green and the other blue. It was a change from when their interview started. A detail that she couldn't have possibly overlooked earlier.

Felicia cryptically responded, "You already have."

Maki blinked, her professional mask slipping slightly. "Excuse me?"

With a casual flick of her wrist, Felicia's form shimmered, her features shifting seamlessly until a tall, muscular man stood in her place. He wore a black skintight outfit and a fox half-mask that left his lower face and eyes exposed.

"I wanted to conduct your interview myself," he said, his voice deeper but carrying a tone of formal assessment.

Maki took a moment to adjust to the sudden shift, her training helping her maintain composure when faced with the unexpected. "I see," she responded, her voice calm but her mind racing. "Your comment about me being unprepared to face superpowers and the supernatural was not hypothetical."

"No, it was not. Please excuse the deception. I can't be too careful. It's important to know exactly who I'm hiring, especially when it comes to protecting myself and those around me." he continued, "I appreciate your obvious interest in my safety, and your credentials are indeed impressive. But I must know. Why are you really here, Maki? What drives you to seek me, specifically?"

Maki chose her next words carefully, aiming for a balance of professional detachment, honesty, and earnest conviction. "I came here because I believe in the potential of exceptional individuals like yourself to guide the world towards a better future. I don't mean this in a theoretical sense. There is an organization I am aligned with, a group that aspires to reshape the global landscape in profound ways. Your unique talents could be a significant part of this ambitious vision."

Mirage leaned back slightly, his body language guarded even as his expression remained unreadable behind the mask. "Well, now, that's quite the shift from bodyguard to global change."

"It's a group that operates behind the scenes, utilizing influence and strategy to steer the course of world events towards stability, order, and progress," Maki explained, "They recognize the potential of remarkable individuals like yourself to lead change rather than follow convention. With your singular gifts, able to alter perceptions and weave complex illusions, the possibilities are truly endless." She kept her tone cool and businesslike, making her pitch with care. There was much at stake here, but she knew better than to rush or pressure the cautious man.

Mirage studied her for moments before replying, "You're talking about HYDRA, I presume." Maki's eyes widened, a flicker of shock breaking through her carefully composed facade. She hadn't expected him to have such knowledge. Her mind raced, trying to determine how to proceed. Mirage continued in a matter-of-fact tone. "I assume that HYDRA works in cells, limited communication to ensure if you're discovered that it doesn't expose the entire organization."

Maki hesitated, then gave a small nod, confirming his assumption. She was impressed by his insight but also wary of how much he seemed to know.

"You're a little behind, Maki. I was recruited weeks ago by a SHIELD agent, Jasper Sitwell. But I haven't been contacted since."

Maki's composure returned as she processed this new information. She hadn't been briefed on Sitwell's involvement or any prior contact with Mirage. It was clear there was more at play here than she had initially realized.

"That's not unusual," Maki answered. "HYDRA has many heads, each pursuing their own goals."

She stepped closer, closing the distance between them. Leaning in, she brought her lips near his ear. Only inches apart, Tyson discreetly examined her features. Maki was striking, with high cheekbones and a sharp jawline. Her dark and deep eyes seemed capable of disarming even the most guarded individual with a single glance. Her lips were full and perfectly shaped.

In this moment, Tyson grasped the dynamics at play. Maki's beauty was just one arrow in her quiver, paired with her manipulation skills to make her a formidable operative. While Tyson was fully aware of the manufactured familiarity, he couldn't deny the effectiveness of her methods. She had ingratiated herself with practiced ease, and he found himself appreciating the artistry of it, even as his rational mind resisted. He couldn't help but compare Maki to Natasha. While Natasha had used less subtle methods when approaching him, thinking he was just a superpowered teenager, he wondered if she'd have taken a similar approach to Maki if she had just encountered him now.

Tyson turned over the intricacies of her recruitment tactics. He had orchestrated Maki seeking him out months earlier when he encountered her with Edgar Lascombe. Planting the idea that Mirage had a particular weakness for beautiful women ensured that Maki would be selected for this assignment. It was a spur of the moment idea to give him an in with Hydra. Though he hadn't needed it, thanks to encountering Agent Sitwell afterward. Still, he couldn't help but appreciate the Hydra-Hand agent. She used her allure not as a blunt weapon but as a scalpel, fostering a sense of closeness that seemed almost natural as if they had known each other for months rather than minutes. Maki performed her role flawlessly, presenting herself throughout the interview as a confidante and admirer rather than just a recruiter for Hydra.

Tyson knew playing double agent for both SHIELD and Hydra simultaneously was either cunningly strategic or recklessly foolish. Only time would tell which.

For now, he was placing his piece on the board.

"Hail, Hydra," he whispered.

It had been the confirmation Maki had been seeking. Her doubts washed away. Mirage was with them. Together, they would further Hydra's great purpose.

"Hail, Hydra," she murmured, her breath warm against his skin.

— Rogue Replacement —

Tyson swung open the doors of the House of M and stood at the threshold. He watched as Agatha Harkness approached. "Ms. Harkness, welcome to the House of M," Tyson greeted. Stepping forward, he extended his hand towards her luggage, offering to relieve her of the burden. "Let me help you with these," he said smoothly.

Tyson's eyes widened as he took in Agatha's appearance. She was far from the woman in her 30s or 40s he had expected. Instead, she appeared to be in her mid-twenties. Agatha's raven-black hair cascaded in loose waves with white streaks at the front to frame her blue eyes. She wore a purple dress that, while modest, failed to hide her full-bodied figure.

"Thank you, dear," Agatha said. The cadence of her speech carried an air of antiquity, a subtle reminder of her true age despite her youthful appearance. Tyson found the dichotomy between her looks and her manner curious.

She handed over a particularly hefty bag to Tyson.

As he led Agatha into the House of M, Tyson found himself stealing glances at her, still trying to reconcile her appearance with the witch he had seen on screen. As they entered the grand foyer, he initiated some light conversation, aiming to put her at ease and feel her out. "How was your trip down to New York? I hope the city is treating you well so far," he inquired.

Agatha glanced around, appreciating the decor. "The journey down the road was smooth as ever," she responded, her tone light, though her eyes danced with an unspoken amusement. She looked Tyson over, "New York is as vibrant as ever, full of energy. It's quite invigorating, actually."

"I'm glad to hear that." He set Agatha's belongings in a neat stack by the garage door, assuring her, "I'll leave your things here; someone will be by shortly to move them. House of M is primarily our workplace, and while most of us don't actually live here, it might seem otherwise for a few, like Felicia. She's almost a permanent fixture."

Tyson escorted her into the VIP lounge, the dark wood and leather furnishings exuding an ambiance that the witch seemed to approve of. He motioned to an empty booth. "Please, make yourself comfortable," he said.

Agatha sank gracefully onto the plush leather seat, the purple fabric of her dress pooling elegantly around her. She leaned back and crossed her legs leisurely. Her striking blue eyes danced in the soft light as she tilted her head coyly.

"It's late enough for a drink, I think."

Tyson's mouth curled into an easy grin. "What'll it be then?" he asked, already making his way behind the bar.

"You're a bit young to play bartender, but I'm not going to complain… How's about a Half-Blood Prince," came Agatha's sly reply.

Tyson chuckled, intrigued. "How appropriate. What's in that?"

"Pomegranate juice, raspberry liquor, bourbon, juice from half a lemon, a teaspoon of maple syrup," Agatha recited. "Shaken with ice, then strained into a glass." She raised one sharp eyebrow. "Light on the pomegranate juice, heavy on the bourbon, if you would, sweetie."

"Coming right up," Tyson assured her with a wink, enjoying the novelty of playing bartender for the witch.

As Tyson gathered the ingredients, his curiosity about Agatha deepened. He called over his shoulder, "Was your retainer fee covered appropriately?"

Agatha nodded, smoothing the fabric of her skirt. "Yes, quite promptly, which is why I arrived so soon. Efficiency in business is always a promising start."

Tyson mixed the drink, the clinks of ice as he shook punctuating the quiet of the lounge. He poured the concoction into a glass, garnishing it before bringing it over to Agatha. Setting it down, he slid into the booth opposite her.

"I'm not often completely open with new acquaintances," he began, "But I want you as an instructor and a friend here, so I'm going to lay my cards on the table."

Agatha lifted the glass. She took a slow sip, savoring the smooth burn of alcohol, before setting it down.

"Okay, hit me with it," she said.

"My name is Tyson Smith. I'll be turning 18 soon. I'm a mutant, and one of my powers is illusions." He paused, gauging her reaction. Agatha simply nodded for him to continue. "Under the alias Mirage, I've made a name for myself and started this establishment. I've come into conflict with several magic wielders, and using my powers on them has been hit or miss in the past," he admitted. "But if you're open to it, I can provide a small demonstration."

"Ooh, this should be fun. Let's see what you can do."

The lounge around them seemed to shimmer and shift as if viewed through a heat haze. The very air tingled with suppressed magical energy. Before Agatha's eyes, the plush furnishings of the VIP lounge dissolved away like mist under the morning sun.

In their place stretched the grand dining hall of Hogwarts, a cavernous space filled with long wooden tables and benches. Hundreds of candles floated lazily above the tables, their flames flickering and dancing. The tables were filled with platters of roasted meats, bowls of buttery mashed potatoes, baskets of fresh rolls, and flagons of pumpkin juice. The enchanted ceiling high above mirrored the sunny afternoon sky outside.

Agatha's eyes darted around the illusion. She could see the intricate details on the stone walls and the scratches on the wooden tables from decades of use. This was far beyond mere projected images; it felt real, solid. She half expected to hear the chatter of students and the clink of cutlery on plates.

Her applause echoed through the grand hall, and her delight was evident as she admired the conjured scene. "Well done, Tyson," she said genuinely. You have quite a talent for illusion. This is remarkable indeed."

Tyson bowed his head at the praise. As he straightened, he continued explaining the nature of his abilities. "My power is psionic in nature," he clarified, ensuring Agatha grasped the distinction between their powers.

"But as I said, that's just one of my abilities," Tyson added. "I also possess superhuman strength, agility, reflexes, regenerative healing, enhanced senses, and an indestructible metal skeleton." He paused, allowing the list to sink in before revealing his ultimate power. "Most importantly," he continued, his voice lowering slightly, "my touch absorbs others' abilities, memories, and skills temporarily. But it also drains their life force. If I maintain contact too long, they die. I gain a permanent imprint, keeping their powers."

Realizing how dangerous his power was and how his words could be interpreted as threatening, Tyson quickly added, "I wear gloves to protect those around me from accidental harm." He held up his hands, showing the gloves that sat under the long sleeves of his costume, which he wore perpetually under his clothes, as proof of his precautions.

Agatha studied Tyson intently, her expression a mingling of fascination and caution. Though her gaze took in the young man before her, it also peered deeper, evaluating him not just as a potential ally.

"Very prudent," she remarked. "Your abilities are extraordinary and quite dangerous. It's good to see you taking responsibility for such formidable power. Many with gifts like yours lack the wisdom to do so." Her tone carried a subtle undercurrent that he had difficulty placing.

"So tell me, why did you wish to walk the path of magic?" Agatha asked, subtly challenging the young man's motivations.

"That's... a long story," Tyson replied heavily, a note of resignation in his voice. He stood, moving toward the bar once more. "Let me make you another drink first," he offered, deflecting momentarily as he gathered his thoughts.

The clinking of ice and pouring of liquid filled the room, serving as a prelude to the tale Tyson was about to tell. He placed several more drinks in a line before Agatha and settled back into his seat across from her. He began unraveling his story from the very beginning, recounting his initial 'discovery' of his powers, the ensuing fight with Sabertooth, and the following struggles and battles he had faced. His narrative wove through various trials and encounters, eventually reaching his time in Asgard, his encounter with Amora, and the subsequent deal he made in hopes of saving his girlfriend.

"I sought her out for her blood, which the sorcerers needed for a ritual to prevent Jubilee from transforming into a vampire. Her condition was that I became stronger. So I tried to target someone with power but evil enough that eliminating them would benefit the world. However, my friends intervened and stopped me." He paused, taking a sip of his drink. "That failure led me to you, seeking training in magic. I've dabbled in spellcasting before, temporarily gaining the powers of Azazel, Amora, and Illyana. So I think I have an aptitude. Well, at least, I've had an aptitude, and even though I can't tap into it, I know that there's a small piece of each of them inside me." His lips pressed together briefly.

"But I was completely outmatched when I battled Loki and Amora. It was... humbling, to say the least." Tyson sighed in frustration. "I know it will take a long time to reach their level of skill. But I can't keep losing to every two-bit magic-wielder that comes along."

Leaning forward, Tyson locked eyes with Agatha, a serious glint in his own. "Most importantly," he pulled out a series of papers. They were the scribbles and notes he'd made with Illyana's knowledge after his rampage in Limbo. "Learning the Death Ward spell would let me touch people without killing them, even if temporarily. This isn't just about gaining power for me. It's about control. And safety."

Agatha nodded slowly, looking over the pages. "Not many look beyond immediate power to consider its wider implications." Her words carried the weight of long experience. She eyed Tyson thoughtfully for a moment before concluding, "I will teach you." Tyson's eyes lit up with eagerness. "I will remain here in New York for the coming year. Until you have been accepted as a novice by the sorcerers. We shall see how readily you grasp the fundamental concepts and practices of witchcraft."

Tyson nodded excitedly.

"Tell me. What is magic?"

He paused, searching his mind for an answer that would satisfy her. His meta-knowledge provided no academic explanations or textbook definitions.

"A way to manipulate the fundamental forces of the universe?" he ventured tentatively.

"Not entirely inaccurate, but let us refine that notion," she said, her voice taking on a professorial tone. "Magic, in its deepest essence, taps into the very fabric of reality itself. It involves harnessing energies that exist beyond the normal constraints of physical law."

Agatha settled back into her chair, adjusting her posture to get more comfortable. "Let's explore the concept of magical energy sources a bit more," she began, her voice taking on a professorial yet engaging tone. "There are four primary wellsprings that mages draw from to fuel their spells and abilities."

She held up a slender finger, signaling the first point of discussion. "Personal Energies originate from within the mystic or sorcerer themselves. Through mental and spiritual training, they learn to tap into and manipulate their own inner power. Examples include abilities like chi manipulation, astral projection, thought-casting, and more. This style of magic is deeply connected to and reliant on the mage's personal strength, focus, and discipline."

Raising a second finger, she continued, "Next, we have the Ambient Magical Energy inherent to the fabric of the Universe itself. This external source surrounds us at all times. Magicians with the proper training can draw it forth to manifest a variety of spectacular effects. Energy bolt spells are common applications. Accessing this energy typically requires casting intricate spells or conducting specific rituals to gather and direct it. Potion-making, for example, is a way to directly harness the ambient magical energy absorbed by ingredients."

Her third finger accompanied the next segment of insight. "Extradimensional Energies are gained by contacting and invoking entities or objects that originate from realms beyond our own. These realms operate under radically different physical and magical laws. Tapping into them allows access to incredibly potent and dangerous power. The entities controlling this energy may have agendas utterly alien to ours and can drastically influence how, or even if, their power is used."

Finally, she held up a fourth finger. "And then we have Magical Items, objects imbued with enchantments and abilities. Like your dagger, Muse. These artifacts are often forged or invested with magic by one of the previous wellsprings. They vary enormously in function and potency, ranging from benign trinkets to, as you possess, weapons of extraordinary power."

"You think since you have used magic before when in contact with magic users, you might have the potential to learn it yourself," she said leadingly.

Tyson absently rubbed his chin in thought, considering the knowledge she shared, then responded, "I have been able to use magic briefly after touching someone who knew it, but the knowledge doesn't stick permanently. It's like trying to remember details from a dream after you wake up. They fade away quickly."

Agatha shook her head slightly in response. She held up her index finger in emphasis as she prepared to make her point. "Personal energy," she declared insightfully.

"Mutants like yourself have an inherent, unconscious way of tapping into these energies in order to create a specific, limited effect. In your case, that effect is the creation of illusions," she continued, "You see, dear, your abilities might feel unique to you, but they are actually rooted in the same mystical energies that magic practitioners like myself manipulate through intricate spells and rituals. There's little difference between the witch who sees glimpses of the future and the mutant with psionic gifts who… sees glimpses of the future. Your powers, your illusions, they are your own innate form of magic, crafted instinctively by your body and mind. Your mutation provides the conduit allowing you to access and direct the energy required to utilize it."

Agatha's voice softened slightly as she concluded, challenging Tyson to rethink and expand his own understanding of the fundamental nature of magic and his mutant powers.

— Rogue Replacement —

Remy LeBeau awoke slowly to the soft whirring and beeping of machines. He found himself lying on a cold metal operating table in a medical room. Electrodes and sensors were attached to his forehead, bare chest, and arms, monitoring his vital signs. As his vision cleared, Remy could make out Dr. Nathaniel Essex standing with his back to him, studying a panel of screens.

The doctor presented an imposing and chilling sight to Remy's slowly clearing vision. Tall and unnaturally pale, the doctor's skin was almost alabaster. His eyes were a deep, blood red. Even more unusual was the red diamond prominently displayed in the center of his forehead. His black hair was slicked sharply back and he wore an outfit as distinctive as his odd physical features. A high-collared, deep blue and black bodysuit adorned with a long, flowing cape that was not a solid piece of cloth but made of individual strips.

The overall effect made the doctor appear as though channeling Victorian-era aesthetics or perhaps a modern film rendition of a vampire. All the while exuding an antiquated, elegant menace.

"The procedure was a success, Remy. Your abilities have been stabilized. You'll find them more responsive now, less unpredictable."

With some effort, Remy sat upright on the table, rubbing the back of his neck where he could still feel the residual tingle of Essex's surgical alterations. He swung his legs over the side of the cold metal table, feeling a newfound steadiness thrumming through his body. The constant buzzing tension that had plagued his mutant abilities for weeks had quieted. He flexed his fingers experimentally, reaching for the familiar kinetic charge, and found it waiting patiently for his command.

He eyed Essex warily. Remy had no illusions about the man's motives. Altruism was not in his nature.

"Thanks for dat, doc," he rasped, his voice still rough from the surgery, "but we both know you ain't runnin' no charity ward here. What's all this gonna cost me?"

"Indeed, I am a man of science, not a humanitarian. In exchange for my services, I will require a task from you. Assemble a team for me, a group of mercenaries. Mutants only."

Remy stood up from the table, testing his balance. He felt solid and grounded, yet Essex's request nagged at him with the weight of potential consequences. Debts and bargains with the doctor never came freely. "And if I say no?" he challenged, his Cajun drawl thick with suspicion.

Essex's red eyes gleamed unsettlingly. "Oh, my dear Remy. There is a... project I am undertaking. A project that requires talents of a... specialized nature." He leaned in closer. "Gather this team for me, and we will consider your debt paid." Remy felt a chill run down his spine, not entirely from fear. Essex's proximity and the sultry tone of his voice were disconcerting, to say the least. He took a step back, maintaining distance between them. "You are free to refuse, of course," Essex continued, his gaze roaming over Remy's bare chest. "But remember, without my intervention, your powers could have torn you apart from the inside out. Hurt those near you, maybe even destroyed a city or more." His eyes glinted with barely concealed excitement. "Who knows? One might say you owe me your life."

Remy clenched his fists as he felt the kinetic energy dancing eagerly at his command. This was a different kind of gamble than he was accustomed to, with stakes far higher than any card game. But Remy LeBeau had always been a gambler at heart. He weighed his options carefully. On one hand, he owed Essex for stabilizing his powers. On the other, assembling a team of mutant mercenaries for the doctor's mysterious project could lead to unforeseen and dangerous consequences.

"What exactly is dis project of yours?" Remy asked.

Essex's smile widened, revealing unnaturally white teeth. "Now, now, my charming Cajun," he cooed, "let's not spoil the surprise. All in good time." He reached out, his pale fingers almost brushing Remy's arm before the mutant pulled away. "I assure you, it will be... exhilarating."

"Alright," he said finally. "I'll gather your team. But once dis debt is paid, we're done. No more holdin' dis over my head."

"Agreed. I value our... partnership, Remy. I look forward to watching you handle this challenge."

Remy turned and walked out of the lab. He was no fool. He knew he was willingly walking into a trap of sorts by agreeing to Essex's terms. But with his mutant powers now stable and under control, he also felt a sense of confidence and command over himself. For better or worse, Remy had chosen to play this game on Essex's terms. And he fully intended to win. Remy LeBeau did not make bargains lightly, and he would see this through. Come what may, Remy was a survivor above all else. And this would be far from his last Gambit.

— Rogue Replacement —

The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime, revealing Jean Grey stepping out into the lavish hallway on the top floor of the Four Seasons Hotel in downtown Manhattan. She briskly made her way to the suite's entrance, rapping her knuckles against the polished mahogany door, which immediately swung open to reveal Tyson waiting on the other side. Jean barely acknowledged him, giving the man a cursory hug as her gaze darted past him, urgently searching the luxurious room beyond for the one she truly sought.

"Tyson, thank you for…" Jean began, but her words trailed off as she finally spotted Jubilee lounging casually on the sofa. Without another word, Jean brushed past Tyson and rushed over to her friend.

"Jubes!" Jean exclaimed, her voice thick with concern as she enveloped her roommate in a tight embrace.

"Hey, Red! You're acting like you've seen a ghost or something."

Jean pulled back slightly, holding Jubilee at arm's length to inspect her. Relief and worry mingled in Jean's expression. "Jubes, I was so worried about you after everything that happened. I'm just so happy you're alive."

Jubilee chuckled. "Alive, dead, undead... you know me. I've always been a trendsetter."

Jean tried to laugh, but it came out more like a sob, her profound relief palpable. She shook her head as a smile finally broke through her tears. "Only you could joke about something like this."

She squeezed Jean's hand reassuringly. "Hey, it's still me. No point sulking when I've got eternity to figure this whole vampire thing out." Sensing Jean's lingering concern, she addressed it directly. "I'm actually happy," Jubilee said. "I know it's weird and a little scary, but I have to say, there are some pretty cool perks to this whole vampire thing."

"Really? Like what?"

"Well, for starters, I'm a lot faster and stronger now. It's kind of like having another superpower." Jubilee's grin widened, flashing her fangs. "Oh, and my senses are off the charts now. I can hear conversations from across the street, and my sense of smell is amazing. I can even pick up on the tiniest scents."

She leaned in a bit closer to Jean. "And you know what else? Tyson tastes so good."

Jean's cheeks flushed a deep shade of pink, and she looked away, embarrassed by the insinuation. "Jubilee..."

But Jubilee was undeterred. "I'm serious! It's like the best kind of dessert you can imagine. There's this warmth, this sweetness. It makes me feel alive. It's intoxicating. And we can touch now. I just love sucking on his..."

"Okay, okay, I get it!" Jean's blush deepened, and she covered her face with her hands.

Tyson couldn't help but laugh, shaking his head in amusement. "Jubes, you're going to make her faint."

"She's in everyone's thoughts. It's nothing she hasn't heard before." Jubilee giggled, clearly enjoying the moment. "Sorry, Jean. I just wanted you to know that I'm really okay. Better than okay, actually. And you don't have to worry about me so much."

Jean took a deep breath, her embarrassment giving way to a sense of peace. "I'm glad to hear that, Jubes. Really. I just want you to be safe and happy."

"Yeah, yeah. Now let's talk about something more fun."

Jean sat next to Jubilee on the plush sofa, the initial swell of emotion settling into a more relaxed atmosphere. Tyson took a seat across from them. Joining in on the conversation after having observed their heartfelt reunion.

Jean couldn't help but notice the profound silence that settled over Tyson's apartment as the three friends continued their lively conversation about classes, majors, and starting a new chapter at Empire State University. It was a rare, almost eerie quiet, with barely a hint of the bustling city outside.

"It's so quiet here," she remarked softly, her voice filled with awe. "I can barely hear the city at all."

"We're pretty high up, and this place has great soundproofing to block the noise from the club just next door. But I'm also filtering out all the telepathic chatter to give your mind a break."

Jean closed her eyes for a moment, basking in the tranquility that was so often out of her reach these days. The constant bombardment of thoughts and emotions from those around her was exhausting, pressing in on her psyche. But here, wrapped in this cocoon of silence Tyson had created, her mind floated freely.

"Thank you," she breathed, opening her eyes once more. "You have no idea how much I miss this kind of silence when you're not around. It's so... liberating."

"I remember how overwhelming it could be for you. I'm happy to help filter things out when I can."

Jubilee grinned, punching Tyson playfully on the arm. "Our own personal telepathic noise canceling machine and blood bank. You're the best, Ty."

Tyson cleared his throat, "Jean, I've been meaning to say something about what happened in Las Vegas. I'm really sorry for trying to compel you with my power. It was a desperate move, and I regret it deeply. I was just trying to save Jubilee. It was a foolish decision made in haste, but I felt I had no other options at the time."

Jubilee snickered, unable to resist ribbing her friend. "Yeah, I can't believe you tried to mind-whammy Jean. Talk about dumb moves, Ty."

"I understand why you did it. You were trying to protect Jubilee. I don't hold any hard feelings over it."

He felt a sense of relief at her words. "Thanks, Jean. I appreciate you saying that. And I have to say, you're so much stronger than I am. You stopped my illusion so easily. It's incredible to think about your power."

Jean smiled faintly as she accepted Tyson's praise. She had put in many long hours honing her telepathic abilities since witnessing Tyson's astonishing display of power against Magneto the previous year. Though she had yet to come close to the magnitude of telekinetic force that Tyson had unleashed in that fight, simultaneously battling Magneto while maintaining flight, she had made great strides in control and finesse. Where Tyson's use of her power had been wild and unfocused, Jean's telepathy had become as precise as a scalpel. She may not have access to the same overwhelming psychic strength, at least not yet, but her control and skill had increased tenfold. She could now manipulate multiple objects with her telekinesis at once, subtly influence emotions and surface thoughts, and project her astral form over impressive distances.

One day, she hoped to stand above his previous display of telekinetic might. For now, she was content to keep honing her skills and pushing her limits.

Jean's hand rested gently on Tyson's shoulder. "You know, Tyson, I was only able to stop you because you held back."

"But Jean, I didn't hold back," he protested. "I used the full extent of my power against you."

With a slight shake of her head, Jean clarified, "I don't mean in terms of psychic strength. But strategically, you pulled your punches. You didn't try to turn us against each other, though you certainly could have." Jean's voice took on a more solemn tone. "If you had used your illusions to manipulate Jubilee or Storm into attacking me or turned Logan or Piotr against us, we wouldn't have stood a chance. But because you care for us, the thought never even crossed your mind. Had you been willing, you could have easily defeated us all."

Tyson fell silent as the truth of Jean's words sank in. His mind replayed their fight in Las Vegas, analyzing his actions through this new lens. She was right. Despite the intensity of the situation and his desire to save Jubilee, he avoided the more ruthless tactics available to him. His concern for the well-being of his friends had stayed his hand.

Jubilee had been watching the exchange. Her usual playfulness was absent, replaced by a more thoughtful expression. "Dang, Jean's got a point," she mused. "You could've really messed us up, but you held back. That's gotta mean something, right?"

Slowly, Tyson nodded. "I suppose, in a way, I did hold back," he conceded. "When it came down to it, I couldn't bring myself to hurt any of you, no matter how caught up I was in saving you, Jubes. Even in the heat of the moment, I didn't cross that line."

Jean gave Tyson's shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "And that's what makes you so great. You have immense power at your fingertips, but you also have a kind heart. We all make mistakes, some small, some bigger. What truly matters is how we learn from those mistakes, grow as people, and keep moving forward."

Tyson's frown melted into a thoughtful smile. "I'll do my best to live up to that."

"See? We're all in this crazy thing together. Highs, lows, and everything in between." Jubilee playfully elbowed Tyson in the ribs. "And next time, maybe just stick to less mind-whammying and plain old talking and teamwork."

Tyson laughed, the last of the tension easing from his shoulders. "Deal. Teamwork it is. Besides," he added with a dramatic sigh, "My illusions don't work on you anymore anyway. It's tragic."

Jubilee looked wistful for a moment before sighing in agreement, "It really is."

"So," Jean began, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear, "I can hardly believe we're all enrolled at Empire State University. It's going to be an entirely new chapter for us."

Jubilee's eyes glimmered with excitement. "Yeah, it's pretty surreal, isn't it? Registering for classes and everything..."

Tyson agreed, "No doubt about it. I've already started looking into some of the business courses. Since I have a company to run, I might as well learn how to manage it properly."

Jean's face lit up with enthusiasm. "That sounds wonderful, Tyson! I've decided to major in psychology with a minor in education. I think understanding the intricacies of the human mind will be absolutely fascinating, and the knowledge will serve me well down the road."

Jubilee leaned back into the plush cushions. "I'm considering majoring in communications. You know, getting into public relations. It seems like a good way to stay connected with the world."

Jean smiled affectionately at both of them. "This is going to be wonderful. We'll have our classes, and most importantly, we'll have each other."

Jubilee lightly added, "Yeah, and who knows? Maybe we'll even find a way to survive freshman year."