Date: Thursday, July 15, 2010.

Location: Xavier Institute, Scarsdale, NY

The thrumming of a powerful motorcycle engine echoed through the institute, immediately catching Tyson's attention. With a mix of anticipation and relief, he hurried to the entrance, pushing open the heavy doors just as Logan was dismounting his bike.

"Logan!" Tyson called out, a grin spreading across his face.

Logan, clad in his usual rugged attire, pulled off his leather gloves and approached Tyson with a nod. "Kid," he greeted with a hint of warmth behind his eyes.

The two men clapped each other on the back, the bond between them evident, and their respect for each other was clear.

Just then, Jubilee strolled by, her trademark yellow jacket was bright against the evening backdrop. She caught sight of the reunion and smirked playfully, her bubblegum popping as she commented, "Awww, bromance."

Logan raised an eyebrow at her while Tyson chuckled, shaking his head.

As Logan and Tyson made their way into the institute, Storm gracefully approached, her white hair flowing around her like a soft cloud. She greeted Logan with a warmth that was rare for the often-reserved mutant.

"Logan," she began, her voice calm yet full of relief, "it's good to see you."

Logan merely nodded, but his eyes held a hint of something deeper. "Ororo," he responded, using Storm's real name. "Same."

Tyson, observing from a short distance, noticed the subtle glances between them. Their body language spoke of a deeper connection. He couldn't help but wonder if there might be something more between the two. Strictly following bro-code, Tyson slipped out of the room, giving them some privacy while silently rooting for whatever might be blossoming between Logan and Storm.

Storm leaned close to Logan, her expression grew more serious. "We have a new mission. The Professor wants us to bring in the mutant who attacked the White House. He believes we can help him."

Logan's eyes narrowed, always ready for a fight. "And he wants me on this?"

Storm nodded. "He thought you'd be best. And quite frankly," she added, her gaze lingering on Logan for a moment longer, "You're the one I want watching my back."

Logan smirked slightly, appreciating the compliment. "Let's get to it then."

~~ Rogue Replacement ~~

Later that evening, Tyson made his way through the corridors of the institute until he reached Jean and Jubilee's room. He knocked, and almost instantly, the door swung open to reveal Jean with a welcoming smile.

"Hey, Tyson," Jean greeted warmly, stepping aside to let him in.

Before he could answer, Jubilee's excited voice echoed from her desk. "Tyson, get over here! You won't believe this!" Her eyes were glued to the computer screen, fingers tapping restlessly on the desk.

Curious, Tyson approached and peered over her shoulder, scanning the screen. "Watch this!" Jubilee exclaimed, replaying a particular segment.

The screen showed an attack on the White House. The mutant responsible was appearing and disappearing in rapid succession, leaving puffs of smoke behind, with an agility and finesse that left the security personnel bewildered.

"It's...incredible," she murmured. "He's a teleporter." she nodded to herself, "Yeah, definitely a teleporter. But, look at the speed and precision! It's unlike anything I've ever seen."

Tyson froze. He'd seen combat teleportation like that before, this was less flashy than Illyana’s. The smoke left behind was a dead giveaway. For just a moment, he thought Azazel had returned, but when Jubilee paused the video, he saw a glimpse of the mutant’s skin… it was blue.

Jean added, "It's going to be a challenge for Logan and Storm to bring him in. If he is a teleporter, it explains why the professor had such a hard time locating him."

Tyson stiffly asked, "Jean, where's the professor?"

She looked up, "He went to see Magneto, and he took Cyclops with him."

Tyson paused, processing the information. Slowly, he mumbled to himself, "And Logan went with Storm to find the teleporter..."

Suddenly, a shiver ran down his spine. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end. "This can’t happen now, it's too soon," he whispered. Tyson's eyes went wide as realization struck him. At the museum, he and Illyana had only gotten partly through the Russian exhibit when they were called to the buses. Their exit had been abrupt, but Tyson hadn't thought much of it.

It was as though a film reel played in his mind, revealing scene after scene from a movie plot. The same movie plot that was unfolding around him. Panic welled up inside him. "We're going to be attacked," he said in a shaky voice.

Jean frowned, her eyes searching his. "What are you talking about? How do you know?"

"It's... complicated. But trust me. We're in danger. Who's in charge while all the professors are away?"

Jean paused, concern etching her face, then said, "Illyana's brother. Why?" Her eyes locked onto Tyson's with a mixture of disbelief and growing concern. "How do you know we're going to be attacked?" she pressed.

Tyson took a deep breath, searching for the right words to legitimize his meta-knowledge. "Remember when I absorbed your power to take on Magneto?" She nodded, her brow furrowing. "Well, when I did that, I had this... vision of this moment, these circumstances. And, in that vision, the Institute was attacked later tonight." He looked earnestly into her eyes, hoping she'd understand. "Jean, have you ever... seen the future?"

She hesitated, her gaze dropping as she seemed to search her memories. "There have been times," Jean admitted slowly, "when I've glimpsed events that hadn't happened yet."

Jubilee, who had been quietly following their conversation, sucked in a breath and whispered, "Oh, shit." The weight of the revelation weighed heavy in the room.

Tyson's urgency was palpable. "Jean, can you reach out to Colossus with your telepathy? Tell him what we know and get the students ready for an evacuation drill or something. We need to be prepared."

Jean's eyes narrowed in determination. "Okay," she said, closing her eyes to focus. "What are you going to do?"

"I need to find Illyana," Tyson replied. "Her teleportation could be key to getting everyone out."

With that, Tyson turned and sprinted out of Jubilee's room. His powerful legs carried him swiftly down the corridor. As he approached Illyana's room, he didn't slow down, sensing that time was of the essence. If the door was locked, it didn't matter; he just plowed right through it. Wood splintered, the door's metal handle bent, and in a matter of seconds. The suddenness of his entrance and the scattered remnants of the door evidenced his desperation.

When Tyson laid eyes on Illyana, the sight left him momentarily stunned. There she stood in her lace underwear with a garter belt dangling from one hand as she balanced a leg gracefully on a chair, carefully fastening it. Her platinum blonde hair cascaded around her shoulders, framing her face.

Illyana glanced up, unfazed by his sudden appearance, a sly smirk playing on her lips.

Tyson's face turned a shade of red that could rival any sunset. For once, he was rendered completely speechless, his mouth opening and closing but no words emerging. The usually confident young man was utterly disarmed by the unexpected sight before him.

Illyana shifted her weight to one leg, allowing her hip to jut out slightly. With her hand resting on that very hip, her body formed an unintentionally sexy silhouette. Her platinum locks framed her face and her blue eyes sparkled as she raised an eyebrow, "Looks like you're early for our date. What was so urgent you couldn't knock?"

Despite the situation, Tyson's lips curled into a slight grin. "Given what I walked into, I'd say my timing was freaking perfect." He shook his head, reining his thoughts in. "But I need to know: how far can you teleport? And how many people can you take with you?"

Illyana cocked her head thoughtfully, "Depending on the distance and the familiarity of the place, I can take about five people with me. I can jump around a quarter mile, but if I try to go too far weird things happen. Why?"

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Taking a deep breath, Tyson looked at Illyana seriously. "I have a strong feeling the Institute is going to be attacked. And," he said, glancing down with a slight flush to his face, "as much as I appreciate the view, you should probably get dressed." He tried to keep his tone light despite the gravity of the situation. "Your brother's in charge right now, and I think the best move would be to start evacuating small groups of kids. Somewhere nearby, within your teleportation range."

Illyana stared at him for a moment, taking in the weight of his words. She stepped closer and gently placed a kiss on his cheek. "Alright, I'll get ready. We'll keep them safe."

As she pulled away, Tyson felt a rush of energy, as the essence of Illyana's power surged through him. Acting on impulse, he envisioned Jean's room and with what felt like a mere step forward, he found himself standing right there. The transition was so swift and seamless that he couldn't help but smile.

Tyson put his hand on Jean's shoulder, "Jean, I need you to focus right now. Can you sense anything within range? Malicious intent, intense focus, anxiety? Hatred, even... We’re looking for a group of soldiers."

Jean took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and she reached out with her telepathic abilities. Her brow furrowed with concentration. After a few moments of intense silence, her eyelids snapped open, revealing a deep fear. Her voice trembled as she whispered, "They're here."

Tyson's face hardened as he processed the imminent danger. "Damn it," he muttered under his breath. Turning to the two girls, his voice was urgent yet determined. "Both of you, get to the nearest emergency evacuation site. Now."

His gaze specifically settled on Jubilee, who was gripping the edge of the desk, her usual bubbly demeanor replaced by a serious expression. "Jubilee, do you remember the conversation we had when I woke up? This is one of those moments. If you want to be a hero, now's your chance. Save as many as you can by guiding them out, then get yourself to safety. These kids are scared, and they'll need someone strong like you. But remember, you can't help them if you're caught or worse."

Jubilee nodded, her young face determined. "I won't let you down."

Turning to Jean, Tyson's voice softened a bit. "Jean, you need to get out too. But before you go, I need to ask you for a favor. Can I borrow some of your power? You've seen firsthand what I can achieve with it, and right now, we need every advantage to buy everyone the time they need to escape."

Jean took a deep breath, steeling herself for what was about to come. She strode up to Tyson. Their eyes locked with the weight of their shared understanding, of their trust in each other. Jean's emerald eyes, usually so full of warmth and compassion, looked deep into Tyson's with an intensity he had never seen before. With deliberate care, she placed her hand on the side of his face. Their connection was palpable. One second. Two. Three. Darkness, reminiscent of creeping shadows, began to emerge from the points where her fingers touched his skin. Four. Five. Six. The black tendrils threaded through the veins of her hands, slithering and creeping up her forearms like a malevolent force.

Suddenly, it advanced past the fabric of her sleeves, threatening to consume more of her. Knowing the danger of drawing too much, Tyson abruptly stepped back. The connection broke, and Jean staggered, drained, and dizzied. But there was no time to waste. Tyson swiftly grabbed both Jean and Jubilee and in a blur, they were teleported to the nearest evacuation point.

Gratitude flooded him as he looked at Jean, "Thank you," he murmured. Without another word, he teleported away, returning to find Illyana.

Illyana stood there, battle-ready in her attire. The moment Tyson teleported back in, their eyes met, and she understood the urgency of the situation. Tyson quickly stepped up to her, his voice urgent, "Time's up. They're here." His gaze pierced hers, "Do what you can. I'll handle the rest."

For a fleeting second, everything else faded away. Illyana reached out, wrapping her arms around his neck and drawing him close. Their lips met a fervent and passionate embrace that seemed to convey a thousand unspoken words. It was their first real kiss.

Suddenly, she pulled away, and Tyson's heart sank as he noticed the stark change in her appearance. The creeping darkness of the black veins had invaded her face, originating from her lips. A web of black, like ink spilled on parchment, made its way across her porcelain skin.

He instantly realized that all those small kisses and his power had been affecting her the same all along, more so than she had ever let on. But true to her fierce nature, Illyana showed no sign of regret. With a fiery, determined tone, she simply whispered, "Give them hell," before vanishing with a flash, teleporting away and leaving Tyson to face the imminent threat.

Illyana appeared next to Jean and Jubilee and staggered before falling to the floor. Jubilee recognized the signs of Tyson’s life drain and struggled to help both girls through the evacuation point.

Those three words, spoken in Illyana's unique accent, echoed in Tyson's mind, propelling him forward. ‘Give them hell’ she had said, and he intended to do just that. The fierce determination in her voice, filled with faith in him, was all the motivation he needed.

For a fleeting moment, he closed his eyes, attempting to harness Jean's telepathic abilities. He tried to pinpoint the soldiers' locations, but it was akin to searching for a needle in a haystack with no guide. Unlike Jean, who could deftly navigate the intricacies of individual minds, for Tyson, it was like plunging into a tumultuous ocean of thoughts, overwhelming and chaotic. It was too much.

Abandoning his telepathic search, Tyson decided he would just have to draw them out. The best way to find them was to become the target they couldn't resist.

With a sense of purpose, Tyson took a deliberate step. Though it was a small physical movement, the world around him changed instantly. He had transitioned from Illyana's room to the grandeur of the entry hall, its high ceiling and ornate decor offering a stark contrast to the immediate threat.

There, almost immediately, he found himself staring down the barrel of a rifle. A soldier, clad in tactical gear and wearing a balaclava, had quickly pivoted to line up a shot on Tyson. But before the soldier could react, Tyson took another swift step. In an instant, he was directly behind the unsuspecting soldier. The gun, once aimed directly at him, now pointed futilely ahead, while its wielder remained oblivious to Tyson's sudden relocation.

The Sabertooth within Tyson growled in glee. For the first time, it'd be unleashed on a hunt.

~~ Rogue Replacement ~~

The sterile room was silent, save for the whirring of Xavier's wheelchair as he rolled up to the transparent barrier. Magneto's prison, devoid of any metal, was cold and isolating. Magneto, usually a figure of strength, now seemed diminished, with darkened bruises on his face.

Concern etched in his features, Xavier asked, "Erik, what happened to you?"

Magneto's eyes met Charles', and there was an undertone of frustration in his voice. "I had a visit from our old 'friend', William Stryker. You remember him, don't you?"

Xavier's gaze became distant, memories resurfacing. "His son, Jason, was one of my students," he recalled a note of regret in his voice. "Unfortunately, I wasn't able to help him. Not in the way Stryker wanted."

Magneto's posture was one of a defeated man, and his voice wavered just a touch, uncharacteristic for someone of his usual confidence. "Charles," he admitted hesitantly, "he was quite interested in you and your school."

Alarmed, Xavier's fingers gripped the arms of his wheelchair tighter. "Erik, what did you tell him?"

Magneto's eyes were filled with pain and regret as he met Xavier's gaze. "Everything," he whispered.

Before Xavier could respond, a hissing sound punctured the silence of the room. Within seconds, a greenish gas began to fill the chamber. Charles's eyes widened in realization, but he found it hard to maintain focus, his vision blurring at the edges.

Magneto forced out his last words before the darkness took him, "The war... has begun."

As the green gas billowed behind the plastic doors, another scene was developing just a few feet away. The entry room outside the cell was filled with a few guards and technology to ensure no metal was allowed near Magneto. The rhythmic echo of heels on the cold floor heralded the approach of a woman. Her white pantsuit was pristine, each piece tailored to perfection, highlighting a strong yet feminine form.

Cyclops tried to assess the situation, aware that something was amiss. But he barely had time to react before she was upon him. A flash of red light streaked from his visor, the optic blast knocking the woman to the floor. He took out the guards easily enough, but while he was distracted, the woman rejoined the fight. He threw a punch, but she deftly evaded, grabbing his arm and twisting it behind his back. He groaned, struggling to free himself. But her grip was ironclad. Using his weight against him, she flipped him onto the ground. With a swift motion, she delivered a precise kick to his side, knocking the wind out of him. Cyclops tried to rally, to summon any reserves of strength he might have left, but another well-placed kick to his temple left him dazed and disoriented.

As he lay on the floor, consciousness slipping away, the woman stood over him triumphant, her empty gaze staring down at him.

~~ Rogue Replacement ~~

Ororo and Logan’s search led them to Boston. The massive wooden doors of the old church groaned as they were pushed open, revealing a vast, dimly lit interior. The once-grand church was now crumbling, pews scattered and forgotten, windows broken, their stained glass once telling tales of miracles now lay shattered. Scaffolding was scattered around, as if someone had attempted to restore the building, but gave up before making progress.

"Strange place for a guy who tried to off the president," Logan remarked, taking in the dilapidated surroundings. His footsteps echoed as he made his way further inside, the worn leather of his jacket creaking with each step. The air was thick with dust, and a faint incense still lingered, but amidst the quiet, there were whispers. Voices that seemed to dart around, bouncing off walls, making it hard to pinpoint their origin. The words meshed in a bizarre dance of German and English.

Storm's blue eyes darted around, her white hair shimmering in the little light filtering through the broken windows. "He's a teleporter," she deduced, remembering their difficulty in tracking him down. "That's why we couldn't find him easily."

Drawing a deep breath, Storm called out, her voice echoing through the vastness of the church, "We're not here to hurt you. We want to help."

The whispering ceased, and a pair of yellow eyes blinked open in the dimness above them. Clinging to the shadowy rafters was a lithe figure, his skin a deep, inky blue. Two small, spiraled horns jutted out from his forehead, contrasting with the backdrop of his short, fuzzy hair. His tail, long and prehensile, wrapped around a wooden beam, helping him balance effortlessly. But despite the unusual appearance, the eyes held a look of genuine fear.

"I didn't mean to hurt anyone," he confessed, his German accent heavy and voice tinged with regret.

Logan, ever the blunt one, craned his neck upwards, eyes squinting as they tried to adjust to the dark. "Why don't you come on down, bub? Let's talk it out."

Beside him, Storm stepped forward, her demeanor gentle and understanding. "We know what it's like to be afraid," she began, her voice soft, "But you're not alone. Let us help. Please, come down."

The figure hesitated for a moment longer, then he disappeared in a puff of smoke, he manifested at ground level a few feet away, revealing himself fully to them. The blue-skinned mutant touched down gracefully, his posture hesitant and cautious. His tail twitched nervously as he took in the two mutants standing before him.

The woman with silver-streaked hair stepped forward, extending her hand gently. "I'm Ororo," she introduced with a soft smile. Motioning to the rugged man beside her, she added, "And this is Logan."

Logan gave a slight nod, his gaze unwavering, but not unfriendly.

Kurt hesitated a moment, looking at the extended hand, then carefully took it. "Kurt," he replied, his voice still filled with uncertainty but trying to find some form of trust. "Kurt Wagner."