xp_logs | Visions and Interpretations

A sobering look at a potential future sets Forge heading in a new direction, and gives him a sense of purpose in his final therapy session with Professor Xavier.

1407 Greymalkin Lane - the future

The fire was the most spectacular part of the whole tableau, spreading quickly from the foyer, up the staircases, erupting from the skylights like some vengeful phoenix from the ashes. But this time there would be no bird of fire returning the destroyed back to some semblance of order. Destruction was the word of the day. Destruction of a building, true, but that was only the physical act. Tonight was the culmination of years of slow-burning anger erupting into one final action.

The destruction of the mansion was only a formality to the destruction of the Dream.

It had taken only moments. The first strike had blown straight through the gates, the second blasting through the ground and bedrock, all the way down to the supposedly-shielded Cerebro chamber. It was fitting, one supposed, using the X-Men's greatest tool as a feedback generator to render them incapable of resistance. The computer virus had been more complex than any other, but the delivery method was as brutal and simple as a ground-penetrating missile. Cerebro had been turned first, broadcasting enough psychic static to floor even the least sensitive mutant in the mansion.

Then the machines came.

Searchlights stabbed through the windows, their actinic presence a split-second harbinger of doom, moments before the plasma blasts cut through the walls, slicing swathes through the historic building. Those who made it into the escape tunnels would have had only moments to run. Perhaps some of the ferals had smelled the tinges of atomized nitromethane in the air before the heat from the plasma ignited it, turning the air itself into a bomb.

He stood on the lawn, watching it all burn. One hand raised in a fist, casting a hellish silhouette with the deep purple cape and helmet glowing in the light from the flames.

From out of the crumbling debris, two large forms stalked around the edges of the mansion, plasma blasts flickering here and there, illuminating the skeleton of the school with purple light in lightning-quick flashes. If there were any screams, they were lost in the cacaphony of demolition.

He opened his fist, and the huge machines stopped, turning towards him. Their purple-and-gold faces lowered, the thirty-foot-tall Sentinel robots advanced and knelt before their master. One advanced to him, taking a knee and opening its mechanical hands to reveal the crushed remains of a simple wheelchair.

*FATHER, YOUR WILL BE DONE*, the mechanical voice droned, devoid of any emotion.

From under the helmet, a smile could be seen in the firelight. Gloved hands reached up, sliding the helmet off of closely-shorn dark hair.

Clad in the vestments of his true mentor, John Henry Forge smiled at the destruction of his past.

***

Forge opened his eyes, looking into the concerned face of Professor Xavier. Charles slowly drew his hands away from Forge's temples, letting out a slow, controlled breath and wheeling himself backwards to his desk. "And that is your greatest fear," he said quietly, pouring two cups of tea.

Hands shaking, Forge looked around himself at the Professor's study. Every book was still neatly in its place, the carpet unmarred by plasma fire, the windows unbroken and the walls still standing strong. The mansion was whole, the school was unharmed, and the Dream was still alive. Today.

Almost unconsciously, Forge accepted the teacup from the Professor's calm hands. "That's what I could do," he said quietly. It wasn't a question, not really. Every week since his abduction by Magneto, Forge had spent at least an hour with the Professor in his study. Sometimes it was simple conversation, others it was deep telepathic therapy, working on coping with the source of the young inventor's most solidly-rooted phobias.

Today was his last session.

"It is not a matter of what you could do," Xavier said with a knowing smile, "but what you shall do. I believe I can say that in these two years I have seen you grow in many ways, Forge. Both in your power and into a man that I am proud to call a student and a friend. You need not worry about your fears coming to pass."

Sighing, Forge leaned back into the padded chair, sipping the tea absently. "It's knowing that the capability is there... I don't know how people stand it who have so much power. Dr. Grey, Mr. Dayspring, Shiro, Bobby - and you," he said quietly. "How do you deal with knowing how much damage you could do, without control?"

Xavier's face hardened for an almost imperceptible second, and then the implacable mask of the friendly, concerned father figure returned. "A wise man once told me that it was not the absence of fear that makes us brave, but that recognizing our fears, confronting them, and choosing the right path in spite of them - that is courage of the purest form, Forge. I see that in you."

Thinking on that for a moment, Forge stood and extended his hand to shake Xavier's solemnly. "Thank you, sir. I'll... I suppose I'll miss this in a way."

"My door is always open for our conversations, Forge," Charles replied with an honest smile. "Of any nature."

Forge turned to go, and as he reached the door, he heard a small chuckle behind him from the man in the wheelchair. He turned back to Xavier, who was suppressing a moment of laughter. "Just one passing thought," the older telepath explained, waving a hand apologetically. "No matter which road you choose to travel, Forge - avoid the cape. At least unless another growth spurt occurs."

Laughing, Forge gave a small wave to the Professor. "I'll keep that in mind, sir. No capes."