Chapter 64: Between Dream and Reality #64
Looking at Evan's state, Stark's eyes couldn't help but widen. "Jesus, what the hell happened to you?" He asked, his voice laced with genuine concern. His Iron Man suit's helmet retracted, revealing his alarmed expression.
Landing in front of Evan, Storm couldn't help but freeze, her normally composed demeanor shattered by the sight before her. Her face took on the same shocked expression as Stark's, taking in the surreal display of injuries that seemed to dance across Evan's.
"What... what is this..?" She asked, her tone a mix of shock and deep concern, her hand instinctively reaching out toward him but not quite touching, fearful she might cause him harm.
Evan shrugged, wincing slightly as if the gesture caused him discomfort. "I have no idea, but if I had to guess, it would be the consequences of using too much power..." His voice carried a grim undertone as he spoke.
He attempted to muster a reassuring smile, though the effort clearly strained him. "Let's just hope it's not permanent. I hear women like scars, but this is a bit too much..." He added with a chuckle, his gaze flickering to his own injuries, which seemed to fade away only to return.
Storm's expression remained troubled. "Will you be alright?" Her concern was palpable, her frown deepening as she regarded Evan.
Evan nodded, his reassurance tinged with weariness. "I think I just need to get some rest..." His voice held a hint of exhaustion as he spoke.
Stark nodded, his expression serious. "Then you should get out of here, maybe get whatever this is looked at..." He ran a hand through his hair, still perplexed by the sight before him. "I'm not much of a biology man, but I know some people who might be able to help..." His gaze shifted thoughtfully.
Evan smiled weakly, appreciating Stark's concern. "We have our own resident bio-physicist at the X-Mansion," he said, gesturing subtly toward Beast, who was busy assisting the soldiers in clearing the wreckage, unaware of Evan's current condition. "I'll have him take a look later... for now, I'd take some shuteye..." Evan concluded with a weary sigh.
Stark gave a firm nod, understanding the importance of rest. "That sounds like a plan. We'll take it from here..." he said, his tone conveying a slight hint of respect.
Evan nodded, grateful for Stark's concern, and watched as the billionaire genius left the scene. He then turned to Storm, his fatigue becoming increasingly evident. "Mind lending me your shoulder?" he asked, his legs beginning to give out beneath him.
Without hesitation, Ororo rushed to his side, her powerful yet gentle presence stabilizing him. She wrapped one of his arms around her neck, supporting his weight.
Evan couldn't help but smile as he felt her warmth enveloping him. "You smell very nice," he remarked with a teasing grin, attempting to lighten the mood despite his condition.
Ororo couldn't suppress a fond eye-roll at Evan's comment. "Don't you ever stop?" she asked, her voice carrying a mix of exasperation and affection.
Evan chuckled softly, his exhaustion momentarily forgotten. "Never," he replied with a playful glint in his eyes.
With Evan leaning on her for support, Ororo took to the air, lifting both from the battlefield as he began to lose consciousness. "Come on," she said with determination, "let's get you out of here."
...
Slowly, I opened my eyes, squinting against the intense light. As my vision adjusted, I realized I was standing in a vast white space with no discernible boundaries. White stretched as far as I could see.
"A dream?" I muttered, looking at my arm in disbelief. The wriggling wounds that had covered my body were gone.
A familiar voice cut through the silence, snapping me out of my daze. "Who knows?" The voice carried a mischievous tone as an orb of golden light materialized before me, gradually taking the form of a little girl.
"What do you want it to be, Evan?" She asked, her voice filled with playful curiosity.
I couldn't help but smile as I gazed upon her familiar face and the innocent smile that always seemed to grace it. "It doesn't matter what I want, does it?" I replied, shaking my head.
"I watched you die, so this can't be reality..." I added, the weight of the past still heavy on my mind. "Be honest with me, Lily. Am I dead or finally going crazy?"
"I already said I didn't know, didn't I, you big dummy?" Lily replied with a pout, her golden form glowing softly in the pristine white surroundings. "All I know is that you've been missusing my gift... the pain you take from others is not yours to keep," She gave me a displeased look, her translucent eyes showing a hint of disappointment.
I sighed at those words. "I know, and I'm sorry..." I said, refusing to make any excuses for my actions.
Lily's expression softened, and she beamed at me with a warm smile. "As long as you're sorry, then it's fine..." She said, her voice gentle but firm. "You really shouldn't use it like that again, Evan..." With those words, she began to float into the air, her form transforming back into the blinding golden light that threatened to engulf me before she disappeared completely.
"For everyone's sake..."
...
As the light gradually faded, I found myself reclined on a sickbed within the X-Mansion's laboratory. In his distinctive blue-furred form, Dr. McCoy leaned over me, gently inserting a needle into my arm and delivering its contents into my bloodstream.
"McCoy? How did I get here?" I inquired, my voice strained, as I pushed myself up to a sitting position.
McCoy's lips curled into a grin, showcasing his canines. "Princess carry—courtesy of Storm," he answered with a chuckle, nodding towards a nearby chair where Ororo rested, seemingly in deep slumber.
I eased back onto the bed, a smile playing on my lips. "Lucky me," I remarked, acknowledging Storm's care. Turning my attention back to McCoy, I arched an eyebrow. "So, how long do I have to live, doc?" I asked a hint of jest in my tone.
McCoy's response came with a casual shrug. "Longer than me and everyone you know, most likely," he replied, his tone bearing a note of resignation. "Whatever you did to destroy the Master Mold, it overloaded your cells...."
"By all intents and purposes, you should be dead..." His head shook slightly, as if pondering the complexities of the situation. "Luckily for you, the same overload enhanced the serums in your body, which in turn enhanced your healing factor..." he explained, attempting to bring a glimmer of positivity into the mix.
I sighed, considering the implications. "Great. So when can I leave? There's much to be done," I inquired, my determination undiminished.
McCoy's expression shifted to a more serious note. "You can leave whenever you want. The medicine I've injected into your bloodstream should stabilize you until you fully recover," he assured me.
However, his warning carried a weight that couldn't be dismissed. "But whatever that was, I recommend you never try it again, otherwise..." His hand formed a closed fist, ominous in its simplicity. "Boom..." he concluded, punctuating the gravity of the situation by suddenly opening his fist.
"I have no intention of ever doing that again..."
...
Somewhere in the suburbs of New York, William Stryker stood with an air of authority in front of the television, his hands neatly clasped behind his back. The television screen displayed live footage of the aftermath of the battle against the Master Mold, with countless individuals diligently working to clear the wreckage of destroyed buildings and the remnants of the defeated machines.
"As you can see-- thanks to the combined efforts of the Avengers, the Fantastic Four, the X-Men, and several other heroes, the threat has been--" The anchor's voice was abruptly silenced as Stryker reached forward and powered off the television with a decisive flick of his wrist.
As he turned away from the screen, Stryker's expression was of palpable disappointment. "How disappointing... I had high hopes for Trask and his Sentinels," he remarked with a sigh, his vision focusing on a reality that had failed to meet his expectations.
A voice, smooth and tinged with a hint of amusement, emerged from behind him. "So did I, but I suppose you can't use a machine to do God's work," the voice chimed in, revealing the speaker's presence.
Stryker couldn't help but smile as he turned around, casting his piercing gaze upon the brown-haired, blue-eyed man standing casually on the couch.
"Well, I'm sure you and your associates would prove better friends for humanity, Mr. Creed..." he replied, the smile on his face masking the darker intentions that lurked beneath his words.
...
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