When the Marauders Strike

The warm glow of the television flickered across the dimly lit room, the soft hum of the speakers filling the air as Warren, Bobby, and Hank lounged in various spots, sprawled out across the furniture and floor. A bowl of popcorn sat between them, half-eaten, with stray pieces littering the carpet from Bobby's occasional, lazy tosses.

The three of them were relaxing, unwinding after having watched Hanks' football match. The movie on the screen wasn't anything particularly special—some action flick Warren had picked out that they were only half-invested in—but it was a good excuse to just chill. Every so often, Bobby would make a sarcastic comment about the film, earning a chuckle from Warren or a grunt from Hank, who was actually trying to pay attention.

It was rare for them to have downtime like this, and for a while, everything just felt normal.

Then Warren, lying back against the couch with one arm draped over the armrest, casually threw out a question. "So…do you guys think Jean likes Scott?" The question cut through the easy atmosphere like a needle popping a balloon.

Bobby, who had just stuffed a handful of popcorn into his mouth, paused mid-chew and turned his head, brows raising. Hank glanced up from where he was seated on the floor, his expression thoughtful but unreadable.

"Like…likes him?" Bobby asked, voice muffled by popcorn.

"Yeah," Warren clarified, stretching his legs out. "Taryn mentioned something earlier. She was confused about it, even thought the two of them were dating or something."

Bobby snorted, swallowing. "Man, I dunno. Jean's hot, don't get me wrong. Totally my type. But she hasn't really shown interest in any of us—not me, not you, and from what I've seen, not Scott either."

Warren raised a brow. "You sure about that?"

Bobby shrugged, reaching for the popcorn again. "Yeah. She's polite, friendly…but I don't think she's out here trying to get with anyone, y'know? Seems more like she's just figuring us all out. And besides…" He smirked, throwing a glance at Warren. "You jealous, Worthington?"

Warren scoffed, rolling his eyes as he hid the slight tension in his jaw. "Not jealous," he said smoothly, but Bobby wasn't buying it for a second.

Hank, ever the observer, remained quiet for a moment before finally chiming in. "Well…she is curious about Scott."

Warren turned to him, his wings shifting slightly in agitation. "Wait—hold on, you think she does like him?"

Hank lifted a hand. "Not what I said," he corrected. "I said she's curious. But that doesn't necessarily mean it's romantic."

Bobby leaned back, arms crossed. "Curious how?"

"Think about it," Hank said, adjusting his glasses. "We've been pretty open about ourselves. You, me, Warren. Even Charles, Amelia, and Alex. But Scott? He's…different."

That got Warren's attention.

Hank continued, his voice measured. "He and Logan are the only ones who don't really talk about themselves. But Logan's, what, centuries old? That makes sense. But Scott's our age. And yet…he's already fought life-or-death battles. Alone. To a scale that we haven't."

A beat of silence stretched between them.

Bobby exhaled, rubbing his neck. "…Yeah. That is kinda crazy when you put it like that."

Warren frowned, but Hank's words made sense.

"Anyone would be curious," Hank concluded.

Bobby nodded slowly. "I mean, yeah, I wanna know more about him too. I just don't ask because, well…" He gestured vaguely, struggling to put it into words. "Scott's not exactly the easiest guy to talk to."

Warren smirked. "You mean because he has the emotional range of a brick?"

Bobby snorted, laughing. "Exactly. Like, dude, I swear, he's either brooding, training, or planning some next-level strategy. Guy barely takes a break."

Hank gave a small, knowing nod. "Scott isn't an easy person to understand. But that's probably why Jean's curious. She sees someone her age who acts so…different."

Warren processed this, still feeling a faint twinge of something he refused to name. But before Bobby could take the chance to tease him further, the ground suddenly shuddered beneath them as an explosion rang out. The entire mansion shook, the walls trembling as a deep, concussive boom erupted from somewhere outside.

The movie was immediately forgotten.

The three of them shot up from their seats, eyes wide as they instinctively looked to one another, every muscle in their bodies tensing.

"What the hell was that?!" Bobby blurted.

Warren was already moving, his wings flaring out slightly as adrenaline pumped through his veins. "That—" he gestured sharply toward the window, where a faint orange glow flickered from the direction of the mansion's front entrance, "—was not normal."

Hank's expression hardened. "That was an attack."

No one needed to say anything else. They moved.

The relaxed evening was over.

Whatever was happening outside…it was only the beginning.

-X-

The world was a chaotic blur of dust and rubble as Amelia coughed, blinking rapidly as the stinging haze settled around her. Her ears rang from the explosion, her entire body feeling the residual tremors of the impact that had torn through the Xavier Mansion. The air was thick with the acrid scent of shattered stone, splintered wood, and scorched metal.

Somewhere nearby, a faint groan reached her ears.

Alex.

Her instincts kicked in instantly, pushing past the momentary haze as she turned toward him. "Alex?" she called urgently, pushing herself up from the debris-littered floor.

Alex coughed violently, a layer of dust coating his face and clothes as he pushed himself up on one arm. His blond hair was streaked with powdered plaster, his expression caught somewhere between confusion and pain. "I-I'm okay," he managed, shaking his head to clear it.

Amelia exhaled sharply in relief but her chest clenched with renewed worry as she turned her gaze toward Charles. "Charles!" She scrambled toward him, her hands pressing against his shoulders as she carefully checked for any visible injuries. His head lolled slightly, his body limp against the wreckage of the wooden table they had been sitting at just moments ago.

"Damn it…" Amelia muttered, her breath unsteady but controlled. Charles was unconscious, but she could feel the faint rise and fall of his chest. He was alive which was a relief.

Then she heard it.

The footsteps.

Heavy. Deliberate. Crushing bits of shattered tile and debris underfoot as they approached.

Her head snapped up, her entire body going rigid as she turned toward the gaping hole in the mansion's wall. Through the swirling dust and settling wreckage, the shadows began to take shape. At first, they were nothing more than dark, hulking silhouettes, their forms partially obscured by the lingering haze. Tall, broad figures moved forward with slow, predatory confidence, their massive bodies framed against the jagged edges of the destroyed wall.

Then, as the dust cleared further they emerged.

The Marauders.

Blockbuster stood at the front of the pack, his massive frame towering as he braced a thick, muscled arm against the shattered edge of the wall, casually surveying the destruction he and his team had caused. His skin was pale, unnaturally thick and bulging with muscle. The veins along his biceps and forearms twisted like cables, and his expression curled into an amused sneer.

Behind him, Rhino loomed like a living wrecking ball, his gray, rock-like hide catching the dim glow of the remaining hallway lights. His horns gleamed wickedly, and his eyes gleamed with an almost eager malice. He cracked his thick knuckles, rolling his shoulders as if warming up for a fight.

To his right, Tombstone stood with his massive arms crossed, his chalk-white skin and permanently grinning maw of filed teeth giving him a nightmarish appearance. His red eyes gleamed through the dust, utterly emotionless, unreadable.

Further behind, Prism was partially illuminated by the broken lights overhead, his crystalline body reflecting the dim light into jagged, fractured beams that danced across the walls. His form shifted slightly as if adjusting the light to his benefit, his expression unreadable but coldly amused.

To the far right, Harpoon twirled one of his energy-charged spears between his fingers, the tip humming with deadly electricity. His dark brown trench coat swayed slightly as he stepped forward, his piercing eyes locking onto Alex with unsettling focus.

Just behind them all, Scrambler lingered with an almost lazy stance, his hands tucked into his pockets, his smug grin cutting across his face. He was smaller than most of the others, but his confidence was unmistakable.

Amelia's breath hitched.

This was bad.

Even before she could fully process the danger standing before them, she instinctively moved, positioning herself between them and Alex and Charles. Alex, meanwhile, staggered to his feet, his hands already beginning to glow, pulsing with raw, untapped energy.

Blockbuster's grin widened as he stepped forward, cracking his neck with a sickening pop. His deep, rumbling voice was mockingly casual. "Well, well…what do we have here?" His eyes flickered over the room, scanning the wreckage before settling on Amelia and Alex. "Couple'a rats left scrambling after the house came down."

Prism chuckled darkly, his voice smooth yet sharp like a dagger slicing through the tension. "And here I thought we'd find something interesting. Just a woman, a kid, and a cripple." Amelia's jaw clenched, but she didn't react—didn't give them the satisfaction of seeing the insult affect her.

Rhino huffed a short laugh, shaking his head. "Ain't even a challenge. Bet we could just flatten 'em and be done with it."

"That'd be a waste," Harpoon mused, still twirling his spear lazily. "Sinister's orders were clear—Summers is the main prize. But if these ones put up a fight…we get to have some fun."

Tombstone said nothing, merely tilting his head, his unnatural grin never fading.

Alex gritted his teeth, stepping forward despite the obvious danger, the energy in his palms flaring brighter. "You're not gonna touch my brother," Alex growled.

Blockbuster laughed, deep and heavy, the sound like a low earthquake shaking the walls. "Oh yeah?" He mocked. "And what are you gonna do about it, kid? You look like you barely know what to do with those powers."

Alex narrowed his eyes, his body tensing. "Try me."

Blockbuster grinned wider. "Gladly."

With that, the Marauders took their first step forward.

The door behind Amelia and Alex suddenly burst open, the sound of splintering wood and the force of the impact sending a gust of air through the already dust-cloaked room. Amelia tensed, instinctively shifting to shield Alex and Charles, but as she turned, her eyes widened.

Warren, Hank, and Bobby stood in the doorway.

Their faces were set in hardened expressions, their eyes scanning the room—taking in the destruction, the unconscious body of Charles, the bloodthirsty Marauders, and Alex standing defiantly in front of them.

The air shifted.

Something changed.

It was subtle, a shift in weight, a pressure settling over the battlefield.

The Marauders noticed it too.

Blockbuster's massive frame shifted slightly, his smirk faltering just a fraction as he turned his eyes toward the newcomers. Prism's crystalline features twitched with amusement, but even he seemed to sense the air growing heavy.

Rhino huffed, shifting his stance. "More rats crawling outta the woodwork…"

Bobby's fists clenched, his usual playful nature utterly absent. His normally bright, energetic features were stone-cold, his expression dark with restrained fury. "You should've stayed in whatever hole you crawled out of," he muttered.

Then, with barely a second's hesitation, Bobby took a step forward—his body surging with change. Organic ice erupted across his skin, coating him in a thick, translucent layer of shimmering frost, his form growing more defined, his silhouette shifting into something stronger, sharper.

He thrust both hands forward and released a furious storm of ice burst forth, surging toward the Marauders like a tidal wave of frigid death. The air dropped instantly, the once warm and dust-heavy atmosphere flashing into something arctic and unforgiving.

The attack hit with the force of a glacier crashing into the battlefield, a solid wall of ice exploding outward and swallowing the Marauders whole. A deafening crack echoed through the ruined room as the ice slammed into bodies, creeping violently fast, encasing the massive frames of Blockbuster, Rhino, and Tombstone in an instant.

They didn't even get a chance to react.

The sheer force of impact sent them staggering backward, their entire forms encased in thick, reinforced ice, locking them in place like statues.

For a brief moment—just one—everything froze.

Prism stepped forward, unaffected, his crystalline body refracting the cold harmlessly, the ice barely even touching his form before harmlessly sliding off. His lips curling into a smirk. Harpoon twirled his energy-charged spear between his fingers, his eyes flickering with annoyance rather than concern. Scrambler was the only one who seemed surprised, his usual cocky grin fading slightly as he looked at his frozen teammates.

Blockbuster, Rhino, and Tombstone remained encased in ice, the thick layers of frost creaking but holding for now. Having been a the forefront, they took the full brunt of Bobby's powers and inadvertently protected their allies.

Bobby lowered his hands, exhaling a visible breath, his chest rising and falling as he assessed the damage. "That's three down," he muttered. "You sure you wanna keep going?"

Prism laughed lightly, tilting his head. "Oh, you poor, naive idiot. We've just begun."