When the Ice Breaks

The moment Prism, Harpoon, and Scrambler stood amidst the rubble, the tension in the air snapped like a drawn bowstring. Dust still swirled from the impact of the truck, fractured beams groaned from the damage, and the cold night air seeped through the gaping hole in the wall.

But none of that mattered.

The X-Men had a fight on their hands.

Warren spread his wings wide, the motion kicking up loose debris and causing his teammates' shadows to stretch across the floor. Beside him, Bobby shifted seamlessly into his organic ice form, his body now glistening like sculpted frost beneath the dim light. Hank, always the most controlled among them, crouched low, his powerful muscles coiling with anticipation.

Across from them, Prism stood with a smug grin, his crystalline body refracting the light around him into a chaotic display of colors. Harpoon twirled a charged metal rod between his fingers, its surface humming with raw energy. Scrambler—casual, unimpressed, dangerous in his nonchalance—cracked his knuckles like a man getting ready for nothing more than a bar fight.

For a moment, no one moved.

Then the world exploded into action.

Harpoon acted first.

With a practiced flick of his wrist, he hurled his weapon, the glowing projectile slicing through the air toward Bobby like a spear of lightning. But Bobby was ready. He swiped an arm through the air, an icy barrier erupting from the floor, solidifying in an instant.

The harpoon struck the ice, detonating in a brilliant burst of kinetic energy. The shockwave sent shards flying, but Bobby had already slid backward, using a rapidly forming ice ramp to reposition himself.

Warren took to the skies, wings beating furiously as he propelled himself forward, banking sharply before diving toward Prism. The crystalline mutant scoffed, turning his body slightly, and suddenly Warren was blinded by a searing burst of refracted light.

"Gah!" Warren twisted mid-air, throwing up an arm as his vision momentarily burned white.

Prism laughed, casually stepping aside.

That moment of distraction was all Scrambler needed. He darted toward Bobby, weaving through falling debris like a snake through tall grass. Bobby barely had time to react before Scrambler's hand shot forward—

"No you don't!" Hank intercepted, launching himself off his powerful legs and tackling Scrambler mid-motion. The two crashed hard onto the damaged floor, Hank rolling instantly to straddle the smaller man.

Scrambler grunted, but instead of struggling, he smirked.

A flash of contact— Scrambler's palm pressed against Hank's forearm. A surge of disruptive energy coursed through him. Hank's limbs suddenly locked up, a feeling like electric static running up his spine. His muscles, once bursting with strength, suddenly failed him. He tried to move—his arm, his leg—nothing.

"You're strong," Scrambler muttered beneath him. "But strength don't mean a thing if your body won't listen." With a twist of his hips, Scrambler flipped Hank onto his back, rolling free just in time to avoid a follow-up attack from Bobby, who had fired an ice blast aimed at him.

Warren recovered. His sight still blurry, but his instincts razor-sharp. He snapped his wings once, throwing himself backward as Prism fired another brilliant burst of light, the beams fracturing against Warren's defensive maneuver.

"Stop playing with him and fight!" Harpoon barked at Prism, hurling another energy-laced javelin toward Warren. This time, Warren didn't dodge. He snatched it mid-air, the weapon vibrating in his grip. With a quick, powerful twist, he hurled it right back at Harpoon.

Harpoon's eyes widened—he hadn't expected that. He dove sideways, barely avoiding his own weapon as it embedded into the wall and exploded in a burst of fiery energy.

"How's that for a return policy?" Warren taunted, soaring upward and using the distraction to launch downward at Prism once more.

Meanwhile, Bobby shifted strategies. Instead of trying to fight Scrambler head-on, he did something simple. He coated the entire floor in ice and Scrambler's smug grin vanished the second his foot slipped. His momentum betrayed him, sending him sprawling as Bobby capitalized instantly—freezing his arms to the ground.

"Guess what?" Bobby smirked, "You can't scramble what you can't touch."

Scrambler snarled, struggling, but Bobby only reinforced the ice further, keeping him locked in place.

Harpoon and Prism regrouped, their earlier arrogance giving way to focused aggression. "Enough screwing around," Harpoon snapped, drawing out two more charged javelins.

Prism, his body glowing dangerously bright, absorbed the ambient light in the room, preparing to unleash a massive concussive blast. Bobby, Warren, and Hank—who was regaining control of his body—braced themselves.

But the sound of cracking ice made Bobby turn his head.

Tombstone.

The massive, white-skinned powerhouse flexed, shattering the ice that had encased him. Next to him, Blockbuster and Rhino tore themselves free as well.

Bobby swallowed. "Oh… that's not good."

The Marauders—now reinforced with their heavy hitters—stood together, their earlier mockery replaced with dangerous intent.

-X-

The walls trembled as the sounds of battle raged outside. The distant crashes of bodies colliding, the sharp crackle of ice forming, and the occasional bursts of energy against stone and wood sent vibrations through the damaged hallways of the mansion. Dust and debris still settled from the initial truck impact, the once-pristine structure now fractured, open to the cold night air.

Inside, Amelia moved swiftly, guiding Charles deeper into the building, ensuring he was safely tucked away in a secured room. The professor remained unconscious, his breathing steady but unresponsive. Alex stood beside her, his fists clenched, his body nearly vibrating with pent-up frustration. Every impact, every distant shout from the fight outside, made his heart pound harder in his chest.

"I have to go help them," Alex said, turning toward the door.

"No," Amelia's voice was firm, unwavering. "Absolutely not."

Alex's jaw tightened. "Then what's the point of me training? You and Charles let me go through the training sessions, let me develop my powers, but when it actually matters, when the team is out there fighting for their lives, I'm supposed to just sit here?" His hands balled into fists, his anger manifesting as faint glowing red energy flickered around his palms.

"You're not ready," Amelia countered, stepping in front of him. "Training with Logan and Scott isn't the same as a real battle, Alex. You don't just jump in because you want to help. This isn't a game!"

Alex's eyes burned with frustration. "I know that! But I can't just stand here while they get overwhelmed. I have powers—I can fight. I should be out there with them!"

Amelia exhaled sharply, gripping his shoulders. "Listen to me. It's not about what you can do. It's about what you should do. You're still young, Alex. There are things you don't understand yet. You think Scott would want you running out there into a fight you might not survive?"

Alex's expression twisted, her words cutting deeper than she realized. His brother—his perfect older brother—wouldn't want him involved. Scott would have told him to stay back too. Just like he always did.

His hands trembled at his sides, the energy flickering brighter before dimming. He took a breath, trying to shove down the surge of emotions building inside him.

Then a massive crash echoed from outside.

Both their heads snapped toward the open hallway, where moonlight poured through the broken entrance. Alex sprinted toward it, pushing past Amelia before she could react.

"Alex!" she called, moving to stop him.

But he didn't slow down.

Rushing through the shattered remnants of the mansion's walls, Alex emerged into the open air just in time to see the worst possible sight.

Warren, Hank, and Bobby were holding their ground—barely.

Now, Tombstone, Blockbuster, and Rhino were free.

The thick ice that had encased them moments ago lay in shattered chunks across the ground, mist rising from where the sudden temperature shift clashed with the cold air. The three powerhouses loomed in the dim light, their massive forms radiating raw strength.

Blockbuster cracked his neck, rolling his shoulders as if shaking off stiffness.

Rhino let out a guttural laugh, stomping his foot, the sheer weight of his frame cracking the pavement beneath him.

Tombstone—silent, emotionless, unyielding—flexed his fingers, his white skin gleaming in the dim light.

Across from them, Warren, Bobby, and Hank stood in battle-ready stances, breathing hard.

Alex's stomach twisted. "They're in trouble," he muttered.

Amelia grabbed his arm from behind. "That's exactly why you shouldn't—"

Alex ripped free of her grip and took a step forward, his hands glowing brighter with surging energy. "I can't just stand here!" He snapped. "They need backup! I can be that backup!"

Amelia hesitated, her gaze darting from him to the battlefield. Warren was hovering mid-air, watching Rhino warily. Hank was tensed, his stance wide as he prepared to engage, while Bobby was covered in frost, his eyes darting between their enemies, planning his next move.

Then her gaze locked onto Tombstone, Blockbuster, and Rhino—each massive, each deadly.

She knew Alex was powerful. She'd seen glimpses of what he could do. But this?

This was a battlefield.

Yet, even as her instincts screamed to keep him back, she could see it in his eyes—the determination, the fire.

The same fire she'd seen in Scott.

Amelia clenched her fists, making a split-second decision. "Fine," she said, her body shimmering as she began to dissolve into mist. "But we do this together." Alex turned to her, surprised. "Let's go," she said, then vanished into vapor, surging toward the fight.

Alex took one last breath.

Then he ran forward, his hands burning with energy, ready to make his mark.