Prelude to Destiny

Pulling up to the house is James Haller. He’s twenty years old, and months from being completely independent, in all ways. He’s moving into a townhouse his friend’s parents are purchasing for their child and a few of their friends. No rent, all they have to pay for is the utilities. He’s got a great new job in the city–downtown St. Louis. He’ll be updating the website of one of those up-and-coming companies. He’s getting paid quite well for the job, and he can basically do it from home unless he’s got major updates. With that and his part-time at the restaurant, he’s going to be quite well off for his age. He starts college next fall, so he’ll be settled in and ready for the commute downtown. He gets out of his car weary–he’s worked a double shift at the restaurant, and he’s quite exhausted. He walks in and checks the table—the purse is there—his mother is home, no night shift today.

This night shift at the hospital is wearing her thin. Maybe after I’m downtown for a few months, I’ll be able to put in a word for her at the office. Here’s hoping.

James walks downstairs, to his room–the basement. He’s been taking down some of his media setup and his decorations. He’s hoping for a quick and easy move, so he’s packing in advance and thinking everything through. He changes from his work uniform to a t-shirt and shorts, and goes back up into the living room for his workout. He brings a silver-colored solid staff, about a half an inch thick, and about five feet in length, with him. He’s had the staff for as long he’s been able to walk. Every year, it seems to get longer by a couple of inches. He’s always figured that his mother switched it every year for a new one. He’s never questioned that assumption–until today. Stepping into the living room, James grips the staff, feeling a buildup of energy, in him, as well as the room. He takes a battle stance, and instinctively, perhaps even pre-emptively, he swings behind himself with full force, expecting to hit someone.

<BAMF>

He is met with a cloud of smoke and a stench that he’s never smelled before. Acting on instinct once again, he swings back around with the staff, but moves his body left, almost sensing his attacker’s next position. Sure enough, the place James’s attacker appears next is directly in his arms, which is when Jason applies a hold he’s only imagined how to employ. What’s more–Jason is not surprised by any of his abilities. He simply takes to them like a seasoned veteran.

“There had better be some explanation, Mr. Wagner, for this intrusion into my home, as well as from you and your fellows, Mrs. Summers.” James speaks, as though there were more than one person in the room. Sure enough, three other people form from thin air, revealing a redhead bombshell underneath one cloak, a brunette male with a golden and red visor across his eyes, and finally, another male, wearing a black outfit with armor pieces on it, and a black cover over his head, with a silver headdress. The male James is holding reveals to be a blue furred male, with pointed ears and what appears to be a tail. James is not the least bit shocked.

“Well? What is the explanation for three of the X-Men’s own invading my house, in a reality not their own?” James begins to speak, and for the first time tonight shocks himself. How does he know all these things?

“Amazing.” The first word from the redhead. “Before we even made full transition over you knew we were here, and you sensed where Nightcrawler would teleport before he even got there. Simply amazing, Mr. Haller.” Jean Grey-Smmers, the redhead bombshell smiles at him, and he releases Kurt Wagner, her teammate.

“Amazing, indeed. What’s more amazing is the fact that I–or anyone in this reality for that matter–should not be able to do any of it.” He looks at the quartet of individuals. Everyone’s _expression becomes very serious.

They look at each other, but only one of them speaks. Alex Summers, removing his headdress, steps forward and looks at James. “Yes, well–you’re not exactly from around here, kid.”

Revelations P.1

This can’t be real! I must be dreaming. I’m staring at four X-Men! X-Men! I don’t know what’s more insane…the fact that they’re here, or the fact that they say that I’m not supposed to be here!

It’s not a dream, Mr. Haller. I assure you. The telepathic presence of Jean Grey-Smmers is very comforting. Having her in someone’s mind has been described as “calming and empowering,” by those who have had the privilege.

“Look, son–there is a lot of things that you don’t know.” Scott Summers, the X-Man known as Cyclops, has always been the prodigal son, so now he tries to play father to a young man who he does not know, simply because it seems to him–that is what he should do.

“Don’t call me son, Mr. Summers. You have a son, and a daughter, for that matter. I, on the other hand, do not have a father. For my twenty years of life, I’ve been raised by my mother.” James looks at Cyclops with defiance.

“And I’m sure she’s done a great job.” Jean Grey-Smmers, sometimes called Phoenix, sits down across from James. “Let’s see if we can’t explain what’s happened.”

“Let’s.” James, instinctively, connects the group telepathically–taking most of them by surprise.

If you don’t mind, James, I’d rather you leave the rest to me. Jean Grey-Smmers shines on the astral plane as a star. Her Phoenix bird hovers above her, its light enveloping the group. This all started less than twenty minutes ago. The astral plane around the group takes form, revealing the Xavier Institute for Higher Learning, something James had only read about in comics.

During one of our training sessions, Cyclops begins, reality seemed to twist around us, changing the Danger Room–making it something it had never been before. The scene changes–showing the four X-Men standing in a white, faceless room.

That’s when things got weird, kid. Alex Summers, known as Havok, continues the story. An energy field appeared, more consistent and perfect than any we’d ever seen. A man stepped from it, as the field itself seemed to seep into him.

He looked at all of us and smiled. Kurt Wagner, who goes by Nightcrawler, seems to finish the story. He simply said “You will do quite nicely,” and entered our minds. He explained that we needed to cross dimensions, with his help, and tell you of your origins.

The group blinks in unison, and they’re all back in the real world.

“Why are you smiling, Mrs. Summers?” James looks at her questioningly.

“My apologies, it’s been a while since a trip to the astral plane has been that enjoyable.”

“Pardon?”

“As I’m sure you’re aware, where we’re from–there’s been a lot of activity on the astral plane, and it’s been weakened many times, at times nearly broken. The astral plane of this world is–pure. The few latent psychic minds of this world have not affected the astral plane at all, so it is still a blissful place of pure thought. But I digress–Scott?”

“Well, as Nightcrawler said, we are here to tell you of your origins. Before we were sent across the dimensions, we questioned how we would do that–the mysterious gentleman said nothing, but he handed me this, and sent us along.” Cyclops pulls a bright sphere from his pocket. “I couldn’t begin to tell you what it may be.”

“No need, Mr. Summers–I know exactly what it is. Don’t ask me how, but I do.”

“So what is it kid?”

“Ya, we would like to know why we are here.”

Havok and Nightcrawler look at James eagerly.

“Why, it’s a Psion Orb. It stores vast amounts of thought, and can only be accessed by the most powerful Psi’s.”

Revelations P.2

Since creation began, energy has been free-flowing, and often used in excess. “Concentrated” forms of energy are in design flawed, and have never used all the energy that were being dispensed. After countless eons and endless strands of creation, all the excess energy that was flowing throughout everything everywhere got to a point where it combined, and formed a perfect, sentient creature. It took over a millenium for it to understand its existance, and another millenium to think. It decided to explore where it came from, and visit all the realities that spawned out of creation. It played all roles in all walks of existance. From the lonely beggar on the streets to ruler of whole solar systems, and on to omnipotent cosmic being, and even objects of power.

After fourty thousand years of existance–a mere blink in the grand web of time–it decided to take a permanent form. It had preferred the form it took in a universe of heroes and villains, where he called himself the Beyonder. A name that truly fit him. He formed a new plan for himself. He would take mortal form in a universe devoid of advanced human life, a reality where evolution was yet to make leaps. He wanted to live within the constrictions of the mortal form, and live a mortal life, and gain a better understanding of life.

He took the mortal form of a man named Sean Haller, who he witnessed die in this dimention’s Vietnam war. No one knew of his death yet, so he took it as a perfect opportunity. He assumed the man’s memories as his own, and went back to his life. He met a young woman, Tiffany, and took her as his wife. After a year of marriage, he sired a child. At the moment of birth, he saw the power in the child, being born of a mortal woman and a pure being. He revealed himself to Tiffany, and she completely blocked it out. He gave her a false memory of him leaving for a covert mission for the government and never coming back.

The child grew up to be normal, knowing nothing of his origins. The faher did, however leave him a parting gift. A staff that would focus him at all times, a weapon that would change with him as he grew to adulthood. He also left him with a promise–”One day, I will call you, and you will come, and explore with me the myriad of reality.”

With that and a blink, James is back in his room, back to reality–face to face with four X-Men, and a truth that is far mor on the insane side of the status quo than he’s comfortable with.

“So what did you see, James?” Jean Grey-Smmers speaks with a calm tone. She is as curious as the rest of her companions, but does not wish to rush James’s reaction.

“Everything. All of time and reality. I think it’s still downloading.”

“What do you mean everything?” Scott Summers is ever-skeptical and defensive.

“I’m pretty sure it is everything. I think it’s actually genetic memory. You see–the guy you saw–that’s–that’s my father. He’s–how to break this down–”

“You know who we are, I don’t think we need anything broken down.”

“Oh, sorry–just used to that in my world. Well–he’s the culmination of all the excess energy that has ever been spent.”

“Maybe you will have to break that down.” Alex Summers steps up, if not for his compatriots’, but for his own ignorance.

“Well–it seems that every energy that has ever been used, released, generated-whatever–it has never been completely used. Incidents such as Hiroshima, even the blast that killed the original Phoenix manifest–an enormous amount of energy was released, but not all of it utilized. An electron or two gets out without being used.” The group looks at him with astonishment. “You have to think of it like this–for just those two events–there are countless variants that occurred throughout the multitudes of realities. Saying that just one electron escaped each event. For the countless realities each one happened in–that’s a lot of energy. And there have been countless releases of energy since time began.

“Well, to sum it up, all of those free energies formed into a single being, which ony gained sentience about 40000 years ago. He actually took part in a lot of stuff–apparently he was the Beyonder.”

The group is still for a moment. Jea is the first to speak–”So what now?”

As if in response–reality tears open before them in fine lines, and the father of the boy is in their presence. “Now,” he says with a majestic and powerful voice, “He comes with me.”