The Weather Witch & The Demon (Days of Future Now)
Below is my pinch hit for the X-Men Reverse Bang.
Inspired by the art of the wonderful clawfoottub.
He caught her wrist in his hand, tightly between his lithe fingers. She didn’t shift, didn’t struggle. Her flesh seemed to warm, to melt against his ever so slightly. It was as though her body was giving him permission. Just through the simple act of allowing the touch. Not reciprocating. Not acknowledging. Just allowing it to happen, like a wordless truth. It was times like this, when rich hazelnut skin could be viewed against a backdrop of midnight blue that he realized how little physical contact he actually had. Words were exchanged. Smiles and the playful jabs of easy comradery were common enough. But this, the touching of bodies in the most innocent of ways, this was something new, something he rarely allowed himself.
“It will be all right,” he whispered in an almost inaudible tone.
“Will it, Kurt?”
She looked down, her dark eyes clouded a hazy white. She was worried. More than that though, she was terrified by her lack of control. The winds shifted. They blew strong enough to upset the nearby oak tree. The leaves danced and fluttered filling the air with sounds of life.
They were alive. They had a life. They had faith. He repeated it to himself over and over like a worn out mantra, a chorus you couldn’t excise from your head. A line of dialogue on repeat.
“It will, Ororo. I promise you this. You must have faith.”
His fingers curled tightly around the slim wrist still held between them.
“How can you be so sure?”
“Ah, my dear, that is the question, isn’t it?” His eyes lit up. There was a childlike mischievousness to them. “That is the very definition of faith, is it not? Unflinching belief in the absence of actual proof?”
She sighed, mouth turning down and lips parting, words forming at the back of her throat. “I-”
“Nightcrawler. Storm. Could you come inside? It’s time.”
***
“Kitty shouldn’t be here.”
Ororo rubbed her head. She pinched her temples, then the bridge of her nose, then her temples again. Nothing relieved the tension building behind her eyes. The sky darkened.
“I agree, Kurt. She shouldn’t. But she is.”
“Time is not ours to alter.”
“Even for the greater good?”
“Whose greater good? It’s not God’s plan.”
She stirred, the cool air lifting the snow white strands of her loose hair like a halo. “Ah, see that is where our faith fails to see eye to eye, my friend. If it is not your God’s plan, then how is she even here?”
Kurt’s eyes blazed in the sinking sunlight. She challenged him and he enjoyed it. “I see your point. But she has willfully altered the order of things-the preordained order. No good can come of this.”
“How can you say that with such surety? You have not seen this future of which she speaks.”
“And you trust her? You trust her so completely?”
“Kurt, how can you not? She’s our Katherine, our Sprite. She speaks of a future where we are rounded up. Where we are marked and caged. She tells of a future where Magneto is out ally, Kurt. How can you deny the implications of that?”
“I have always been singled out for my appearance, Ororo, so forgive me if being ‘marked’ doesn’t fill me with the overwhelming dread that it does you.” He paused, inching closer to her on the stone ledge on which they both perched. “Forgive me for my bitterness. It is sometimes too easy to give into these old feelings.”
“You never need ask my forgiveness. You know that.” She smiled so brightly it seemed to chase away the encroaching darkness.
“Please remember that, for you may not enjoy what I’m about to say. While I trust that this is our Kitty, albeit our Kitty from the future, I do not think aiding her in changing the past-her past-which is our present, is wise. In fact, I think it is not just a mistake, but an unforgivable act that I refuse to be a part of.”
“I simply do not understand.” Distress crept into her voice, but it remained clear and strong. “We will be rounded up. Placed in camps. Or destroyed.”
Kurt did not move. His piercing almond eyes stared with unflinching determination. “Yes.”
“Katherine thinks-the X-Men of the future think-that this can be avoided. That by changing something here, we can change the future.”
“You can not change your destiny, Ororo.”
“Is being hunted by giant robots my destiny? Is becoming an angry, hate filled woman my destiny? If so, then I don’t want it. I want this chance. I want to help my future self. I want to give me a chance. How can you not want that as well?”
“This is not the will of God.”
She sighed again, this time the exhale spoke of resignation. “How can you know God’s will?”
***
“So she believes this, saving Senator Kelly, will save mutantkind?”
“You say it with such an incredulous tone, Kurt.”
He shrugged. It was an uncommon mannerism from the eternally graceful figure. His shoulders seemed heavy with the posed question. His whole body was weighted by the last few days. The specter of their unfamiliar friend looming, telling them of their unfortunate fates, had left a thick, acrid taste in his mouth. The man that danced on the edge of dimensions, a trail of brimstone smoke never far behind, could not wrap his mind around their current situation. The Nightcrawler, he who was one with the shadows, could not reconcile his teammate’s willingness to meddle with the unknowable future.
Except it was knowable. It had been seen. The Katherine of the future had expressed, in no uncertain terms, the assassination of Senator Kelly was the likeliest catalyst for the uprising against mutants.
“Kurt, look at me.” Her legs dangled from the high stone barrier. They swayed back and forth, her heels knocking against the wall. She was like a child here, outside the mansion, just the two of them. For the first time since the arrival of the all-knowing dystopian Kitty, Kurt could see how frightened Ororo was.
“Ororo, I know what you are apt to say. And I do, I see your point of view as clear as I see the line in the sand. If this is the future that has come to pass, if Kelly is to be killed, then it is written. It can not be undone.”
“But here lies the problem, my friend. It can be undone. We are undoing it. And this displeases you.”
“We are fumbling around with things we do not understand!”
“Then you admit it?”
Kurt paused, pitch black mouth slightly agape. He cocked his head, “What exactly am I admitting?”
“That you do not understand. This could be your God’s plan. Kate Pryde from the year 2013 traveling decades into the past and inhabiting her younger self-our Sprite-that could be the plan. That could be what is written. There is no way for us to know.”
“But, and even Katherine’s remaining X-Men don’t know, this action might do nothing. It may alter nothing. It may also rip apart dimensions. Or fracture timelines…”
“Or fix everything.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“I trust myself, Kurt. I trust my teammates. Whether it be the men and woman formulating plans in the mansion as we speak, or the shadows of what we could become. This is the only option they saw. And if tampering with the very fabric of space-time was their last hope, then I believe with all of my being that this future is just as dire as Katherine has told us.”
“I wish I saw things as you did, Ororo. It would make the upcoming battle much more palatable.”
***
“How are we to know then?”
Ororo chuckled dryly. Her dark eyes were all pupil. The sky seemed to exist within them and the atmosphere pulsed with her exhalations. “We don’t.”
“Has this been for nothing, Ororo?”
“How are we to know?” she asked, almost coyly.
Kurt’s expression didn’t register the playful remark. He wore a mask of concern and conflict. “Ororo, I can’t help but feel we have dug our hands into something we shouldn’t have.”
“Maybe so. But the few things we know for sure? Those things, I can live with.” Kurt bowed his head and his dark locks caught the moon’s glow. “The senator is alive. The majority of The Brotherhood has been contained. Kate is gone and our Sprite is back. These are the truths of this time, this place. And those, those I feel nothing but confidence in.”
“But Mystique…”
“Yes, she is in the wind, as they say.” Ororo smiled slyly, bearing the slightest sliver of gleaming white teeth.
“The Professor, he didn’t seem surprised. About any of it. How does he just accept these things?”
“Ah, but I think it is much like you with your faith. Or like myself, with my confidence in the earth, the elements. He feels a surety.”
“Even when confronted with the fact that, in some distant possible future, Magneto, his mortal enemy, will fight side by side with his X-Men? This is something he hears mention of and simply accepts?”
“And God has never stood by your side to guide you, yet you trust in His presence.” She smiled again, dreamily, the night sky diamond speckled and dripping with stars. “They weren’t always enemies, the Professor and Magneto. They were once brother’s in arms. Perhaps they could be again.”
Kurt’s tail twitched absently behind him, swaying with a purpose all its own. “I suppose, after these last few days, anything is possible.”
Ororo nodded, pleased. “I hope for the sake of our future selves, we rose to this challenge.”
“Ororo?” Kurt paused. His eyes were distant and glazed with moisture. There was an unspoken question hanging between them. In the days since Kate’s arrival at the sprawling Westchester mansion there had been a subject Kurt was unwilling to broach. It was an idea, and observation, that none of his fellow X-Men had seemed to acknowledge. He tried to vanquish it from his already overwhelmed and tumultuous thoughts, but now, with the Kate Pryde of the future gone, it seemed like the proverbial elephant in the room. Gone were the distractions of ardent planning, the lengthy volleying of faith versus destiny. All that remained was the memory of the girl with the sad eyes of a beaten woman staring up at him.
He muttered her name again, under his breath, weary hopelessness coming off him in heated waves.
“Kurt, you’d like to ask me something?”
“Yes, I would very much like to.”
“Shall I spare you the hardship of forming the words?”
“Please, Ororo. If you don’t mind.”
“You want to know what I think about Kitty’s exclamation upon waking in her past. You want to speak of how she wrapped her child’s arms round your neck and exhaled her joy at seeing you alive.”
Kurt couldn’t bring himself to meet Ororo’s eyes. His breath hitched embarrassingly on exhale and he immediately began to drown in the foolishness of his fear. “But it doesn’t matter, does it? We all die. It is the nature of life.”
“But it does matter, Kurt. And none of us addressed it. Frankly, Katherine should have known better than to reveal so much of her future to us. Telling us of the countless mutant and non-mutant super-being deaths is one thing-a broad warning. To say, in no uncertain terms, that you won’t be among the final members of the X-Men seems a distressing misstep. I wish she had kept her mouth shut.” Ororo twisted her head, looking toward the mansion, and away from her friend. “Or perhaps I’m being a bit hard on a disoriented woman who had just traveled through time. It’s difficult for me to divorce this woman, this Kate, from our little Kitten.” She trailed off.
“Don’t be so hard on yourself. This has been trying for all of us.”
“And now I am being selfish. My apologies, Kurt.” Ororo shifted her weight and leaned closer to Kurt. His body radiated heat. It was comforting and familiar and she wanted nothing more than to curl up beside him and weep.
“Death is but another stage of life, there is no need for you to mourn this, or me. Especially because I am still here.” His smile lit up his golden eyes, and Ororo tucked her body closer to his, leaving them scant inches away from touching.
A tear rolled down her ebony cheek and he fought the urge to chase it away, fearful of placing his unseemly mitt on her delicate face. Ororo blinked up at him, eyes shining with unspilled tears.
“You are the reason, Kurt. You are why I fought so hard for this, why I was so willing to meddle. I am the leader of this group, and I was thinking only of one part as I made decisions for the whole. I want you by my side in whatever version of the future we happen into.”
“Oh, but Liebchen, as much as I want that as well, it is what I’ve been saying from the start: only God knows our true path.”
Ororo sighed, and the rustling of impatient leaves ceased. The night became a whisper. If this life is a book already written, Storm had no desire to skip ahead. As she worried her lip between sharp canines, she cursed Kate Pryde for forcing her to skip to the last passage. What a struggle it will be to simply live.
***
I don’t remember it. And now they won’t look at me. I mean… I suppose I don’t feel different. I’m still me, right? And the person who took over my body? Well, that was me too, right? So I shouldn’t feel hijacked. Or manipulated. Or hollowed out. Or all the other things I feel. I shouldn’t look in the mirror just to make sure I recognize the face staring back. I shouldn’t stand in the bathroom, eyes narrowed and untrusting, glaring at the body that I was so easily ejected from. I certainly shouldn’t watch myself cry just to prove I’m still a person.
That’s not normal.
I don’t remember any of it. But they move away when I enter a room. Especially Storm. I feel the weight of her sorrow, her agitation, when I draw close. And I wonder what I did. Because… I don’t think I did anything. This person that I might become did something. Hell, she did something. She’s just as responsible as I am if we’re adhering to those rules.
But she flinches when I draw close. And she and Nightcrawler spend more and more time apart from the group. Away from their Kitten.
I’ve only been “back” a few days, but I feel like a piece of me was stolen and replaced with an oily emptiness. I want to ask someone if I’m OK. I want to ask Wolverine if I smell different. I went away, and I am afraid I’ll never really come back.
Peter says I may have saved us all. But I can’t take credit for that, just as I can’t take the blame for all the time travel “rules” I broke. But he’s so quick to heap praise on me. Even as he avoids meeting my eye. I wonder what they’re thinking. I’ve never felt more like an outcast.
In the future, Kurt Wagner is dead. And Katherine told him that. I am a screw up in every timeline and at every age.
Sure, the future X-Men might have changed the future for the better. Or we didn’t. And I just told my teammate he could expect to be destroyed by massive mutant hunting robots.
What’s wrong with me?
It’s no wonder Storm hates me.
Inspired by the art of the wonderful clawfoottub.
He caught her wrist in his hand, tightly between his lithe fingers. She didn’t shift, didn’t struggle. Her flesh seemed to warm, to melt against his ever so slightly. It was as though her body was giving him permission. Just through the simple act of allowing the touch. Not reciprocating. Not acknowledging. Just allowing it to happen, like a wordless truth. It was times like this, when rich hazelnut skin could be viewed against a backdrop of midnight blue that he realized how little physical contact he actually had. Words were exchanged. Smiles and the playful jabs of easy comradery were common enough. But this, the touching of bodies in the most innocent of ways, this was something new, something he rarely allowed himself.
“It will be all right,” he whispered in an almost inaudible tone.
“Will it, Kurt?”
She looked down, her dark eyes clouded a hazy white. She was worried. More than that though, she was terrified by her lack of control. The winds shifted. They blew strong enough to upset the nearby oak tree. The leaves danced and fluttered filling the air with sounds of life.
They were alive. They had a life. They had faith. He repeated it to himself over and over like a worn out mantra, a chorus you couldn’t excise from your head. A line of dialogue on repeat.
“It will, Ororo. I promise you this. You must have faith.”
His fingers curled tightly around the slim wrist still held between them.
“How can you be so sure?”
“Ah, my dear, that is the question, isn’t it?” His eyes lit up. There was a childlike mischievousness to them. “That is the very definition of faith, is it not? Unflinching belief in the absence of actual proof?”
She sighed, mouth turning down and lips parting, words forming at the back of her throat. “I-”
“Nightcrawler. Storm. Could you come inside? It’s time.”
***
“Kitty shouldn’t be here.”
Ororo rubbed her head. She pinched her temples, then the bridge of her nose, then her temples again. Nothing relieved the tension building behind her eyes. The sky darkened.
“I agree, Kurt. She shouldn’t. But she is.”
“Time is not ours to alter.”
“Even for the greater good?”
“Whose greater good? It’s not God’s plan.”
She stirred, the cool air lifting the snow white strands of her loose hair like a halo. “Ah, see that is where our faith fails to see eye to eye, my friend. If it is not your God’s plan, then how is she even here?”
Kurt’s eyes blazed in the sinking sunlight. She challenged him and he enjoyed it. “I see your point. But she has willfully altered the order of things-the preordained order. No good can come of this.”
“How can you say that with such surety? You have not seen this future of which she speaks.”
“And you trust her? You trust her so completely?”
“Kurt, how can you not? She’s our Katherine, our Sprite. She speaks of a future where we are rounded up. Where we are marked and caged. She tells of a future where Magneto is out ally, Kurt. How can you deny the implications of that?”
“I have always been singled out for my appearance, Ororo, so forgive me if being ‘marked’ doesn’t fill me with the overwhelming dread that it does you.” He paused, inching closer to her on the stone ledge on which they both perched. “Forgive me for my bitterness. It is sometimes too easy to give into these old feelings.”
“You never need ask my forgiveness. You know that.” She smiled so brightly it seemed to chase away the encroaching darkness.
“Please remember that, for you may not enjoy what I’m about to say. While I trust that this is our Kitty, albeit our Kitty from the future, I do not think aiding her in changing the past-her past-which is our present, is wise. In fact, I think it is not just a mistake, but an unforgivable act that I refuse to be a part of.”
“I simply do not understand.” Distress crept into her voice, but it remained clear and strong. “We will be rounded up. Placed in camps. Or destroyed.”
Kurt did not move. His piercing almond eyes stared with unflinching determination. “Yes.”
“Katherine thinks-the X-Men of the future think-that this can be avoided. That by changing something here, we can change the future.”
“You can not change your destiny, Ororo.”
“Is being hunted by giant robots my destiny? Is becoming an angry, hate filled woman my destiny? If so, then I don’t want it. I want this chance. I want to help my future self. I want to give me a chance. How can you not want that as well?”
“This is not the will of God.”
She sighed again, this time the exhale spoke of resignation. “How can you know God’s will?”
***
“So she believes this, saving Senator Kelly, will save mutantkind?”
“You say it with such an incredulous tone, Kurt.”
He shrugged. It was an uncommon mannerism from the eternally graceful figure. His shoulders seemed heavy with the posed question. His whole body was weighted by the last few days. The specter of their unfamiliar friend looming, telling them of their unfortunate fates, had left a thick, acrid taste in his mouth. The man that danced on the edge of dimensions, a trail of brimstone smoke never far behind, could not wrap his mind around their current situation. The Nightcrawler, he who was one with the shadows, could not reconcile his teammate’s willingness to meddle with the unknowable future.
Except it was knowable. It had been seen. The Katherine of the future had expressed, in no uncertain terms, the assassination of Senator Kelly was the likeliest catalyst for the uprising against mutants.
“Kurt, look at me.” Her legs dangled from the high stone barrier. They swayed back and forth, her heels knocking against the wall. She was like a child here, outside the mansion, just the two of them. For the first time since the arrival of the all-knowing dystopian Kitty, Kurt could see how frightened Ororo was.
“Ororo, I know what you are apt to say. And I do, I see your point of view as clear as I see the line in the sand. If this is the future that has come to pass, if Kelly is to be killed, then it is written. It can not be undone.”
“But here lies the problem, my friend. It can be undone. We are undoing it. And this displeases you.”
“We are fumbling around with things we do not understand!”
“Then you admit it?”
Kurt paused, pitch black mouth slightly agape. He cocked his head, “What exactly am I admitting?”
“That you do not understand. This could be your God’s plan. Kate Pryde from the year 2013 traveling decades into the past and inhabiting her younger self-our Sprite-that could be the plan. That could be what is written. There is no way for us to know.”
“But, and even Katherine’s remaining X-Men don’t know, this action might do nothing. It may alter nothing. It may also rip apart dimensions. Or fracture timelines…”
“Or fix everything.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“I trust myself, Kurt. I trust my teammates. Whether it be the men and woman formulating plans in the mansion as we speak, or the shadows of what we could become. This is the only option they saw. And if tampering with the very fabric of space-time was their last hope, then I believe with all of my being that this future is just as dire as Katherine has told us.”
“I wish I saw things as you did, Ororo. It would make the upcoming battle much more palatable.”
***
“How are we to know then?”
Ororo chuckled dryly. Her dark eyes were all pupil. The sky seemed to exist within them and the atmosphere pulsed with her exhalations. “We don’t.”
“Has this been for nothing, Ororo?”
“How are we to know?” she asked, almost coyly.
Kurt’s expression didn’t register the playful remark. He wore a mask of concern and conflict. “Ororo, I can’t help but feel we have dug our hands into something we shouldn’t have.”
“Maybe so. But the few things we know for sure? Those things, I can live with.” Kurt bowed his head and his dark locks caught the moon’s glow. “The senator is alive. The majority of The Brotherhood has been contained. Kate is gone and our Sprite is back. These are the truths of this time, this place. And those, those I feel nothing but confidence in.”
“But Mystique…”
“Yes, she is in the wind, as they say.” Ororo smiled slyly, bearing the slightest sliver of gleaming white teeth.
“The Professor, he didn’t seem surprised. About any of it. How does he just accept these things?”
“Ah, but I think it is much like you with your faith. Or like myself, with my confidence in the earth, the elements. He feels a surety.”
“Even when confronted with the fact that, in some distant possible future, Magneto, his mortal enemy, will fight side by side with his X-Men? This is something he hears mention of and simply accepts?”
“And God has never stood by your side to guide you, yet you trust in His presence.” She smiled again, dreamily, the night sky diamond speckled and dripping with stars. “They weren’t always enemies, the Professor and Magneto. They were once brother’s in arms. Perhaps they could be again.”
Kurt’s tail twitched absently behind him, swaying with a purpose all its own. “I suppose, after these last few days, anything is possible.”
Ororo nodded, pleased. “I hope for the sake of our future selves, we rose to this challenge.”
“Ororo?” Kurt paused. His eyes were distant and glazed with moisture. There was an unspoken question hanging between them. In the days since Kate’s arrival at the sprawling Westchester mansion there had been a subject Kurt was unwilling to broach. It was an idea, and observation, that none of his fellow X-Men had seemed to acknowledge. He tried to vanquish it from his already overwhelmed and tumultuous thoughts, but now, with the Kate Pryde of the future gone, it seemed like the proverbial elephant in the room. Gone were the distractions of ardent planning, the lengthy volleying of faith versus destiny. All that remained was the memory of the girl with the sad eyes of a beaten woman staring up at him.
He muttered her name again, under his breath, weary hopelessness coming off him in heated waves.
“Kurt, you’d like to ask me something?”
“Yes, I would very much like to.”
“Shall I spare you the hardship of forming the words?”
“Please, Ororo. If you don’t mind.”
“You want to know what I think about Kitty’s exclamation upon waking in her past. You want to speak of how she wrapped her child’s arms round your neck and exhaled her joy at seeing you alive.”
Kurt couldn’t bring himself to meet Ororo’s eyes. His breath hitched embarrassingly on exhale and he immediately began to drown in the foolishness of his fear. “But it doesn’t matter, does it? We all die. It is the nature of life.”
“But it does matter, Kurt. And none of us addressed it. Frankly, Katherine should have known better than to reveal so much of her future to us. Telling us of the countless mutant and non-mutant super-being deaths is one thing-a broad warning. To say, in no uncertain terms, that you won’t be among the final members of the X-Men seems a distressing misstep. I wish she had kept her mouth shut.” Ororo twisted her head, looking toward the mansion, and away from her friend. “Or perhaps I’m being a bit hard on a disoriented woman who had just traveled through time. It’s difficult for me to divorce this woman, this Kate, from our little Kitten.” She trailed off.
“Don’t be so hard on yourself. This has been trying for all of us.”
“And now I am being selfish. My apologies, Kurt.” Ororo shifted her weight and leaned closer to Kurt. His body radiated heat. It was comforting and familiar and she wanted nothing more than to curl up beside him and weep.
“Death is but another stage of life, there is no need for you to mourn this, or me. Especially because I am still here.” His smile lit up his golden eyes, and Ororo tucked her body closer to his, leaving them scant inches away from touching.
A tear rolled down her ebony cheek and he fought the urge to chase it away, fearful of placing his unseemly mitt on her delicate face. Ororo blinked up at him, eyes shining with unspilled tears.
“You are the reason, Kurt. You are why I fought so hard for this, why I was so willing to meddle. I am the leader of this group, and I was thinking only of one part as I made decisions for the whole. I want you by my side in whatever version of the future we happen into.”
“Oh, but Liebchen, as much as I want that as well, it is what I’ve been saying from the start: only God knows our true path.”
Ororo sighed, and the rustling of impatient leaves ceased. The night became a whisper. If this life is a book already written, Storm had no desire to skip ahead. As she worried her lip between sharp canines, she cursed Kate Pryde for forcing her to skip to the last passage. What a struggle it will be to simply live.
***
I don’t remember it. And now they won’t look at me. I mean… I suppose I don’t feel different. I’m still me, right? And the person who took over my body? Well, that was me too, right? So I shouldn’t feel hijacked. Or manipulated. Or hollowed out. Or all the other things I feel. I shouldn’t look in the mirror just to make sure I recognize the face staring back. I shouldn’t stand in the bathroom, eyes narrowed and untrusting, glaring at the body that I was so easily ejected from. I certainly shouldn’t watch myself cry just to prove I’m still a person.
That’s not normal.
I don’t remember any of it. But they move away when I enter a room. Especially Storm. I feel the weight of her sorrow, her agitation, when I draw close. And I wonder what I did. Because… I don’t think I did anything. This person that I might become did something. Hell, she did something. She’s just as responsible as I am if we’re adhering to those rules.
But she flinches when I draw close. And she and Nightcrawler spend more and more time apart from the group. Away from their Kitten.
I’ve only been “back” a few days, but I feel like a piece of me was stolen and replaced with an oily emptiness. I want to ask someone if I’m OK. I want to ask Wolverine if I smell different. I went away, and I am afraid I’ll never really come back.
Peter says I may have saved us all. But I can’t take credit for that, just as I can’t take the blame for all the time travel “rules” I broke. But he’s so quick to heap praise on me. Even as he avoids meeting my eye. I wonder what they’re thinking. I’ve never felt more like an outcast.
In the future, Kurt Wagner is dead. And Katherine told him that. I am a screw up in every timeline and at every age.
Sure, the future X-Men might have changed the future for the better. Or we didn’t. And I just told my teammate he could expect to be destroyed by massive mutant hunting robots.
What’s wrong with me?
It’s no wonder Storm hates me.