IGST—322X Daa'bor Crimson Nebula
On this tiny corner of the universe floats a small binary star system; peacefully existing as it quietly sails through the cosmos. At least, this was true—once upon a time, not so long ago. And the graphs littering the monitors would somewhat agree with this statement, as well as with a few more tidbits like: "The said system has been identified as—primitive, uninhabited, inhospitable, nothing noteworthy." It's an adamant reality that had changed just recently, garnering the area some unwanted attention. The space rocks would surely protest if they could.
This fine destination was currently being toured by a singular behemoth of both titanium and technology. The mothership angled itself stealthily behind planetary bodies, using them as cover while the crew piloted the beast of a ship toward their destination. Shaped like an earthen jellyfish, it swam freely along intergalactic waters.
Inside the fortress was a human male reviewing the report being delivered by a petite humanoid female with an elongated, footie-like head ending in spikes. He stoically listened to the girl while gazing deeply into the vast expanse in front of him. "The beauty of outer space is difficult to deny, even more so when one is to judge within the crimson nebula. Rumors about this sector were criminally undersold," he thought to himself, hiding his musings whilst trying to take in the disturbing news.
"Commander?" the woman asked with a nervous gulp toward her superior, almost pleading—obviously worried about their position and the possible development of their predicament.
"Tell the crew to take a wider berth, then slow the ship down when we have visuals on the planet," he ordered with conviction.
"Oh, and Vice Commander, please remember to compose yourself when you do," he added softly.
Hearing his words, she swallowed her fear before stammering out a "Yes, sir," and excusing herself with a flustered salute. Fortunately, her training spared her from doing a reenactment while she relayed the orders to the crew. Though despite her efforts, she couldn't deny the fear deep within her heart. She was also concerned about similar stirrings in the hearts of her subordinates.
Moments after her announcement, the commander appeared in the cockpit, prompting everyone to take action. He strode mightily toward his post, passing by a crew member busily punching in commands on a console using her long crustacean-like limbs. Her cockroach-like head twitched, bobbed, and rotated toward the multiple monitors lining her station as she sent the feedback data to other parts of the vessel.
Sitting in his chair, the commander saw the readings and did his best not to convey his troubles. It was as he feared—they were outnumbered and outmatched. Yet he knew they had to push forward. Now it was just a matter of how to do so.
To ease his mind, he gazed upon the great beyond, seemingly infatuated by his own wanderlust. To his crew though, he was their unshakable leader. Maintaining this image was a different kind of battlefield entirely, piling on to the growing number of responsibilities originally assigned to him. It was definitely getting taxing, so there was certainly a bit of solace in being assigned to his current mission—as lethal as it may be.
He was beginning to think that some of his more perceptive allies had come to know the real nature of his being, but this was more likely a ploy to weaken their faction within the coalition. After all, they were clearly on the losing side of this war and needed to mount a big comeback; otherwise, their defeat was only a matter of time.
"Such situations often invite desperation, especially to those who enjoy lofty positions," he mused. "Adding to the fact that I advocate for controversial policies, this would be the perfect excuse to honor my death as they trample all over my ideals in their never-ending bid for power," he added, laughing in his mind.
His thoughts were eventually interrupted when the ship monitors displayed visuals of the planet. Three motherships surrounded the planet, gleaming in their silver lights. Hovering over the far side of the planet, they held a deadly barricade poised and ready to intercept incoming threats. A singular word echoed in the minds of everyone present, but only one dared to say it.
"Viltrum," the commander voiced with much conviction.
"Si—Sir, we need to retreat. This is… it's suicide, sir," the vice commander pleaded.
"No, we can't have Viltrum get what they came for. Their empire wouldn't spend this amount of resources on something insignificant," the commander countered. "Daxy, have someone prepare my personal ship, double the supplies on board, and provide me with a second set of fabricators," he commanded the shuddering vice captain.
Hearing his words, she acted—first shouting to everyone to prepare for battle! Daxy then began storming away out of the area toward the docking bay. Despite tears in her eyes, she carried out her duties flawlessly.
A moment later, the commander spoke into his comlink. "U'ruukk, meet me at my ship." A low tiger-like roar sounded in response to his words. The commander then took a glance ahead, seeing that the enemy had begun to move as well, and set a frown upon his face.
Explosions and blaster fire decorated the surroundings of four motherships, drenched in the ever-chaotic flood of battle. Loud and bright, the battle reduced the deaths of many to barely lingering moments and short afterthoughts, as tides of battleships sprang forth from their bases to shower their foe in a ceaseless onslaught.
Normally, combat in space was a silent ballet of death—and yet, circumstance begged to differ. Through the numerous years of war with Viltrum, the Coalition of Planets created a device that allowed larger ships to deploy a pseudo-atmosphere. This atmosphere would then make it possible for sound to travel in the void of space in the same way it would on most planets. This, in turn, allowed the deployment of devices capable of emitting a highly specific sound wave—a deadly frequency which debilitated Viltrumites and protected the motherships from direct assault long enough to escape.
This device had enshrouded the surrounding space with a layer of mist, which doubled as a veil for the Coalition mothership. Due to this, an unusual setting had been created—where one side of the battle was silent, while the other was drowned in the violent concerto of war.
Using this veil, a small combat starship made its way to the surface of the planet. A few stragglers gave chase, but with a quick swerve and a 1080 roll, the triangular ship forcefully maneuvered its way to the enemy's flank. On the base of the ship, four external prongs came to life, raining hellfire upon the pursuers. After reducing them to rubble, the ship made a straight dip, beelining for the planet below.
Inside the ship, U'ruukk deactivated the weapons systems with a snarling frown on his beast-like face before making his way to his co-pilot seat. Every step he took was accompanied by heavy booms, while the interior of the ship creaked and bellowed in protest at his hulking frame.
"Solid work, my friend—and don't worry, you'll get the fight you crave. Sooner than I would like, but we will play the hand we are dealt," the commander remarked to the beastial humanoid as they both examined the approaching planet. The creature's lion-like head nodded in agreement while he sharpened his battle claws on his hands.
A moment later, turbulence battered the ship from re-entry, which made the commander frown. This planet had no records of having an atmosphere—implying that something incredibly drastic had occurred on the celestial rock. While he was deep in thought and staring at the sparks outside his windshield, the sensors detected an incoming entity rushing to their position at blinding speeds.
"We are being intercepted," U'ruukk announced, which made his commander even more aggrieved. On the other hand, U'ruukk was ecstatic. A wild glint flickered in the depths of his crimson eyes as he stood ready for battle, baring the unrestrained fervor of a war chief.
With a loud crash, the entity burst through the front of the ship, slamming onto the duo—dragging U'ruukk back deeper into the cruiser and obliterating the commander, leaving his blood, flesh, and guts as ornaments on the walls.
The unmanned ship tussled wildly in the stratosphere, hopelessly careening toward the surface below. Inside, two combatants rampaged, hammering each other with an exchange of blows that sent out violent shockwaves powerful enough to move clouds. The ship's integrity suffered from these waves, as part of it broke away little by little, scattering into debris.
A quick one-two combo to the chest, followed by a sharp blow to the abdomen, left U'ruukk reeling back—unable to block a chop to the neck coming from a 360 wind-up. Though to his assailant's surprise, the hulking warrior was not defeated. Instead, U'ruukk blocked the next blow, snapping the young fighter's arm. The battle beast was unleashed—and he was not finished—leading with a headbutt that dazed his enemy, leaving her haggard. Afterwards, he completely severed her dangling arm and violently stabbed into her guts, aiming to finish the fight.
Although right at that moment, the ship crashed hard onto the planet and was reduced to titanium origami. This separated the combatants due to U'ruukk being flung out of the ship from the momentum of the crash. The Viltrumite girl, on the other hand, was flung the other direction, where she crashed hard on the planet's surface—barely alive. She had punched a new hole in the front of the ship, right next to the one she had made on her entry, completing the aesthetic by painting that part of the hull red as well.
In her daze, she tried to make sense of her situation. She could hardly feel anything—except her heart pounding in her skull and the ringing in her ears.
"Such indomitable spirit. You should be dead. Then again, Viltrumite resilience is nothing to scoff at, I suppose," commented the man standing above her, in a voice she barely understood as if he were drowning in water.
Was she dead? she asked herself. Or was she being haunted—maybe even hallucinating, she thought—as the man in front of her rambled about incomprehensible gibberish. A man she was certain she had killed not too long ago.
1965 – London
A solitary man sat himself up, proceeding to observe the would-be steel grave that confined him, before ripping out the metal rods piercing his chest and poking through his lower back—while also listening to the commotion outside his temporary home. He could hear the metal creaking and feel the tremors from the ground below him. They came and went with each piece of metal he removed—like he was a conductor guiding them with a wave of his baton.
This was ominous, Noah rebuked. He did not appreciate these kinds of manipulation. He glared at the black gem he wore as a necklace, deciding whether it was better to destroy it—which he was adamant about originally, until he was convinced otherwise.
He was snatched away from his thoughts when blaring sunlight washed over him, synchronously with the moment he removed the final spike. The hole in his torso began to close, while his eyes slowly adjusted to the pouring light, which eventually revealed to him the figure of his liberator.
She was a woman of small stature—her hair dancing in the wind, the astonishment written on her face. All of it there, standing before him to witness—mirroring the feelings he kept in his heart. It was nostalgic. She looked much older than he remembered, but he was certain it was her.
Her shock was only momentary—replaced by mad hatred, followed by a swift reorganizing of her demeanor. The aftermath was crawling with news crews and journalists. She didn't want to ruin her first impression upon a new world. But she needed answers. Answers that could not wait. He, after all, knew who she was and what her being on Earth implied.
Making a snappy judgment—in more ways than one—she snapped one of Noah's arms, to his surprise. She acted faster than any human or camera could react to and immediately began flying him toward a healing station.
"That was painful, you know," Noah remarked.
"Good," she spat out while flying them higher into the clouds.
Charles Xavier stood motionless upon arriving on scene. Seeing the devastation wrought by someone he suspected to be similar to himself brought on stifling emotions. He lamented the fact that he had not been on scene—which overshadowed the celebratory mood he'd been in since last evening.
Raven had ripped him away from the arms of a couple of coeds he had met yesterday. They had delightfully accompanied him throughout his celebration, but alas, it was cut short in the early morning when her dear friend delivered the news. He really wished this was just a hangover-induced nightmare. Unfortunately for him, it was a grim reality.
Disguising herself as a person of authority—just one of the many suits prowling the area—Raven brought them deeper into the site while Charles lamented the tragedy. The moment they arrived on the premises, a pang of pain invaded Xavier's mind—calling to him like a whisper fueled by unadulterated anguish. It was calling to him, trying to guide them, egging him on. "Here," it beckoned. "Someone please! Save me," it begged.
Through the rubble they moved, passing between mangled cars, over heaps of junk metal. Xavier's head pounded as he strained his mind, trying to keep the flickering connection he had with the disembodied calls. His trance was only broken later when they happened upon a woman kneeling on the ruined concrete.