A Merry Marvel Debut

[daretodo]

“So, in this land that time forgot somewhere in Antarctica…what’ve we got to look forward to?”
 
We’re all of us crowded in the Quinjet. Iron Man’s at the wheel and me, Cap, Spider-Woman – no relation to yours truly – and Luke Cage are sitting at the back like some seriously deranged Little League team. Truth be told, I’ve been expecting the question ever since I got off the freaky future phone with Mary Jane. See, it’s Luke here’s first trip to the Savage Land and he’s been sceptical as to its existence ever since it came up on Spider-Woman’s computer.
 
Ah, to be that innocent again.
 
As for me? Well, I’m just hoping we aren’t all gonna to die. Doing my best to chew my nails through my costume, I reply, “All kinds of mutates and dinosaurs and big cheetahs and a surprising amount of acceptable nudity.”
 
“Are you #$%$ing me?”
 
“No,” I say. “But it doesn’t matter – we probably won’t survive the crash.”
 
“What crash?”
 
“You don’t go to the Savage Land without crashing.”
 
Without turning around, Iron Man interjects, “You’ve never been there with me driving.”
 
In spite of his words, my spider-sense is going off the charts. He couldn’t have been less comforting. He’s like the band on the Titanic, right now, that’s how comforting he is. Famous last words to die by. Jeez, I really have made it to the big leagues.
 
“Uh huh…”
 
“Seat belts.”
 
“Yeah, that’ll help.”
 
The jet suddenly pitches forwards and then we’re upside down. Spider-Woman lets out an incoherent shriek -- or was that me? Either way,  the noise is loud enough that I could’ve been singing the ‘Star-Spangled Banner’ at the top of my lungs and the only thing I would’ve heard is the sound of a dying cat in a jet engine. Above the din, I can faintly hear the metallic voice of Iron Man say, “Almost there… Almost there…”
 
And, then, sure enough, we’re there. It all happens so fast that I barely remember it. One second I’m hanging upside down and praying to God I don’t wet my suit.  The next, the five of us are standing outside of the Quinjet and admiring the scenery. And what scenery it is. It’s really a shame about the inevitable death that goes hand-in-hand with being here. It’d make for one heckuva vacation spot.
 
Clapping a very manly hand to my shoulder, ol’ Shell-Head says to me, “See?”
 
“I stand corrected.”
 
Which is entirely the wrong thing to say because that’s right about the time that the Quinjet explodes, the force of the blast sending me and mine flying. I quickly shoot off a web to a nearby tree, pulling myself up and out of the line of fire. Only, as I soon discover, there’s a fundamental flaw to this plan. For whatever reason, I can’t stick the landing and so, my arms wheeling like windmills, I fall a good fifteen feet before the ground decides to break my fall.
 
“My back,” I croak, as I pull my sorry butt out of the foliage. “My poor, poor back.”
 
(Some dialogue comes from New Avengers #4 by Brian Michael Bendis.)

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[risesagain]

There was a poem Jean that remembered. It mentioned fire and ice and the end of the world. The exact words escaped her, but here she stood, surrounded by ice and consumed by fire. This was the way that her world was ending, but this time she was going down alone.

It was red. It was warm and cold and so full of a love that she couldn't name. Wrapping her arms around her, she held herself close and looked up, watching the Shi'ar ship approach waiting for the moment. It was so red, so warm, all fire and ice and Jean knew. She just knew what she had to do as she unfolded her arms and pointed, feet rising from the ice as she engulfed both herself and the ship in flames.

There was another poem that Jean remembered about the world ending in a bang or in a whimper and she wasn't whimpering, but there was no bang as the fire and ice consumed here. There was just Phoenix, just as there was Jean Grey and she knew that this was all there had to be.

The white came, like the calm after the storm and Jean fell back, stumbling and falling as she landed. Her feet slipped with no smooth white neverending expanse to hold them and what she noticed first was the smell. It smelled like fire. It was warmer now, the cold clinging to her but it smelled like fire all around her as she fell, and her feet slipped on the soft earth as she landed on her back almost gently in the mud and the leaves.

The fire was still there. It clung to her clothes, but she couldn't worry about it. Jean wasn't certain why it was there at all.

Opening her eyes, Jean saw blue peaking through the arches of green over head, felt her arms like weights next to her and knew that this was not the White Hot Room. This was not where she was meant to be and where her other pieces were.

"I am Jean Grey," she said, the words coming out in a whisper. "Always, but it's too soon. We're not ready."

[faithanbegorrah.livejournal.com]

"Faith an' begorrah!"

There's something to be said for a dramatic entrance when it effectively cuts Terry's panic off before it can really blossom. She stares over Spider-Man's shoulder for a few long seconds, trying to connect what her eyes are seeing to what her brain's telling her.

It's Jean Grey. On fire.

Terry doesn't spare a thought after that, just takes her cowl off before dropping to Jean's side and doing her best to smother the flames.

"Girl, ye picked a mighty fine time to be coming back from the dead!"

[daretodo]

"Okay, now I'm hallucinating," I mutter to myself, rushing to Siryn's -- and, consequently, Jean Grey's -- side. I don't have any cowls of my own to help in the firefighting effort, so mostly I just stand around and try to look useful.

"Is anyone else getting a Twilight Zone vibe out of all of this?"

[risesagain]

The flames were gone, the smell of burnt fabric and plants being the only remnants of it. Jean was still there, shivering despite the heat and ignore the fact that she knew, could practically hear the sounds of Phoenix screaming.

"Theresa? Spidey?" she said, teeth chattering slightly as she pushed herself into the seated position. "What are you...this is wrong. I'm not supposed to be here. This isn't the White Hot Room."

[faithanbegorrah.livejournal.com]

"Oh hell," Terry says, shaking the cowl out once it looks like Jean is flame free. She'll never get any use out of it again, as scorched as it is.

Those new holes aren't going to stitch themselves.

"It isn't," she agrees, sitting back on her heels. "Spidey here says we've gone and gotten ourselves stuck in the Savage Land."

[daretodo]

"Yeah, but now I'm not so sure," I quickly interject, holding my hands out of in front of me as I begin to pace. "I mean, I at least showed up on a jet. You two just...showed up."

Turning to Jean, I add, "Kudos on the entrance, by the way. Very dramatic. The flames were a nice touch. I've seen more than a couple of people come back to life, now, and I gotta say, that was top notch."

[risesagain]

Jean wasn't in the mood to have banter or anything similar. Teeth still chattering, she furrowed her brow trying to determine where she had gone wrong.

That was the problem, she didn't go wrong, at least not when giving in.

"I wasn't trying to come back to life. We've done that more times than I can count. I was trying to find my pieces." It never crossed Jean's mind that anyone who hadn't been there wouldn't get it. "The flames are from the Shi'ar ship I destroyed, but that was the Artic, we shouldn't be anywhere close to the Savage Lands."

[faithanbegorrah.livejournal.com]

"Now he's not sure," Terry mutters as she busies herself getting the cowl around Jean's shoulders. It may be hot wherever they are, but apparently coming back from the dead takes a lot out of a person.

"Your pieces are gonna have to wait until we figure out what the bleedin' hell's going on." She pauses, unsure if asking right away is the polite thing to do or not, but the worry is starting to flood back in. If anyone can fix this, Terry's putting her money on Jean Grey. "Can ye...Jean, can ye read our minds? Or sense if anyone else is around?"

[daretodo]

"Yeah, what she said," I say eagerly, hoping that her powers are working if nobody else's. Chances are they won't, but I've never been against a little positive thinking once in a while.

[risesagain]

If Jean can't, then Phoenix can. They work together, forming two large pieces of a bigger whole and Jean looked at Theresa, then at Spider-Man, trying to pick the mental locks when she already knew where they stored the spare key.

Or at least she used to.

Her concentration dissolved into worry when there was no sound, to rush of thoughts through her head. "I can't..." She closed her eyes trying to reach further, to see if she could a psychic reading from anything. "There's nothing there. It's like a wall or silence. I can't here a thing."

[faithanbegorrah.livejournal.com]

There isn't much Terry can say to that, so she doesn't.

She isn't sure what to do next, but she finds herself standing up and putting some space between them. What the hell is going on?

The collar she wears only covers up the worst of the scarring Feral left behind; she feels the edge of the longest before she realizes she's got a hand up to her throat again.

God above, not again.

[daretodo]

"All in favor of finding out what the hell is going on here, raise your hand now," I say, raising my own hand in demonstration. I don't bother waiting for anyone else to chime in before I clap my hands together and add, "Okay, good, let's go!"

[like-arrows.livejournal.com]

Like I said, I don't always expect the unexpected. That's kind of the nature of the unexpected: you don't see it coming. Pushing between some branches toward the sound of voices might not be the smartest thing I've ever done, but it beats being stuck in the jungle alone. At least, it does for the moment.

I'm really not expecting what's on the other side, so forgive me if it's not my finest hour. "I'm really not going anywhere with you in head cheerleader mode," I blurt out, mostly because the sight of these guys has got me too confused for wit or stealth, which really has to make me wonder how I've made it as far as I have anyway.

[daretodo]

Our three heroes turn to face the latest arrival. In unison, they ask, "Who are you?"

Except, of course, for the fair maiden Siryn, whose accent allowed her only to say, "Ye."

[like-arrows.livejournal.com]

That's probably what I get for interrupting their little camp out, but not having any idea where I am means that, for better or worse, right now misery needs company. Of course, considering my last run in with Spider-Man here, it's a good thing not to be recognized.

"Uh... Nico Minoru," I offer cautiously, glancing between the three of them. Wow, this is awkward. "I just... crash-landed." Literally.

[risesagain]

Her experience amongst the impressionable youth has recently been limited at best, destructive at worse. Death has that affect on a person.

Still Jean has remained tethered to the idea of being headmistress and teacher first, other assorted things second, so the confused girl makes her want to help her, not harm her.

"Are you one of the students at the Institute? Are you hurt from your landing?" Jean asked, giving a look to the other two that hopefully suggested that they make themselves helpful.

[faithanbegorrah.livejournal.com]

"Are ye hurt, lass?" Terry asks, giving Nico a lookover for any obvious harm. She's starting to think she's lucky that all she did was not get hit by a blast from Cyclops before showing up here.

[daretodo]

"I told Luke you had to crash here," I mutter to myself. "But oh, no, Iron Man thinks he's so awesome with his iron suit and his Quinjet and his freaky future phone --"

Brushing past my fellow, dearly depowered, I ask the punk rock kid -- Nico -- "Are you alone?"

[like-arrows.livejournal.com]

"I'm fine," I insist hurriedly, glancing down at myself a moment to make sure it's actually true. There's a few scratches, sure, and what I'm positive will be some nasty bruises soon enough, but no cuts, nothing bleeding. I can deal with that when I have to. "Bruised, but fine. I think I'm alone. There were others with me, but they're gone..."

Focus on the rest first, Nico. I can deal with disappearances when I know where I am.

It's only about then that I really get that first question. The Institute? "I'm not a student," I add. "Or a mutant." Oh man, wait, that's Phoenix. At least, I think it is, which only makes this whole thing that much more bizarre. After time travel, you'd think this wouldn't actually be that weird, but turning up places out of the blue, apparently, is always weird. "Where are we?"

[risesagain]

"The million dollar question."

Jean stood, still shivering but less so as she brushed clumps of mud off of herself. This entire situation was getting stranger by the minute. Besides all of the obvious she wasn't keen on whatever strange event that had just occured taking in teenagers, especially civillians.

"I suppose there's only one thing left to do: find out where we are, so that we can leave. And..." she turned her head slightly to look at Spider-Man. "If these are the Savage Lands I'll eat my shoes."

[faithanbegorrah.livejournal.com]

Terry snorts at Jean's declaration before she can help herself. It feels good - a small bit of amusement in the predicament they've found themselves in. "Let's move," she agrees, with just a bit less pep than Spider-Man had before.

[daretodo]

"Hrmph."

I take point, leading us back to where the Quinjet is supposed to be, figuring that's as good a place to start as any. I never really had a chance to look around before Siryn, here, started screaming bloody 'murdah.'

Rustlerustle. I stop suddenly, holding up one hand. Rustlerustle. Louder now. Whatever it is, it's close, and I don't need my spider-sense to tell me that this won't end well.

"Uh, guys? I think we're gonna want to run in a second."

[like-arrows.livejournal.com]

I checked the area where I landed before I came out this way, and I know well and good that the Leapfrog's nowhere to be seen. Not, of course, that this means it's not there, but there's no sign of the others, and right now, following this lot seems like my best shot of getting some answers. Anyway, it beats dealing with that big Skrull guy.

...except that Spider-Man's just drawn my attention either, and instead of listening to him, I listen to the bushes, and then I don't have to listen for anything because that's when five dinosaurs bust through the brush. And they're little, but I saw Jurassic Park, okay? These guys aren't Old Lace by a long shot. "Now! Try running now!"

'cause this is the part I'm good at.

[risesagain]

It has been a long time since Jean was in any sort of conflict where she wasn't playing some sort of integral role in starting it.

Tiny dinosaurs running through the trees was actually somewhat refreshing, once she got over the shock and started to run.

"Move! Let's head South, away from them!"

[faithanbegorrah.livejournal.com]

Running is not a battle tactic Terry pulls at the very sign of danger, but she isn't stupid. Without her power she's no match for a pack of bleeding dinosaurs.

Small as they are, the little @$#&ers look pretty nasty.

Usually she's the one doing the leading, but Terry doesn't need to be told anything twice.