"Phoenix Rising – Part 1: Home Sweet Chaos"
Owen watched as the red flash slowly faded, realizing that both of them had appeared right in the middle of New York City. This time, Wanda was fully awake, though she felt exhausted; all her magic had been drained.
He glanced at her, stepped closer, and, with mild irritation, grabbed her cheeks and pulled on them without mercy.
"Oooouch!" Wanda complained in pain, her face twisting. Owen stared at her, visibly annoyed.
"If we could come back this easily, why didn't you do it before?" he demanded, his tone sharp.
"I didn't know!" Wanda stammered, her cheeks flushed—whether from embarrassment or from the pulling, it was hard to tell. "I really didn't know," she repeated.
Owen sighed and finally let go of her.
"Ah, whatever…" he muttered while looking around. The tall central building, the glowing billboards, and the familiar city noise confirmed what was obvious. "Looks like we're home. Home sweet home. Although… I'm not sure I should be happy about returning to this universe."
"Come on, let's see what everyone else is doing. I'm sure they all missed me. Maybe they even cleaned up all the evil in the world, and now the planet enjoys eternal peace, love, and happiness," he said with sarcasm. His tone made it sound less like a statement and more like a ridiculous wish. "Judging by the date, nothing major should be happening right now, so we can relax and work on controlling our powers."
He smiled calmly.
And, as if the universe wanted to mock him, a burning light streaked across the sky. People around them pointed upward in fear and astonishment. Right above Owen, the heavens burst into a fiery glow.
He froze in place.
Behind him, Wanda raised her gaze, her expression filled with shock.
High above, a massive bird of fire soared through the air, growing brighter by the second. At the center of the blaze, Wanda thought she could see a human silhouette—one that looked disturbingly familiar.
Behind that figure flew Iron Man at full speed, Storm from the X-Men, and even one of their team's aircraft. Nicolas followed on a high-tech flying motorcycle. Down below, Captain America raced along the street on his bike.
"Grrrroooow…" a distant roar echoed as Hulk leapt between buildings. Military vehicles flooded the area, clearing civilians, while VITAE units moved in rapidly.
"Ah… home sweet home," Owen muttered tiredly, staring at the ground.
Wanda noticed that people around them were beginning to vanish, one after another, carried away by a sudden gust of wind toward the VITAE trucks.
The one responsible stopped right in the middle of the street, smiling confidently at the two of them.
"Hey, sis. Looks like you're back," said Pietro with a mischievous grin. "I'd love to catch up, but we've got to save as many people as we can before the fight starts."
He was about to leave but suddenly stopped again. "Oh, and you should call the general. He's been worried and will probably ask you to help out. We need all the backup we can get."
Then he vanished in a blur.
Wanda followed his movement with her eyes, smiling with relief and joy at seeing her brother again after so long in another universe. Then she turned back to Owen, waiting for his decision.
Owen looked over his shoulder calmly, completely composed.
"How about we just go to a quieter world? Maybe one with fewer superheroes… and more beaches," he said naturally.
Wanda rolled her eyes, pulled her phone from her pocket, and made a quick call.
The receiver picked up almost immediately.
"Wanda? You're back? Excellent. Is Owen with you? We need all the help we can get. Ororo said he had something useful. Tell him Jean lost control—just like he predicted. I'm sure he knows what that means."
It was the Captain's voice, heard over the roar of his motorcycle.
"Owen's back?! Tell that bastard to get here fast!" Nicolas shouted from another line.
"Oh, the mega soldier's back. About time. We need his upgrade, because the old soldier we've got could use a few more patches," Tony added sarcastically.
"I'll let him know," Wanda replied before hanging up. She turned toward Owen and smiled softly.
"You were right… looks like they missed you."
Owen frowned, clearly annoyed, turned around, and walked into a nearby candy store. Without hesitation, he started grabbing chocolate bars and sweets of every kind, devouring them one after another.
"What are you doing?" Wanda asked, a bit confused.
"Recharging. Remember I was fighting that damned Superman just a while ago? I'm out of energy. I'm dry. One hit away from being just a regular super soldier again," he said between bites, his tone frustrated.
Wanda watched him silently, thinking that even at his weakest, a super soldier was far from "regular."
"These things barely give me any energy. I don't even have Banner's super energy bars," Owen grumbled, feeling his stomach full and his strength restored maybe one percent. "Whatever, let's go."
He approached a sleek, expensive-looking motorcycle parked nearby, mounted it, and tossed a helmet toward Wanda. She caught it easily.
She could have flown, of course—her magic was weak but not gone—but she decided not to mention it.
She put the helmet on and climbed on behind him. Owen hit the accelerator, and the bike shot forward at incredible speed down the highway.
Wanda held on tightly to his back, her cheeks still flushed—though whether from the earlier cheek-pulling or something else entirely, she wasn't sure.
…
Emma Frost was a blonde psychologist, dazzlingly beautiful, and nearly impossible to ignore. Most of her patients weren't even sure if they came to her office because they truly needed psychological help or simply to spend a few minutes in the same room with her.
Of course, Emma, as an experienced professional, could easily tell the real motives behind each visit. Those who merely tried to flirt with her were dismissed politely, while the true patients received her full attention. Even so, that didn't stop her clinic from being incredibly popular.
A few months earlier, Emma had awakened an exceptional power: telepathy. And not the weak or limited kind that allowed some mutants to merely project their thoughts. Hers was complete telepathy—she could create illusions, alter memories, induce mental or physical paralysis, cause pain or deep relaxation, even trigger amnesia.
A gift that, when used with precision, allowed her to heal damaged minds in ways once thought impossible.
One of her most recent patients was a former soldier suffering from post-traumatic stress after losing his entire battalion and spending years in a torture camp. He refused to forget—afraid that doing so would erase proof of what he had endured.
But Emma carefully modified his memories, changing the way he perceived them. Instead of reliving the pain firsthand, he now experienced it as though he were merely watching a movie.
The result was immediate. The trauma faded, and the man was able to return to a normal life.
Still, Emma recommended he continue therapy.
She knew she was treading new ground, and that healing the human mind with mutant powers demanded extreme caution.
The world remained divided. Although many mutants had gained acceptance thanks to their work with VITAE and the X-Men, there were still sectors of society that feared them. The rise of mutant criminals had fueled prejudice, but the countless lives saved by heroic mutants helped to balance public opinion.
The voices of hate grew weaker compared to the gratitude of those who had been rescued.
Of course, on the internet—an anonymous refuge—there were always those calling for mutants to be used as test subjects, so that everyone could possess powers of their own.
A completely insane idea.
Emma, as both a psychologist and a mutant, played an active role in the effort to bridge that divide. She used her gift to help others, just as others had once helped her.
The sharp sound of her heels echoed elegantly through the clinic hallway.
"Janet, are today's appointments over?" she asked tiredly, massaging her shoulder.
"Yes, Dr. Frost," her assistant replied. "You look exhausted. I suppose using your power all day must double the strain. Have you thought about taking a vacation? We could rearrange your schedule so you can take a few days off if you need them."
Janet was a kind, brown-haired woman with a slightly rounded figure. She was also a mutant, though her ability wasn't dangerous. Before meeting Emma, she had struggled to find work because of prejudice—one that people rarely admitted still existed—but Dr. Frost had hired her without hesitation.
Since then, Janet had come to see her as more than a boss—almost as a friend.
"I might take a day or two," Emma admitted with a soft smile. "Lately my back feels terribly stiff… though maybe it's just my imagination."
Suddenly, something changed. Emma stopped, turned her head toward one of the walls, and pressed a hand to her temple, as if hearing something.
Her expression hardened in an instant.
"Janet, hide!" she shouted.
The wall in front of her began to crumble, disintegrating into black dust that spread like a wave, devouring everything in its path.
Emma barely had time to cover herself before her body transformed entirely—her skin turned brilliant and solid as crystal. Diamond.
Even she was shocked; she hadn't known she possessed such an ability.
Still, she doubted this new form would be enough to shield her from the destruction racing toward them.
Through the chaos, she caught sight of a woman hovering in the air, a dark smile on her lips. Her fiery red hair waved like living flame. Emma recognized her instantly—it was one of her former patients. And she understood immediately why she was there.
"Dr. Frost!" screamed Janet in terror, watching as everything around them seemed to collapse in slow motion.
Janet lifted her hands, and in an instant, dozens of violet blades of energy appeared, spinning around her before shooting toward the attacker.
The glowing blades cut through the air with force, but the redhead merely raised one hand. Each blade stopped inches away from her, frozen in midair.
Even so, the attack served its purpose—the devastation halted for a moment, buying them time.
And that brief moment was all the reinforcements needed.
From above, a golden beam shot across the sky. Iron Man appeared, flying fast, unleashing blasts of energy from his palms toward the floating woman.
She turned sharply, conjuring a shimmering field of energy that absorbed the attack effortlessly.
"Hi there. Sorry, we came without an appointment," Tony said in his usual ironic tone, glancing toward Emma. "But maybe you should hide for a while. Wow… diamond. I like your style."
He didn't get the chance to say more. The redhead—Jean—moved her hand, and an invisible force slammed into him, sending him flying through the air like a rag doll.