The reason Marcus saved Jean was, of course, not because he feared she might die.
In fact—it was precisely the opposite.
He feared she wouldn't die.
Because if Jean Grey took the full force of a Helicarrier's bombardment and somehow survived, there would be only one explanation:
The Phoenix would awaken.
And if the Phoenix—Marvel's first Omega-level cosmic force—emerged, Marcus's carefully laid plans would collapse instantly. So no, he couldn't let Jean take that hit. If killing her were enough to prevent the Phoenix from appearing, Marcus would have considered it. But triggering the Phoenix's awakening now would be catastrophic.
Thus, Marcus stepped in and intercepted the missile himself, preventing Jean from taking a fatal blow that might awaken the cosmic entity sealed within her.
Now, Jean—possessing limitless potential—lay unconscious in Marcus's arms.
Though the rescue itself had been unplanned, Marcus had no intention of wasting the opportunity. If he could one day control the Phoenix Force… then within the MCU, he would have no rivals left.
Meanwhile, outside the academy building, the battle between the X-Men and the S.H.I.E.L.D. Helicarrier escalated to unprecedented intensity.
---
Helicarrier Assault – Second Wave
With the heavy machine cannons overheated, the Helicarrier switched tactics. A second barrage of high-explosive missiles launched from its underside, streaking downward in twisting arcs before homing in on the X-Men.
But without the barrage of bullets, the team no longer needed Jean's telekinesis for mass defense.
This time—they chose to meet fire with fire.
Cyclops charged to the front, pressing a control on the side of his visor. A razor-thin slit opened, and from it erupted a towering crimson beam. The optic blast was so intense that simply grazing a missile caused it to split in half and explode prematurely.
A sweeping motion of his head—and a third of the missiles vanished in mid-air.
At the same moment, Storm raised both arms. Thunder gathered around her in a violent electrical storm, white lightning crawling across her skin before erupting outward.
The blinding bolts struck the descending missiles, superheating the explosives inside and causing them to detonate harmlessly or fall as burned-out husks.
Red optic blasts intertwined with white lightning, vaporizing huge clusters of missiles at once. Those few that slipped through this storm of counterattacks were swiftly destroyed or neutralized by the other X-Men using their respective abilities.
The Helicarrier's second assault wave had failed—utterly and completely.
Infuriated after the attack on Jean, Cyclops finally abandoned restraint. He reached up, toggled the limiter on his visor, and unleashed the full power of his optic blast.
A beam as thick as a tree trunk roared upward, slamming into the Helicarrier's armored underbelly.
Metal melted instantly, the reinforced plating glowing red-hot as explosions erupted inside the warship. Fires burst outward across the hull, and one more second of sustained fire would have bored a hole clean through the vessel.
Cyclops swept his head sideways, carving a long, jagged wound across the Helicarrier's bottom hull. A strip of armor dozens of meters long peeled open, venting smoke and flame.
Only then—breathing heavily—did Cyclops halt the beam.
Against a fully staffed Helicarrier, the attack would have caused hundreds of casualties.
Enough to force any sane commander to retreat.
But the Helicarrier did not retreat.
The moment its cannons cooled, they rotated back toward the ground—and rained another storm of bullets upon the academy.
This was no warning shot.
This was a declaration:
One of us dies today.
There will be no negotiations.
Without Jean's telekinetic shield, the barrage forced the X-Men to scatter, seeking cover wherever they could. The ground shattered under the hail of explosive rounds, turning the front courtyard into a cratered wasteland. Trees were shredded into splinters. Cement walls were perforated like cardboard.
Not all cover held. Several mutants were struck through their makeshift shelters by bullets powerful enough to pierce engine blocks. Fortunately, Cyclops had chosen only experienced combat-capable mutants for the defense. Though there were injuries—several severe—none of them were fatal.
When the cannons overheated again, Cyclops took command:
"Anyone without ranged combat abilities—evacuate the wounded! The rest of you, with me! We bring that thing down before the next barrage!"
The close-combat fighters immediately picked up the injured and retreated toward the academy building. Cyclops felt a knot of guilt tighten in his chest as he saw the blood soaking their uniforms. Was refusing Magneto's help the right choice?
He wanted to prove that the X-Men—not Magneto's Brotherhood—could lead mutantkind after Professor Xavier's death. But could pride justify risking the lives of his teammates?
Fortunately, no one had died.
Cyclops forced down his hesitation and turned back to the sky. A new wave of multicolored beams—optics, lightning, plasma, sound waves—shot upward toward the Helicarrier, tearing through its armor layer by layer.
Human military equipment simply wasn't built to withstand the combined might of so many mutants.
If nothing else interfered, the Helicarrier was destined to fall.
But of course—
The enemy was never just the Helicarrier.
_____
T/N:
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