"All I'm able to discern is somewhere out in the Atlantic, they both simply vanished." Xavier delivered these words as he removed the Cerebro apparatus, some 15 minutes after he received the distressed call from Jean Grey who, presently standing by, spoke with checked frustration: "I'm positive I could come to a better answer, but with how my powers have been malfunctioning I'm reluctant to try. . ."
She knew she couldn't locate Ryder any better than Xavier, who even with Cerebro saw his daughter as only a vague mutant signature where he knew to look.
But Jean's psychic rapport with Scott was something else. Yet being connected to such a broad network as Cerebro allowed, powers amplified on top of that,
the risk to other minds -as well her own- was far too great to put any one life on top of.
"Storm and Wolverine can take the other aircraft to where I lost their signals. In the meantime I'll contact Moira and keep trying."
He repressed a thought in the back of his mind that Ryder wasn't merely incidentally involved in whatever happened.
Jean as well. . .She had to be settled enough with the game plan for now, and hold fast to the fact that neither Ryder or Cyclops were killed. At least in the latter's case she, and Xavier, would've known instantly. Still, given the degree of what she'd felt. . .She hoped where ever they were was forgiving. . .
Forgiving? It wasn't a word one usually associated with the Master of Magnetism
"Take him to the infirmary. He barely looks capable of holding up the weight of Xavier's expectations another second."
Ryder's wake up call had been effective. Trouble was, Cyclops found himself with two key problems when he came to. Firstly, he was bound to the chair -not overly tight; enough to keep him in place yet not exacerbate his fresh injuries. In fact the stability was probably helping as, second of all, the burning shards of metal that were figuratively -literally?!- in his chest told him he'd been set back to stage -1 where his ribs were concerned. Couple that with the catching sensation on every other breath and warm, salty expectorations that came with and he knew he was lucky to be staring into the face of the X-Men's long time adversary, Magneto, a.k.a. Charles Xavier's old friend Erik Lehnsherr.
Still, Cyclops' driven need to put the missing pieces together -namely what happened after he went down- had him trying to gain further information- looking around, trying to speak-- he knew Ryder was alive at least, but was her "thunderclap of telepathy" for his own sake or her need? Had more sentinels followed the first? It was no use. He literally choked on his words and had to submit lest he succumb.
"When will the X-Men learn struggling is futile?"
At this, Erik's attention shifted back to the world beyond the telepathic and light refracting force dome, where he could feel the metal of the jet in the atmosphere as a shark may taste blood in water.
As it seemed, reaching out to touch it was unnecessary. It was already coming to him. Though at a clip much too fast to cause anything but disaster if not corrected; so he did-- as though the earth's magnetic fields were layers of a ballistic vest catching the bullet in its path -without the deforming effects.
Beyond what Ryder would feel physically, her experience would be as though she blinked and a new world came into view, as the jet came through the semi sphere which kept probing eyes -and minds- from typically seeing Genosha.
Built of metal molded with an artist's hand, it had a futuristic and altogether otherworldly look to it. The architecture showing flashes of certain, historical styles, yet mostly standing out as its own. This was no man-made city: it was homo superior's.
Where the jet would come to stop was a mixed platform of rock and metal, looking very much like some kind of landing pad. Though what aircraft usually made use of it wasn't anywhere to be seen.
There were a few other mutants immediately in sight besides their helmet and cape-clad leader. Whether they were his personal entourage or merely lookers-on was up to their visitor to decide. Presently Magneto fixed the waif with a highly astute stare. The damaged jet making it only too easy to do so.
"And who do we have here? Charles' latest devotee?"
