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chapter five
OUT OF RETIREMENT
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CERES DOESN'T EXACTLY KNOW how she wound up here. She'd blinked, and now she is standing in front of a sprawling, gray-stone mansion that looks more like a castle. Geometric parapets tower overhead as lookout points to the lush grounds. The rapidly setting sun creates a golden glow over the entire estate. Countless windows would allow the people inside to look down at where she stands near the front door, feeling nervous for some unknown reason.

Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters had once been her home, and now she's hesitating on its doorstep.

"Are we just going to stand here all day?" Ilyas questions. His hands are in his pockets, posture casual and relaxed compared to her stiff spine. He removes one hand to push his circular, red-lens sunglasses further up his nose. "Charles said this was urgent."

Ceres bites back an indignant reminder that he didn't have to stop in front of the doorstep with her and steps forward. He beats her inside, walking through the double oak doors like no time has passed since the last time they'd been here.

The foyer is the same as Ceres remembers it. The interior is an exact replica of how it had looked prior to the catastrophic explosion back in the 80s, which had completely destroyed the school. It's all dark wood that's glossy from the overhead chandelier. Instead of the usual chatter and laughter from students and staff, it's relatively empty and quiet. That fact sends a chill down her spine.

"Well, look what the cat dragged in," a male voice drawls from the staircase to their right.

Scott Summers descends to the first level, a smirk on his pale face at the sight of them. His eyes are completely obscured by a combat visor that crosses over the bridge of his nose and forms a red line where lasers can shoot out. Ceres has never seen him without protective lenses. If he were to remove them, he'd incinerate anything in his path.

"Dad humor? You've lost your touch," Ceres tells him with a smile. They briefly hug when he reaches the foyer— now that he's up close, she can see the traces of a beard that hadn't been on his face the last time she'd seen him.

"Must be from being around kids all the time," he says, then angles his head toward Ilyas. "Stole my look, huh?"

Ilyas peers at him through his crimson sunglasses — which are completely unnecessary now that they're inside — and frowns. "I've been wearing these since before you were born. Got 'em in 1967. You stole my look."

"Oh, how I've missed hearing them fight," Jean Grey sighs as she emerges from the same place Scott had upstairs. Her red hair is pulled into a ponytail to keep it out of her face, an amused smirk pulling up her lips.

"Ilyas fights with everyone, Jean," Ceres reminds her.

"I do," Ilyas admits. "Where's the rest of the team? I was expecting a 'Welcome Back' banner and balloons."

"They're in the hangar, waiting for you," Scott replies. Faint lines are beginning to form between his eyebrows due to him pinching them so often. Pretty soon, they'll develop into wrinkles.

For someone who has known Scott since he joined the X-Men as a frightened teenager, Ceres finds this observation unpleasant.

Shoving down the unexpected wave of sadness that crashes into her, Ceres inhales a rallying breath through her nose and squares her shoulders. "Right. We should get going, then."

Maybe this was why her feet had seemed to be superglued to the doorstep. It always hurts to return to her old home and see the changes in the people she loves. Being away only seems to amplify the differences in their appearances as time passes. When she'd lived here, she'd seemed to blink and Scott and Jean had transformed from teenagers to young adults. Now each change hits her like a punch to the gut. They've grown older than she is biologically. Everything about that realization makes the cavernous hole in her chest ache more sharply.

Ceres's heart pounds with excitement as they head toward the hangar. She's missed her friends, and though they try to keep in contact, it's not the same as seeing them in person.

Her breath hitches in her throat when they reach the cavernous room underground. The fluorescent lights make her squint as soon as the doors slide open, revealing a set of familiar figures.

Charles Xavier turns his electric wheelchair so he's facing them. His heavily wrinkled face becomes even more lined when he smiles at Ceres and Ilyas, the corners of his light eyes rimmed by crow's feet. The harsh lighting makes the top of his bald head gleam. Hank McCoy taps at a control panel, his claws clicking on the screen. His mutant gene has completely covered him in blue fur, elongated his canine teeth, and turned him into his alias— Beast.

"Charles," Ilyas greets the man. "Looking old as ever, I see."

"Nice to see you, too, Ilyas." Charles appears amused, not offended, by the comment. "You haven't matured at all since our last meeting, I see."

"That would be ruining my brand."

Jean rolls her eyes from behind Ilyas, making Ceres grin. Yeah, she's definitely missed this bunch.

"You're late," Hank comments from the control panel, pushing up the glasses balanced on his snout. "You have three minutes to suit up."

"Please tell me you're not going to make us wear those old yellow monstrosities," Ilyas says with a cringe. In the old days, they used to dress in yellow suits that were tailored by Hank and Charles to withstand the limits of their powers. Ceres's could handle the extreme heat of her solar abilities, allowing her to expel sunlight from her entire body instead of merely her hands. They were ugly, but they'd done the job.

Hank shakes his head, huffing a laugh through his nose. "We scrapped those years ago."

"Thank Ganesh. I was sick of looking like a canary."

They're handed much more modern-looking outfits to change into. Ceres slips into a black full-body jumpsuit with golden accents to match her powers. The fabric stretches comfortably, which will allow her to move fluidly without restrictions. She can already guess that it will be heat resistant just like her old one.

Ilyas emerges from the hangar's bathroom wearing a black suit as well, though it has white decals framing his body instead of her gold ones. The brighter lines travel over his biceps, on either side of his torso, and down the outside of his thighs, ending in white boots that are attached to the fabric.

"So, what're we looking at?" Ceres asks, trying to hide the abrupt onslaught of nerves that leave her hands trembling, curling them into fists at her sides. If they'd asked her and Ilyas to return for this mission, it must be serious.

Charles folds his hands in his lap. "I'm afraid our pasts have come to haunt us. An organization known as the Hellfire Club has been making waves in the criminal world, using the political unrest in the wake of the Avengers' battle back in May as a means to strike. We thought they disbanded back in the 70s, but we think we've found one of their bases in New York."

"Membership is hereditary," he continues, "so some old names are resurfacing. Emma Frost's brother, Christian, is rumored to be a part of it. As is Shinobi Shaw."

Ilyas's breath hitches, making Ceres's attention snap to him. His eyes are slightly wide and his lips have parted in a small gape. She knows exactly why— the name Shaw brings back memories of the foundation of the X-Men in 1962, back when Ilyas had first joined. Sebastian Shaw was their prime enemy. He'd caused the deaths of countless mutants during his path to destruction.

"Yes." Charles nods, catching Ilyas's shift in demeanor. "Sebastian Shaw had an illegitimate son."

"Have you told Erik?" Ceres questions. Sebastian had been a dark blotch in Erik's childhood, having tortured him in an attempt to activate his mutant abilities and killed his mother back in Auschwitz. If he found out that the man had a bloodline... Erik would put a piece of metal through Shinobi's brain just like he did to his father.

"No," he answers, "and I would prefer if you all kept it that way. You know of his history with Sebastian, and this is a covert mission."

"And Erik is anything but subtle," Scott chimes in.

That is true. Anytime Erik had joined them in a fight, he'd arrived via some grand spectacle— one time, he'd carried an entire baseball stadium over to the White House to destroy some sentinels. The Hellfire Club doesn't know they're coming. Erik is fantastic with his abilities, but he's not adept at being discreet.

"Ready when you are," Ororo Munroe — also known as Storm — announces, approaching from the awaiting jet. She must have been preparing for their departure when Ceres and Ilyas arrived. Her white hair is down, cascading down her back and serving as a stark contrast to her dark skin. The locks seem to drift due to a wind that only affects her. "Hey, Solstice, Tonic."

It's weird to be addressed by her old superhero name, but Ceres smiles all the same. "Storm."

"We're going to be flying in?" Ilyas questions. He stares up at the jet with squinted eyes. "That seems like the opposite of covert."

Ororo grins and reaches over to pat him on the shoulder like an innocent child. "Oh, Ilyas. There's so much you've missed."

The jet is invisible. Hank and Charles had designed reflective panels to keep the aircraft concealed from prying eyes on the ground. The engine is also much quieter, limiting the chances of it being heard as it travels overhead. Ceres is equally impressed and a bit sad that she missed all of these accomplishments.

"And you guys are sure that the Avengers couldn't handle this?" Ceres questions from her seat against the wall.

Scott and Jean share a glance from where they sit across the jet, then burst out laughing in perfect synch.

"The Avengers? Fighting our battles?" Scott asks incredulously, wiping at an invisible tear from under his visor. "Don't make me piss my pants, Ceres."

Ilyas makes a phone motion with his hand and holds it to his ear. "Hey, Thor? Yeah, we know you're back on Asgard, but we have a group of political criminals we need you to handle."

Ceres slaps his hand down, her cheeks burning florid. "I was just double checking."

"She's just hung up on Captain America since she hangs out with him now," Ilyas explains to Scott and Jean — and Ororo, if she's even listening up front.

Ceres decides that he officially has his 'best friend' privileges revoked.

"Oh?" Jane's eyebrows shoot up her forehead. There's a teasing gleam in her eyes that makes Ceres want to eject herself from the aircraft immediately. When did this conversation turn into everyone trying to embarrass her beyond her wits?

"He comes to the café I work at sometimes," she says defensively.

"Because you asked him to keep coming back," Ilyas retorts.

Ceres rams her elbow into his ribs so hard that, if he'd been any normal person, there would be a bruise there for days. He is making the situation seem more desperate on her part than it had really been. Steve has only returned twice since she'd made the offer for them to talk on her breaks. It's not like he's going to be competing with Ilyas for his role as her closest friend anytime soon.

As nervous as she is about returning to combat after so long in retirement, Ceres is almost grateful when Storm announces their approach to the Hellfire Club's supposed operations building. It gives everyone a reason to stop teasing her.

"You're up, grandparents," Ororo says, flicking a few switches to keep them as stable as possible while she hovers in midair. Another press of a button and the hidden door at the bottom of the jet slides open. A freezing gust of wind slams into everyone aboard, sending their hair flying around their faces.

Ceres and Ilyas have already unbuckled and stand near the edge of the rectangular hole. The howling of the wind is so loud that she can barely hear the screaming of the jet's engines. She shoves down the butterflies swarming her gut and straightens her posture, allowing her decades of training to wipe her mind blank until all she focuses on is her mission.

Scott gives them a thumbs-up from his seat. Ceres copies the motion before taking a step back and dropping through the open door without a parachute.

She'd forgotten what it had felt like to fall through the darkness. Back when she went on missions all the time, they'd usually entered this way— a parachute is clunky and makes them easily visible, but since Ilyas's bones regenerate and Ceres can't die, they can afford to torpedo to the ground. Though her curse doesn't stop her stomach from turning, rising up into her throat as she anticipates the harsh landing, the icy wind whistling in her ears. The pitch black night makes it almost impossible to judge when she'll stop falling. She has to rely on the warming of the air as she gets closer to the ground.

Her feet slam against concrete. Before the shock can travel all the way up her legs, Ceres ducks into a roll and pops back up with her teeth gritted in discomfort.

The rooftop guards turn at the sound of her landing. She emits a blast of bright sunlight from her body, illuminating the roof in white light just long enough to blind them. Their cries of pain may alert the people on the ground that there's trouble, but Ilyas is already there, shooting tranquilizer darts with pinpoint accuracy, putting them into a deep sleep before any alarm can be raised.

The guards are on the ground, clutching at their eyes. Ceres approaches the person closest to her and slams her foot down on the hand that had held the trigger of his rifle. The crunch of bone is swallowed by his scream, which gets cut off by her fist slamming into his temple, knocking him unconscious.

Pop! Pop! Pop! Gunfire rings in her ears. Bullets ping off the ground and the metal pipes on the roof, ricocheting off of each other and creating burning streaks on her calves where they graze her legs. Mercifully, her suit stays intact even if the skin underneath it has been torn open.

Ceres smirks. They're trying to kill her.

She quickly locates the source of the gunfire — a woman who had recovered from the initial blast of light — and aims her palm toward her. A blinding ray knocks the guard back, allowing Ceres to snatch up the gun and warm up her hands. The barrel melts after a second. Molten steel drips onto the ground, splattering onto the concrete.

More bullets alert her of other approaching foes. Ceres jolts forward when the end of a rifle slams into the back of her head, causing her to stumble several steps forward to catch her balance. Her elbow swings back in the next instant to knock her assailant in her face. Blood spurts from their nose, catching in her hair. She drops into a crouch and uses a leg to swipe their feet out from underneath them, her vision spinning from her sudden movement.

Ilyas is battling the last guard standing. Ceres would help him, but they move too quickly for her to safely send a blast that won't blind him in the process. The two fight in a flurry of limbs that almost looks like a dance. Jab, block, hit. Ilyas finally slips a knife from a holster at his thigh and stabs the man in the side of the neck. His eyes go wide, mouth sputtering, blood spraying outward like a geyser. An artery had been severed. Though he tries to press a hand to the wound as he sinks to his knees, it's clear he's going to die.

She sends him a warning expression; Charles's rules say they don't kill. But Ilyas merely shrugs nonchalantly and says, "Oops."

A sigh falls from her lips as she presses a finger to the comm in her ear. "Rooftop and outdoor guards secure."

"Copy that," Ororo says. "Moving in. Start from there and work your way down."

Ilyas tranqs the guards on the roof just to make sure they won't wake anytime soon. When he stands and the pale light of the moon catches his front side, Ceres notices a bullet hole in his left shoulder that has ripped clean through his suit. However, the skin underneath is already healed.

"I hope that hurt," she tells him.

"I'm not in the X-Men anymore," Ilyas replies defensively. "I don't have to play by Charles's rules."

While it would be easier not to withhold her powers and let the sunlight kill anyone in her path, Ceres doesn't like the thought of all that blood on her hands when she already has enough. She shakes her head — slowly, so she doesn't make her vision turn. "Fine. But you get to hear the lecture when we get back."

They rush toward the doors that will take them inside the building. Ilyas frowns when he notices the keypad on the wall, signaling that a code is needed to open them.

Ceres sighs and grabs onto his arm to pull him behind her. "Cover your eyes."

She streams sunlight at the doors, blasting straight through them. The molten edges glow red-hot around the hole she'd created. She waves the wisps of smoke away and steps through, avoiding the broken metal scraps on the floor.

A flash of silver is her only warning before a blade nicks her cheekbone. The knife embeds in the wall behind her with superhuman strength. Blood drips from the shallow cut it had created, stinging her eye. A woman charges up the stairwell with a malicious gleam in her eye. The other is covered by a silver eyepatch, her short black hair nearly covering it. Ceres barely gets a chance to see the scar slicing across her remaining eye before another blade is whistling toward her face at top speed.

Of course, it misses, joining the other knife in the wall. Ceres is grateful that it hadn't landed in a non-fatal part of her body. She quickly aims a blast of light toward their new opponent. It successfully knocks her opponent several steps back, but doesn't seem to affect her in any other way. She simply shakes it off and continues her approach.

"Lady with crazy knife skills and super strength coming at us!" Ilyas informs the team through their comms.

"Callisto," Charles's voice replies all the way from the mansion. Damn, Hank's new devices reach far. "The darts won't work on her. She's — got — be careful."

Ceres doesn't catch all of that last sentence because she's too busy trying to dodge oncoming blows. Her instincts take over, giving her no time to think before she's raising her arms to block and strike. The back of her skull throbs with each swift movement. Callisto's form blurs for a second, allowing her blade to slice a shallow cut on Ceres's forearm.

Ilyas comes to her aid. He pounces forward with a knee raised, pushing Callisto back and allowing Ceres a moment to gather her bearings. The one-eyed woman curls her lip in a sneer before slashing her golden knife downward in a flash of movement. It chops Ilyas's arm clean off.

He releases a dramatic cry of pain, crumpling to his knees beside his severed limb. Callisto's expression is victorious for a moment until she notices the broken tendons beginning to twist. Sections of flesh snake out from the end of his shoulder, entwining around each other until they form a complete human arm.  His sleeve had been shorn off with the blade so his new appendage is bare.

Ilyas glares at her. "My friend made me this suit."

Before Callisto can recover from the shock of a stolen victory, Ceres blasts her with a stream of sunlight so strong it slams her back into the far wall. The woman's good eye doesn't even squeeze shut against the blinding brightness. Ceres's jaw clenches, pushing her power harder, trying to get it to burn hotter. But even though Callisto's clothes are smoldering and pieces of her armor are flaking off as orange embers, she doesn't relent.

She must have regenerative or accelerated healing abilities as well as strength, or else she would never be able to withstand so much heat and light without her eyeballs melting out of her head.

Ceres's teeth grit together as she applies more pressure to her powers. They burn so brightly that even Ilyas throws an arm up to shield his eyes, lighting up the stairwell until almost nothing is visible except white. She takes a step forward to press the stream further into Callisto. The mutant is still pinned to the wall, her movements sluggish as she tries to fight off the ongoing blast to no avail.

In a fight like this — with her opponent so strong and able to heal from almost anything they use on her — it would be so much easier to just end things. They'll be here all night if they stick to Charles's rules. And Ceres is getting tired from all this hand-to-hand work after so long without it, plus she's fairly certain she has a concussion. They don't have time to get stuck on fighting one person for so long.

So she presses even harder, her eyes narrowed into slits as she forces her light to ignite. Callisto's skin begins to emit a faint orange glow where it's beginning to affect her faster than her skin cells can regenerate. The stench of burning flesh floods the small space. She opens her mouth to emit an agonized cry that should tug at Ceres's heartstrings and make her stop, but she keeps going. She'll do this until it's over.

And then Ceres realizes that Callisto's mouth is frozen in a wide-open position that would be too uncomfortable for someone to hold for that long. She drops her stream of power just as Jean and Scott race up the stairwell, the latter shouting, "Stop!"

Even when there's no sunlight blasting her, Callisto remains stuck in that position. Jean must have used her telepathy to freeze her in place. Well, damn, their job would've been so much easier if Jean had been with them instead of the lower levels.

Scott's hair is in disarray from the fight. Other than a burn mark on his cheek from some kind of energy and a slight limp in his gait, he seems unharmed. He stares at Callisto's smoking skin and clothes, cringing at the sizzling sound of burning fabric and flesh. His eyes must be wide beneath his visor.

Ceres's chest heaves from exertion. Her friends' figures swirl as her vision turns. She places a hand on the back of her throbbing head, wincing and fighting an abrupt wave of nausea that churns her stomach.

"Shinobi and Christian?" Ilyas asks the newcomers.

Scott tears his focus away from Callisto and replies, "They were downstairs. We've got everything secured, and a task force is coming to take the mutants to a high-security prison that can withstand their powers. Ororo is talking with law enforcement who will arrest the guards without super abilities."

Ceres glances at the woman she'd almost killed. A twinge of guilt pinches her chest. Even though she'd been ready to do it to save everyone, she can't help but feel glad that Jean had shown up to stop her. She doesn't need another ghost to follow her until the end of time.

_________

a/n:

this chapter took me absolutely FOREVER to write. planning and choreographing an original fight scene is very difficult. but i'm really happy with how this turned out! it's a little treat for those of you who know the x-men. and those of you who don't, i hope you still paid attention since this chapter is very important to ceres and ilyas's arcs.

idk about you guys, but i would absolutely volunteer to be in callisto's place. like, burn me next pls. i surrender myself to you my queen ceres.

—kristyn

( word count: 4.1k )