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Weekends are for spending time outdoors, away from the hustle and bustle of the mansion, classes, and books. Sam had somehow managed to convince both Jean and Quentin to come with him, their hike taking them well off the Institute grounds. The forest surrounding the school wasn't unknown to Sam, but in the winter, covered in snow, everything felt different. At least it was pretty. The younger students were discouraged from such explorations, but the adults? They could very well do as they pleased.
Boots crunched through the ankle-deep snow, leaving tracks that would remain until covered by the next snowfall, and Sam leads the other two at a fairly leisurely pace, in no rush to get wherever they're going. He seems to have a destination in mind, but he's been mum on the specifics. He is perfectly comfortable in the snowy environment, and dressed for it; his mother wouldn't have sent him back north in January without proper clothes this time.
*
'Mom? Mom! Mom! Mom guess what! Mom! Hello! Hi! I pooped and I covered it up like you said! Can I have a treat!'
The casual outing was accompanied with by two people and the infamous Wags. He who wagged his tail almost excitingly at every new prospect that he could have gotten his hands on. While he was in the house, often times providing support for those children who were lonely, he was Jean's wholly and completely and her own personal companion when she too, felt lonely.
"That's a good boy, Wags.." Jean says, leaning down to pet the Goldie as they continued on, whilst his tail wagged so happily from the little show of affection. "But you can have your treat as soon as we get to the spot.. where ever that is.." The last bit itself was mumbled, even as Jean hiked the bookbag upon her back, she was careful with her steps.
'When we get there can I pee? I really have to pee.. I want to pee on this tree and that three an.. SQUIRREL! No squirrel! Darn!'
Jean chuckles quietly, shoving her cold hands into her pocket as she steps over a fallen, thick branch.
*
Quentin isn't really an outdoors person. Or a country person. Or a weather person. He looked forward to the inevitable future, depicted in his favorite magazines and films (well, the non-pornographic ones) where humans would be wearing tight jumpsuits and sealed inside climate-controlled domes and spaceships, far away from the vagaries of squirrels and clouds and…dogs.
He's currently hovering well above the ground, his legs folded beneath him as he telekinetically glides about, "I can smell that thing from up here," he mutters. "Why -are- we out here again? You don't need the exercise, Grey, you don't have a fat ass. Yet," he says. "As for you, cornpone, I don't think there's anything to mine here, although I could probably get you a pickaxe if you really want to feel more at home."
*
"Y'know it ain't really a hike if y'fly th' whole time, Quent'n," Sam says, looking back at the younger man with a bit of a roll of his eyes. "Ah wanted t' show you guys somethin'. Found it when Ah was out here last weekend, thought it was a bit.. Ah dunno, odd." Sam might be something of an outdoorsman, but when strange things happen along he figures it's good to bring telepaths to check things out, for reasons. Never know with the world the way it is these days. That, and it's an excuse to get these stick-in-the-muds out of their comfort zone. Wags, and Jean in turn, both get a smile. He loves dogs, of course, because what good ol' country boy doesn't?
Where they are headed might not be clear, because the snow that had fallen since Sam's last trek up this way had long since covered his tracks, but the trio near their destination quickly enough, now that they've been out in the cold a while. And when they get close, it becomes obvious enough why Sam had thought it was strange. The snow melts away as they enter the small clearing, the ground below green and soft; in fact, as they step into the clearing the air itself seems to warm, hardly February in New York, more like June. "So, Ah thought this was worth checkin' out?" He moves to stand in the middle of the small clearing, unzipping his jacket and removing his hat. Too warm here for them, but if he were to walk 20 feet in any direction, the cold would bite his skin almost instantly.
*
The long coat that Jean wears gets another once over, tugging it down into place as she tries to self consciously ignore Quentin's remark about her ass.
'Mom? Mom! Do I need a ba— oh yes I need a bath, we need water Mom! A lot of water!' Wags trots happily, Jean's nose wrinkling as she looks up towards Quentin. "Come on. At least be nice to me and walk with me, Quentin. You said you wanted to be my friend, right?" She asks, turning to walk backwards as she watches him up in the air, both fingers wriggling in his direction. "Hive mind.. wooo!"
In truth, Jean enjoyed these walks, for as she turns around, there was a slight misstep that has her stumbling, immediately catching her balance with a flailing of arm that has Wags barking in effort. But once they reach the clearing, Wags was having none of it, he barks.. growls.. his head tilting left and right as he turns to high tail it back to the mansion. Jean looks after him for a time, then turns to step into the clearing, the weather itself was but a dream as she begins to disrobe as well. Hat off. Scarf gone.. coat fallen to the grass as her hands stretch out feeling the warmth of the air surrounding them.
"Yeah.. this is.. something." Jean states. "I mean, I'm no scientist.. this is more Quentin's bag.."
*
Quentin floats down, straightening his tie as he takes in the other two. His designer coat fits snugly on his shoulders and his hair is perfectly combed, the sides trimmed short with the top grown long and floppy. He adjusts his glasses as he takes in the anomaly.
"Interesting," he says, "And I do want to be your friend, Jean, but that goes both ways. You're going to have to grow a certain degree of tolerance for my peculiarities. Among them is an aversion to unnecessary physical exertion and a penchant for unprovoked insult," he says. He narrows his eyes as he takes in the warmth, slowly floating upwards to see just how high the air remains warm.
*
The air is warm about 20 feet up, too, after which it just gets bitterly cold again. Damn New York winters. "Much as Ah think Quent'n needs t'learn some manners, don't make'm wrong, Jeannie," Sam says with a smile and a wink toward the woman. The dog taking off has him a bit confused for a moment; sure, this was weird, but something bad enough to set off the dog's instinct to flee? Nah. "Ah'm not much of a scientist either, 's why Ah brought you two. Ah'm good at blastin' things 'n diggin'," he says with a bit of a roll of his eyes. Yeah, Quentin, laugh it up. Some of us had to do actual work at some point in our lives. "But not so much with the sussin' out of curiousities, right?" He walks around the clearing a bit, careful to stay within the borders of where winter has been banished in favour of the warmth. "What'd'ya make of it?"
*
"As long as I don't adapt to your peculiarities, Quentin. Though I wouldn't mind you teaching me how to fly." Jean comments, she's only gotten at least two feet off the ground, the rest of what she could do was subjective. But as he begins to float upwards, Jean shields her eyes from the sun as she watches after him, she shrugs a slight slender shoulder towards Sam. "I know it doesn't. It's rather fun to give him a hard time, I think mostly because he just ignores it and it rolls off of his back."
Still, her hands drop as she begins to walk along the expanse of the anomaly, her arm sticking out into the chill, back again into the warmth, her brows lifting as she gives a slight shake of her head. "I.. don't know. Magic maybe? Honestly, it's beautiful. And it's a blessing. I think I put on my uniform for nothing." Heck, Jean would rather soak up the sun right about now, she misses the summer.
"Quentin? You got anything?" She calls up.
*
Quentin shakes his head, "Don't be silly. It's not a blessing - it's a disruption," he says. "One that could have dire consequences. Weather isn't arbitrary. It's the result of a coalescence of a thousand different forces and pressures in the environment. I heard we have a weather manipulator on the staff now - she's probably drowning thousands of Aborigines in Australia every time she makes it snow and she doesn't even know it," he says, settling back down.
"Magic would be unfortunate - one, it doesn't obey the usual laws or rules of physics and two, I don't particularly know anything about it. My best best guess would be something simple - a heat generator, probably underground, radiating thermal energy on some level. Maybe a mutant mole with superheated farts."
*
"Ororo seems nice enough t'me," Sam says quietly. Quentin really isn't out to make friends, huh? "Ah don't know anythin' about magic neither, so.. maybe?" He shrugs a bit, and continues to walk slowly around the perimeter. And then Quentin mentions the possibility of an underground heater. Well that makes sense to the former miner, and frankly he's a bit embarrassed he didn't think of it before. "If it's comin' from underground, must be a way to reach it somewhere? A hatch, 'r somethin'?" As he walks, Sam starts to bang his foot on the ground, hoping maybe to find a metal door in the ground, or some other evidence of human involvement. "Either of you able to sense anything down there, maybe?"
*
One day, just one day, Jean would be smart enough to know what the hell Quentin just said. But for now, she just stares towards the young man, a slight little shrug of her shoulders as she mumbles quietly about the mention of a weather changer. "Sort of like changing the tides with the moon or some such.." But now she was staring towards the ground, a slight snerk of a laugh given as she reaches into her pockets to pull on her gloves. The men go unnoticed for now as she takes a few steps back, her shoulders slightly rolling as she hops into place.
"Back up. I'm letting Her out."
Her. The Lady Phoenix that Dr. Strange so aptly calls her. Made known by the way Jean herself hunches her shoulders, the slight twisting of her head given as the strain is a bit much to bear for the moment. While it took some preparation, the summers air in that immediate vicinity grows just a little bit more hot, the green of her eyes nearly melting away to replace itself with a ring of fire, which.. it itself extends to the tapered edges of her ponytail that hangs upon the middle of her back. Someone needs a haircut.
"Quentin Quire." Jean says, those burning eyes resting upon him, calm.. blank. Does he sense it? Whatever was beneath the earth? For Jean was about to rip it asunder.
*
Quentin raises an eyebrow at Sam's comments, "I didn't say anything about whether or not she was nice. Her disposition has no correlation to the precipitous side effects of her powers," he says.
Quentin could probably sense something, if he were inclined to do so, but the arrival of the Phoenix takes up far too much of his attention. It's as if a shining jewel suddenly manifested next to him, a tessaract of power and light and consciousness unfolding from within Jean. Jean was special in her own right, of course, but the Phoenix…Phoenix made Quentin's little power-mad heart beat like a rabbit.
"Milady," he says, bending forward slightly at the waist, "By all means, don't let me stand in your way," he says.
*
Whether or not Sam actually understood what Quentin just said is up for debate. But the little roll of his eyes that was coming is fully halted by the emergence of the Phoenix, taking the place of Jean. He backs up, because that's what Jean said to do. He may not have the senses that Quentin possesses, in order to feel the full extent of the power which has taken over the woman, but even the visual presence is enough to set him just a little bit on edge. "You sure about this, Jeannie?" He seems skeptical. All of the talk that Jean has had with him about the Phoenix makes him feel like inviting her to take the wheel, so to speak, might not an altogether great idea?
*
Quentin's reverence was admirable, so much so that the woman draws a little smile upon her lips, a little nod given in the form of a bow as she takes a slight step forward. The fire upon her begins to grow, even as she holds out her gloved hands towards the center of the majestic area, her eyes soon lifting towards Sam as she gives a slight nod of her head. "We are sure." For a moment, inwardly, Jean couldn't help but giggle, it was like sitting upon the couch, watching the show play out through her own eyes.
'What are you going to do?' Jean asks.
"We're going to break it."
It was with a heavy hand that her fingers soon turn into fists, the ground itself beginning to shake as the telekinetics begin to roll beneath the earth, shattering stone and rock, crumbling away what lies beneath as the grass itself begins to peel itself back into layers.
It all begins to disintegrate, forming a tunnel within the middle of the ground which reveals dirt and veins of trees that would have been beneath.
'I could have done that.' Jean remarks from her inner-couch.
*
Quentin wraps his power around himself, floating a little bit up off the ground. Pays to be careful in case of debris, not to mention it's always wise to have a little armor on when there's a rampant psychic event happening in your immediate vicinity.
He puts a finger to his lips as he glances over at Sam, indicating for the peasant to hush in the presence of royalty. His eyes almost glow as he watches the Phoenix unleash her power and go to work. This really is quite a treat.
*
As the ground begins to shake, Sam actually loses his footing and stumbles, in an embarrassing display of clumsiness. But he manages to not get himself injured, despite all the upheaval.
The ground having been torn asunder reveals, indeed, a hatch near the center of the clearing, covered by grass and earth, or at least, it was. The telekinetic excavation has opened it to the elements, tearing the metal tunnel open which leads into the earth below, the ladder which had provided relatively easy access now bent and twisted into an unrecognizable shape. "That's one way, Ah suppose," Sam says quietly, pulling himself back up to his feet. "Looks like it might'a been a.. bomb shelter, 'r somethin'?" Not that that would explain the heat coming out of it, unless it was one hell of a furnace down there. "Wonder if anyone's in there? Maybe we should'a just knocked?" He cracks a bit of a nervous smile, looking first at Jean/Phoenix, and then at Quentin, whom he is certain will have a disapproving look in return. If there had been anyone down there, surely the force with which the Phoenix had opened up their sanctuary would have roused their attention, at the very least. But so far, nothing more from below than hot air and a dull hum, reverberating the steel in the tunnel.
*
'My turn!' All it took was a hop off of the couch as the Phoenix recedes to her inner home, Jean's shoulders slightly cracking and lifting as the fire itself dies down with a slow flicker of a flame that seemed to be.. well, anti-climatic. Jean finally lets out a breath, her hands shaking out briefly as she digs her fingers through her hair, a slight huff of fire blown from her lips as she lets out a burp and a faint giggle in reply.
"Ho-kay.." Jean finally murmurs, stumbling just a little as she takes a step forward, her hands held out to steady herself, which soon allows her to lower to kneel upon the ground to grab her bookbag. "Why would someone live underground?" She finally manages to ask, slinging the bag upon her shoulder from her kneeled position, taking that moment to regain her composure as she gestures towards the opening. "And I'm definitely not going first. You two go. I need a minute.."
*
Quentin isn't about to be hesitant. He's floating down quickly, eyes wide, curious. He's fearless because he's arrogant, his utter self-belief meaning that he doesn't shy away from putting himself at risk. He doesn't settle his feet, though, in case some sort of trap or alarm might be aroused by the pressure of his settling down - although it's hard to imagine any such that hadn't already been trigged by the Phoenix's dramatic action.
"A shelter perhaps? Or an old experimental laboratory? Maybe something dating back to the war," he calls back, some of the veneer of his attitude peeled away by his enthusiasm. "I wonder what the Professor hasn't been telling us," he says.
*
Sam actually breathes out a little sigh of relief when Jean takes the helm of her own body again. For what he feels is a very good reason, the Phoenix makes him very nervous. Not because he thinks it's evil and bad, but because of the power, and the simple fact that it scares Jean, or at least it used to. Seems she's becoming more comfortable with it now. When Quentin floats down the tunnel, Sam moves to check on Jean, putting a hand on her shoulder lightly "You alright? Y'know you don't have'ta impress me with that, right?" He gives her shoulder a little squeeze, and a wink. "I'ma go down and make sure your buddy doesn't get into trouble down there," he says, and hops down the shaft a moment later, using his powers as subtly as he can to prevent a hard landing. The kid has certainly gained some control since he had left.
The bottom of the shaft opens into a wide room, but it's not exactly a bomb shelter. At least not in the traditional sense of the word. A shelter, certainly, but there seems to be no stores of food, clothes, blankets, or other creature comforts. And it's warm down here, far warmer than what is felt above. It causes Sam to sweat visibly, like being right next to a roaring fire, though not hot enough to scorch the skin. "Ever seen anything like this, Quent'n?" Sam moves into the room, and starts to look around. No furniture, no radio. Just an open space upon a cement floor. The walls are bricked in a wide circle around the room, except for one flat area, upon which is painted a large elaborate symbol in bright red. Six concentric circles, each ringed with what might be mistaken for nordic runes, but more ornate. And very faintly, it glows.
*
"What does it look like down there?" Jean calls out after Quentin, still kneeling upon the ground to catch her bearings. Sam's hand upon her shoulder is met with a squeeze of her own, and a little snark of a smile and a shake of her head. "I'm fine.. I promise. But I couldn't do it without her." Jean honestly speaks. "If I don't let her out sometimes.. she.." She waves her hand briefly, keeping that little explanation a secret as she watches him lower down into the hatch.
Slowly she crawls forward, lowering herself to her stomach as she hangs her head over the hatch to look inside, her brows lifting as she listens from above. "Is anyone down there at all?" Which is slightly dumb of her to ask, she doesn't sense anything.. not outright.
*
Quentin shrugs slightly, "Nothing we can feel, which means either it's abandoned, that whoever is here has the capability of hiding their mind from even our senses…or that it's a kind of mind so alien that it doesn't register on our radar. I'm not sure which answer I want to be right," he says.
He keeps a telekinetic shield in front of him, like the blade of a bulldozer as he starts to walk forward, "Anyway, unless you're planning on running back to get a chaperone…I think the answers lie this way."
*
"It's hot down here," Sam calls up, "But doesn't look like there's much of.. well, anythin', really. Maybe whoever built it just hasn't moved in yet?" He scratches his head a bit, keeping behind Quentin and that telekinetic shield, you know, for safety. "But they left the heat on." His eyes cast around the room, dimly lit by the light from overhead, and the glowing symbol on the wall. "Some kinda symbol on the wall down here.. nothin' Ah've ever seen." Which could just as easily amount to 'not english'. "Looks safe enough t'me," he comments. If there's no-one visible, and the telepaths aren't picking up anything, what more assurance could a guy like Sam really need?
*
"How about it's abandoned and call it that." Jean calls down towards Quentin, finally pushing herself up to a slight rise, which allows her to leap feet first into the hole of her own creation. Somewhat. There was a slight hoover as she lowers herself to the floor, landing with a light little tap, her shoulders readjusting the straps upon them, a slight little glance given as she focuses upon the nordic runes placed there.
While the two men wander on, she stays behind, approaching the glowing symbols which were soon touched with a gloved hand.
"Do you know what this is?" She asks aloud.
'Yes.'
"Is it dangerous?"
Jean turns her head, listening for something from the bird, but she hears nothing. "Great. Thank you Lady Phoenix.." She murmurs to herself, obviously irritated.
*
Quentin moves to examine the runes, "Interesting. European Germanic base. Intriguing if they were Norse - isn't there some mutant running around claiming to be Thor? I wonder what the correlation is between mutation and mental illness. I would imagine there's more than a bit, most mutations in nature have nasty side effects, it's amazing so many of ours are benign," he says.
He's memorizing all of it, of course, scanning around as he takes in every little detail for research. The glowing after touch, of course, gets his attention, "Do you think anything's being activated?"
*
As soon as Jean's flesh makes contact with the symbol, it explodes to life. The circles, and the runes which surround them at each level, begin to turn, each swiftly re-aligning in turn. When it has stopped, it goes dark, and the six runes which have aligned at the 12 o'clock position light up brighter than the whole thing had been glowing in the first place. From start to finish, it takes about ten seconds to complete, and when the six 'active' runes have lit, that hum that was coming from below builds steadily into a roar which can no longer be ignored. Yep, Jean turned something on. What exactly it was though, that remains to be seen. Sam stops in his tracks, his neck craning around the room looking for something. Anything really. Some sign of what to expect. "Ah think that sounds about right," he says warily, clenching his fists together. Ready to blast at a moment's notice, if he needs to. Even if this is a bomb shelter, he's pretty sure he could break through to the surface. Certainly willing to try if necessary.
*
"Yes. Thor.." Jean says quietly, "..though I'm unsure if he's a mutant. He's an Asgardian. God of Thunder." Someone has been doing their reading. But it was as if Quentin's words were a herald, for as soon as Jean had touched the runes, they activate. With a few slow steps back, her brows remain risen, her hands striking out so that her own telekinetic force field was immediately shined upon herself, and by extension, Sam. Quentin already had himself covered.
"Oh…" She says quietly, watching as the array plays out, her mouth slightly hung open as she looks towards Sam, Quentin, and then towards the runes again. Something tells her that they should not be here.. but she wasn't going to voice that aloud. "We.. should probably get the Professor.."
*
Quentin wraps his power tight around him, figuring the others were shielding themselves just the same, "Oh, he's an Asgardian, God of Thunder. Sure. And I'm Merlin the Enchanter, I just shaved my beard. Don't fall for the publicity, Jean, he's just some powerful nut with a hammer," he says. "There's no such thing as gods, with big or little Gs. And, if there are, we're it."
His eyes light up as he watches what's happening, greedy intellectual curiosity consuming him. "Screw the Professor, why should he have all the fun?"
*
"Ah'm not sure we were s'posed to touch that," Sam says. Within moments, the whole symbol assembly disappears from the wall, and in its place, blackness. A hole, in fact. A portal, perhaps? It swirls slowly around itself, and heat pours of the darkenss anew, along with even more unintelligible noise. And then, the moment we've all been waiting for, a thing that could only really be described as a living shadow. Even in the dim light, the black figure which emerges from the portal is both easy to see, but impossible to distinguish. If it has features, they are obscured by its very nature. It moves slowly, standing before Jean and Quentin for a moment, tendrils of darkness reaching out and around to test the strength of the telekinetic force-fields, seeming, for the moment at least, to be unwilling to push back against them. Its attention locks primarily onto Jean, perhaps sensing her to somehow be the weakest of the two? The creature rears back, and then with all its might, throws itself against the telekinetic shield Jean had put up, intending to beat her down by sheer force. And it's not some pathetically weak little shadow. The first real blow is like getting hit by a truck.
*
"Oh Quentin. We're existing here. There's.. something in my soul. Gods exist, just not in the way.. that.. you.." Yeah Sam, we get it! She shouldn't have touched that, but curiosity is about to murder the cat. As the darkened thing steps out of the portal, Jean slowly takes a step back, her lips forming into a thin line as she readies herself into a stance. For a moment, it looks as if it were about to do nothing, in which Jean herself lifts her hand towards the two men to stay there actions. Until at least.. the unexpected (or expected) happens!
That slam against her telekinetic shield blasts her off her feet, her body near folding in half as she's soars through the confined space, the outlying shield-wall that she erected for herself vanishing into a shatter as she slams into the wall, back first.
She slumps to the ground at a slight curl, landing clear upon her side, her hands lifting to grasp the back of her head as she lets out a scream of pain. Good pick, obsidian thing! She was apparently the weakest of the three.
*
Quentin adds his own telekinetic shield atop Jean's. Layering is a thing for winter clothing, but it can also be a useful function in using powers. He structures a latticework into the surface of the dome, geometry reinforcing geometry, domes and hedrons and interlocking circuits of power, laying one atop the other atop the other.
"Hey! Al Jolson! You wanna pick a fight with anybody around here, I take offense at you not picking it with me,' he says. "Hey, Huckleberry, grab Jean and see if you can get her out of here. And sure, maybe, just maybe, alert the mansion that some sort of extradimensional asshole entity is currently trying to enter our dimension. But make sure to point out it's not our fault."
*
One down. Sam is thrown along with Jean, but doesn't strike the wall, landing instead a distance away, mostly unharmed. The shadow turns to focus next on Quentin, its inky black tendrils drawing back to itself as it eases ominously forward. Quentin's shield is much more potent, able to withstand the force of the creature's strikes; it seems to be trying to escape the underground bunker, but the presence of at least the two psionic mutants is a hindrance it simply can't slip past. Sam's presence is, for the moment at least, largely ignored; he's not really much of a threat.
"Jean!" Sam calls for her when she strikes the wall, and rushes to her side, like a good former boyfriend-turned-just-friend should. She's alive still, which is the least he could hope for, and while he'd be the first to agree with Quentin's assessment that he should take Jean back to the mansion and get help, he's also astute enough to realize that even if Quentin's strong, there's no way he's going to be able to hold this thing off on his own. And he's not leaving a man behind, or risking this thing getting out, if there's a chance they can stop it. "Ah'm not leavin' you to die, Quent'n!" Sam shouts over the noise, and with some amount of reluctance, moves away from Jean, and gets ready to fire up his blast field. "Get it back in front'a that portal, I'll blast it back t' wherever it came from!" And make it quick!
*
Jean was fine, but there was a growing lump within the back of her head that even -she- was afraid to suppress with her powers. Her back hurt, but it was something she could shake off in due time. "I'm.. I'm fine Sam.." Jean calls out, her hand grasping his and pushing him away so that he could attend to the menace. Surely she has a concussion, the wave of sickness hitting her stomach as she slowly scrambles to a stand.
"I'll tether you!" She calls out towards them both, her hands lifting as her eyes slowly bleed white, the shield.. broken down into a firm line that wraps around both of their waists in a snug form that keeps them both attached to herself by the palm of her hand. "Do it! Hurry!"
*
Quentin backs up physically closer to Jean and Sam, gritting his teeth a bit as he makes his shield hold itself in place. He psionically coordinates with Jean, just barebones, spiderwebbing thoughts and tactics together at a primal level. And with her, he shifts and inverts the structure of his shield, where convex becomes concave, shifting around and moving to tunnel and force the entity back towards its portal.
"I really do hope we brought a giant cork. I'd hate to think we left home without it," he mutters.
*
The shadow creature doesn't move easily, and continues to beat its tendrils like wrecking balls against Quentin's shield, but slowly it inches in the direction that Quentin maneuvers. As it is forced back nearer to the portal, it grows more and more desperate in its attacks, and just when it is finally in the right position, Sam powers up, a controlled explosion bursting from his legs, propelling him head first into the creature like a rocket. He hadn't even thought about closing the damn portal; first move, and as far ahead as Sam had thought, was getting it back in there. Too late to rethink the plan now, though! He strikes the creature hard, knocking it back, and with Quentin's telekinetic assistance, and Jean's tether, the combined force pushes the shadow creature back against the portal in the wall, and eventually, through, before Sam is tugged back, falling to the floor. The portal shrinks slowly, and the creature flails as it tries to reach back through, dark tendrils coming through only to be pulled back inside before the portal shuts completely. When it has closed, the wheel of arcane symbols reappears, glowing as it had before Jean touched it. Sam breathes out a heavy sigh of exhaustion, looking back at Jean and Quentin with a look of relief on his face.
"We should definitely tell the Professor," he says to them.
*