(This started as a scathing review for All New X-Men #1 … then something happened…)
“What the hell is this?” I screamed at Marvel, waving All New X-Men in his face. I was angry. Obviously. Irrational. Maybe. But I didn’t care. I had had enough. “I gave you a chance with that AvX bullshit, but you let me down! I gave you a chance with Consequences, but someone stole Xavier’s brain before he was even cold in the ground! And now this? I’m supposed to accept that Hank has a pocket time turner and the little X-Men have no issue hopping into the future to play ‘This is Your Life?’”
Marvel crossed his arms and stared coldly at her. “You knew where this was going. You knew what it was!”
“Yes, I did, but I was stupid enough to believe that you’d FINALLY give me something that didn’t have any plot holes in it. Instead you give me a plot hole so damn big that I can jump through time!”
“How did you think I was going to get the original X-Men back here?”
“Well – “ I stammered, but my brain was in no state to provide ideas that made any sense. I’d used them all up trying to posthumously fix the mess Marvel had made of AvX. “Anything would be better than a dying Hank and a bunch of kids who run off into the future without telling dad!”
Marvel flung exasperated arms into the air, “You just have to be patient! It doesn’t matter how we got to this point. What matters is what we do with it!”
“No, Marvel, no! I’m not buying that this time! I’m tired of it!” That’s when I started throwing everything (except Joss Whedon’s Astonishing X-Men) at him. Civil War. Onslaught. House of M. Punctuating each haphazardly aimed throw with each of their failures. He blocked it as best as he could, before opting instead to tackle me, pinning me to the ground. I writhed angrily. We’ve been in this position before and by the roguish twinkle in Marvel’s eyes, I knew what he was thinking. But I wouldn’t let it happen. Not this time. I let the haze of anger melt away and stopped struggling. He took the bait and leaned down to kiss me. I bit him.
He yelped and loosened his grip and I used the opportunity to kick him off me and escape to the other side of the couch.
“I said: not this time. It’s over.”
Marvel wiped blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. I avoided his eyes. The shock and sadness in them was too much. It would break my resolve. I had to stick to my guns this time. I had to get out.
I – I can change,” Marvel pleaded.
“You have changed,” I said with remorse. “But not the way I needed you to. Do you remember when we used to cuddle up in bed with Classic X-Men? Do you remember the original Dark Phoenix Saga? Even Fall of the Mutants! Other people didn’t like that, but I did.” The tears were flowing now and I couldn’t stop them. “I loved it! And I loved you!”
“We can’t go back to the past.”
“And yet you always do. Regurgitating storylines and characters and killing them off only to bring them back again. How long until the sentinels show up AGAIN, Marvel? How long?? What happened to the man I knew with all those fantastic ideas? What happened to the man who understood the meaning of sacrifice? What happened to the man who didn’t find excuses to throw Wolverine at everything?”
“I – I’m still here,” he said, trying to approach me, but I moved further away. It was a small apartment. There was only so far I could go.
“No. You’re not the man I need anymore.”
I worded that poorly. I could feel the air change; the tension return. “There’s someone else. Isn’t there. For the love of Thor. Please tell me it’s not DC!”
“You don’t understand my needs anymore, Marvel. I – I’m – I didn’t want you find out from my Facebook relationship status update, so I guess it’s best I tell you now.”
“WHO IS IT??” he yelled, barely containing his rage.
“I’m – I’m seeing Image again.”
“You – you what??? You’re seeing the guy you cheated on me with before because he had shiny digital backgrounds and perky nipples and you think I’m going to be okay with this??”
“WE WERE ON A BREAK!” I yelled back at him and then we were back at each other’s throats. Yelling and screaming and throwing everything but punches until the inevitable angry sex happened.
“Why do you fight me?” he whispered huskily, nuzzling my neck.
“Because I hate you and I want you to let me go,” I replied dreamily, tracing my fingers along his strong arms.
“I’m not holding you,” he said, releasing me from his grip as if to prove that were true, “You keep coming back to me.”
I shivered and he frowned with concern. “You’re cold,” he said, getting up. Here. I got this for you.” He handed me an oversized hoodie.
I gratefully pulled it over my head and looked down at the words emblazoned across my chest.
“Cyclops was right.”