In Top Shape Again (Cable)

[Ysmir]

Chapter I - Resolve

"Sometimes the ends justify the means, no matter the cost to your soul."

---

Dear Rachel,

I'm not very good at these. But I figured since I've been underground so long I might as well let you know that I plan to be getting back into the world sooner rather than later. I'm feeling a lot better now than I was. Things are starting to fall back into place. Literally.

I hope things at the school are good, and I hope dad has been taking it on easy on you since things have quieted down a bit. I'm not sure when I'll be feeling up to coming by but when I do, you'll be the first to know.

I'll keep it short so you don't have to deal with my terrible handwriting for too much longer.

P.S. I know you can read my mind, but I wanted to stretch the fingers a bit.
P.P.S. Tell Proudstar I'll need a sparring partner soon.
- Love, Nathan

Nathan set the pen down. He stretched the bionic fingers of his left hand. They felt better, stronger today. The virus had run its course while he was out, and though it took a great deal of effort for him to stave it off back to what he had become used to, he felt... good, for the first time in a long while. Like he could start being him again.

The view from the roof of his little hovel wasn't so bad. Sitting on the edge of industry just off the borough of Manhattan, it offered close proximity to the school and to the bombed-out District X, plus some much needed anonymity. It would do, for now, while he figured out what the next step to getting in top shape again was. The isolation was simultaneously liberating and just slightly suffocating. He had the time to think out his next plan of action, plot out a roadmap to getting back in the fight, yet all he wanted to do was charge in. But he wasn't a soldier anymore. There was no war to wage besides the one against himself. If he could conquer that, he could conquer anything.

And conquer it he would. He had no other choice.

Nathan lifted the paper and folded it, sliding it into an envelope he had laying nearby. The sun was setting over the Hudson River. He wished he could sit and watch it, but there was work to be done. When he settled down, retired, got himself a family, he could lean back and watch the sunset. Yeah, right, Summers, he thought, shaking his head, though he wore a hopeful smirk. He never could see himself in that light, even now in his old age. The life of a retiree just didn't suit the Askani'son, the defender of the timeline. But maybe someday he'd feel differently. Maybe someday he'd find something other than a cause worth fighting for, something he could devote not just his mind to, but his heart.

Nathan turned away from the golden sky and descended the steps into his base. Had to get this letter mailed out.

[Ysmir]

Chapter II - Reminders

"I'm a soldier. I'm trained for everything. Maybe even this."

---

COLD & HOT
Caramel Mocha
Hazelnut
Chocolate Delight
Mintberry
Pumpkin Spice
Cinnamon Twist
Jamaican Sunrise

He tapped his fingers along the bar. Not the organic kind, no -- these tap tap taps emitted a singing metallic chime.

A good chunk of learning to live with the virus that constantly threatened his life was learning that, for better or for worse, it was a part of him. Had he been free of its influence before? Free to live a life unburdened? Once or twice, but those moments were fleeting, and weren't worth thinking about. There was only the present.

Presently, Nathan Summers sat in a diner and stared across the open air to the chalkboard, where the daily specials were listed. It was the late evening, an hour to close, and he couldn't sleep. Scant progress had been made where he wanted it to, but he figured he owed it to himself to get out of the hovel he called home and stretch his legs. Besides, this place had a direct line to his heart; for someone who almost made a living hopping through time, it had always been a centerpiece. Whether it was confiding in Irene Merryweather about his many adventures, grabbing a quick bite on the way to his next job, or even entertaining the crimson idiot's misguided notions of a "night out", it was his go-to stop.

But he wasn't hungry. All he needed was a strong cup of coffee. A waitress finished wiping down the counter top down the way and walked over to Nathan with a customer-service-smile.

"Anythin' strike your fancy, hon?", she asked.

"Just a black coffee. Please," Nathan replied with a nod.

"Sure thing," she replied, tucking her towel into the tie of her apron. "Nate, right? Heard the guys back in the kitchen talk about ya a few times. Been awhile since ya stopped in. Everythin' alright?"

He was caught off guard by her recognition, but nodded all the same -- mostly, he just appreciated that she didn't mention the arm or the eye. "Yeah," he said, with a sympathetic, if superficial smile, "just taking some time to myself, is all. It's been a long year."

The waitress laughed, and Nathan could tell it was genuine, not just affected. "Honey, you can say that again. I'll be right back with that cup."

"Thanks," Nathan replied, and she walked off to the other end of the bar where a line of different serving machines whirred and hummed with electricity.

Smooth jazz funneled through the speakers embedded in the ceiling of the establishment, and their subtle tones and grooves helped to take Nathan's mind off of the events of the last few months. In a moment of weakness, he found himself wondering about Wade, and if he ever escaped Apocalypse's clutches. He opined that even if he had, it didn't matter; that was a door Nathan was no longer willing to open. A wise man once said, 'forgiveness is divine'... Nathan thought to himself, and then sighed.

"Doesn't sound like everythin's alright," a familiar voice echoed as Nathan lifted his head. The waitress set his steaming coffee down near his metallic left hand and rested her hands on her hips. "Sorry to be so nosy... just couldn't help notice you were a bit under the weather."

"No apologies necessary," Nathan assured the woman, taking hold of the mug and sliding it nearer to him. "I appreciate the concern. But I promise, I'm fine. I guess you could call it a... an adjustment period."

The waitress scanned the diner for a moment. Besides a flirtatious couple in a booth on the far side, Nathan was the only other customer. She leaned forward onto her elbows. "Adjustin' to what?"

Nathan lifted the coffee mug and blew gently on the surface of the deep amber liquid, and the steam rolled off before he took a sip. He settled it back down and looked toward a large pane glass window that granted a view of the empty streets. Raindrops rolled down it. He shrugged.

"Change, and all the reminders of what came before it."

[Ysmir]

Chapter III - Retribution

"I'm a soldier. I'm trained for everything. Maybe even this."

---

Rumekistan? Failed, in some respects, though it depends on how you look at things.

Providence? After that mess, Nathan swore to himself -- a promise -- that he'd never let power go to his head that way ever again. Not that it would be an issue anytime soon, he lamented, flexing his bionic left hand with a hefty sigh.

His feet carried him to the water's edge, where he stood and gazed at a setting sun. On the west coast, it was a place like this where you'd be able to see the moving island out on the horizon, a haven that Nathan envisioned as the home of the future. How foolish he was.

The dream wasn't a sham, but the way he went about it? Well... mistakes were meant to be made, he supposed.

So why had he come here? Just to stare at the sunset? No, not quite.

He came to forgive himself.

Nathan Summers wasn't perfect; but then again, who was? It had taken far too long spent in a coma and the arduous recovery process for him to realize that he couldn't fix every problem with a plan and plenty of ammo. Hearkening back to his time at the cafe, Nathan wondered if perhaps, had he been present in his life, Wade could have been saved from his fate, and in turn, Nathan saved from his own. It was an odd dichotomy, the more he thought he about. Ever since he was a child, he had been raised with the expectation in mind that he was meant to be a "messiah", a savior among saviors, destined for greatness and burdened with glorious purpose. As he stood on the sandy shores, staring out across the endless vista of the Atlantic, Nathan finally realized that was all wrong.

But not all wrong.

If he was going to finally allow himself time to heal not just physically but mentally, then he had to make another promise to himself besides the one he already had. In life, there was loss -- that was an inevitability that was hard learned, but he'd need to learn it. Even if he wasn't able to be there when Apocalypse was finally defeated, he could rest easy knowing that his warning helped. He could rest easy knowing he fought his heart out, that he didn't lay down and idly accept defeat at the hands of one of his personal demons. Nathan Summers could be put down, but not for long.

Nathan linked to the internet through a communications device in his arm. He established a direct line to one of his old allies; Irene Merryweather. After his visit to the cafe, he finally decide to rebuild his connection to the one unlikely person that had done so much for him -- and Wade, when he was around. The phone rang, and eventually, a voice was heard on the other side.

"Hello?"

"Got a question. Any update on Rumekistan?", Nathan asked as he turned away from the ocean vista. The setting sun projected an orange glow on his back.

[Ysmir]

Chapter IV - Reconstruction

"I'm a soldier. I'm trained for everything. Maybe even this."

---

Rumekistan. The closest thing to a victory he'd ever achieved.

Walking through its streets was a blast from the past in the most literal sense imaginable. Though, at ground level, Nathan could now see that the changes he had made once upon a time were changes for the better; when he first arrived and began leading the resistance, he took the reins of a nation stricken by poverty and political strife the likes of which few countries ever experience in their histories. Of course, he didn't do it alone; Domino's help (and hindrances) served as the driving forces for his actions, and it wasn't stretching to say that nothing he did would have been possible without her direct intervention. Couple that with the political cabinet he was able to establish in the event of his inevitable absence, and you had the trappings of a coalition of like-minded and driven visionaries -- a powerful and rare thing, to put it plainly.

Irene was shocked to hear from him when he called all those weeks ago, but shock was soon replaced by relief, even jubilation. While they didn't always get along on the best of terms, they always made for a fantastic team -- yes, even with Wade, who Nate was happy to make amends with recently. As per his request before taking the fight to Apocalypse months prior, Merryweather kept tabs on President Yuskevitch and his leading of Rumekistan. And, perhaps unsurprisingly, it was flourishing.

Now, the streets were lively and full of people who looked not only nourished, but genuinely happy. The police presence was not a brutal fascist force to keep the status quo, but true servants of the public, meant to ensure safety and security. And in the center of the Grand Square, positioned squarely outside the Hall of Presidency in Barjnov, Nathan stood across from a statue in his likeness.

It was a memorial. A badge of honor.

Near-death was something of an old friend to Nathan, and truth be told, he was beginning to become used to the world thinking him deceased. Whether or not that was a good thing was up for debate, but it certainly spoke volumes about his occupational hazards. Regardless, he thought it wise for the government that he helped build to continue thinking he was gone; he went to great lengths during his visit here to cover his identifying marks and remain anonymous. There was nothing worse for a cause than a Martyr turning out to be false, and besides, Nathan had nothing to give to these people anymore; his purposes lay elsewhere, on the frontlines of a secret war against Mutantkind. Time behind a desk didn't attract him in the slightest, and this place was thriving -- it was more than he could have hoped for.

And in a way, standing here in the centerpiece of one of the few good things he'd managed to do in this lifetime, he felt what could only be described as a piece of his soul mending, falling back into place over a crack that had been left broken for far too long. He wished his mother could have seen this place and its people, experienced how even the most dire of situations can be turned around for the better through determination and teamwork.

But of course, nothing was ever achieved without bloodshed. It was a sad and horrible truth, one that Jean's very absence was proof of. She had given her life to save Nathan, to tear him from Apocalypse's clutches. She saved him because, deep down, she believed in him even though he had ceased to believe in himself.

He turned away from the statue and walked across the busy street, back through the alley from whence he came. He had to get back to the world. His world, that he wished to defend with every fiber of his being. Patching it up with Wade was just the start of it. If they could make X-Force happen, take the fight to the instigators -- maybe Rumekistan wouldn't be his only victory.

"We'll do it for you, mom," he said to himself.

[Ysmir]

Chapter V - Revelation

"I'm a soldier. I'm trained for everything. Maybe even this."

---

"Computer, bring up dossier number five-oh-six dash one-point-one."

It was one of his many safehouses dotted across the globe, in an unassuming and rather mundane location. Having these havens to fall back on, even after all these years? Well, the security that offered couldn't be overstated.

Especially with what he was about to get himself into.

After meeting his not-daughter from another reality, Nathan began to double down on his efforts against the Purifiers. He had old files from the past; jumbled and patchy information scrounged from unreliable data, but he hoped that with the new intel brought to light by Hope, he could start to see the bigger picture.

The question was this; why capture them? For as long as they've been a thorn in his side, the Purifiers were pretty straightforward in their methods. Mutantdom was a cancer in their eyes, and how did you treat a cancer? Simple -- you cut it out. But things were different now. They operated outside of their usual status quo, and that had him curious. Mutants weren't just dying in ever more horrifying and barbaric ways, but were being kidnapped, disappearing off the face of the earth. Those facilities that had been located were the picture of savagery; test tubes, wires, needles, and other medical equipment that could double as torture devices, depending on your point of view. And whatever their sudden interest in mutant genealogy may have been, Nathan had a pretty strong feeling that it was anything but altruistic.

But he had something unexpected, something that the Purifiers likely thought long gone -- he had a team.

They were barebones for the time being, nothing to write home about, but each one was a tried and true, battle-hardened veteran, folks he had fought with before. But Hope?

Well, she was still a wildcard and a question mark all wrapped up in one red-headed package. He wasn't entirely sure how much he could trust her yet, and her origins, though she had disclosed part of them to him, were still shady at best. Despite all of that, however, the one thing abundantly clear was that she had experience with the Purifiers not unlike his own. In fact, her sudden appearance at one of his safehouses just weeks prior was the final clue he needed to piece together puzzle of mutant disappearances. It was becoming rather obvious that had she wanted to, she could have kept him completely in the dark. But she didn't. That had to count for something.

Personal feelings aside, he was armed with information now. Cross-referencing the dossiers he had with data on the web, Cable was able to reliably triangulate the positions of at least two Purifier facilities that were originally thought to be abandoned, destitute. But clearly, that was no longer the case.

He wasn't sure if they were ready -- X-Force, that is. He wasn't sure if he was ready, either. His healing was a long and arduous journey, after all. But all of those doubts and misgivings didn't matter anymore. If they were going to take action, it had to be now.

The doors to his safehouse armory slid open at his command.