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Our very presence here, three-thousand-some-odd years in the past, could have irreparable consequences to the timeline. Imagine the butterfly effect extrapolated out over thousand of years. Every step we take puts the future at risk. And you're talking about snuffing out one of the most profoundly influential villains in all of human history. That's the biggest butterfly effect of them all.
I've always wondered why people choose to cut their palms for blood rituals like this. Lots of nerve endings. Hand wounds often nag and heal slowly. Turns out palm blood is required. The grimoire asks for it by name.
Please wait for the Danger Room to come to a complete stop. And use caution while checking the overhead compartments, as luggage may have shifted during travel.
Lots of secrets filling these halls nowadays, Scott. More than normal for people like us. Logan leading a gang off to God knows where. Bloodstained clothes in the laundry. Warren transforming into Archangel again. To say nothing of what you've been up to, Miss Frost. Secrets, Scott. Secrets, Emma. In these times -- these awful, fractious times -- We... are all we have left. I'm taking the X-Club on a mission come daylight. I'll be gone some time. But when I get back, we're having it aaall out, do you hear me? These secrets will kill us. And I won't stick around to watch it happen.
Right. I would say potato, but it's too viscous, too thin. The lumps make me suggest rice, but it's too irregular. Which begs the question: when did our fine nation's penal system decide to start serving mucus?
I'm a cute li'l furry Freak whose only Friends are other Freaks. Of course all of them can pass as Human, when they like. Is it any wonder I sometimes get the Blues? That wasn't meant to be a Pun.
You rescued Jean. Saved Scott's brother. Maybe saved us all. Don't kid yourself...you've made your choice. Forget Dark Angel. You're our official Archangel now. Heaven knows, we can use one.
I like to think of X-Force as a dark orchestra. Some of us prefer the spotlight of the melody... like a shrill, brilliant violin... or a fun, emotive sax. While others harmonize in the background. Some serve a necessary function by mindlessly beating drums and crashing cymbals... pleasuring in their violent rhythm. And there are those who are as versatile as a cello... able to play melody or harmony, to swing between the brightest and darkest notes. And I... I am their conductor.
Every study has shown that genetic mutants, people like us, have very specific energy signatures… more powerful energy signatures. Think about it. Last week there were over a million mutants across the planet… and now, all but a comparative handful of them appear to be nothing more than human. So as a scientist, I’m simply wondering… Where did all that energy go?
I'm sorry, Sabretooth. I think Burnout is starting to have an effect on you. I don't think your eyes are going to grow back, certainly not anytime soon. And I'm afraid your hand is likely gone for good.
Listen to me! The volcano flooded the entire complex with molten lava. Your power got you and me out -- but that's all. There's no way anyone else could have survived! Scott and the X-Men are dead, Jean. They're dead.
Stop! Stop your lies right now! You-- you're filling my head with all of these-- these images, these impressions! All of these roads not taken... you're not convincing me that I've done anything wrong. I can't be held responsible for things I have no control over! This collage of all the good things that won't happen because of something I've done. I want my friends to have love. I want my friends to rise above their stature and become the mutant--
I came here to tell you... because of you none of these things will ever happen. A myriad of realities you have destroyed, Dr. McCoy. You have guaranteed that the happiness and love and respect and adventure that you crave for your friends may never happen.
My dear friend--I'm so sorry. Your healing factor is gone. I've consulted with Tony Stark, Henry Pym, Santi Sardina... They all agree. The "Empty" bullet in your shoulder contained a dose of this... I can hardly say it... "Intelligent Virus from the Microverse"... I guess that was it's backup plan. To switch off your ability to heal. I think it then tried to take you over. But your power... I imagine it put up a hell of a fight. It burned the virus out of your system. The Good news: I've managed to synthesize a drug to counteract the Adamantium poisoning. But the bad news... you're vulnerable to injury--and you'll age at a normal rate--
Listen, Boom-Boom! X-Factor isn't what you think it is! We have a place where mutants can come and be safe and learn to use their powers... ...where they won't have to live on the streets or rely on villains or thievery....
Regardless of the method, you can't deny that we've accomplished a lot! We've saved at least two young mutants from an unbearable existence and taught them to use their powers wisely! Why don't you ask Rusty and Arthur how they feel about our set-up?
Our very presence here, three-thousand-some-odd years in the past, could have irreparable consequences to the timeline. Imagine the butterfly effect extrapolated out over thousand of years. Every step we take puts the future at risk. And you're talking about snuffing out one of the most profoundly influential villains in all of human history. That's the biggest butterfly effect of them all. 
Editor's Note
