Marvel's Alien Force

Diamond Head soared higher, slicing through turbulent winds as flocks of birds scattered beneath him. The land below—once so close—now shrank with every passing second, morphing into a distant patchwork of green and brown.

It was strange.

Weird, even.

But also... incredible.

The feeling of flight—of real, conscious flight—was something he hadn't had the time or mind to appreciate until now. The kind of freedom that whispered to the core of his being. And all of it was thanks to Little Lily.

Because of her, he could fly as Diamond Head. Without her telekinetic power flowing through him, he'd have been stuck using one of his other alien forms—ones built specifically for flight. But this? This felt different.

As a Petrosapien, his crystalline mind operated on a level far beyond human comprehension. The mechanics of telekinetic flight had come to him naturally—instinctively, even. But when he'd transformed into Grey Matter earlier, that understanding had deepened. Refined. Made effortless.

He could break the sound barrier if he wanted.

But not today.

Today, he just wanted to enjoy the moment—to fly not because he had to, but because he could.

Right now, he wasn't rushing. No need for speed. He wanted to feel the sky. Take it in. Let it wrap around him.

He considered switching back to his human form, Mark Cain, to experience the emotion fully—the raw wonder of a human touching the sky—but dismissed it. His clothes were still in tatters from earlier. Not exactly a flattering look.

Besides, he looked way cooler in this form.

Nine feet of glowing, razor-edged crystal cutting through the heavens?

Yeah.

That worked just fine.

Jean flew beside him, matching his pace without effort. She wasn't in a rush either, gliding gracefully through the open sky, letting the cool winds kiss her skin as the clouds thinned around them.

Her hair moved with the wind—but not all of it.

Some strands flowed in a different rhythm, subtly influenced by a touch of her telekinetic power. She wasn't just flying; she was curating her presence.

After all, she was a woman.

And a woman knew the value of a good image—especially when the world was watching. What if someone caught her mid-flight with her hair looking like a tangled bird's nest and uploaded it online?

She had no intention of becoming another meme like Ororo had that one time. Never.

She glanced sideways at the towering figure beside her—nine feet of pure crystalline mass, glowing faintly under the sunlight—and asked in a calm, composed voice, "So, what exactly do you need my help with?"

There wasn't fear or hesitation in her tone. Just curiosity.

She'd seen plenty of strange in her life—mutants whose powers made them look like beasts or walking steel tanks. Beast. Nightcrawler. Colossus. The list went on.

Compared to them, a man made of diamond wasn't exactly a shocker.

But even so… this one felt different.

She could sense it.

Diamond Head replied, calmly but with purpose, "I'll need your help. I want you to channel that Phoenix fire into me—just focus it on me. That way, I can absorb it and use it to power a large-scale healing. Thousands at once, maybe more."

The plan was simple. Absorb her Phoenix force energy with his Chromastone physiology, convert it into pure regenerative force, and unleash it across the world. Not just to heal—but to send a message. A show of capability. Of dominance. Of hope.

But the moment Jean heard his request, she stopped. Mid-air. Her flight slowed, her presence tensed. Diamond Head noticed immediately and halted beside her.

"What happened?" he asked.

Jean shook her head, her voice tinged with regret.

"I'm sorry. I can't do that."

She didn't even question how he planned to do it. His intentions weren't the issue. The idea of using the Phoenix's power to heal—something she wanted to believe in—wasn't the problem.

The problem was her.

To focus the Phoenix Force on him meant she had to channel a large portion of it. And the truth was—she couldn't. Not without risk.

Right now, she was only skimming the surface of that fire. Entry-level power. Even that alone brought emotional storms. If she pushed deeper—if she drew on its full cosmic potential—the flood of chaotic emotions it would awaken would be beyond control. And when she lost control...

She wouldn't just fail. She'd become the next disaster.

Diamond Head didn't speak immediately, but he felt it—her guilt. Not refusal. Not resistance. Just the weight of her own limits. He looked at her closely and asked, gently but firmly,

"Why? Is there a problem?"

He wasn't pushing her. If her refusal had come from fear or pride, maybe he wouldn't have bothered to ask. But this wasn't that. It ran deeper—personal, raw. So he held back, giving her the space to speak... if she wanted to.

Jean floated there, her red hair flickering unnaturally in the wind, her aura trembling. She met his gaze with bare honesty.

"I can't control my powers. Once I cross a certain line, I lose control of myself. And with what I carry..."

She paused, then finished with quiet certainty.

"If that happens, it won't be healing the world—it'll be burning it down."

Diamond Head listened carefully. She was right—Jean Grey couldn't fully control her Phoenix Force. He had momentarily forgotten, swept up in the urgency of the moment. But now, with a clearer mind, he replied calmly.

"Oh, don't worry about that. I can help you. You won't lose control over your emotions."

Jean looked at him with a lifted brow. "You know my problem is tied to my emotions?"

Diamond Head gave a small nod. "Yeah. I saw how they flared up when you used your powers to heal Lily's mother. I didn't think much of it at the time since you still had them under control. But now... it makes sense. The stronger the healing power you use, the more your emotions spike, don't they?"

Jean's gaze sharpened slightly, but there was a trace of admiration in it. His observation was on point.

"Correct," she said, voice calm but firm. "That's why I can't help you."

Diamond Head nodded slowly, processing. "I see. Well, in that case, you don't need to worry too much. My mutant ability can help calm your emotions. It'll—"

Jean cut him off, her voice colder than before. "Empath abilities don't work on me when I'm using the Phoenix Force."

She wasn't just guessing—she was stating something she had already tested, many times, with many powerful mutants. She had tried emotion-soothing, numbing, even suppression abilities. Omega-level empaths had failed. All of them.

And every failure only added to the frustration.

Born with a cosmic force wrapped around her soul, a power unlike any other—and yet... one she couldn't fully control. One she couldn't even use properly without the threat of breaking apart.

She didn't hate the Phoenix Force.

But there were days she hated what it made her feel.

Diamond Head stood quiet as her words settled in.

So empathic powers didn't work on her once the Phoenix Force was active.

'Then... should I just do this alone?'

He glanced at her.

If his power couldn't help, there was no point in pushing it. He could still do what he needed to do, just a little slower. It wouldn't change much.

But after a few seconds of thought, he turned to her again.

"How about this," he said, tone calm but curious. "Let's try it once. If it really doesn't work… then I'll handle it alone."

He wasn't asking to prove her wrong. He just wanted to know. To test something. And if it did work?

Well, it wouldn't be the first thing that made him different—from soul to structure, he was already far from ordinary. One more anomaly didn't change anything.

Jean regarded him for a moment, then gave a simple nod. She didn't believe it would work—she was sure it wouldn't—but humoring him wasn't a problem. This man—this being—was someone the X-Men might want on their side, or at least not against them. If he wanted to test something, she could play along. For now.

Without hesitation, she reached inward and let the Phoenix rise.

With a single thought, Jean summoned the Phoenix Force. Her already stunning form ignited with celestial fire, her presence magnified to something both divine and untouchable. Flames curled around her body, radiant and alive, as two immense wings of fire unfurled from her back like those of a burning seraph. 

She didn't just look beautiful—she became something otherworldly, like a fire-born angel descending from the heavens.

But Diamond Head, in his Petrosapien form, merely observed. Her human allure didn't register the same way. Not in this body.

He could see the chaos brewing behind those glowing eyes. The fire wasn't just around her—it was inside her, clawing at her soul.

Rage. Grief. Longing. Guilt. Joy. Despair. Elation.

So many emotions—fighting, screaming, colliding within her consciousness. They weren't in harmony. They were barely held in check by raw mental force. A barrier. One that could break with just a flicker more power.

She was walking the edge of a breakdown. Not physically—but emotionally. Psychologically.

And if her control shattered...

Diamond Head acknowledged it silently—if this didn't work, he wouldn't press the issue again. Her reasoning was valid. She wasn't trying to hold back; she simply couldn't afford to lose control.

He locked eyes with her, calm and unwavering. Then, with a focused thought, he activated his mutant ability.

There was no flash. No sound.

Just invisible pulses—waves of emotion-soothing energy—radiating outward from him. They slipped quietly into Jean's chaotic storm of a mind, threading their way into the heart of the Phoenix.

And ... they disappeared. Swallowed. Consumed by the chaos.

Diamond Head watched, brow twitching slightly. 

But then—

The swirling storm of emotions vanished. Gone. Like fog in sunlight. The flare of rage, sorrow, elation—all of it—just puffed out, leaving behind a strange, grounded stillness.

Diamond Head blinked. Her Phoenix form was still active—wings burning, aura radiant—but the internal storm?

Silenced.

'Did it work?'

He didn't know. His power should have been drowned out completely. Yet now, what he felt radiating from her wasn't Phoenix-driven at all—it was her own thoughts, her own emotions, gently stirring once again.

Jean, meanwhile, stood still, stunned. The pressure—the weight—had evaporated. Just like that. And she knew she hadn't suppressed it herself.

"It worked?" she asked, slowly.

Diamond Head tilted his head and echoed, "Seems like it?"

Both were confused. So Jean, ever the pragmatic one, exhaled slowly and canceled the Phoenix form. Her aura faded.

"Let's try again," she said. "Just to make sure it was you and not some weird fluke."

He nodded. That was fair.

Once again, Jean ignited—the fire blooming around her, emotions spiking like a thunderclap inside her chest. Diamond Head focused again and released another pulse.

Just like before, it seemed to vanish—swallowed whole—and just like before, the chaos imploded inward and vanished a second later.

He frowned, more thoughtful than triumphant.

Why did it feel like his ability was dying with each use? Like his pulse was the sword and the storm was the beast, and both had to kill each other every time they clashed?

It worked—but the process was violent. Not externally—but at the emotional, mental level. A silent war.

Jean floated, calm again. She blinked at the clarity.

"Let's try more. Just to be sure," she said. "Fifty times."

Diamond Head shot her a look. "That's too much. Let's go with ten."

She rolled it around in her head, then gave a light nod. "Okay. Ten it is."

And so it began. A cycle.

Flare. Pulse. Calm.

Flare. Pulse. Calm.

Over and over—like a test between two cosmic forces balancing on the edge of mutual destruction.

Each time, Diamond Head's soothing impulse was obliterated in the effort—but the result was the same: Jean's chaos shattered into nothing, replaced by clarity.

If nothing else, one thing was clear:

His ability was unlike any empath she'd ever encountered.

And that made all the difference.

***

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