Cable and Bobby
Snow wasn't unusual and New York City wasn't unusual. But somehow, combining the two together, in a world not yet overrun by anti-mutant patrols, sentinels, refugees from Apocalypse, or any others lives desperately finding a way against adversity, it was unsettling. The buildings were so tall and undamaged, the ground covered in pristine ice, not fallout. Even the din of battle sounding more like children learning to flirt using guns than people fighting for their lives.
But maybe it weren't so different. People here were trying to survive in a crap situation. Even Cable found himself less in control than he ever'd been. Not able to slide through space or time, not with that reserve of power to draw on in a pinch. Or even his usual arsenal of guns except for a plastic toy one.
But he was an X-man, in some sense of the word he'd been born to and raised hearing tales of. And he'd long ago sidelined the majority of his powers, using them to suppress the techno-organic virus that ravaged him instead of whatever it was that they were supposed to do. But they were an ace in the hole. Which meant he currently only had the three others in his deck, and the one up his sleeve.
[Ed. Note: Aces were what he had taken to thinking of as knives. It's called a metaphor, look it up!]
Nathan Summers knew more than anything how to survive with nothing save himself and lately the kid who was no small potato herself. He knew how to fight, and, more than he could say for most of his father's contemporaries. He goddamn knew when to fight. And he was tired of doing it these days.
He'd taken his part of the device and gone to sit out in the safe to breathe air and enjoy a winter that for once wasn't nuclear for the sort a quiet that didn't accompany extinction.