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#9
APR 14 |
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“Forgotten Worlds” Part Three
Cavern X
Angel flipped through the television channels with an ear to ear grin. She looked back at Typhoid Mary and caught a beer from the woman. “We’re all over the news. They’re calling us the heroes of Latin America.
Typhoid Mary sat down next to Angel and popped open her beer. “The media is always looking for their next interesting sound bit. It’s how the industry works. Next week they’ll be calling us the new Axis of Evil.”
Angel frowned at her. “I was a stripper and you were a prostitute turned hit man. We fought our way out of the jungle. Why not try and enjoy it a little more? Honestly, did you ever expect anyone to be calling us heroes?”
Mary didn’t want to admit it, but she had knots in her stomach at the thought of being referred to as a hero. Was that a responsibility she was ready to live up to? “I can’t enjoy it because it’s only a matter of time before someone goes digging through our oh-so-elegant pasts.”
“Is being grumpy on your itinerary every day?” Angel asked, not wanting to admit that Typhoid Mary was right. The idea of all her dirty laundry being aired out for the world to see made her stomach drop.
Seeing that she had made the girl a few shades paler, Mary sighed. “Sorry, Angel, I’m just worried about Gambit. We’re here getting called heroes and there’s no telling what happened to any of them. They could be anywhere.”
“Still not talking to the Doc?” Angel already knew the answer to the question, but she needed something lighten the mood. Those two had been sniping at each other ever since they came back from Panama.
“Why should I speak to that sorry excuse for a doctor? He’s the reason that Gambit and the others can’t be found. And he won’t even own up to it!” If Gambit and the others ended up hurt, she was going to lay every ounce of blame at Nemesis’ feet.
Angel shrugged nonchalantly and suppressed a laugh. What really made Typhoid Mary mad was that Nemesis deftly dodged her every insult. “Fine by me. I don’t really like Nemesis anyway. He thinks he leaves the bathroom smelling like roses.”
“And we both know that’s far from the case,” Typhoid Mary said, throwing down a swig of beer. Angel wondered what about the man really got under Mary’s skin. When people argued, the problem was rarely about what they were actually arguing about.
Angel pulled her knees up on the couch and pressed them to her chest as she continued channel surfing. “Honestly, Mary, I don’t know why you worry about him so much. You’re a graceful killer and he’s a grumpy old doctor.”
“Because it takes a monster to know a monster, Angel; at his core, Doctor Nemesis is not who he pretends to be. Do you know he worked with the Nazis during World War II? He willfully and purposely chose to work with that sick pack of people.”
Angel nodded. “So that’s it, huh? You don’t like him because he reminds you of something in you. Do you really think you’re a monster, Mary?”
Typhoid Mary got up off the couch. “I was. You don’t’ know the things I’ve done, Angel.” She walked out before a response could be given.
Fantomex leaned up against the computer consol and looked Professor Xavier square in the eye. “This must be a joke. You can’t seriously believe that I am the right choice to lead this team?”
Xavier smiled as if he possessed some knowledge that was out of Fantomex’s grasp. “In Gambit and Domino’s absence, yes, I do believe you are the most obvious choice. Your skill set makes you the best choice.”
“Why not Ulysses or Doctor Nemesis? Both look like they’re strapping enough to be leaders. You’re asking the team to be massacred if you put me in charge,” Fantomex said, absolutely sure that this was a terrible decision on Xavier’s part.
“Ulysses is a man of too many unknowns and nobody trusts Doctor Nemesis, not even you. The stakes are too high to put the wrong person into this job. You all have a resounding success in Panama and that must be capitalized on.”
“Trust is a small thing that can be patched up. I can get over it,” Fantomex said, the pitch in his voice rising higher. “I have operated alone my entire career. I’m just getting use to being in a team setting let alone thinking about trying to run one.”
“Scott Summers became the first leader of the X-Men when he was just a teenager. Are you really telling me that the great Fantomex is going to allow himself to be outdone by a teenager? What would your rivals say?”
Fantomex’s mouth opened up behind his mask in shock. If he had hit a bull’s eye with what he assumed to be Xavier’s intentions then the man really was more devious than he was given credit for. “You wouldn’t…”
“I have never been much of a liar, Fantomex. If something just happened to come out during conversation then I couldn’t reasonably be held accountable. I think I actually have a trip to France planned in the coming week.”
Fantomex leaned forward and narrowed his eyes. He stood there silent for a moment, taking the man’s measure and he could see that Xavier was every bit serious. “I’m impressed, Professor. You do know how to play hard ball.”
Xavier smiled. “I think you will enjoy the job, Fantomex. If you could, I would appreciate if you found a way to resolve the rancor between Doctor Nemesis and Typhoid Mary. The team needs to be firing on all cylinders.”
Fantomex mumbled about a few things he would like to fire, but Xavier was already offline.
“In the Middle Ages I was accused of performing incantations to summon the Devil and change my appearance,” Ulysses said as he dodged a kick from Typhoid Mary. He never passed up the chance for training because at his heart he was a warrior and a warrior always hungered for the chance to engage in battle, whether real or practiced. At least that was how Ulysses felt about the matter.
Pulling her leg back, Typhoid Mary dipped low and rammed her shoulder into Ulysses’s wide chest. It was an unconventional move for her. She preferred to adopt a stealthy, quick battle style that was better suited to her small frame. Ulysses looked like he had barely registered that Mary had struck him. In normal circumstances, Typhoid Mary would start off a fight with a super strong individual by using weapons. This was a quiet spar, though, and one she didn’t need to resort to such maneuvers.
Ulysses threw a punch at Typhoid May, but she stepped back to dodge it. The Deviant’s fist collided with the concrete and it aerated a small crater. Mary marveled at how realistic their hard light hologram training room was. She wondered just how far they could push the limits of this room; this urban environment they were sparring in had to just be the tip of the iceberg. She would almost believe she was in the middle of some large city if it wasn’t completely empty. Could villains be added in to increase the real comparability?
“What does the Devil have to do with me and Nemesis?” Typhoid Mary asked and flipped on top of a red minivan. She put her hands on her hips and faked a long yawn. Ulysses pulled his sword out from behind his back and the weapon gleamed in the false sunlight. A few strange markings akin to hieroglyphics were etched into the weapon. Mary wondered what significance they had, but it was a question for later. She reached into her boot, pulled out two machetes and positioned herself in battle stance.
“Now we make this a challenge,” Ulysses said, leaping impossibly high into the air. Typhoid Mary jumped backwards onto another car before he came smashing down on the minivan she had been standing on. The impact sent pieces of glass in every direction and the vehicle’s horn blew incessantly. It was like having to listen to a tornado warning put right against your ear.
“A bit of rage there, buddy,” Typhoid Mary said, holding up her machetes in front of her. The Deviant looked like a viper about pounce and deliver its venom at any moment. She was standing on a smaller car so he had the high ground. Mary kicked herself for making the mistake of becoming such an easy target.
Ulysses ignored her rage comment. “The point of my story is this: people throughout all of time have hated and attacked what they could not understand. Doctor Nemesis’ choices are regrettable but he made them out of anger of being misunderstood. Surely you can empathize with that?”
The Hellfire Club (Singapore Location)
Matsu’o entered the building wondering if there was truly going to be light at the end of his tunnel. As he walked through the foyer and up the extravagantly decorated stairs, he could feel the eyes of the servants look upon him with disgust. He couldn’t blame them though. How was a man as freakish as him supposed to expect to be able to move around undetected? Because of a woman he had poisoned, he was yearly tortured by a man far superior in skill than him.
The former assassin was missing his left arm, right ear, nose and right hand. He was an ugly, pitiful mess that made adults cringe and children cry. Their reactions were a daily reminder of the cost of finishing off Mariko Yashida. Today he hoped that cost would finally be rectified by his new allies in the Hellfire Club. Truthfully, the forgotten assassin was surprised at their offer of membership, but he took it because they promised to solve his deformities. How could a man in his condition be expected to pass up that offer?
Making his way up the stairs, the man breathed a sigh of relief that he was away from horrified eyes. Trying not to lose all control in front of gawkers was a monumental task in patience for Matsu’o. He had once been so use to striking fear in others for entirely different reasons. Wolverine truly had devised the perfect punishment for him. Because of his injuries, Matsu’o could not wrap a sword in shih ads and end his life honorably. Wolverine had denied a warrior his greatest right, but he had denied the man his greatest love. Perhaps in Wolverine’s eyes all was equal and fair.
That would change today. When he came upon the right door, he banged the nub of his right arm against the wood. No answer came so he banged again with much more force behind it. There was zero chance he would leave this establishment without leaving whole man once more. He did not care by what means the Hellfire Club accomplished it, but he wanted to leave here sable to start a new quest…a quest of vengeance against Wolverine for all his kindness. He would relish the look on Wolverine s face when he saw him renewed.
The door opened up and standing there was a pink-haired woman wearing a white cloak held together by a red diamond pendant. She bowed her head slightly and stepped back. Matsu’o was impressed with the fact that she didn’t even flinch at his look. “Hello, Mr. Tsurayaba. I am Scribe. We have been expecting you.”
Stepping into the room, Matsu’o saw the other person occupying it. She was a woman very familiar to the former assassin. He had once called upon her aid for his injured lover and set his life on a collision course with the group known as the X-Men. She, too, didn’t flinch at his hideous looks. It almost seemed like she admired the two holes where his nose had once been. Spiral had a knack for admiring the macabre. She moved towards him, her six arms working their way across his broke body.
“I can feel the hared coming out of your pores. I told Sebastian we would be wise to bring you into the fold,” Spiral said as she circled around him. Her slender hands nimbly caressed his flesh, making Matsu’o feel a tremendous discomfort.
“You know why I traversed this far,” Matsu’o said, trying his best not flinch. He wanted the woman to get away from him. “So dispense with your slick words and clever eyes and let’s get to business.”
Scribe walked to the only desk in the small office room and picked up an ornate, rectangular box off of it. The latch of the box was in the design of a red dragon swallowing a goat, the only thing visible of the goat being its head. It was white innocence being swallowed by red, hot anger. Matsu’o’s sympathies went to the dragon. Scribe handed the box to one of Spiral’s hands and stepped back like a wispy servant.
Spiral ran a finger along the top of the box, unwilling to quell Matsu’o’s desire to know its contents. The devious, smug smile on her face let him know that whatever it was would be able to heal his wounds. If he was half the man he once was, he would have yanked it from her and opened it himself. As it stood, he wasn’t even capable of lifting up a spoon. “What is in the box, Spiral?”
“Oh, this tiny thing?” Spiral laughed cruelly. She opened the box and inside of it was a tiny egg colored snake with black eyes and green ridge traveling along its ack. With one of her hands, she grabbed the creature by its neck and lifted it out of the box. “It is sort of a viral creature, for lack of a better word. You can only find it in the Crimson Dawn dimension during a specific time of year. Such a zesty little creature.”
Matsu’ practically growled his next words. “How can it help me?”
“With a little touch from me,” Spiral kissed the snake and for a moment it glowed silver. “It will give you back what you seek and more.”
Unexpectedly, the she threw the snake into the air and it landed on Matsu’o’s chest. The creature quickly moved up his body and wrapped itself around his neck. Cold, waxy flesh caused the former assassin to shiver…but that chill was soon replaced by a heat rushing through his body. It was intrusive and painful enough to cause him to drop the ground. He stifled a cry of pain, but all went black.
The Outback
Skullbuster looked down at the lifeless robotic body that the Reavers had been sent to retrieve by their latest employer. Looking down at the man, he felt himself in a bit of a quandary. He certainly wasn’t a fan of mutants, but he wasn’t a fan of this guy either. Fanatics like him caused too many problems for soldiers of fortune like him. They tried to create order and his occupation worked best in an environment of chaos.
He looked up at the lanky redhead that was his employer. Of course he knew the shaggy haired, young man wasn’t really who was employing them. It was the source of the man’s green eyes who truly was filling their pockets. “Farouk, are you sure bringing this guy back is a good idea?”
The Shadow King smiled in a crooked way that was completely unnatural for the body he was now possessing. “I am sower of chaos, and this thing will bring that. And he will also bring me what I need.”
It chilled Skullbuster to hear the telepath’s true voice come through a body that looked so young and carefree. The two just didn’t match. “Well, I know a few underground vendors who’ll have the parts we need to get it back online. If you’re willing to pay, that is…?”
The Shadow King waved a dismissive hand. “I told you money isn’t an option. Get the parts you need.”
Skullbuster nodded. “It’ll take a couple of days to get I all gathered.”
“So be it. All I care about is getting Bastion operational again.”
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To Be Continued...
Next: In Dark X-Men #10: What new powers does Matsu’o find himself with? And what will be his next move? And what news does Miguel Reyes deliver to Xavier?
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