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#6
NOV 10 |
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New World Chaos, Part Two:
“What Comes Next”
“What Comes Next”
No one even glanced at him as he turned onto Broadway and came to a stop in front of the Robinson Center. He looked at the large pillars of the multi-cultural center’s music hall and smiled; they were quite gorgeous. Toad knew not many flatscans would affiliate that word with him, but he didn’t much care. All of them were about to get the shock of their lives, so he’d settled for them considering terrifying over pretty.
A small glimmer of light appeared in Toad’s van passenger seat and it gave form to his new leader. The man was strong, had long silver hair and a face that screamed dominance. He turned to his passengers and spoke up. His left eye seemed to flash with some sort of energy as he said a simple word.
“Awake.” The five sat upright suddenly and he smiled. His plans were finally beginning to move into motion. The world would know his name before the night was over. He pointed at the five, zombie-like people and said, “Out. You know what to do.”
They nodded in unison and left the van, one by one, and walked onto the street. Several cars stopped and began honking but the five paid them no mind as they walked onto Statehouse Plaza. Toad smiled and put the van back into gear. He pulled back into traffic and began to drive away.
Stryfe smiled as he looked into his rearview mirror. He’d had a revelation several months ago: Meglomania was overrated. He traded the steel armor for khaki’s and a button-up blue shirt. It was an unusual look for the man who was about to make his name as the world’s greatest terrorist. At least, it was unusual for the mutant kind.
The five continued walking, each stopping in the plaza at certain points and staring into nothing and saying just as much. A few people stopped, asking them if they were okay, but most ignored them. Even in the South, cities created a sense of apathy that caused man to stop caring about their fellow man. None of them understood that lives were about to end.
Robert Forester was a successful lawyer and activist from Dallas, and his opponents often cited their losses to him as due to his uncanny ability to read his opponents. He always seemed to be one step ahead.
Julie Kind had one of the most appropriate surnames ever. She was a homemaker and one of the most compassionate people her friends knew. She always was the first to arrive at a home in need in her suburban Boston neighborhood, with brownies, a casserole or even just an open ear.
Rachel Kilpack was a very atypical Utah girl. While most people expected the stereotypical Mormon girl–a ‘Molly Mormon’ in local slang–Rachel looked more like she belonged in the New York City alternative music scene. People seemed to be drawn to her and she made friends easily.
Martin Knight was a very large man, tall and heavy, although his height helped him carry his weight well. He was quiet, unassuming and often overlooked in his home town of San Francisco. His only friends were those he made online, including a young woman in Nova Scotia who considered herself more than a friend. Martin planned to visit her in person very soon.
Lyle Munroe looked every inch a cowboy, from his lanky build, to his collection of hats and jeans. Most of his fellow Montana ranch hands overlooked his African heritage, only seeing a capable co-worker with a talent for sleight of hand.
These five were now a weapon.
Each of their eyes began glowing. They stretched their arms out wide then opened their mouths in a silent scream. The people trying to get their attention backed away, suddenly terrified. Their backs arched and they lifted off the ground several inches.
A wave of psychic energy exploded outwards from them and they dropped to the ground like slabs of concrete. Bones broke and flesh was scarred, but no pain was felt. The five telepaths had given up their very mental essence as Stryfe’s weapon.
In a two mile radius around them, forty-two thousand, three hundred and sixty four people collapsed, their higher brain functions erased.
The War Room
Charles pointed at various locations across the holographic globe that were bleeping. “These are the last known locations of both Mystique and Stryfe. I know it’s a lot of ground to cover, but we have to start somewhere.”
“Before another Princeton University happens,” Psylocke agreed. All of the X-Men, herself included, had been brought into the War Room to discuss their next plan of action against the Brotherhood. The lives they had taken were totally unacceptable and justice had to be dispensed. She saw that this new Brotherhood was having the most toll on Cable and Rogue, as it was their relatives at its lead. “Why Princeton though? What was gained from it?”
Before the question could be answered, Betsy, Nathan, Emma and Charles all suddenly doubled over in pain. Each of them cried out and their fellow X-Men tried to support them. Betsy fainted, while the others barely stayed standing. Cable was the first to stand upright, in obvious pain. A thin trickle of blood started beneath his nose.
“What was that?” Warren asked.
Rogue helped Emma to her feet. “Are you okay?”
“Something terrible just happened,” Charles said, rubbing his temple. “In Heaven’s name, what was that?”
Chicago
Jean was walking down the hallways of Graymalkin Island with Iceman, both engaged in conversation about the upkeep of the island. “We may have to consider hiring some kind of cleaning service for this place? Do you have any idea how much dust I came across in the main foyer.”
“You won’t get any argument out of me about some hired help. You should know by now I’m not a big fan of cleaning anyway,” Iceman said with a smirk. “You have any people in mind?”
Jean shrugged and looked down at her clipboard. “I have a few suggestions, but nothing concrete on the subject. I need to see if we can even fit it into our budget.”
“If not you can use that noggin of yours to pick up a few dusters and take care of the place,” Iceman said.
An awful surge of pain struck Jean and she collapsed to her knees. Her hands instantly went up to her temples and blood trickled out of her ears. Iceman immediately bent down and grabbed her around her shoulders. “Jean! Are you okay? What’s wrong?”
“I can’t even really tell you, Bobby. It’s like the Astral Plane screamed.”
Genosha
Quentin Quire was doubled over on the ground, writhing his body across the ground of the X-Corporation building like a wild snake. Washout and Songbird were standing over him, trying to keep his body from contorting out of control, but it was to no avail. Songbird looked to Washout. “Go and get help! Now!”
Washout nodded and took off towards one of the building’s many staircases. Songbird watched him run for just a moment, wanting to chastise him for not moving fast enough. Then she turned back to Omega and grabbed his arm, “Calm down, Quentin! Tell me what’s wrong!”
Quentin’s body finally calmed down but blood painted the lower half of his face red. He was breathing heavily and whispering under his breath. Songbird leaned in close to him in an attempt to hear his words. She moved her hair out of her ear’s way and listened to him.
“So many people…all screaming.”
Cassandra Nova felt the psychic wave hit her like a wall of bricks, but she did not falter underneath the assault. A woman of her abilities did not cave even under the deaths of so many minds. She turned to Domino and wiped a small stream of blood from her nose. “We may have ourselves a problem, Beatrice.”
“I’m not sure I understand, Director Nova,” Domino said, noticing the obviously pained expression on her face. What could it take to make Cassandra Nova show that kind of hurt?
“Someone has decided to wreck the Astral Plane,” Nova said, her pain being replaced by annoyance. “I am feeling thousands of minds’ residual psychic energy lingering there, and it is going to be the cause of irreparable harm. I am certain of it.”
Domino listened intently. Did the X-Men know about this? “So what are we going to do about the problem?”
Nova smiled. “A woman of action; I appreciate that, but for now we’ll let the pawns play this out. My plans for Weapon X do not entail interfering with this affair.”
Stryfe sat in the small office he had created for himself, smiling. He watched news streaming online from every source he could. It had been only mere hours since the attack on Little Rock, so the nation’s various media outlets were slowly starting to catch onto the scope of his act. He was incredibly pleased with his handiwork. The psychic nuke had worked.
“Dukes just walked out,” said a voice from behind him. “Toynbee wants to follow him, try to talk him into staying.”
“Let him go, Mystique,” he said. He turned to look at her; she shared the same smug grin he wore. “We both knew that this would weed out our ranks.”
“We need those with the stomach to help us accomplish our goals,” she said. “It’s ironic that it was the Blob that didn’t have it.”
Stryfe started laughing and turned back to his computer monitors. “You’ve been thinking of that one since he set a foot outside,” he said.
“I’ve mocked Freddy Dukes’ weight longer than you’ve lived in our era,” she said. “Have the X-Men caught wind yet?”
“We’ll know shortly,” he said. “Is anyone else ready to rebel?”
“Not yet,” she said. “We’ll see.”
“Next one that does,” he said, looking over his shoulder at her, “shoot them.”
Rogue walked up to the CSA barricade. Cable stood about fifteen yards away, speaking quietly with Colonel Miguel Reyes. Reyes was the older brother of Dr. Cecelia Reyes and so his opinion of mutants was far less harsh than his peers. He stood almost head to head with Cable and had just as robust a body, obvious even under his military uniform. The two soldiers seemed to have a mutual understanding that Rogue was grateful for.
Finally, Cable turned and waved to her. She turned to Sunspot, who sat nearby. “Let them know we’re clear to enter,” she said.
“I’ll be back shortly,” he said with a nod. There was a moment of awkward silence between the two before he walked away.
Rogue turned and walked around the barricade to join Cable and Reyes. “Colonel Reyes, this is Rogue,” Cable said as she approached.
He nodded and offered his hand. “I wish this was under better circumstances,” he said.
“Do we know what’s happened yet?” she asked.
“Only that the Brotherhood claimed responsibility almost immediately,” he said. “Since we have no way of knowing the full current membership of the group, we have no idea exactly how it was performed. The CDC has confirmed that it is not a disease, while our experts have determined that it is not a chemical attack of any kind.”
“Are you surprised by that?” Rogue said. “It was the Brotherhood of Evil Mutants. There are a dozen different ways they could have done this without involving any known contagion. Hell, they could have just gotten rid of all the oxygen in the area for a matter of minutes.”
“Is there any known mutant capable of that?”
“Not to our knowledge, but that doesn’t take out the possibility,” Cable said. “You said that the victims you’ve found so far are alive though?”
“And completely unresponsive,” Reyes said. “Our medics have literally tried everything. We had psi division en route when you arrived.”
“So the current theory is psychic attack?” Rogue said.
“Yes, currently,” he said.
“That narrows the list,” Cable said. “The list of known telepaths, especially those capable of an act like this, is very small.”
Rogue looked at Nathan and realized that he had tensed. He had a guess at the perpetrator’s identity and it only took her a few moments to realize who he was thinking of. “Stryfe,” she whispered.
“We probably shouldn’t name anyone until we have more information,” he replied. From the look on his face, she had practically read his mind.
Roberto walked up to the lady he wanted to charm and the man he considered a mentor. “The team is ready,” he said. “They’re waiting at your gate.” He pointed at the location of the barricade’s gate, about a block to their west.
“Let’s bring them in.”
Within the affected zone, there was little sound. Several car alarms blared, waiting to be shut off, while flames crackled as several cars burned. The X-Men walked slowly, followed closely by a large team of CSA agents.
“What’s that smell?” Betsy asked. “It’s like the sewer backed up.”
“When the human body loses consciousness, it is not uncommon for certain body processes to automatically occur,” Beast said. “The smell is probably a combination of several...”
“I think we get it, Henry,” Cable said.
“Gross,” Sunspot muttered. Charles and Emma looked at each other and grasped hands. The scene was simply horrifying and the stillness simply made them jumpy, especially given their telepathic nature. It wasn’t unlike a horror movie, moments before a monster, zombie or psycho with a knife popped out.
Omega Sentinel stopped and stared into a storefront. She placed her hand on the glass and bit her lip. Sunspot walked up behind her and put his hand on her shoulder. “What is it, m—” He stopped when he saw the scene inside. Virtually the entire team stopped and stared. Emma was immediately struck with past memories of what she had lost.
“Oh my stars and garters,” Beast whispered.
The window read JoyTime Pre-School and Day Care. Inside, approximately thirty children lay on the ground, surrounded by parents and teachers, all unmoving apart from breathing. The eerie sound of a child’s lullaby could be faintly heard from inside.
“Son of a bitch,” Logan whispered.
Betsy walked up to Cable. Both of them felt the tension in the air. She leaned close before she spoke. “This is wrong,” she said.
“I know,” he said. “I feel it too. Except for us, it’s completely silent, on all levels.”
“What do you mean by ‘all levels’?” Reyes asked.
“To a psychic, there’s always a buzz at the back of your head,” Cable said. “It’s the minds of those around us, their latent thoughts, the things in the back of their head.”
“Like locusts,” Betsy added. “With time, and training, you can block it out.”
“Here, however,” Emma spoke up, “there’s nothing. It’s as if these people… it’s as if…”
“As if their bodies are still here, but their minds are gone,” Charles finished.
“Completely gone,” Cable said. “Dead.”
“Dead,” Rogue repeated. She clenched her fist and punched the wall of the school. “Everyone’s dead.”
“Do we have an estimate of how many yet?” Colonel Reyes asked one of his agents, who frowned and shrugged.
“Not sure yet, sir,” she said. “Given the affected geographic area, we could be looking anywhere between twenty and fifty thousand people. That’s not counting after effects on anyone just outside the area.”
“Excuse me?” Warren asked.
“FEMA and the Red Cross have set up medical relief centers all along the perimeter of the affected area,” Reyes said. “We’ve been receiving casualties all day. All sorts of physical symptoms: headaches, nausea, nosebleeds, even some suspected microstrokes. We’re working on the theory that the attack affected those on the perimeter of it differently than those in the immediate vicinity. That the effect weakened as it travelled outward…” Reye’s voice trailed off as he watched Karima.
The Indian woman walked into the daycare, where she knelt down in the middle of the circle, touched the children each gingerly, as if they were fragile dolls. She stopped when she saw the tiny boy who reminded her so much of her nephew. Very carefully, she picked him up, clutched him to her chest and started sobbing. It was a powerful reminder of all she and this city had lost.
Reyes took a step forward. “What is she do –”
Cable put his hand out and stopped him. “She’s been through a lot,” he whispered. “I don’t think that’s very important at the moment though.” He raised his finger to his lips and looked back at Karima. She continued to cry for several minutes while the X-Men simply stood and watched. Then she took a pair of deep breaths and set the small child down. She stood and returned to the X-Men.
“I want to find the Brotherhood,” she said, “and make them pay.” Sunspot stepped up to his friend and placed his hand on her shoulder. They stood in relative silence, as a car alarm blared nearby. Slowly, another sound joined it, a low growl. The growl grew in volume and intensity until another sound accompanied it.
>SNKIT<
Slightly removed from the rest of the group, Logan roared as his claws tore from his right fist. He spun on the car with the blaring alarm and stabbed the hood several times. As the alarm stopped, he unsheathed his other set of claws and tore into the car, his screams of rage echoing through the empty street. After several moments, he stopped and leaned against the car. His claws retracted slowly and his breathing slowed. He turned back to his teammates, his pain and anger written plainly across his face.
“Let’s go,” he said. “I’m ready to do exactly what Karima just said. Let’s find these sons of bitches.”
“Understood, Colonel,” Reyes said into his cell phone. “I understand exactly what you’re saying. I know. I’ll relay the message. Thank you, sir.” Rogue stood at the door of the command tent. She had missed overhearing all but the end of Reye’s conversation but she guessed it was with Nick Fury. Colonel Reyes grabbed his jacket and started to walk to the door, but stopped when he saw her.
“How long have you been standing there?” he said.
“A minute or so,” she said. “I’m not sure. Didn’t hear much.”
“You know,” he said as he walked towards her, “my sister said she trusts all of you so I’m going to trust you too, but don’t screw me on this one, Rogue. I’m having a hard enough time as is keeping the CSA and every other government agency from going ballistic on mutants. Don’t make my job harder.”
“Why would we do that?” Rogue asked, actually offended by the insinuation. “The X-Men appreciate the fact that you are in charge of the CSA. We won’t get in your way.”
Reyes held up a hand and handed Rogue the manila folder he had just picked up. Rogue eyed the object. “What’s this?” she asked, holding up the folder.
“An official declaration,” he said. “This sort of investigation would probably fall under XSE jurisdiction, but neither me nor the President wants that to happen. Mystique is your adoptive mother, Wagner’s biological mother, and Logan’s former lover. Stryfe, if he truly is connected to all of this, essentially IS Cable, minus the upbringing that Summers received. There is no better grouping of mutants on the planet to hunt and shut down the Brotherhood.”
“Wow…” She glanced at the paperwork in the folder, then back at the CSA commander. “One condition.”
“What’s that?”
“We don’t have to bring any of them back alive,” she said.
Colonel Reyes laughed weakly and surveyed the damage around him. “I really have a hard time seeing why anyone would disagree with that?”
Nate sat in the lounge of the teachers’ dormitory, lights off, with the TV turned to the news. It didn’t actually matter which channel he watched. Even VH1 was playing news reports about the Little Rock tragedy. He picked up his beer and started to take a sip when he felt two minds join him.
“Logan, Roberto,” he said, “come take a seat.” He waved them out of the doorway and towards the couch next to his chair. The two men complied and sat down. He took the sip and set the glass bottle back down.
“Thought Storm didn’t want those on campus,” Logan said.
Nate chuckled and took another sip. “I thought this was a special situation,” he said. “If she were awake, she’d understand.”
“Speaking of Ororo, Emma’s down there with Hank right now,” Logan said. “They’re thinking Ororo will be good to wake up soon.”
“Good. How are the kids?”
“Shaken,” Roberto said, “and I am too, if I’m honest. I don’t think I’m ready for this confrontation with the Brotherhood. I’ll only get in the way. I’ve decided to try and dedicate more of my time to X-Corporation. I think that’s where I’ll be able to do the most work.”
“Don’t blame ya kid,” Logan said. “It’s a frightening event to see and this Brotherhood fight is just going to get nastier.”
“I wish you would stay Roberto, but…” Nate said, “its completely understandable…” He trailed off as he noticed something on the TV. The anchor had stopped speaking and appeared to be choking. His eyes were open wide, and the veins in his face began to stick out.
“Oh my…” Roberto whispered.
Blood began to trickle out of his nose, then the corners of each eye. He coughed twice, each time coughing up a little blood. Then he collapsed to the desk, where a puddle of blood began to grow. A man appeared on-screen. He waved and an invisible force shoved the body away, leaving a streak of blood in its place. He sat down in the now-vacant chair and smiled. He looked like a slightly younger version of Cable, with a little color still in his hair and fewer wrinkles. There was no humor in the smile; instead, it looked like a wolf about to devour prey.
“Do not turn off the camera,” Stryfe said. “Do not adjust your television sets. My associates left a message yesterday that is very important to hear. Charles Xavier and his X-Men have fought for equality between mutants and humans since Charles first knew he was ‘extraordinary’. But Xavier was wrong…we are more than extraordinary. We are SUPERIOR.” He hissed the final word, dragging it out long enough to make his point abundantly clear.
“The human race is inferior to mutants,” he continued. “According to natural selection, the strong survive and, in our world, the strong are mutants. We do not deserve equality for one simple reason: we are not your equals!” He slammed his fist against the desk. “We are your masters in every way. You need to accept that and move on. We will out-live you as a race.”
He leaned forward and smiled. “What you’ve seen so far is trivial,” he said, “a simple test. We are NOT your equals! We are your betters! We are Homo sapiens superior and we shall be your masters!” He paused, leaned forward into the anchor’s blood and smiled. “Now, time for the latest scores in sports. Jim?”
The screen went black, then the emergency broadcast system started. Wordlessly, Cable stood and started to walk out of the room.
“Nate, what are you doing?” Roberto asked.
“Something I needed to do a long time ago,” he said. “I’m going to my arsenal, finding the largest, most destructive gun I own, find Stryfe then shove it down his throat and then I’m going to pull the trigger. Good night boys.”
The two X-Men looked at each other as Cable left and them scrambled to get off the couch and join him.
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To Be Continued...
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