|
#1
DEC 08 |
 |
*The events depicted in this issue take place shortly after the conclusion of Marvel’s Eve of Destruction in a 12-month time span before the official launch of Astonishing X-Men, Uncanny X-Men, X-Force and X-Men Unlimited.
Miles From Cooke City, Montana
Eleven Months Ago
Logan ducked as Victor Creed clawed at him. Sabretooth’s claws raked his back and Wolverine gritted his teeth for a moment before jamming his claws into Creed’s thigh, causing Sabretooth to cry out and allowing Logan the opportunity to draw back a bit. The roar of Beartooth Falls filled both men’s ears. Logan had tracked Creed through Montana for a week after Sabretooth had slaughtered a small group of hikers in South Dakota nearly ten days ago, apparently simply to get Wolverine’s attention. To most it had looked like a bear attack, but Logan had known Creed’s signature and had come to stop the madman once and for all.
“Come on, runt!” Creed yelled. “I’ve needed a good scrap for months. This is kid stuff! Or did Chuck castrate you?”
“Don’t you have anything new to say, Vic?” Logan growled. “We’ve spun in these circles for years. Doesn’t it get tired to you?”
“Never, runt!” Sabretooth rushed Wolverine, claws extended. Logan jumped and jammed his claws down as Creed reached him and the Adamantium blades pierced the soft flesh between the neck and shoulder blade. Creed howled in pain and Logan stabbed again, piercing the same spot on the opposite shoulder, nearly immobilizing Sabretooth even as he shoved Wolverine away. Logan hit the ground hard and rolled away, shoving himself up quickly and spinning back toward Sabretooth, baring his teeth.
“So, enough with the bullshit,” he snarled. “If you’re going to kill me, Creed, then kill me!”
“Gladly!” Creed roared through his pain and rushed Logan. Wolverine braced himself and held his claws in front of him and Sabretooth ran himself onto all of the six Adamantium blades even as Logan jammed them upwards and twisted gruesomely.
“Time to finally go to hell,” he whispered. “Tell the Ferryman hello for me.” He slashed outwards, spilling blood and entrails on the ground as he quickly ran a claw across Sabretooth’s throat. He grabbed Creed from behind the head and threw him into the raging river. Standing there and catching his breath he spat into the water.
“If I see you again… I’ll kill you again,” he swore, hoping it would be an empty promise.
The body tumbled away and disappeared down the falls as Logan limped away. He had a long hike back to his bike and Ro would probably start to wonder about him if he didn’t hurry.
Not far away, the nearly lifeless body of Victor Creed came to rest in a pool at the bottom of the falls where a single woman stood by the edge, watching the body bob up and down in the water.
“You did your job, Creed,” she said, “and you did it well. Gentlemen, please take care of him.”
“Yes, Director Nova.” The group of armored soldiers hurried past Cassandra Nova as the director of Weapon X turned and began walking into the woods.
“I’ll be coming for you soon, Charles.”
My name is Lucas Bishop. I want to tell you about the day that changed everything.
If you knew me, you probably wouldn’t realize that I’m a student of history. Most people really only look at the brand on my face and think ‘poor guy, he must have had it rough’. Then they never try to get deeper than the tough guy they see. What they don’t usually realize is that history fascinates me. Always has. The world I came from was one hundred percent about history. What caused this event? Who was assassinated? When was this legislation passed? It went on and on.
What most people don’t realize is that history usually has these events that I like to call ‘game changers’. Most often, these events circle around one person in history; George Washington, Abraham Lincoln, Franklin Delano Roosevelt and Martin Luther King, Junior, are four you may know well. The era when everything changed, there were many men who potentially had the ability and the influence to be one of these men- Tony Stark, Reed Richards, Bruce Banner, even Steven Rogers. But somehow it was another man that was at the center of the events that changed the world.
His name is Charles Francis Xavier.
Chicago, Illinois
Warren Worthington the Third, the winged hero known as Angel, walked slowly next to the wheelchair. The bald man sitting in the chair, Warren’s mentor, was eerily silent, though he had often come to expect that of Charles. His friend would become…serene in moments like this. Warren thought of these moments as the eye of the hurricane; a moment of total serenity even with total chaos surrounding them, ready to envelop them at any moment. Thinking of the examples of those moments that had occurred in his life, Warren grinned inwardly.
He loved these moments and especially the ones that came immediately after.
“You know, Warren,” Charles Xavier finally said. “You’re broadcasting your thoughts so loudly that I can’t even keep my own straight.” Charles glanced up at his winged student and smiled. “Not that I need to be a telepath to read your mind right now. Giddy doesn’t even begin to describe it.”
Warren smiled and chuckled. “Sorry, Charles,” he said, “but this… this is exciting! After all this time…”
“I know,” Xavier said as his wheelchair stopped.
Warren also stopped and looked down at his mentor. “Professor?”
Xavier bit his lip for a moment before responding to his student. “Warren,” he said finally, “thank you. Thank you for all you’ve done. I need to make sure you realize before we do this- this changes everything. Nothing will be the same after today; not for me, not for you, not for the X-Men. Today is the day that history changes, Warren. Before we step into that room, you need to understand that.”
“I do, Charles,” Warren replied, flashing the winning smile that so many envied. “And I’m ready.”
Xavier smiled. “Well then,” he said, “I’m ready to change the world.”
As he sat on the small platform at the front of the pressroom, Bobby Drake wanted to loosen his tie desperately. He seldom needed to wear one and they always were uncomfortable and he started to resent Warren for making him wear one. The public knew him already, for Pete’s sake; he had been a Champion, a Defender…he was a known hero. He didn’t need to be keeping up appearances like this…if he did he’d have followed through on that CPA career he nearly started. Yet, Warren insisted on the tie. Bobby was seriously considering icing over his desk later.
The pressroom door opened and Charles and Warren entered the room. Bobby almost felt like he needed to stand as he tensed on his chair, excitement filling his gut. He knew what was coming, but despite that he was still scared as hell. What would happen from here?
Charles rolled up to the microphone stand that had been placed at his eye level. Warren leaned down, whispered something in his ear, and stepped back to the chair next to Bobby and sat down carefully, always protective of his restrained wings.
Bobby leaned over to him. “What did you say?” he whispered.
“Good luck,” Warren whispered in return.
Snorting, Bobby glanced around them, the only two sitting behind Charles on the platform, but the others were scattered throughout the room. Nathan Summers stood to their right, leaning against the wall; Bobby could just make out the shape of the pistol under his jacket. Warren had assured Cable that the weapon was unnecessary, but Bobby knew the old warrior well enough that he preferred to be cautious, rather than regret it later. Ororo Munroe sat at the back of the room next to Emma Frost and Sean Cassidy. Logan, almost predictably, sat right in the middle of the crowd. If something happened, he’d be right in the thick of things.
Charles moved forward slightly to the microphone and he paused to look around the room. The soft conversations of the press ended almost immediately and tension suddenly built in the room. Bobby grinned as Charles opened his mouth to speak. He knew Charles would be brief but to the point, and leave Warren to skillfully fill in all the details after he spoke.
“Ladies and gentlemen, my name is Charles Francis Xavier. For years, I have championed the cause of mutants across our world, but I have never revealed why. I am, myself, a mutant, the headmaster of a school that trains young mutants and the leader of the group of superheroes known as the X-Men. Now, as the Chief Executive Officer of the newly formed X-Corps International, I stand before you today with one goal. I am here as a beacon, one of hope and change, a bastion of peace between the human and the mutant peoples.
“The goal of X-Corps is to help mutants across the globe with counseling, temporary housing, training and any other aid they require. The organization is not for profit, but is one hundred percent humanitarian in its purpose. You’re sitting in the first office of XCI and the very center of the organization. Branch offices are in the process of being established currently in Seattle, San Francisco, Salt Lake City, Dallas, Miami, Boston and New York, with international offices to follow in the coming year. In addition to these offices, we are also opening schools for young mutants, the locations of which will remain confidential for the safety of the students there.
“Ladies and gentlemen, its past time to put aside our differences and live in peace as one people united. That is the dream I have worked for all my life and that is the goal of X-Corps International.”
The room erupted in frenzied questions. Bobby grinned as he scanned the room again to catch the reactions of his fellow colleagues. Where most of them felt the same jubilation as he did, including Cable oddly enough, he paused to study the dark expression on Logan’s face. Something heavy seemed to weigh on the old man’s mind but for the life of Bobby he couldn’t figure out what. Maybe the Canuck couldn’t figure out how to move on now that the Professor had suddenly rewritten the rules to the game.
Eh, whatever, Bobby smirked. He, for one, wasn’t gonna miss out on this brand new day; the possibilities that existed now where far too interesting to explore and he’d be damned if he let that grizzled warrior rain on his parade. Bobby, just like Storm, Cable, Warren and Charles, was ready to change the world.
Hammer Bay, Genosha
A Week Later
The medics checked over their only patient constantly. An entire wing of the presidential palace in Hammer Bay, Genosha, had been converted to a medical center. The life support machines beeped softly, maintaining the life of one of the most notable figures in human history. Erik Magnus Lensherr lay comatose, his chest moving up and down slowly, mechanically.
Erik’s son Pietro stood just outside the small room that housed his father. Pietro, the mutant hero known as Quicksilver, had never really agreed with his father after the early days of the Brotherhood, and a part of him hated his father for what he had done to him, but, more importantly, for what he had done to Wanda. Regardless, seeing him like this tore Pietro’s heart in two.
“How is he?” Pietro glanced to his right where Amelia Voght stood, the only Acolyte that wasn’t a fanatical zealot and, thus, the only one he trusted.
“Wolverine did his job well,” he replied to her question. “The likelihood that he’ll ever wake is slim to none.”
“Any sign of brain activity?” Voght asked.
Pietro smirked sadly. “No idea,” he replied, “and no one is willing to find out.”
“You mean no one is willing to ask Charles,” she corrected.
“Exactly. No one thinks he’ll go for it.” He rolled his eyes. “Lord Magneto will hate us forever for asking his greatest enemy to save his life.” His tone was derisive and mocking. The attitude of most of the Acolytes, Cortez and Exodus in particular, disgusted him.
“What do you think, Pietro?” There was a slight breeze and Quicksilver seemed to move slightly. The monitors of Magneto’s life support were now dark and the heart monitors had flatlined.
“I think… I think I’m sorry.” Tears welled up slightly in his eyes. He looked at Voght, true emotion in his eyes. “I’m sorry.” With that, Quicksilver dropped to his knees and began sobbing. As the medics rushed into the room, Voght knelt next to Pietro and wrapped her arm around his shoulders.
I’d never known the day that Magneto had died; it was one of those dates that was heavily debated by those of my time because of a difference of opinion on how he had died as much as when, and then there were those who believed he had never in fact died and was still walking amongst us even then. In my opinion the death or disappearance of Magneto had been a big event in the history of the world; the sudden lack of the threat he represented to humanity was perhaps less of a factor than the loss of leadership was to his extremists, both of which were of key importance to the history of my youth.
This, however…this was never the death I would have imagined for Erik Magnus Lensherr, mercifully allowed to pass on by his son, of whom I know very little outside of what I have learned of him while studying the important men of power in this time. My respect for him as a hero and a person of strong conviction has changed my opinion of his assumption of leadership of Genosha. He has been performing very well these last three months, pulling the country together with the assistance of Amelia Voght and Lorna Dane after Magneto’s last attempt to rule the world and kill the X-Men had failed on the end of Wolverine’s claws.
Pietro has shown himself to be compassionate yet committed, and Genosha has not descended into a pit of death and chaos yet. While the economy is struggling and simply feeding the people remains a challenge, the perception of the country around the world is improving as the popularity and acceptance of mutants in general has grown, and having a respected Avenger ruling democratically can only be a plus. This could truly become the haven for mutants that nearly all mutants had dreamt of for decades.
Several days later, Charles Xavier sat in the office that Warren had set aside for him in the X-Corps International building, which was on the top floor of the newly renamed XCI Building overlooking Chicago. Although most of the day-to-day operations of the organization would be run by Warren, Charles still had responsibilities to the group. Fortunately, most of that he’d be able to do via telecommuting from the mansion, but these first weeks would be spent here in Chicago getting XCI on its feet. As it had for the past three days, that meant enduring interview after interview after interview.
Charles chuckled as he shuffled paper on his desk, wondering what Erik would’ve thought about this whole thing going on now, and the fact that it took his unfortunate death to help push this process along. Erik had always taken the time to scold Charles for his naive vision of equality; unaware that it had been Erik himself that was the roadblock to that goal. The moment of levity, like every time Charles thought of his late friend, was replaced with guilt and regret. Erik, for all of his faults, deserved to see the possibilities of this new dawn more than anyone.
After another hour of paper work he was just now getting a chance to breathe, which used to take the time to check his email, hoping to hear from either Scott or Jean.
“Hello, Charles.” Xavier jumped and looked up. Shimmering into visibility were two figures he knew all too well, both wearing arm bands that he guessed were how they had entered his office undetected.
“Raven, Mortimer,” he replied curtly, seeing no reason to be rude. Mystique and Toad approached him slowly, Toad moving to the side to flank Charles, as if he could leap up and attack either of them. He couldn’t hear their thoughts, which made him think that the arm bands most likely jammed them as well as either serving as teleportation or invisibility. Xavier tensed in his chair, concerned by this little visit.
“We’re just here to talk,” Raven said, holding her hands out, sensing his apprehension.
“Then the hip holster is for…?” Xavier asked.
“Security, Charles,” she said, “simply security.” She looked around the office and smiled. “An interesting operation you’ve set up here. I sat in on some of the counseling sessions downstairs and I must say, bravo. Way to neuter the unique nature of each of us.”
Toad chuckled. “Neuter’s a good word for it,” he said.
Raven grinned and went on. “What do you think will happen from here forward, Charles?” she asked. “Do you honestly think that the humans are just going to sit here and take it? Do you think that your long dreamed-of era of enlightenment starts now?”
“Yes, Raven,” Xavier replied, “I do. I have faith in humanity.”
“But what about us, Charles?!” she spat. “What about the oppressed, the minorities? The total freaks like Morty over there? What happens to them in your perfect little world?!” Her voice had crescendoed into a scream of anger. Charles gripped the arms of his chair tighter.
“Oh, what stupid little thought is going through that head, race traitor?!” Mystique drew her pistol and leveled it at Charles’ forehead. “You thinking ‘To me, my X-Men’? How about I put an end to that, eh? One shot, one little bullet, and your dream goes on without you!” There was a click as the hammer was drawn back on a pistol. It was not Raven’s pistol, however.
“Put it down bitch,” Cable growled as he held his own weapon to the base of Mystique’s skull. “Put it down before I end you.” Mystique grinned and looked at Cable out of the corner of her eye.
“So the freedom fighter’s a dreamer now?” she asked. “Too bad, I always liked you best, Cable. I’d hoped I might eventually help you see things my way.” With that, Mystique spun and raised her elbow, knocking Cable’s arm away. She kicked at his head, but Nathan blocked the blow easily. Seeking to assist his friend, Toad leaped over Xavier’s desk and landed on Cable’s back and began punching his head, but Cable shoved him telekinetically off. Mystique began running for the window, raised her gun and shot it out.
“Rankin, extraction!” she screamed into a concealed radio. She jumped out the window and spread her arms wide, Toad following quickly after her. Cable ran to the window to see Mimic flying away with a terrorist under each arm and he cursed softly. He started to reach for his team radio but a hand stopped him.
“It’s okay,” Charles said. “They were simply here to deliver a message. Let them go. We’ll hear from them again soon enough.”
The Takla Makan-Gobi Desert
China
“Are you sure this where he’s at?” Cyclops asked as he scanned the desert along with three of his fellow X-Men.
“I’m positive,” Emma Frost said as she put a hand to her temple. “I can feel his mind out here and Cerebro specifically picked up on his genetic signature. Alex is out here, rest assured.”
Lorna was barely able to contain herself and had taken to the air to search for her missing lover. She had relentlessly held on to the hope that Alex was still alive and now that perseverance was paying off. He was out here somewhere and he was waiting for her. Sheer excitement nearly prompted her to fly ahead of the X-Men, but she worked to contain herself.
“I smell him. He’s out here alright. Keep heading west,” Logan said. His relationship with Alex had not been as close as it was back in the Australia days, but he respected Alex and Cyke more than people gave him credit for and if Alex was out here then he’d do what he could to help the man.
After a few more minutes of walking and a few more complaints from Emma, the four X-Men spotted the shivering body of Alex Summers, the X-Man known as Havok, halfway covered with sand ahead of them. In an unusual display, Scott Summers was overcome with emotion and shouted, “Alex!” even as he ran to his brother.
Lorna Dane flew next to him and they were both at Alex’s side in no time flat. Lorna cradled Alex in her arms and said, “Why is he so cold?”
“Sentinels. Sentinels everywhere,” Alex said, otherwise not acknowledging their presence.
Scott looked back to Emma. “What’s he talking about?”
Emma scowled at him, not liking to be rushed no matter the occasion. “Memories are jumbled around in his head, some that can’t possibly be his. Its like four lifetimes worth of life was dumped into his brain and Alex isn’t able to make sense of it all. It’ll take some extensive work for me to repair this damage and hopefully find out who did this to him.”
Honestly, Scott wasn’t very comfortable with the idea of Emma being in her brother’s brain and he didn’t care if she heard him think that. “Charles should take a look at him first.”
The White Queen shrugged, hiding her annoyance. “Have it your way. Can we go now? This sand is terrible for my hair.”
Xavier Institute For Higher Learning
Snow Valley, Massachusetts
Jonothon Evan Starsmore adjusted the duffel on his shoulder; he had never expected to come back to Snow Valley, Massachusetts. He glanced at his cell phone before slipping it back into his pocket. He was arriving right on time as he walked slowly across the campus, glancing around, his memories of the campus and his Generation X comrades were virtually tangible. He smiled as he recalled the good times with Everett and Angelo, the good-natured teasing of Jubilee and Monet, and then...Paige.
He stopped and glanced at the tree in the distance, setting his bag down as he walked over to it. It took him several seconds to find the small heart with the letters JS & PG were scratched inside it, carefully etched into the bark. He smiled despite his lack of lower jaw. He missed Paige terribly, but they had agreed to see other people several months ago. He had pursued his music for a little while, but when Cable had appeared on his doorstep, he couldn’t refuse the offer.
He picked up his bag and continued his approach, slipping silently into the front door. He knew that Xavier had remodeled the building after Generation X had ended, but little appeared to have been changed to his practiced eye. The Xavier School crest still adorned the front entry way, though the dark hardwood fixtures had been replaced by a lighter colored wood. Otherwise, it was the same building he’d called home for some time.
“Hullo?” he broadcast. “Anyone around?” He set his bag down and started to wander around a little bit, reacquainting himself with the school. He understood the only other major change Xavier had made, to his knowledge, was that a small administrative wing had been added to handle the sheer number of students that would arrive very soon.
“You must be Jono,” said a slight female voice from above him. Jono looked up to the second story of the entryway and saw a young redhead descending through the air to his level.
“That I am,” he replied. “And you’re…?”
“Rachel Summers,” she said. “I’m the other RA.”
Jono nodded and stuck out his hand. “Pleased to meetcha gel,” he said. “So…do I get my old room back?”
Rachel laughed. “If you had the main room of the boy’s dorm, then yes.” She winked at him and he couldn’t help but chuckle. “The advantage is that my room and your room are right next to each other.”
“Oh really?” Jono said. “Are you hitting on me already, Miss Summers?”
“No!” Rachel laughed, soon joined by Jono’s own nervous laughter.
“So tell me,” he said. “I know a bit of your history, not much, but enough to know that you’re much younger than I expected.”
Rachel bit her lip. “It’s complicated,” she said finally. “Time travel and all that crap, you know?”
“Not really, but I’ll figure it out. So about that room of mine?”
“Ah yeah,” Rachel said. “Let’s find it.” She walked ahead of him and he admired her figure for a moment before catching himself. Damn, he liked this girl already. He cautioned himself to slow down though; nothing hurt as bad as getting caught up too quickly.
Rachel stopped and turned, smiling at him again. “You coming or what?”
Jono nodded. “Yeah, sorry.”
So, the school has been rebuilt…again. While I would never say that the education and training of young mutants in the safe use of their incredibly powerful mutant abilities is a bad thing, it has been proven to be insufficient to improve the world. Stretching as far back as the original X-Men and through the Xavier Security Enforcers of my time, rarely has such a team done more than maintain a fragile and bloody status quo. More often than not our efforts have resulted in escalating battles causing billions in property damage, millions in lives lost and no beneficial long-term improvement.
While managing to save the world and stopping the immediate threat is very important, groups resulting from this type of training have only very slowly led to improvements in mutant tolerance and reductions in mutant-related terrorist activities. Even when doing incredible good it is far too easy to be cast as the villain, and the fact that my future could still exist decades after the last current X-Man has died only serves to underscore the fact that this approach, while tried and true, is basically flawed.
But at the same time I cannot deny that on this campus, with these teachers and these students, coming into existence months after the last major attack by the now deceased Apocalypse or Magneto…here I feel a peace I have rarely known. Something is different and important here, and as I watch the youthful exuberance exhibited by Chamber and Marvel Girl as they rush headlong up the stairway below me I realize what has changed...
I no longer remember the year I was born…
Unnamed Cemetery
Genosha
A cold wind blew across the leaf-strewn land, twirling the foliage amongst the sea of stone sticking out of the ground. Standing atop the largest hill in the cemetery, Lorna Dane and Amelia Voght looked upon the ornate yet simple headstone that carried the name Erik Magnus Lensherr in small type above a large section of blank stone.
“The ruling council still cannot agree on what the stone should say, much like this cemetery in general,” Amelia said at Lorna’s questioning look, the same look she’d given to her weekly visitation partner. “Some want a grand epitaph along the lines of ‘The Savior of Mutants’ or ‘Our Lord and Master’, while others want something simpler and less likely to be destroyed by some anti-mutant organization. Pietro suggested ‘Our Father’ but was voted down.”
“It should simply say ‘Lord Magneto’,” a voice behind the women said quietly, shocking them from the suddenness of the sound but not the presence of the speaker, who had more often than not joined the ladies at this silent vigil. Bennet du Paris, the mutant known better as Exodus and current leader of Magneto’s former followers known as the Acolytes, appeared from out of nowhere and strode towards them, stopping a respectful distance from them. Bowing slightly to Lorna he added, “Don’t you agree, my Lady?”
“I’ve told you, Paris, don’t call me that,” Lorna said, green energy flashing across her eyes, a display that only seemed to make Exodus more excited, though he kept his own counsel. Lorna turned to Amelia and asked, “How goes Pietro’s plans to expand Genoshia’s interests to other nations?”
“Slow,” Amelia said, shrugging her shoulders. “Wakanda has expressed a willingness to assist in our rebuilding of our infrastructure and in negotiating a peace treaty, but are not overly willing to trade Vibranium to us in the quantities we desire. Not surprising, given King T’Challa’s isolationist agenda, though the fact that he took the call means something, I guess.”
“He’s a proponent of tradition, and despite his past actions Pietro and Crystal’s Avengers memberships carry some weight,” Amelia continued, scratching her chin. “Didn’t necessarily work that way with Prince Namor, though.”
“What happened?” Lorna asked.
“He said no and cut the channel,” Amelia said. “It was the first true and heart-felt laugh that Pietro’s had since…” She trailed off then, looking at Magneto’s grave once more.
“He will rise again, Voght,” Exodus stated, as he always did. “And I make my offer once more. Let my Acolytes come to Genosha to assist you. We can protect you until the day of his return…and remove the pretender son from the throne he earned by betrayal. Daughter of Magneto…” he began, making his case to Lorna.
“Stop!” Lorna said, nearly reaching out with her magnetic powers to silence Exodus’s words. “I’ve warned you, if you bring your Acolytes and your jealousy to Genosha now, after all the sacrifices Magneto and the rest of us have made, I will bury you in the Earth’s core. Now leave!”
Exodus stared at her for a moment longer, a look of amusement and menace in his gaze. “The time for this dance is quickly closing, my Lady,” he said as he began to fade from view into the rippling effect of his mutant power of teleportation. “Our Lord Magneto’s dream is festering and dying while Xavier’s is crashing upon us like a tidal wave. Your inability to pick a side will soon be at an end when a side is chosen for you.”
“Choose wisely,” he said as he disappeared.
For a long moment the two women stood looking at each other and finally Lorna sighed and nodded. “Tell Pietro I accept. Tell him that for Genosha’s future, X-Factor must be reborn.”
Xavier Institute For Higher Learning
Snow Valley, Massachusetts
Havok took a deep breath and held it as long as he could. Focus techniques had been part of his daily regiment since returning to his home dimension as inexplicable panic attacks had struck him almost daily and not a single professional was able to explain it. Alex felt like he had the answer within himself, but it was buried too deep for him to find. The techniques were proving effective, though, and since becoming effective at them he hadn’t had a panic attack in nearly a week.
He needed silence to conduct himself properly though and Wolverine walking into his room interrupted that serene state. Logan was shirtless and a damp wet towel hung on his shoulder, pumping Alex’s nose with Wolverine’s gym odor. Looking up from his breathing Alex said, “You could have taken a shower first.”
“It’s important, bub. Couldn’t take the time,” Logan said.
Alex’s face tightened. “No. I’m not ready to get back on the field. For the fifth time.”
“Wouldn’t dream of rushing ya,” Logan said, “but I got a potential proposal I’d like to pass your way.”
Despite himself Alex said, “I’m listening, but it better not involve Scott. The last time we pranked him I nearly got my head blown off.”
Logan smiled. “Good times, huh? But naw, this is a bit deeper than that…or for Slim. It’s for when you do decide to get back in the game.”
“Putting me to work already, huh?” Alex said. If Logan wanted him to be a part of it he couldn’t really say how he could say no; Logan wasn’t really the asking type. “Give me some details then, my man.”
“We’re calling it X-Force.”
Chicago, Illinois
“Welcome to X-Corps,” said Warren, his hands extending to greet the new arrival. He wore a blue suit and gold tie, no accident that they happened to represent the traditional color scheme of the X-Men’s uniforms. On his lapel was a small X pin and his large, feathered wings protruded from the back of his specially-tailored suit.
“All I wanna know is where can I get a Chicago hot dog,” said Bobby, who was dressed the opposite of Warren in blue jeans, a Hawaiian shirt and a leather jacket with a pair of blue-tinted sunglasses concealing his eyes. It didn’t matter that it was summer; Bobby Drake was never affected by the temperature.
“There’s a pretty good stand across the street,” Warren replied, putting a hand on Bobby’s shoulder as he approached. “I’m glad you’re here, Bobby.”
“I’m just wondering why me?” asked Bobby. “I mean, I’ve never been Mr. X-Man like Scott. Neither have you, but then you’re the guy with the Benjamins.”
“I always suspected Charles was just using me for my money,” said Warren with a chuckle. “Guess now it’s true.”
“Tell me about it,” said Bobby, looking out the large windows that lined Warren’s office. “A building on Michigan Avenue, right across from Water Tower Place? Bet you had to take a hammer to that extra-sized piggy bank of yours to afford this place.”
“We just lease out the top few floors, actually, and this is just a place to house X-Corps’ center of operations,” said Warren as he removed his jacket and tie, unbuttoning his collar. He walked over to his desk and set the removed clothing on the chair, his hand pressing a switch under his desk. The windows opened up.
“I’m guessing the previous tenant didn’t have that fixture...” said Bobby.
Warren grinned. “Something I had them throw in. Technicians actually just finished it this morning and I’ve been dying for a chance to try it out and spread my wings.”
“Word,” said Bobby, his clothes and body transforming into a gleaming ice structure. “So where are we going? You said that hot dog stand was just across the street.”
Warren smiled. “I thought you’d like to visit the home of the Astonishing X-Men.”
The winged businessman leapt from the window, his wings catching the air and raising him up. Bobby watched him, a look of surprise still on his face. “You mean... it’s ready?”
Iceman followed his old friend, jumping from the window. Unlike Archangel, Iceman wasn’t gifted with the power of flight, but his ability to control temperature enabled him to freeze the moisture in the air around his feet, forming a bridge of ice that he coasted on after his friend.
As they soared over the streets of Chicago, Iceman looked down at the commuters who stopped and looked up in the air, many offering cheers as they flew past. He couldn’t help but smile as he saw this. It was far better than the insults and even the bottles that had been hurled his way since he was fifteen.
The pair moved along the coast of Lake Michigan, traveling along the lakefront and surprising the joggers and dog walkers who spotted them. They were approaching a large Ferris wheel, which Bobby recognized as the symbol of Chicago’s Navy Pier. Adjacent to the pier was what looked to be a large, abandoned ship docked there. Warren’s wings flapped, slowly allowing him to descend and Bobby followed, the two landing on the deck.
“This...doesn’t look like the schematics you showed us,” said Bobby.
“It’s still not completely finished yet, but we’ve got most of the underwater stuff taken care of,” said Warren. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, circular device. He pressed the button and the platform they stood on began to descend.
“Whoa...” muttered Bobby. “Warn me the next time you’re gonna do that, ‘kay?”
“We’re talking state-of-the-art facility here, Bobby,” said Warren. Once the elevator hit their floor, the two stepped off. This first room was lined with computers and technicians hard at work. “These are our programmers; they’re working to get our various systems up and running, although we’ve got some already set up.” He beckoned Bobby with his hand. “This way.”
They moved into a long corridor and Warren continued to speak. “This tunnel extends out to about halfway into the lake’s depth.” Windows were all around them and Bobby looked out, seeing very little sea life and a lot of murky water.
“Gotta tell ya...underwater views aren’t as exciting as I thought.”
“It’s a lake, not the Atlantic,” said Warren. “Not only that, but Lake Michigan’s water isn’t exactly the cleanest.”
At the end of a corridor was a door with a large X emblazoned on it. Bobby lowered his sunglasses once they reached it, smirking. “I see you’re being subtle.”
Warren smiled. “Bobby, this is the twenty-first century. We’re done with subtlety.”
A retinal scan confirmed Warren’s identity and the door opened. Inside, they came to a circular chamber. “This is the main area, call it the foyer if you want. Not much here but each of these doors leads to a different section.”
“Which are?”
“That door over here leads to the hangar, where we’ve got a brand-new jet being constructed, which we’ll be able to rise up through the deck to launch,” he said. “Utilizes some new kind of propulsion system Forge has been monkeying around with. If we’re going to be the face of the new generation, we should be at the cutting edge of green technology. I think we’ll call it the X-Wing.”
“So we just get accepted and you wanna start out by risking a Lucas lawsuit?” asked Bobby.
“After the Star Wars prequels and the new Indy movie, Lucas doesn’t have very good public opinion,” said Warren. “Imagine what would happen if he tried to sue everyone’s new favorite minority.”
“Okay, keep up with the tour,” said Bobby.
Warren nodded. “That door leads to the living quarters complete with recreation room and theater. Next to that is the gym and pool area. Over on this side is the war room and this door leads to our Cerebro unit. We’ve got a lower level and that’s where the Danger Room is going to be constructed. And then there’s the main deck.”
“Nothing up on the main deck yet?” asked Bobby.
“A lot of what we’re doing is still being constructed—the technicians are having a bit of trouble incorporating all of our Shi’ar tech,” said Warren. “But in a few months, we’ll be ready to go full-throttle. Come on, I wanna show you the war room.”
Warren led Bobby to one of the doors, taking him into a large room lined with computer monitors and a round table in the center of the room with twelve chairs around it. The table had an X on it and above the table was a projector of some sort.
“Take a seat,” said Warren. Bobby did as instructed and Warren sat across from him. “Cerebro, run program Astonishing.”
The projector came to life and a hologram of the facility appeared above the table. “Whoa, that’s awesome!” said Bobby, leaning forward. He ran his hands through the projection, amazed at how it worked. Warren reached over and smacked his hand.
“Ease up,” said Warren. “Now, this is the facility as it currently looks. And this is what it will look like once it’s finished.” The image shifted and a large X in a giant circle appeared atop the facility, resting in the middle of Lake Michigan. “Our public relations department is still working on a name, but we’re leaning towards Island X.”
“Lame,” muttered Bobby.
“The next thing we have to wonder about is team rosters,” said Warren, ignoring his friend’s comment. “Obviously, some of the mainstays are out--Storm, Logan and Kurt are working with the school, Hank’s with the Avengers, and Scott and Jean are up in Alaska.”
“Dude, we’ve gotta get Scott and Jean,” said Bobby. “This wouldn’t be the X-Men without them. They’ve been carrying the torch for so long, there’s no way they can’t be here for this.”
“I know what you mean, I want them here, too,” said Warren. “No offense to Storm, but there’s no one better fit to lead the X-Men than Scott. And Jean’s the best telepath we know, maybe even better than Charles, and we need someone to operate Cerebro.”
“We can get them, I’m sure of it,” said Bobby.
“Who else is an option?” asked Warren.
“What about Lorna?” asked Bobby.
A hologram appeared of Lorna Dane, Polaris. Warren shook his head. “No can do.”
“What? Why not?”
“Because she was working with Magneto in Genosha, and has remained there since his death,” said Warren. “Remember, we have to approach this from a public relations perspective. We need X-Men who reinforce positive stereotypes about mutants, not negative ones.”
“Kitty, then,” said Bobby. “She’s young, she’s cute, she’s smart and she’s got a non-threatening power.”
Shadowcat’s image appeared in the hologram. Warren rubbed his chin in thought for a few minutes then nodded. “You’re right, Kitty’s perfect. Going along that same line of thought, what about Jubilee?”
“You want that firecracker with us?” asked Bobby.
“She’s got most of Kitty’s traits plus she’s spunky,” said Warren. “The public likes spunk--hell, the public loves spunk. She’s like a young Margaret Cho…only funny.”
“Yeah, I guess...” muttered Bobby.
The hologram shifted from Jubilee to Sean Cassidy, the mutant known as Banshee. “Sean,” said Warren.
“He’d be great for the St. Patty’s Day parade,” said Bobby. “Dude, we could dress him up as a leprechaun!”
“I was thinking more along the lines of his experience, but there’s that, too,” said Warren.
“Right, right, experience and all that, he’s an old dude, been around the block.” Bobby dismissively waved his hand as he spoke. “But dude, you’re missing the point--St. Patty’s Day leprechaun. We could get him trashed on Irish Car Bombs and have him start fights and get pissed off at people for stealing his Lucky Charms.”
“Moving on...” said Warren. Another image came up, this one of a young Japanese man dressed in a red and white costume.
“Ohhhh hell no,” said Bobby. “Sunfire? Are you kidding me? That guy’s extra-strength nuts.”
“He’s huge in Asia,” said Warren. “The guy’s more popular than J-Pop singers. They love him over there. Plus he’s got connections with the governments in Asia, which gives us more broad appeal.”
“He’s not still in his ‘death to gaijin’ phase, is he?” asked Bobby. “By the way, what the hell is a gaijin?”
“It means foreigner or outsider,” said Warren, “and no, he’s mellowed quite a bit. I spoke to him on the phone last night and he seemed... enthusiastic.”
“Enthusiastic?” Bobby arched an eyebrow. “Really?”
“Yeah...” said Warren. “Enthusiastic.”
“Shiro was enthusiastic about joining the X-Men?”
“Let’s just move on,” said Warren. Two individuals appeared, replacing the hologram of Shiro. One was a young redhead dressed in a yellow, orange and red bodysuit. The other was a man with short brown hair wearing a blue and white uniform. “Firestar and Justice.”
“Why those two?” asked Bobby.
“They were Avengers, they’ve got positive press,” said Warren, “and it goes hand-in-hand with something Hank and I have discussed.”
“What’s that?” asked Bobby.
“An official endorsement,” said Warren. “But more on that later. There’s one more person I want to bring onboard,” said Warren. “This team’s got quite a bit on it so far--brains, eye candy, personality, but there’s one thing we’re missing--we need a charmer.”
“Dude, you got one,” said Iceman, generating a miniature ice sculpture of himself.
Warren rolled his eyes. “I mean someone who’s actually charismatic.”
“If you say Gambit, I swear to god...”
“Not Remy,” said Warren. “Definitely not Remy. Can you imagine the difficulty in explaining why a world-renowned thief is running with us?”
“So who?” asked Bobby.
“Someone who’s got Remy’s charisma, his skill, but none of the baggage,” said Warren. The hologram changed again. Now it was a man with blond hair dressed in black leather with a bandolier slung around his chest and a glowing eye.
“Mullet Man?” asked Bobby. “Dude, you want to bring the mullet guy onto the team? I thought we were going for positive stereotypes.”
“He doesn’t have the mullet anymore,” said Warren. “Longshot’s a good match, especially with the way he manipulates luck to go his way. He’s charming and he’s good in a fight.”
“Great,” said Bobby. “So we’ve got Scott, Jean, you, me, Kitty, Jubes, Shiro, Firestar, Justice and Longshot.”
“I’m not on the team, Bobby,” said Warren. “Too much work to be done with the X-Corps’ for me to run around playing superhero.”
“Okay then, looks like we’ve gotta book a flight to Alaska.”
“Let’s get moving, then,” said Warren. “My private jet is waiting at O’Hare.”
“Private jet?” Bobby shook his head. “I really hate you sometimes, War.”
Warren grinned. “I know.”
I followed Warren and Bobby as they toured the new facility for this ‘Astonishing’ X-Men and standing here beneath the water in their war room I find myself impressed and hopeful. While a team of mutants operating out of a secret facility is not altogether new or different, the proactive nature of the team and the confidence in mission and team makeup is certainly a breath of fresh air. In my years with the X-Men, coming as I did from such a bleak and terrible future, our efforts were tinged with nothing but desperation, hatred and conflict.
But this…this is hopeful. This is a new world free of the overwhelming tyranny and terror that I grew up beneath. This is Xavier’s dream, once considered as much a myth as the tooth fairy or Thor, made reality. Whereas Storm’s efforts to continue the training and education of the next generation of mutants may very well be the thing that protects the future, and Havok’s efforts may very well be the way to ensure the future happens, this could actually be the way to change the world for the betterment of everyone.
I wonder…if this team at this time do change the world, change the future…could this be the reason I am finding it difficult to remember my past? While I still feel the terror and oppression and desperation in my bones, regardless of my memory, the fact that the specifics are wavering makes me optimistic that we have succeeded in changing the future through our actions. We’ve created a new future, one unknown to me, and I find myself hopeful for the first time in a long, long time.
Anchorage, Alaska
A beam of crimson energy struck the tree with extreme precision, cleanly breaking it off. Scott Summers walked up to the fallen tree and adjusted the settings on his visor and used his optic blasts to chop it into smaller logs.
“Now that takes talent.”
Scott looked over his shoulder and saw Bobby Drake leaning against another tree. “Ever hear of those starter logs, Scotty? They work great and you don’t have to worry about doing manual labor.”
“Keeps me in shape,” said Scott. He offered his hand to his old friend. “What brings you up here?”
“Warren’s back at the house with Jean, thought I’d come out here and tell you to saddle up,” said Bobby. “We’ve got an offer for you.”
“An offer, huh?” asked Scott. “You’ve got my attention, Drake.”
He walked past Bobby, patting him on the shoulder. “Let’s go. I’m sure Jean’s already got some coffee brewing.”
Bobby walked alongside his friend. “Here’s the thing I don’t get about you, Slim.”
“What’s that?” asked Scott.
“Why you keep coming back up to Alaska of all places?” asked Bobby. “I mean, you lived most of your life in New York and now that you’re back from the dead, instead of living the big city life, you come out to the land of mooseburgers and hockey moms.”
“Not quite,” said Scott. “I came out to the land of isolation.”
“Come again?”
“Whenever I’ve left the X-Men, I’ve come here because it’s quiet, it’s peaceful and it gives me a chance to think.”
Bobby shrugged. “I’m not following you.”
“No one expects you to,” said Scott with a smile. They reached the small ranch house and Scott led Bobby in through the back door. Warren sat on the couch with Jean on the one across from them, each of them holding a cup of coffee. Two more steaming mugs were set on the small table beside them. Scott took his seat next to Jean with Bobby next to Warren.
“So what’s this offer Bobby mentioned?” asked Scott.
“I’m forming a new team of X-Men,” said Warren.
“I thought Ororo was running the school,” said Jean.
“She is, this is something different,” said Warren. “A team operating out of Chicago, near the X-Corps’ main office. Most of this is already set up and we’ve been in touch with the people Bobby and I chose to be on the team—everyone’s onboard. Except for you two.”
“I don’t think--”
“Tell us more,” said Scott, interrupting his wife.
Warren was taken aback by Scott’s demeanor and Jean seemed to be as well based on her reaction, but he continued regardless. “Since we formed X-Corps, things have been very good for mutants. We’re getting a lot of positive press and it’s time we capitalized on that.”
“You want a team of mutant celebrities?” asked Jean.
“That’s one way of looking at it,” said Warren. “Basically, think of us as the mutant answer to the Avengers.”
“Why Chicago?” asked Scott.
“Best pizza in the country,” said Bobby.
“I’m going to go ahead and ignore everything Bobby says, is that okay?” asked Scott.
“I already do it anyway,” said Warren.
“Hey—!”
“Keep it down, popsicle,” said Warren, smiling. “For starters, Chicago’s got no active heroes and if they do, they’re certainly not very public. So that gives us an edge. Also, Chicago’s one of the most liberal cities in the country. While other places are still afraid to hire a mutant, Chicago’s got mutants from all over moving into some of the most fashionable areas and welcoming them with open arms. There are mutant night clubs, mutant bars, you name it.”
“Who’s on the team?” asked Scott.
“Glad you asked,” said Warren. He reached into his blazer and pulled out a PDA. After turning it on, he handed it to the visored man. Scott looked through the list and held it out for Jean to see as well.
“Interesting line-up,” said Jean.
“Except for the lack of a leader and a telepath,” said Warren.
“Why not Betsy?” asked Scott.
“We’re not exactly...on speaking terms,” said Warren. He and Psylocke had recently ended a fairly long-term relationship. It still stung, especially because Warren was the one who pushed her away.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know,” said Scott.
“Yeah...it’s not your fault,” said Warren.
“Warren, we appreciate the offer...” began Jean.
“How soon do you want us in Chicago?” asked Scott.
“You’re both onboard?” asked Warren.
“Of course,” said Scott, looking at his wife. “Right?”
Jean paused for a moment before offering a half-hearted smile to Warren and Bobby. “Right.”
“There’s still some work that needs to be done, our base is under construction,” said Warren. “We’ll be in touch, though.”
“Good,” said Scott. “I’m looking forward to getting back in the field.”
The four friends bid their farewells and Scott stood on the porch, watching as Bobby and Warren took to the skies, heading back towards the airport. When he came back inside, his wife was staring at him intently with her emerald eyes.
“What?” he asked.
“You know what,” she said. “Scott, after everything that’s happened, we decided we would take some time off.”
“And we have,” said Scott. “By the time everything’s set up for this new team, it’ll have been six months since Magneto’s death. That seems like sufficient time off to me.”
He moved past her, gathering up the empty coffee cups. Jean just watched him carry them into the kitchen.
“Scott, talk to me.”
He rubbed his forehead. “Out of my head, Jean.”
“What’s going on?” she asked. “You’ve changed since you came back. Every time you get behind the wheel of a car, you drive like a maniac. You’re up late, sometimes you don’t wake up until after noon. You’re a lot more reckless.”
“Maybe I’ve just loosened up.”
“We need to talk about this.”
“No, we don’t. What happened to me is my business and it’s not something I want to relive.”
“And what about us?” asked Jean. “I thought we were going to try to live normal lives, start a family.”
Scott went to the window and stared out at the horizon, given a red tint because of his visor. He knew why but he wasn’t about to tell her. “Babies can wait. We’ve got work to do.”
Xavier Institute For Gifted Mutants
Salem Center
The White Queen leaned back against her desk and took a drink of her chardonnay. Havok hated how smug she looked and, coupling that with Wolverine’s typical “I’m a badass” pose, was enough to drive Alex up the wall. He hated having to justify his choices to these two, but it was what he’d signed on for; they had told him to take it or leave it from the jump and he’d decided to take it.
Right up the rear for all the grief these two were giving him.
He was lucky to have Alexi with him, though. Blind Faith had a calming effect over Havok for whatever reason and the two of them had quickly bonded upon Alex’s recovery and Alexi had been the first person Havok had recruited. Both Emma and Logan had rejected to him heavily for various reasons, but Alex had remained firm…as he was going to remain firm with the rest of his choices.
“Why Marrow? She’s a loose cannon,” Wolverine said and then flicked his nose.
Havok grinned. “People have said the same of you Logan.”
“Doesn’t excuse her or give her a free ride,” Emma said.
Havok nodded his head in understanding. “Yes, she’s angry and yes, she’s impulsive, but dammit I need someone like that on this team. I need someone that acts without thinking when the occasions to do so come up.”
“Don’t you fit that requirement well enough?” Emma asked as she casually took another drink.
Havok ignored the comment. “Look, Marrow’s not going to go away whether some of us like it or not. She’s an X-Man and we don’t abandon each other…usually. Give me a chance with her; we can funnel her rage and help her to control and understand it.”
Emma laughed. “You might want to be careful, darling, you’re starting to sound like Charles.”
“And Chuck is not what we need on this team. I need to know you can rumble and tumble with the best of them,” Wolverine said.
Havok took a deep breath, tiring of this chest pumping. “Do I have to remind anyone in here of what I did to take down the Dark Beast?”
That comment stung Emma, who felt she hadn’t done enough to try and stop that madman. “Fine, I’ll give the go ahead on Marrow. What do you think Logan?”
Havok was just waiting to hear a rejection from Wolverine. He had already shot down Honey Lemon, Forearm and Rictor. Considering the personal beef he had with the Morlock, Alex could only hope that would work in his favor in some reverse psychological way. Logan wouldn’t want to vote against her because he prided himself on making clear decisions based off the information at hand when it came to black ops. Voting down Marrow would look like a personal decision.
“You can have her, Summers,” Wolverine said as he walked past the two men seated on the couch. “But don’t come complaining to me when she stabs you in the neck.”
I had heard that Havok had returned and felt a compulsion to seek him out, which is how I ended up crouching in this tree watching through binoculars as he, Emma and Logan discuss this new, dangerous idea. I’ve had to employ various countermeasures to stay hidden from Emma and Logan, more than I had to employ previously to avoid detection by Marvel Girl or the School’s security systems, but knowing I can bodyslide out of here in an instant makes me less concerned about them noticing me.
I find this idea of a black ops team interesting and reasonable, though if such a team was ever exposed it would result in terrible repercussions for the current mutant relations. I wonder what Scott would think about his brother’s involvement in this activity. I wonder if his recent run-in with Sabretooth that ended so violently was cause for Logan’s participation in this endeavor, or if he feels as anxious as I at the seemingly continuing level of peace that we’ve been experiencing. Is he, too, incapable of believing that the world has truly changed?
I find that I am having trouble coping with these feelings and the continued haziness of my memories of my past, which seems to get more and more distant with each passing day. It’s not that I’m bloodthirsty, for I do not yern for battle or blood, but I cannot set aside the feeling in my heart that this is temporary and fleeting. I have spoken these feelings to some of my fellow X-Men, those I feel closest too, including Storm and Rogue. They attempted to reassure me that I was simply paranoid and would adjust to the world, but I have not.
Sitting here and watching Wolverine and the supposedly reformed White Queen of the Hellfire Club talk glibly of murder with Havok and Blind Faith, a man I barely know and cannot nearly take at face value, I realize my trepidation has not lessoned with time. Something is still out there, evil still exists that will kill us all if it can and take away this bright future we have established. My memories may have faded but I know they once existed and still fear the world of my birth.
It is a new time…a time where we are not fighting to change the future, but instead we’re fighting to preserve the one we’ve made through hard work and sacrifice, and I will do anything, damn myself any way that is required, to protect this new hope for the future of my race, even if it destroys me, Havok and his team all together. If that is the price of the future then so be it.
Selene kept the cell phone close to her ear as her chauffeur drove her down the streets of Paris. She had fallen in love with the city, but then every city really had some sparkle to her eye. All of the debauchery and hateful apathy that arose from anonymity, and the unyielding lust of its youth, all amused her. Cities had not changed since the days of Jericho and the External’s enjoyment of them had rarely faltered.
“Julius, is our little merchant credible?”
“Yes, my mistress. He has exactly what he said he would.”
She smiled devilishly and twirled her hair with a finger. “Good, good. And what of the buyers?”
“Two of them have been taken out.”
The smile faded away. “Two is not good enough, Julius. What of the other two?”
“They have proven to be more difficult to find.”
Rage was beginning to build in the ancient mutant. “And who are they?”
“Mikhail Rasputin and the other is known as the Doctor or the Butcher in some circles. You may know him better as the Dark Beast.”
Western Desert
Egypt
His name was Abraham Keiros and he had been walking through the desert for a very long time. His horse had died from dehydration the day before, but Keiros had continued on regardless. His god Apocalypse had remade him and, despite En Sabbah Nur’s death, the man once known as War still carried his banner. He would until his death, a death that would no doubt be in the name of Apocalypse.
He stopped and looked around; something had drawn him here and now he knew he had arrived. He didn’t know for certain what he was looking for but he had a suspicion and a growing hope. He turned slowly, regarding his surroundings carefully. To his left stood a fairly tall cliff face, while the rest of his surroundings were relatively flat. Keiros turned back to face the cliff face and clapped his hands loudly. An explosive wave of energy swept across the sand, clearing a path for the shockwave that struck the cliff face, causing a large portion of the rock to explode into dust.
As the rock fell away, a hidden space was exposed. Little more than a hidden square, the bunker-type room was constructed of strong metal on all sides except that protected by the cliff face. How the space had been constructed or accessed prior to this moment was a mystery. Seated on a low alter in the middle of the space, the only thing within the bunker, was a silvery egg. Abraham Keiros smiled as he strode forward; his Master had spoken of this day with him, and only him, once before as if it was his destiny to be here on this day. As he drew closer the egg split open and he stopped, lowering himself onto one knee as he reached the egg, a single hand shakily reaching out.
“Please,” a weak female voice whispered as a withered, dusty hand extended out of the egg. Keiros leaned forward and took the hand gratefully…but then pain screamed through his body as the energy of his body was drawn from his hand…his very life force leaving in a rush of hunger
After several seconds, Keiros regained his senses and smiled, remembering the words of his Master from those long ago days. “And a great war shall rain down upon them,” he whispered from memory. “A war to end all wars.
“Yesssss,” hissed the voice.
“My queen… Sekhmet…” Keiros whispered his final words as his skin crumbled into dust and his bones dried up and scattered with the next strong wind, the ash of his guts dispersing into the desert.
The hand from within the egg released the corpse of War as the egg split open fully, revealing a beautiful woman with olive skin and dark hair, clad in a flowing red gown. She smiled as she stepped over Keiros’s body, an expression that would draw in any man.
“It is time,” Sekhmet whispered as she stepped into the desert...
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
To Be Continued In:
· Astonishing X-Men, by Dino Pollard
· Uncanny X-Men, by Tony Thornley
· X-Factor, by Brent Lambert
· X-Force, by Brent Lambert
· X-Men Unlimited, by Clayton Tooley
Previous Issue | Next Issue