Miami, Florida
Agent Alisande Morales, one of the most promising in her class, strode forward with the long steps that could often be associated with those of a man. Her tight uniform was the only attribution to her femininity, displaying the vast curves and undertows of her body as she marched down the hallways. Long black hair was pulled back from her face, which was strong jawed and fierce. Even in her happier moments she could only exude the strength it took for her to wake up in the morning. After the things she had seen, Morales knew the necessity of the initiative that Colonel Fury had handed to her on that windy Monday, those six months ago.
Later that evening, she had ended her life in Washington. Friends and lovers had been abandoned for the chance to further her career. She dreamed of holding the position of her senior officer and she would do whatever that took, no matter what it would cost her.
Morales had been forced to push her distaste for mutants to the back of her head. When she thought of everything that it stood for, to be the so-called homo superior, she wanted to howl with laughter. In her experience over her active years as an agent of the Strategic Hazard Intervention, Espionage Logistics Directorate, or S.H.I.E.L.D, she had witnessed little that forced her to step back and accept everything the likes of the X-Men stood for.
Magneto had been her first task on the job, and she had lost many of her friends as they had clashed with his ‘Brotherhood of Evil Mutants’ and those grudges died hard. Even in the actions of his children, the Scarlet Witch and Quicksilver, he would never seek redemption in her eyes. In those early days, the mutant race had been tarnished. Her nightmares reminded her of those battles, and it was times like that that she wished she had walked away when she had been given the option.
Nevertheless, Morales was a professional. She would not allow her prejudices to influence her in her position, even fighting through the revulsion that shook her body at the sight of Peter Wisdom in her office. Her eyes flashed with anger but she contained herself, moving into the room as she finally caught her breath.
“Wisdom,” she muttered in a hushed yet authoritative voice. “We have much to discuss concerning the members of this team, which are...expansive, to say the least.”
Wisdom furrowed his brow as he lowered himself into the seat across from the woman who had assumed the position of his new Director in the affairs that he had campaigned for. “I thought it best. You are running an army, are you not?”
“I’m not running anything,” Morales reminded him, her New Mexican accent brushing through her words. It was a reminder of her position as a first generation American, born to immigrant parents from Brazil. “We are running this, Wisdom. This is an enterprise, an initiative that is to be tested and evaluated.” She cleared her throat as she flicked through one of the files she had carried to the office. “I have noticed that there are some powerhouses on this team, some of these former X-Men are admirable on their own. I think it would be better if we were to regulate the positions of the team.”
“How so?” The Brit arched his eyebrows.
Morales slipped the dossier in front of him. “By having a senior staff; the seniors would act as our core team and then the juniors, which would be the remainder of the crew, would be utilized as necessary.”
“Let me guess, this is your suggestions,” groaned the man, lifting the file ahead of him and leaning back into the desk. “Obvious choices and they’re all mutants. What about our own little team of soldiers, those armored by SHIELDs own armorers?”
Shaking her head, she replied. “The soldiers remain a mystery to us. We are not willing to place so much trust in an unknown source. We have armored them and nursed them back to health, but until we have the full story I feel as if it would be more beneficial to perhaps sideline them.”
Wisdom nodded, dropping his gaze onto the five names that were etched finely into the pages before him. Full biographies with pictures, past affiliations and even romantic entanglements were included in the dossier. His eyes focused on his own profile for a moment, and it was the name ‘Kitty Pryde’ that jumped towards him. Running his hand through his dark locks, he brushed away the thoughts and memories of the Chicagoan beauty who had both stolen and broken his heart in such quick succession. Coughing as he noticed the inquisitive gaze of his comrade, he flicked to the next page.
He had expected no less. Bishop and Madrox had been requested to join the X-Gene Security Enforcement, or X.S.E, when he had been dispatched to gather the team. Finding them in the Australian Outback with another mutant, he had persuaded them to join with the help of the X-Men’s young Scot, Wolfsbane. Jamie Madrox, the Multiple Man, had been the most hesitant but he hadn’t expected any less. Despite Madrox’s previous affiliations with the X-Men, he had often acted as a lone wolf, an outcast within their ranks. Wolfsbane had been integral in securing him.
Bishop had been easier…since he had walked away from the X-Men, he had lacked purpose. Perhaps his future had been rectified and that left Bishop with no reason to continue the fight. However, Wisdom had known to play on the man’s patriotic nature and had lured him into the fold, an essential addition given his numerous contacts within the government, contacts that Wisdom had not yet made in the ‘new world’ himself.
Wolfsbane was next, not that he was surprised.
Rahne Sinclair had been one of the first to jump onto the initiative. She had unmatched skill in controlling her ability of lycanthropy and it was well known. Rahne had been a warrior for the majority of her life but what concerned Wisdom was her discomfort in the role she had come to fill. In her movements and her glances, he saw the heart of a pacifist and that worried him on a team that required the offensive. He had actively searched for her, under the instruction of Danielle Moonstar, and he had not been unimpressed by what he had found.
Yet, he was concerned.
It was number five that caught him off guard, she was perhaps the most unpredictable of all the options Morales had and that was something that worried Wisdom, particularly given the warzone scenarios this team would be faced with. Certainty almost guaranteed a higher survival rate. As a perpetual omnimorph, a seemingly one of a kind mutation, Paige Guthrie was in constant evolution with her body becoming steadily more progressive with every passing thought and movement. Yet, he understood that the reliability of her character bridged this gap.
Morales continued. “I want there to be a face to this organisation, and I think that this team is just what’s needed. They look the part, or at least they will do, and they are the enforcers that the situations will require. We need focus and this is what I’m offering. We need to focus on the mutants in our efforts to control mutants; it’ll have the least backlash.”
“I understand your thinking,” he agreed.
She nodded, shuffling the papers on her desk. “Good.” She paused before she continued, meeting his gaze. “Now, I want to know what’s going on down in Louisiana. What is Bayou Choupique? I think it’s about time that I discovered what it is that we’re funding out there, because right now I’m in the dark and I don’t like that.” Brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, her gaze intensified. “Enlighten me, Wisdom.”
Wisdom’s eyes darted to meet hers, his mouth slightly ajar.
|
#2
AUG 10 |
 |
Russian Roulette, Part Two:
“We Pretend”
“We Pretend”
Seoul, Republic of Korea
Stepping from the jet while the propellers continued to whirl, the quintet shielded their eyes from the bright glare of the sun. It was a city like no other, built with a mixture of insightful architecture and shoddy workmanship. It was also dead. It reminded her of the Necropolis that she had been told about in the Biblical stories by her mother. Paige Guthrie had never been a fan of the gothic and she felt no change coming in her beliefs now.
Yet, despite the obvious carnage that had befallen the city of Seoul, there was a poetic ambiance to the place. It sang its melancholy song to her with every step she took towards the ruins of a civilisation that had only grown, despite the attempts to crush what was seen as the viral communist agenda, in attempt to discourse the impending ‘domino effect’. It brought back memories that she thought had been put to rest, including the concerns and emotions she had hidden after the dissolution of Generation X that now bubbled to the surface.
“Paige.”
She paused at the sound of the curt voice, turning to see the roguish Aboriginal hero known as Lucas Bishop. Stifling a smile, Paige wondered who she had expected to see. Her blue eyes fell intently on the ‘M’ that was tattooed into his skin; his bald head glistened under the hateful sun and forced her to cast her sight downward. Prior to the meeting they had all just attended and the subsequent flight to the Republic of Korea, Paige had never met the man she now spoke with, but his reputation had preceded him through the words of her brother, Sam Guthrie of the X-Men.
Placing her hands on her hips, she listened to what the man had called her attention to. “We’re here to search for what can only be described as a needle in a haystack,” he began, moving into the center of the other three mutants and the armored soldier that accompanied them. “We have a lot of ground to cover, and we have little time to get it done. Inevitably we would have to split up and that’s the course of action I offer now. ”
“I can search this place singlehandedly,” Madrox reminded the man who had taken position of ‘team leader’.
Unfolding his arms, unveiling the golden symbols on the chest of his green costume, he marched forward. Every thud of his foot caused a cellular split and another, identical, duplicate burst free from the confines of his body. In the eyes of the others, he assumed it seemed like a simple task but no one could understand what it felt like when he divided himself into so many variations. Madrox remained the beacon that connected all of them. It was like a thousand voices and thoughts echoed in his head, the sensations that each felt vibrated from his fingertips down through his toes. He could see what they saw, and it took all of his strength to keep his sanity.
While travelling the outback with Bishop and Skids, he had managed to master his ability, though he still needed the aide of his costume, which was a constructed suit that allowed him to maintain that additional control. There had been a time when his sanity had been questionable but he had come a long way since then.
Through the eyes of the duplicates he saw the team that had been assembled as the first incarnation of the X.S.E.. Emotions of hatred and prejudice from his dupes were melted into the more amorous views. Slowly, Madrox managed to draw his mind back in and focus on the task at hand. Breathing heavily, he slipped his consciousness into control of the men.
“That’s not weird at all,” scoffed the Danish Blackwing, the only human amongst the quintet. He had less experience with the mutants than the others and his prejudices and jealousy shone through.
“Good. Madrox will lead his...Madri on their own expedition to the north and east. Husk and Blackwing will search the southern part of the city, and Wolfsbane will join me in marching to the west.”
“Ah’m not so good with that,” Paige said loudly from where she stood. “Why do ah have to babysit?”
In her mind, it was a valid question. She stood with her arms folded across the chest of her old uniform, which she had worn when she had been a student under Emma Frost and Sean Cassidy. She had been integrated with human students at one point in her life, including meeting Tristan Bawn during those days, but she had faced the social division between the two species, or the sub-species’, of humanity. Blackwing reminded her all too firmly of the prejudice she had once faced; it was a memory she would have chosen not to revisit.
Clenching a fist, Barnell Bohusk, the man behind the mask of Blackwing, moved towards the blonde. His dark eyes were hidden from view, but there was malice in them and it was a malice that was smelt by Rahne Sinclair and she reacted instantly by transforming into her lycanthrope form and growling wildly. It was a warning and he knew when to retract as he came to a pause. Mutants were one and the same; he had little tolerance for them now. He had once envied them, and perhaps there was still something to that, but something about the Kentuckian irritated him to the core.
“Maybe y’ should go with Bishop, lad,” Rahne mumbled as she reformed into her humanoid shape. Emerald eyes flared with the same fierce energy that he had witnessed in her previous form.
Bishop shook his head. “Decisions are final. Rahne, you’re with me. Paige will lead Blackwing because he is a novice. He knows warfare but he has little experience in the field as a superhero, and you have just enough experience to teach him. I read both of your files. Barnell served in armies both here and abroad in the Netherlands. Paige, you served as top of your class and are one of a kind. I think it appropriate that the student becomes the teacher.” Pausing, Bishop changed his attention. “Jamie, you can go ahead and report back to us as soon as possible.”
Jamie and the Madri exploded in several directions towards the North and East. Bishop then followed suit as he marched to the West, and Wolfsbane shifted her shape once again and pounced along like a wolf. Her head shot backwards towards the two youths, much closer in her age than the man she followed, but her concerns were with the aggression she smelt with the man and how she had been forced to leave the younger sister of one of her best friends with him.
As Madrox, Bishop and Wolfsbane disappeared, Husk turned to her partner. “Come on then,” she groaned, storming off towards the South.
Blackwing lowered his mask, remaining on the one standing. “I don’t take orders from you.”
“Then stand there, that’s your choice,” drawled the belle as she too marched into the ghost town of Seoul.
Blackwing slowly followed.
X.S.E Headquarters
Miami, Florida
“Questions are being asked.”
Irene Merryweather stood at the doorway of the office, unapologetic for her interruption, but concern marked her Caucasian features regardless. Strands of red hair were pulled messily back from her face and tucked wildly behind her ears until she could see them. Glasses slouched on the young woman’s nose as she received the go ahead answer to enter the room.
Irene had taken the position as media liaison amongst the X.S.E.. She had always been a mutant sympathiser, despite her human heritage, and she had once been a friend and confidante of Cable. When Morales had approached her, she had been at the top of her game in New York City. The Daily Bugle was hers for the taking, but she had wanted to do more, to be something more. This was her chance to help and she could do so by rightfully displaying the activities of mutants in the media. She certainly had the contacts to do what it took.
“Genosha’s still not letting us cross its borders. It believes the XSE and the aide we represent could be a threat to national security,” stormed the irate former journalist. “It’s almost as if Pietro Maximoff has something to hide. He was always just as shady as his father, even if he was an Avenger. It must have been leaked somehow but they know we’ve been banned from the country and, when he knows our agents, they will be too.”
She paused, heaving a heavy sigh. “The media are having a field day with this.”
Morales placed her forehead in her palm, trying to think. Genosha brought the memory of a mutant haven to mind but it was also a prime target in racism, and it was her job to protect mutants in the United States of America and beyond. But Pietro Maximoff, now the President of Genosha, wouldn’t allow her to do so. Even when she had been invited to meet with the President personally, she was forced to discuss with his secretary, that Amelia Voght woman, because he deemed himself as being too busy to meet with her.
Sending his apologies did little to ease this rejection.
“This scheme is about coalition; we don’t want to wage war on anyone’s territory. He’s being difficult and I want to know why,” frowned the Brazilian-American. “Would it be possible to send someone in now, to extract information?”
Wisdom shook his head at the suggestion. “That’s a risky move.” Cracking his knuckles as he leaned back, he continued. “First, we would need an inside source who was able to feed the facts to our informant and then we would need to make sure there was no way in hell that he or she got caught. I worked in black ops for years, Morales. There’s a high price on treason, especially when it involves the President of such a controversial country.”
Cocking her brow, the liaison nodded. “I have to agree. For all the information we may retrieve, it could cost us the lives of one of our agents, especially if they weren’t a mutant.”
“There’s bound to be some way we can tackle this head on,” Morales growled, smashing her fists into the table. “Don’t we have diplomatic immunity?”
“It’s been pulled,” Merryweather informed her. “Genosha and its President are viewing us as vigilantes, if not terrorists.”
Morales retook her seat. “Thank you, Irene. We’ll let you know.” Pausing as she rubbed her lips, the woman then continued. “Just let them know that Genosha has declined for yet unknown reasons and it is a situation we are looking into. Emphasise that there is no known threat, Irene, that is a crucial point.”
“Didn’t you hire me for my eloquent use of language,” Irene smiled as she made her exit. “I’m on it.”
Alisande took a few breaths, exhaling with some difficulty as she turned to face the mutant who sat before her. “I haven’t forgotten Bayou Choupique, Wisdom.”
Wisdom’s hand twitched; he wanted to reach for a cigarette and inhale the smoggy drag, but he was stopped by the laws surrounding such an act in a public place. It would have to wait as he had questions to answer. Morales knew the answer to what he was going to tell her, she wasn’t foolish, and the smug look in her eyes informed him that she had done her homework on the subject before approaching it. There was nothing illegal going on in Louisiana, it was just a titbit of information that he had neglected to tell the woman before him.
Her brow arched as she forced an answer.
“It’s nothing to worry about,” he explained, his English accent intensified as she spoke. “I would say forget about it but that clearly won’t be happening.” Pausing for an inhale of breath, he checked the door and prayed that Irene Merryweather had encountered another issue. She hadn’t. “When I was searching for the perfect members of the X.S.E, I came across a former associate of Cable’s. He had been a mentor of sorts to the man, and he had an offer for me. In his possession was a very powerful weapon, one that could be very useful to the X.S.E. when it was restored. Bayou Choupique is the place of that restoration.”
“Some stranger offers you a weapon and you just set up house for him on SHIELD’s payroll?” enquired the Brazilian, her face was incredulous and her eyes widened.
Wisdom shrugged. “It wasn’t like that. Blaquesmith has his own agenda and it doesn’t involve terrorism.”
“He’s not going to tell you that he’s a fucking terrorist,” yelled Morales as she pounced from her seat like a lion with her eyes on her prey. “He’ll lie and break his way in. Maybe Pietro is right to be careful if this is how we’re going to run the XSE. I want that project disbanded and the man...this Blaquesmith, brought in for questioning.”
“It’s not a weapon like your thinking.”
Sighing as she crossed her arms, she asked. “Then explain it to me, before I get a warrant for your arrest as well. This is a public enforcement organization, Wisdom, and image is everything; we can’t be harvesting secret bombs. If Fury ever found out...”
“Think of him as Wolverine,” Wisdom informed her. “Only, he’s Albert.”
Bayou Choupique, Louisiana
“So he’s still not on?”
“Does he look on?”
“Don’t be so snappy.”
“Don’t be so stupid.”
Christian Cord, the armoured soldier known as Phaser, growled in anger as the man continued to insult his intelligence. A lot of Christian’s most recent past was foggy but he remembered that he had always been something of a mechanical genius, even though there had been times when his self-doubt had bested him. In the end, though, he had always fought through and proven himself to be more than the cliché he was born into. As the child of a middle class black family living in Queens, New York, he had had too.
Both he and his twin sister, Christine, had made their way out of that world before it smothered them as it had their older brother, now on his second stint in prison for armed robbery. Christian was actually frightened by how much his twin reminded him of all that he had left behind. Her aggression seeped from her body with the ease of sweat after an intense work out; there was something in her eyes that frightened him. She had once channelled this rage through the outlet of warfare; she had been with the American troops when they had fought in Afghanistan.
Christian had been behind the scenes but in the eyes of Blaquesmith, with his visionary sight of a future that had advanced more than reality, he would never be anything more than a novice.
“The two of you would need to cool it,” warned the petite figure of the cyborg known as Elsie Dee; even in her perfect stillness her baby blues watched with passion at the sight of ‘Albert’. “I am more than capable of knocking the two of you to the floor.”
It was nearly impossible to describe the creature known as Elsie Dee, as she was an adult mind trapped the mechanical child’s body. Her very words spoke beyond her years; she was a machine of death and destruction. In truth, she was the embodiment of all that the fictional character of Claudia from ‘Interview with the Vampire’ could have ever been. Eternal youth was hers for the taking yet it was clear that she had lost the innocence she was created to believe in. Elsie Dee was little more than a malevolent force, and she cared for only one thing and that was Albert.
He was her reason for living.
Eight months ago, Elsie Dee had been found in the backwoods of Albania. She had been in a battle to the death and she had survived the creature known as Wolverine in his blind rage. Albert had not been so lucky. In the battle, his systems had been damaged beyond the repair the ‘infant’ Elsie could offer him. Blaquesmith had been an unsuspecting victim at the time, as she had lured him there to become her pawn but he had not known it at the time. He had been attempting to repair her ‘father’ ever since, though nothing had yet to work. Wolverine was truly the destructive force that he was believed to be.
Elsie Dee was his certain death. She was a ticking time bomb and, while she survived, Wolverine could always be killed. In her death, he was guaranteed the immortality that his healing factor offered. Blaquesmith had theorized that was the very reason she had survived, because she was the beast’s one retreat from life.
“We have done everything,” he concluded, dropping the torch to the ground and turning to the immortal blonde.
She scowled. “You have not done everything if he remains broken.”
“This isn’t a toy, Elsie; I cannot simply sow the missing piece back on. Wolverine,” he noticed her grimace at the name, “Wolverine really did his work on the creature...on Albert. I’m not sure he can be repaired. Perhaps you would be better served to conclude in your purpose and join him on the other side.” Blaquesmith was surprised at what he suggested, but Wolverine had always been a wildcard and that could prove dangerous to the X-Men as well as their foes. “Don’t you think it’s time to give into your nature?”
Elsie Dee flicked her pigtails, her eyes trailing along the grotesque creatures facial features as he addressed her. She was disgusted at the insinuation from the toad like being. “You wish me dead.”
Her assertion struck him cold. “Maybe. Or perhaps I wish you peace.”
“That would be wiser than the former,” her tone was threatening. “Boy.” Her attention was transferred to the silent Phaser, he avoided her when possible. “Is there any progress on my father’s repair?”
Phaser shook his head, jolting upwards from where he hovered as the suit reacted to his shock. “Albert’s pretty fucked.” He spoke bluntly. “Every time we get somewhere and he seems to be working, the system self-destructs.”
“This isn’t good enough,” squealed the child like dictator.
Phaser’s suit pushed him upwards until he hit the roof, as he attempted to regain control, the young man crashed into the cyborg tossing all to the cold concrete that was the ground of the Bayou Choupique facility. His suit released sparks from the chest, the source of his power to create concussive blasts of energy. Worried that the cyborg was about to self destruct, Christian pounced to his feet only to find the machine was drawing in the energy of his suit. Blue streams of raw power coursed between the two, illuminating the building, which closely resembled a warehouse.
Elsie Dee screamed with a surge of fear and excitement. Blaquesmith wondered as the curiosity of the occurrence, yet he was unsettled from his train of thoughts by the screams that echoed from the African-American boy ahead of him. As Phaser collapsed to his knees before toppling to his side, the eyes of Albert shone a bright shade of red. It was vivid and brought chills into Blaquesmith’s bones.
Roaring, the cyborg known as Albert bounced to his feet and unsheathed his claws. Nimbly, Phaser pulled himself away from behind the creature. He did so slowly and his frailty after the attack really shone through on his paler features. All the time Elsie Dee screeched with joy, rushing forward to meet her father but even she paused in Blaquesmith’s first action, and her brow furrowed.
Blaquesmith twirled his staff behind her, taking an offensive position.
“He is not to be harmed,” growled the blonde. It was the first time he had ever seen desperation in her eyes. Elsie Dee prepared to speak again but was cut short as Albert struck out, catching her in the swipe of his claws and thrusting her across the room. Colliding with the wall, she slumped to the ground, seemingly unconscious.
Broken.
Blaquesmith prepared himself for battle, his eyes fierce with energy as the telekinetic aspect of his powers flared around him. Longstrike rushed forward, pausing when she was at his side, her eyes surveying the scene.
“Chris!”
Seoul, Republic of Korea
West
“I dinnae like this place to begin with,” spoke the young Scot. “That observation isn’t changing much.”
Bishop didn’t disagree with the young woman’s point. The further they walked through the streets of abandoned storefronts, the more desolate the place seemed to become. It was almost as if they had entered what could only be described as a shantytown of some sort. It made him feel at ease, and this was a strange sensation. Since he had left his own reality he had not felt quite as at home as he felt now. Back from when he had come, Bishop had not been used to the life of privilege in a mansion, nor was he used to the quarters he was expected to reside at in Miami. It seemed too pretentious.
Shantytowns had been his home once, amongst the carnage and devastation of the Sentinels. It was not the scene that worried him, but the ambiance, It was a feeling of isolation that had met them since they had arrived in the Republic of Korea. Despite having Wolfsbane at such a close quarter, he felt alone in the Ghost Town. For miles there hadn’t been a single living, breathing entity.
“I know what you mean,” he answered her. “Try again.”
Rahne Sinclair looked back at him for only moments before she was replaced by the creature that her codename suggested. In her youth, the Presbyterian had viewed her mutation of lycanthropy as a disorder, or a curse to plague her. Reverend Craig, her father, had enforced this belief upon her. When she had been rescued by Moira MacTaggert and brought to the Xavier Institute in New York, it was then that the redhead accepted herself for who she was. In those formative years, from the tender age of thirteen, she had forced herself to learn her abilities and harness them so they could be a gift that would please God.
Vigilantism had never been her style, not truly. Now she operated within the law and she was sure God appreciated the high road she had taken.
In her current form, reminiscent of a true werewolf with shaggy rustic fur, she had gained a crucial enhanced sense in tracking. Like a dog, from which her powers were descended, she could smell the scents and residues of skin and odour that was left behind when a person, or creature, passed. Wolfsbane had tried this technique every few mile but had yet to pick up a discernable scent. The scents she did collect would swiftly vanish after she followed them a few feet.
Rusted copper filled her nostrils as she smelt around the area, the familiar emerald eyes flaring at the sniff. It was something that she had smelt at random intervals since her arrival. Turning her lupine features towards her teammate, she nodded onwards. There was trail to be followed but she was unsure if this was what she hoped for.
“I have a lead,” she informed him, “but it’s most definitely not human.”
It was with his curt nod that Wolfsbane began her chase. In a burst forward, her body began to ripple as her very musculature changed its form, the werewolf became a wolf in a matter of seconds. Launching quickly on her four legs, Wolfsbane skidded around the corners. Her sensitive ears picking up the thunderous footsteps of Bishop, and she continued to sniff the air sporadically as she was led to a halt at the street corner. Around the bend was smell was its strongest and, as Bishop neared, she flicked her tail and slid onto the scene.
What she saw ahead of her was frightening. It was a monstrous creation, almost like a ghost with its pale white body and still features. Plated armour shifted from its shoulders at the sight of her, yet the face bore no different experience. Within seconds, Wolfsbane had transformed into her werewolf form again as she dodged the missiles that launched from the robotic hands of the creature. She growled, rushing forward to pounce on the beast just as the buildings behind her collapsed. She knew Bishop was cut off from her but she fought on.
Wolfsbane was caught by the neck and held before the creature. Everything about the robot, as she could see it clearly now, was dead. Using her claws, she tore at the hands of the beast until the circuitry was exposed. It merely tightened its grip of her throat.
“Collaborating,” it echoed. “Feral mutation is evident. Exterminate intruder.”
Rahne Sinclair was pushed forward with the force of energy that collided with, and obliterated, the creation that clutched at her throat. Thrown onto her stomach as it let go, Bishop rushed to her side and helped her too her feet. She reverted back to her human form, rubbing her now reddened throat as she looked into his face; it bore a look of consideration that didn’t distil confidence in her heart.
“What is that thing?” enquired the young Scot, Rahne Sinclair.
“If I’m correct in my research from the X-Men’s history, then ‘that thing’ is Shiva,” he replied. “A situation-adapting robot and villain from Wolverine’s past.”
“Yeah,” muttered a confused woman as she looked at the steam rising from the robot. “And is that it? We’re done?”
Bishop screwed up his forehead. “It can’t possibly be that easy.”
Bayou Choupique, Louisiana
“Cool it, Longstrike.”
“That’s my brother...”
“Rushing in wont change anything but it may get you both killed.”
Longstrike bit her tongue. It was out of character; Christine Cord was more likely to speak her mind and make brash decisions but she had little choice on this instance since apparently her brother’s life depended on some sensitivity. She watched as the strange beast known as Blaquesmith swayed on the spot. He looked uneasy and uncertain of what he could do; like a master who was now out of sync with his own prowess. Longstrike glared, assuming an offensive position, as the cyborg Albert charged at them.
Flipping backwards, Longstrike avoided his slashing claws and landed on her palm and one knee. She lifted her hazel eyes in time to see Albert smash into the telekinetic wall that had been formed by the white mutant with the bulging eyes and uneven skin. Lowering the shield, Blaquesmith struck Albert across the face and there was an evident crack as his nose was knocked from place. Seconds later, the cyborg’s body began to repair itself, forcing the nose back into to position.
“This’ll be easy,” groaned the woman, her voice laced with sarcasm.
Clapping her hands ahead of her, Longstrike allowed the unique ability of her suit to take control. She wasn’t sure what had happened to set the piece of junk off in one, but she never needed a reason to act in violence.
As per her ability, the arms of her suit stretched outward and extended beyond those of normal expectations. Longstrike’s armor granted her with the ability of enhanced elasticity; it was a skill she had taken time to get used to. The suit of armor felt like a second skin and it had initially felt as if her skin was tearing from the seams. Bone, skin and tendon felt the pain and pressure afterwards but she had learned to fight through the pain. In her mind, the pain was a good thing. It was all that reminded her she was alive on the battlefield.
Twisting her arms around Albert, she attempted to restrain him but he caught grip of her arms and tossed them over himself. Longstrike was flung through the air until she landed yards from where she had previously stood; a bloodcurdling crack was sounded on her impact with the cold concrete in the distance.
It was a sound that caused Phaser to throw up in his own mouth. Blaquesmith continued the fight before his own eyes but Longstrike lay motionless yards from where he lay. Phaser tapped into his power and exploded to his feet, using the energy that his suit wielded to push himself off the ground. It was a unique twist on the ability that he had discovered during his experimentation period. Spitting the contents of his mouth onto the ground, he looked forward.
“Tine!” he yelled through the tears, but there was no answer.
Inhaling deeply and fighting his way through the strain of resurrecting the ‘deceased’ cyborg, he released the energy he contained from the open holes of his suit, which were situated on his chest and the palms of his hands. Streams of blue energy ushered around the room as it found its target, the energy being somewhat magnetic in nature with the appearance of lightning. He hoped to short circuit the cyborg he had empowered but it seemed to have little effect, despite searing the flesh from the metal underneath.
Blaquesmith smashed his staff into the jaw of the distracted Albert as the cyborg looked over his shoulders at Phaser.
Stunned, Albert buckled backward as Blaquesmith reached out with his hand and into the organically moulded brainwaves of the robot. Telepathically, he forced the weapon to sleep and erased the contamination that had entered through the transfer of the energy from the armor to its own body.
Phaser landed with a thud, barely able to move or speak but he panted. “My...sis...” He fell unconscious like so many others in the battle.
Stepping back, Blaquesmith stumbled towards the body of Longstrike as he noticed the man in the doorway. He was frozen in the process of eating his cereal.
“Did I miss something?”
X.S.E. Headquarters
Miami, Florida
Irene was uncomfortable on the podium, but she fought through her fears. In the year since she had resigned the Daily Bugle a lot in her life had changed and she now had to change with the times she had been dealt. Having had the extra time to make herself up as she prepared her speech, Irene looked a far sight better than she had when she had interrupted the meeting of her superiors hours earlier. She now wore a white blouse with a pair of greyscale trousers and simple black heels. Her long red mane fell across her shoulders and her glasses were pushed up the bridge of her nose.
Inhaling, she began.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I thank you for coming and allowing me the opportunity to present to you the factual story behind the occurrence that is Genosha before the printers begin to run and the fabricated stories dry in their ink.”
Cameras flashed and caught her momentarily off guard. She cleared her throat, looking down at the cue cards that she had prepared for herself. Her heart was racing and threatened to make her faint but she stopped, regulating her breathing before she continued with her speech. Amelia Voght, the Vice President of Genosha, had already addressed the subject. This was her countering those statements.
“As Vice President Voght explained a mere two days ago, this is not an act of war nor is it in anyway forming that concept. Genosha is a fledgling government and is beginning to create the ideals and protocols of its own nation. We, at the X-Gene Security Enforcers, understand that this decision was made with difficulty and with the right intentions. Nevertheless, it is with the greatest sympathy that the XSE has been blocked from furthering the aide that nation may someday require from us. We wish the best of luck to President Pietro Maximoff and his governing party and peoples. That is all.”
Irene sighed as she finished her speech, adrenaline rushed from her body just as fear returned. “Thank you.” She stepped from the podium, and was led by the human agents attached to the XSE back into the building that now housed the project.
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To Be Continued...
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