Blunt was burned into the very stones that paved their paths, its muted smell flared into the air with an intensity that threatened to overwhelm her. It was not often that the X-Men, in any incarnation, had been faced with the brutality of such a situation. Bodies lay, rapidly decaying, within the confines of the simple structures that represented a growing nation. The Republic of South Korea continued to hide behind its history, a past that was spilled with bloodshed, even now it could not move easily into the democratic capitalist system. Paige Guthrie, the heroine known as Husk, felt only pity as she looked onto the mangled hand of what appeared to be a woman as it hung loosely from the windowpane to her right. Murder wasn’t a sufficient term, given the circumstances; this was nothing less than genocide.
The atmosphere between the pair was tense, not taking into account the scene in which they stood. It was quite a difference between the two, as neither matched the stereotypes that should have defined them. Paige’s blue eyes were those of a young woman who had been traumatized by the death of her father at a young age and also by the failed relationships in her past and body language experts would have noted how she held herself defensively in every subtle movement; flexing her hands would immediately lead into a clenched fist, representing the anger she repressed. Paige would hide behind her smile to prevent hurting those she cared about, those she left behind. It was guilt that threatened to break her borders.
Barnell Bohusk, a young Danish soldier long before he had been enlisted into the superhuman control unit that was known as the XSE, was similar in no way. Despite his youth, the redheaded man walked with a swagger and confidence of someone with far more years under their belt, both emotionally and physically. He was coated in heavy black armor, attributing to the Blackwing persona he had gained when on the field. He could not be considered as basically attractive as the young female, but he was not easily slipped under the radar. He heaved and sighed with each step, flexing fingers in an effort to feel comfortable in the armor, which was slowly affecting his confidence. Little to no training had been given in the use of the suit prior to his deploy as a member of the active team.
Neither shared a similar trait and they were unsure of what exactly they were looking for amongst the expansive layer of bodies.
“It’s hard ta believe that a few days ago they were all alive. In a matter of seconds they seem to have been wiped out. There are no signs of torture or prolonged death. Ah guess we should be thankful for that, at least.”
“It has no affect on us whether they suffered or not. That isn’t the objective.” His voice was cold. It struck her and reminded her why she had instilled the silence in the first place.
“They were people, Blackwing.” Her reply was little more than a snarl in the general direction of the Danish soldier.
Barnell barely glanced in her direction as he peeked into a murky alleyway, his eyes clouded and void. “Maybe…but now they’re dead.”
It wasn’t petty but Paige hissed slightly, rolling her eyes as she moved toward the same alleyway. She placed no trust in the man; he wasn’t worth the hindrance that would follow from allowing him to be a part of her life. It became clear to her how much she had missed the others, her old teammates in Generation X. Everett Thomas, Jubilation Lee, Monet St. Croix, Angelo Espinosa and Jonothan Starsmore had been her life for so long that it now felt alien for her to be isolated from them. Especially Jono…there was a long history attached to her relations with that particular Brit. Now he was a teammate of her brother’s, and awkward didn’t begin to explain that scenario.
“What’re y’ looking for?” Paige murmured in her distinct southern drawl. Strands of blonde hair fell across her face as she attempted to brush it back.
Barnell replied through gritted teeth. “Anything. A lead of some sort would be interesting but it doesn’t seem like it’s just going to spring out of the woodwork. I never imagined that intelligence and skills of deduction were necessary for the faux heroism that we’re living.”
“Really? You’re calling this faux heroism? Get over yourself.” Paige stepped back into the light of the street, frustrated by the tedium of her ‘teammate’.
“We run around in flash suits with enhanced abilities. We’re not even fighting the same war as the true heroes; they would be the soldiers on the frontline in places like Afghanistan.”
“Ah’m not stupid, Blackwing. Just because the soldiers, our American soldiers, on the frontline are fighting a battle does not make this one any less important. Ah mean, consider this, what if this happens again in a more volatile region such as Japan? How can y’ think that we won’t be affected or that communism’s going to sit back and let that happen? Newsflash, honey, this war is as real as any.”
Initially it reminded her of a breeze as it brushed across her body but then there was something more intense as a boiling sore formed across her right shoulder. It was the first stage of an attack and her opponent had drawn blood. Husk slipped in her rush to face the general direction, stumbling in surprise. Standing six feet from where she had been slashed she saw the white behemoth. Steel plates protruded from the creatures shoulders but it was the stance that intrigued her. Its back was arched as the hulking creature turned its path towards her. Husk rushed forward to meet the beast as Blackwing powered up to her left. Disgusting but familiar sounds met the Kentuckian’s ears as her skin was torn from her body to reveal a denser metallic layer of epidermis.
Her footsteps became heavy and echoed with each thud. Clenching her fists, Husk swung for the white android as they collided. Its armed wrapped around the young woman’s waist as she was thrust into the ground, creating a small crater. Resilient in her youth the former X-Man quickly returned to her feet. Nothing about her showed signs of duress or fatigue after the annihilating attack. Metallic skin had its perks. She reached for it once again but was grasped by the wrist and flung over its immense body into the ground once again. Husk grunted as she felt the solid ground slip around her for a second time. Blasts of energy fired from her left and alerted her to the fact that Blackwing was now in action.
Husk lifted her head and forced her body, which began to ache, into an upright position. Her eyes met with Blackwing as he flew towards them from above only to hover in the air. Blast after blast of blue energy spewed from his gauntlets and struck the android; it almost made him appear heroic, coming to her rescue. Husk scrunched her fists for a third time as she lunged forward. Shiva, who had long since become accustomed to the form she had taken, anticipated the attack and swung to meet her. His tremendous hand collided with the young heroine’s chest and she catapulted backwards through the air. It was a deafening crack as she smashed through the brick wall of a building.
Blackwing watched for a few moments. His mouth was ajar at the sight of his teammate disappearing into the darkness of the building. Everything seemed to slow around him as he tried to think about his next course of action. Shiva would be returning his attention to the soldier soon enough but Husk could be seriously injured within the building. Blackwing’s decision was made for him as rubble and earth collided in a furious structural collapse. Pained at the thought that the Paige Guthrie was trapped somewhere beneath the mounds of rubble, Blackwing returned fire. Dust and dirt spewed around Shiva on impact but he had become resistant to the concussive blasts of energy.
Furrowing his brow, the Danish soldier landed. He had been an adept combatant long before he received this armor to hide behind. Husk was dead and, if she wasn’t yet, she soon would be. Blackwing sprung forward and landed a kick onto the ‘chest’ of the android. Flying backwards, his wings allowed him a safe landing as he watched as Shiva fall. Aiming his hands for a second time, the soldier fired another round of the illuminating blue blasts. It was finally a solid strike. Circuitry seemed to spark as Shiva’s body vibrated in a manner similar to an epileptic fit. Blackwing allowed hope to swell in his chest until he noticed the beast was recovering.
Elongated arms shot forward and clasped around the soldier before snapping him toward the android. Squinting as he struggled for freedom, Blackwing recounted the cloudiness of his time since moving to America. Nothing had been certain and now he stood in South Korea facing a threat he had never even heard of. It was worse still to think that he would die under Shiva’s hands. He smirked at the probable cameras in the eye of the behemoth; he would die with pride and he would die having given an admirable battle. His neck felt lighter as his body heavily fell past the flurry of sparks and landed on the hard ground with a grunt. Blackwing’s eyes met with the lengthy slab that now protruded from its body.
Husk stood behind him. She was worse for wear but there was pride and anger etched onto her stony face. As with so many aspects of her power, the unpredictable mutant had become an entirely new form. Stepping back and observing the robot’s demise, Paige shed the skin to reveal something slightly more human. In doing so she appeared as refreshed as if she had just emerged from the shower. Only her heavy breathing gave away the true strain of the battle she had just fought. Her eyes met his inquisitive stare and urged him to look at the building which had been torn apart. Her metallic form must have protected her.
Paige reached out a helping hand. “I think this proves we’re in this together. Even if you are a foreigner, that is.”
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#3
NOV 10 |
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Russian Roulette, Part Three:
“Never Say Never”
“Never Say Never”
Bayou Choupique, Louisiana
“So this is Bayou Choupique?”
“Yeah, well...”
“I’m assuming that is Operation: Albert?”
“I’m aware of how things look but it’s not the case.”
“Shut up, Wisdom.”
Alisande Morales cast a stern eye across the open plan of the facility. Her high nose and wide-set eyes gave off an alluring beauty about the woman but it was subtracted from by the surly attitude she seemed to carry on her person. Furrowing her brow as she approached the hung body of the cyborg, her pursed lips completed the attitude. Morales wore the standard uniform for an agent of SHIELD, namely a sleek navy bodysuit with the familiar insignia. Her voluptuous body filled the uniform that she now ranked above but it was a reminder of her time in the field. Morales did not regret seeking to further her career but she was still unhappy with the situation. Pulling her long brown hair back from her face as she came to a stop, the woman scowled.
In the short time since they had begun to collaborate on the X.S.E (X-Gene Security Enforcers) he had come to known that scowl. Peter Wisdom, known simply as Wisdom, had come across the Atlantic from England and, with its weather, he had been forced to learn misery quickly and Morales was the personification of such an emotion. Wisdom had never been a ray of sunshine but even he couldn’t deny the woman had a heart of stone. He edged closer to the robot that he had only seen once before as the transport had finally arrived in Louisiana. It had been clear that Morales would discover the truth sooner or later; he had simply hoped it was under better circumstances.
“Morales, I know this is less than ideal but this isn’t how the project was running when it first began, luv,” Wisdom assured her as he placed a cigarette in his mouth. Surrounding SHIELD soldiers glared at him from beneath the visors of their helmets but it didn’t bother the Brit. “We can fix this.”
Bayou Choupique looked like a warzone had erupted within it. Blood from the battle stretched across the floor on which they stood. Wisdom had seen too much in his time to be queasy at the mild sight. His shoulders stopped the clicking sound they had made with each footstep as he reached his unlikely partner. Kitty Pryde was a hard woman to replace and Morales didn’t compare in any way. Tapping the stray ash to the ground, his eyes looked upon the dead face of the cyborg that he had recruited into their midst.
Albert had been a risk from the beginning. He was an uncontrollable berserker but there was a use from someone with his power set when he was under the correct controls. Elsie-Dee, the infant cyborg that had been created for that very purpose, had been intended to act as insurance of that. Wolverine couldn’t be on every team but his duplicate was a useful substitute. Wisdom knew what had happened in the Louisianan warehouse was his fault and his alone…he had endangered the lives of everyone he’d placed there.
The New Mexican woman called from across her stoically placed shoulders. “We shouldn’t have to fix it.”
“Sorry to interrupt this co-operative display from our senior officers, but we were told to report to you immediately.”
Morales turned her cold gaze to the insolent speaker. It was a hideous creature that had at one time mentored the current Xavier Academy headmaster, Cable. Bulging eyes were paired with the close-set mouth and pale albino skin. Distortions were clear across the creature’s body. Blaquesmith, as it was known, could be nothing other than a foreigner from another time. It was an unusual situation for any ‘baseline’ human to find herself in, and Morales almost felt as if she had stepped through the looking glass into an alternate world. Her father had been a soldier and she had therefore been an army brat, following him from base to base wherever he was stationed over his career. Morales had been raised in the world of facts and war threats but even she had been unprepared for the circus she now encountered.
She growled. “Remember who you’re talking to.”
“You are no senior officer of mine, Agent Morales,” replied Blaquesmith, his bulging eyes focused on her with disinterest. “I am an agent of propriety. I am driven to secure a better future for my ancestry. The X.S.E is not a toy at the disposal of the United States government. There are serious opportunities to be considered in executing this task force early on. Policing our own is a step in the right direction towards earning the trust of humanity.”
Morales growled.
“Admirable as that conception is, Blaquesmith,” moaned a lazy southern twang, “we still have four members of this rotation incapacitated.”
Behind Blaquesmith stood a more familiarly imposing figure whose body language immediately reminded her of her father, and it became clear to the Hispanic agent that she was looking upon the face of a true soldier. Vincent Stewart was often overlooked by Blaquesmith because he contributed to the brute force and aerial surveillance better than he did to the science of the operation. His boyish face was contorted into a grimace as he gazed around the room and crowned with blond spikes of hair. Stewart was the very concept of the Aryan race. Crossing his arms revealed the gliding apparatus of his silver-hued costume, for which he had been named Skybolt.
“You saw this occurring, Stewart?” Wisdom chimed in.
“Not exactly, sir. I merely came in towards the rear end of the battle, shortly before Albert was subdued.” His accent was diluted. “Blaquesmith witnessed the entire malfunction as far as I’ve been informed. He’s the only remaining conscious member of the entail to witness it.”
Wisdom nodded. “Thank you, Stewart.”
Irene Merryweather, their media liaison, approached him with a frantic looked sketched across her small face. Her horn-rimmed glasses were crooked and her hair fell wildly from the constraints of its binding. Even with a moment’s notice, Irene had managed to appear presentable as if she were facing the cameras for another debriefing at any time. Her chest heaved and moved the clipboard that she clutched tightly. She wasn’t as plain as Wisdom had first imagined her; it was a thought that crossed his mind as he came into her vicinity. It wasn’t until they met that he realized the sheer frustration in her eyes was aimed at him.
“What do you think you were playing at?” snapped the woman. “I’m not sure how they do things in Britain, but in America we do not lie to our colleagues. What if we hadn’t been able to control this situation in time, Wisdom? As the media correspondent of the X.S.E I’ll be the one to get it in the neck with Leno and Oprah banging around the door looking to discuss the dangers we unleashed.” Irene exhaled. “The X-Men have become a franchise, they have a branch in Chicago focused on public relations alone! Like it or not, Wisdom, the X.S.E has become part of that franchise because we currently harbor one of their X-Corps International representatives on our staff. I have been picking up the slack of that particular operation while you have Guthrie patrolling Korea.”
Wisdom shrugged as he finished the cigarette. “Irene, I couldn’t have told you until I was ready to propose this. It was a fool-proof plan...”
“Apparently not, Wisdom,” growled Irene as she continued to dig the hole he had started. In her eyes, she had been lied to and made a mockery off. “I can understand your hesitance in telling Morales, she’s your co-president of this process, but I need to be kept in the loop. I’m the one that has to be on the top of her game and able to spin whatever mistakes we make. Mutant or not, we’re only human and I am prepared to deal with the mistakes that we may make. But how about this for an idea: we could try and make an effort not to create too many dilemmas?” Her mouth was pursed and she looked like a disapproving school teacher. “Am I clear?”
“Crystal,” groaned the angered Brit.
Seoul, Republic of Korea
East
Teamwork was an unusual concept for him. How could he understand something that required the help of others when he was his own one-man crew? James Madrox, affectionately known as Jamie and sometimes known as the Multiple Man, had the ability to duplicate his body numerous times. He was a stall man with piercing eyes and a crooked smile, not that he smiled often any more. Long before he’d began his excursions in the Outback and joined forces with the X.S.E there had been an emptiness echoing in his head. It had no certain cause but there had been one remedy during his time in Australia. Glaring ahead under the wrath of the sun, the New Mexican man moved onwards.
He had been able to focus on himself and worry less about others when he had been travelling; there was no need to explore the connection with his Madri when he had been living without his abilities. It was definitely a pleasurable time but he had never expected it to last forever. Following the stream of footmen ahead of him, Madrox surveyed the area for any irregularities. It wasn’t lost on him that he had no idea what that entailed as his knowledge of Korean culture was limited. Ruffling his hair as he walked, Jamie let out a brief sigh. Voices rebounded in his head as he controlled the duplicates that he had created.
It was a misconception that his work was done when they were created; they did his every bidding when he was in control of their own personal fighting consciousness, and the entire situation gave him a constant migraine. Still the brown-haired, blue-eyed boy soldiered on through the heat waves that rushed over him. It burned up his body as he felt the heat they all felt. Unable to tolerate it for longer than ten minutes, Madrox absorbed some of his duplicates back into his body. It caused the heat to subside but not overly.
It seemed like he had been marching east forever and he had yet to come across anything of importance. Madrox’s patience was close to frayed.
Seoul, Republic of Korea
North
Rahne Sinclair unfolded her arms as she listened to her senior teammate tearing the robotic Shiva apart. The young Scot had stood in wait for nearly twenty minutes as Bishop searched through the carcass for leads to the manufacturer. It had been playing in her mind that they hadn’t heard from any of the others. Rahne Sinclair – Wolfsbane – had been able to ignore these concerns before she had been attacked but it was harder now. Biting at her lip, the redhead scowled across the street from where she leaned against the side of a building in the shade. Her heaving chest drew attention to the flat chest of the young woman, wrapped in a gender-ambiguous waistcoat with the X.S.E sigil on the right breast.
Her boyish appearance had often been considered a curse in her own mind but it had allowed the woman to retain her virtue and her innocence. She was protected from the immodesty of suitors in a way that none of her fellow New Mutants had been. Rahne still missed them bitterly; it had broken her heart to turn down the offer to join them once again when Sam Guthrie had approached her a few days ago. Rahne could still clearly remember the time she had loved him with all her heart but never had the courage to act on it. Those days of childishness were gone and she couldn’t afford to look back…she had a role to play now.
“Ye think ye’ll be harvesting some knowledge soon?” she enquired of the man. Her accent was strong despite her years in America. Rahne’s voice was nasally and husky, much like the animal she could transition into.
Bishop threw the strap of metal into the distance as he turned to face her. “I don’t think it’s going to give us anything of use. We may as well just start again.” Dusting himself off, Bishop gave her orders. “We split up and we search the area for clues.”
“What about the others? We haven’t heard…” Concern choked the redhead.
Bishop grimaced. “We have to do what needs to be done and hope for the best in the meantime. It isn’t the best of situations but we’ll have to get on with it.”
Wolfsbane felt shivers run across her body as her viridian eyes shut and the hair on her arms stood up, goose bumps slithering across her pale complexion. Her teeth strengthen as her jaws elongated and pushed forward from her mouth. It was nothing new to her body but the transition was always a little rougher than she ever allowed people to witness. It was a private punishment for the sins that she lived. At heart, religion was as important to her now as it had been back in pre-adolescent years; nothing had changed and she doubted it ever would. Rustic fur sprouted from every pour as the woman transformed into the werewolf that had hidden her from the prying eyes of society for so long, dissociating her with the very people she wanted to protect.
Her eyes followed Bishop into the distance with a growl before she moved; the sand was a hindrance in this form as it caught in her fur and burned at her feet. Clunky movements led the ‘monster’ from the doorways as she searched for scents similar to that which they had just destroyed. Gusts of wind brought her an answer but it wasn’t what she had expected. It wasn’t the scent of Bishop or any of her teammates in the southern or eastern regions of the city, and it was different from Shiva. Panting in a way similar to a dog, an unfortunate side effect of her canine mutation, Wolfsbane bounded forward with light steps. Pointedly she raised her nose into the air to catch the scent again; beady eyes squinted around the area as she came upon a doorway. Wolfsbane was surprised at what she found.
“Wait...” she growled in an unintended monstrous tone.
Seoul’s remaining resident, a battered and beaten Korean woman with clearly diminished beauty, simply screamed at her through fear. “Goemul! Jeoliga-eseo nal animyeon naega neol jug-ilgeoya. Nan dangsin-ui pihaeja daleundoeji anhseubnida.”
Bishop paused at the sound of gunshots. “Rahne!” escaped from his pursed lips as the man rushed from the building into the sunlight. Before he could focus on rescuing his friend and teammate he was faced with another lurking threat as a Shiva descended upon him. “You have got to be kidding me.”
Bayou Choupique, Louisiana
“Are you alright, Mister Cord?”
It was odd to hear such formality addressing him but the boy paid little attention to the details as he came out of his groggy slumber. His eyes flickered into focus and he noticed the woman who spoke to him. She was unfamiliar but sat in vigil at his bedside for some unknown reason. Christian Cord – Phaser – reacting instinctively as he moved away from the woman, whose long red hair pulled back from her face to expose her features and her body was amplified by the black corset that was strapped over of her white shirt in a similar fashion to a waistcoat. Looking around the warehouse was enough to indicate the rest of the X.S.E had arrived in the aftermath of the malfunction of the robot Albert. He had met with his senior officers but he was unsure who this woman was.
She answered his unasked questions. “My name is Irene Merryweather and I’m with the X.S.E as their media liaison. I was concerned about you and your sister’s injuries.” Sincerity in her voice caught him off guard; Christian had never been treated with the genuine kindness she portrayed. “I like to think that I present the pastoral care of our colleagues, since Wisdom and Morales don’t have the compassion for such incidents.”
“You got that right,” he laughed slightly as he recalled his meetings with the cold, authoritative figures she mentioned. He leaned forward with his hand on his rib cage as his laugh was cut short. Pain reminded him of his role in the social rankings of the X.S.E and he met her gaze with an apologetic stare. Phaser had never been the disobedient twin; that responsibility could be laid firmly on the shoulders of Christine. He had inherited all of the shyer, introverted aspects of their parents’ personalities but those traits were often hidden behind the drunken stupors. Christian had little idea who he really was and what he had been taught to be. His role as a soldier had defined him for so long yet he couldn’t remember all of his past.
Why had he and Christine been abandoned?
Looking to his left he looked at the young woman’s body. Christine Cord, the armored soldier known as Longstrike, was still. Monitors that had been set up upon arrival revealed that she was still alive, barely. Albert, the very machine that he had aided in rebuilding, had done this too her. Indirectly her death would be on his hands. Christian thought of these things but it was the selfish thoughts that hit him hardest. What would he do if he lost her? Christine had always been a pillar of strength to the younger sibling. Christian suddenly groped at the tubes and lines that hung from his body in an effort to get close to her. Irene jolted to her feet and pushed him back onto the bed as several medical staff rushed around him.
Irene could offer no help as the young soldier fell apart before her. His screams of guilt echoed around the warehouse and brought the eyes of everyone onto the scene. Pursing her lips, she looked across at Morales and Wisdom. Irene blamed them for bringing such fragile youths into the equation; every aspect of the X.S.E was filled with young people trying to make a difference but not considering the full consequences of their. Irene had been a confidant of Cable for a time so she was used to this world, but it still caught her throat to see them suffer. Twenty-three years old and she saw the world clearer than many of her seniors.
Seoul, Republic of Korea
East
“Ulineun chinjeolhage oegug-in-eul heoyonghaji anhseubnida.”
Madrox was caught off guard. Hundreds of soldiers descended upon the man who harboured his own personal army. Instinctively he released more duplicates only to face the sudden burst of thoughts in his head. Snarling through the pain, he looked into the face of the people responsible for the atrocities of their own city. Seoul was too recently devastated to be faced with freedom fighters, and the attack was too sudden in his opinion. Gulping down as he scrunched his fists into offensive balls, Madrox looked onto the face of his attackers. He couldn’t be sure the issue was not mutant related but those who surrounded him where to heavily armed to be anything other than human. It gave him an advantage.
He was not afraid, he was determined…Madrox had something to prove. He needed no team at his disposal. It was an honorable thought but the pain ran through his body as the Korean soldiers opened fire on his clones. Crippled from the pain, the American man collapsed with bloodcurdling screams. His voice reached its limits as it stuttered into a dull croak. Bodies returned into his psyche and threatened to push the man over the edge as he knelt broken on the battle field. Fire ceased as heavy footsteps approached him, they had discovered his weakness and they had exploited it to the fullest degree.
“Welcome to Korea, sir,” called a man in state uniform as he descended upon him to strike the final blow before Madrox slipped into unconscious. “Courtesy of General Kyung Moon Kwan. We hope it is to your liking.”
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To Be Continued...
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