Sunset on the boulevard could only be described as magical but she no longer felt the coolness in the current numbness of her body. It wasn’t often that someone walked away from the sight of a woman incinerated without even the slightest degree of posttraumatic stress disorder. She had isolated herself, pulling away from her family and friends as she stared across the ocean from her sandy stool with her arms wrapped around her legs and her lower jaw buried from sight. Doe-eyed and lost, she watched the gentle sway of the waves before her as harsh winds undercut her, but she was happy for the only reminder that allowed her to feel alive. Bishop was worried about her but he couldn’t make any headway into her condition. Lucinda had been sent for but Paige had long since outgrown the need to confide in a mother about her childish fears. It was something that she would overcome in her own time but, for now, she needed that time to heal.
Exhaling heavy, her breath steamed around her face. Cautiously—as if hesitant to return to the prison she had just escaped—Paige forced herself onto her feet; she was surprisingly unsteady despite the short time that she had spent seated. Her beauty was diminished behind her attitude; her vulnerability sought only sympathy and nothing more. Her long hair, which naturally fell in masses of blonde waves, was now pulled back from her face and tied back untidily. She pressed her stomach where the burns she had suffered from the explosion were still healing. Physically, it looked as if she should have moved on already but her powers only allowed her to heal what could be seen by others. There had been some internal complications in the few days since they had returned.
Sand parted beneath her light footsteps as she moved back toward the solid gray path that would lead her home. The XSE building was clearly seen from where she stood, splendid in both its sheer magnificence and its methodology. Governments could easily become corrupt; if she had learnt anything from her time in Korea it was that. It gave her some ease to know there was a force for justice working on the rights that she and mutant-kind had so often been denied in the past. Wisdom, foolhardy as he was, was a good man and Morales was reliable; Paige had no doubt that she would overcome her insecurities and learn to be a true ally to the heroes that were currently under her command. Paige idolized neither of them but they had garnered her respect. Lights shone from the windows and she smiled a little imagining that people were still living their lives. Paige’s world may have crashed and burned but it was still turning for others, and maybe a little because of her.
Paige had been in closer proximity to Ji and she had seen why the woman had acted in such a horrendous fashion. She didn’t condone terrorism but she couldn’t force herself to hate the woman for making her own view of the world better. Wasn’t that what Paige was trying to do? Most baselines would have seen the current climate as satisfactory yet she wanted to change it. Her frustration stemmed from the parallels she had witnessed between them more so than the woman’s actual demise, and now she felt she stood on increasingly unsteady ground. Mutant-kind’s position in the world was changing and she knew that it would happen in her life time, but how far was the Kentuckian truly willing to go to achieve her dream. Paige had almost killed for it in Korea and it was a position she had no desire to face again.
It was a darker road back towards the base than she remembered, but maybe it was just later than she had ever cared to be out in the past. Paige rubbed her exposed arms as she was wearing only a simple white vest top and red sweatpants, trying to warm herself a little. Sunset no longer amused her now that the eeriness of the clammy Floridian night now set in. Paige remembered the nights she had stood beneath the Kentucky stars wishing for nothing more than to see the world, to be a mutant, and it now seemed to her that her wishes had been wasted. She had spent the majority of her life wishing to be something or somewhere other than whom or where she was. Paige wished she could have been as at ease as her siblings had been but she was still just a teenage girl, plagued with insecurities.
She could imagine Lucinda at that moment, packing a suitcase and crying over what had become of her daughter. Lucinda would leave the kids with Elizabeth—if she would see past her selfishness and break from Berkeley for once—and Joelle for a few days and come and comfort her second eldest daughter, but then she would have to go back to Kentucky and Paige would be alone. The selfishness of her own situation was wholly recognized by the southern belle.
Paige paused, casting her emotionless blue gaze across her shoulder and into the darkness behind her. “Hello?” It was a meek attempt at speech but she had been silent for so long that she was unsure of words. There was no answer but she wasn’t sure if she had expected one. For days, Paige had worried about being followed but she assumed it was little more than the paranoia of her situation reoccurring. Killer robots springing up left, right and center tended to take their toll of the youth of America. Unfortunately, it was more common for some than for others. Still, Paige had chosen the life she now led and she couldn’t blame others for the choices that she had made.
Continuing in her trek after a few moments, rustling sounded and Paige was sure that she hadn’t imagined it. Snapping to face the general direction of the sound, she took on an offensive stance she had learned from her time at the Massachusetts Academy. Her honey coloured hair shone beneath the flickering streetlamp and she gritted her teeth; Paige had never been a fan of surprises. Images of her former teammates came back to her and their first ‘mission’ that had pitted them against the monstrous Emplate and victory had almost cost her life. Her worst fears were denied as a figure stepped into the light from above but quickly replaced with new concerns.
“Everett.”
Subtle sounds of breath issued from the tightened mouth of Everett Thomas, aka the mutant Synch. His features were as high and distinctive as she remembered but there was no familiarity in his expression, and his skin was taut and somewhat mismatched in colorization. His eyes were pale and wide. Paige edged closer to him out of instinct rather than conscious decision but she then stopped herself. Doubts formed in the back of her mind...she had been stalked to where they now stood and he looked less than alive. She had watched Synch get caught in the explosion at the Academy yet he now stood ahead of her. It wouldn’t have been an understatement to say that he looked like nothing more than a reanimated corpse. His growls reminded her of something from a zombie movie but the fear she felt seemed so unnatural in relation to whom she now looked at. Paige had expected change but the dead returning to haunt them was more than she had bargained for.
Paige took another step closer. “Everett...”
“Mu.”
She was unsure of what the African American had replied. It seemed as if he had said ‘Mu’ which made no sense to the young woman but she had little time to analyze his conversational skills, which had been undoubtedly charismatic in life, as Synch suddenly attacked. Paige was taken unaware as his large body tackled her to the ground, his weight was forced onto her as he pinned her hands at either side of her head. The blonde struggled but as she looked into his features she realized the battle would be hopeless if she was to try and save him—there was nothing left to be saved. Much like the mutant power that she had been granted, this creature was nothing but an empty carcass in the shape of her friend.
“We may have been friends once but ah won’t be your victim now,” grunted the young woman in a low drawl as she pushed her way from underneath his considerable weight and Synch’s body crashed into the sidewalk to her left. Clunking as he rolled back onto his feet, Paige was alerted to the clumpier, metallic qualities of her newly returned friend.
Placing her hands to her side, palms spread on the gold sidewalk, she attempted to bolt to her feet but Synch was quicker than she expected. His elongated fingers tensed in her blonde locks and pulled them free from the binding bauble until he had her under his grasp. Synch then smashed her head forward. Paige screamed out in pain as the blood seeped from her forehead and nose. She almost choked on it but she refused to go down without a fight. Any memories that she had shared with him, however few there had been before his death, were now lost to her as she twisted her legs and smashed her foot into his face with the prowess of a gymnast.
Springing onto her feet, Paige began in a sprint. Bursting forward with a rush of adrenaline only garnered by such a situation, the bloodied beauty manoeuvred her way back towards the XSE building. Augmented into an entirely new creation by something unknown, she realized that she was no true match for what he presented. Paige’s self-doubt and insecurities won out as she ducked a corner, watching him crash through the wall that had hidden her from view. Rubble crumbled around him, his face healing at a rapid pace and she recognized the handiwork of science. Breathing heavily, she sprinted again but Synch disappeared only to overtake her from the left.
“Everett, y’ don’t have ta do this,” Paige pleaded as she skidded to a halt. Blonde hair fell messily across her tarnished features, blood staining everything she wore. Dizziness overcame the Kentuckian but she knew in her desperation that she had to win or it would cost her life. Still, was she not the most unlikely target? Backtracking, Paige sprinted the other way.
Paige would’ve considered herself to be quite resourceful in the past but now she struggled with a plan to save her life. Synch had foiled her plan for reinforcements and she knew the dangers of using her powers on him as it would only allowed him to duplicate her. It was a battle of brain versus brawn and she was definitely in the lead given his gormless expression. He’s little more than a puppet, thought the blonde as she rushed towards the docks. Paige reached toward the overhanging branch of a tree and hoisted herself into its safety.
Synch moved past her and she noted his breath causing a low hum that both irritated and soothed her. Mindlessly, the African American looked out over expansive ocean on the Floridian coast. Dropping from the tree, the young woman glared as his attention befell her for a second time. Smiling maniacally, he was thrown off guard by the confidence of her swagger. Synch charged as Paige husked her body into a form more suitable than her own and skin littered around her feet as she transformed into the durable stone form she often assumed. Using the branch above her, she vaulted forward and landed her feet on his chest.
Her enemy flew through the air as he disappeared into the distance of the water. Shifting back into her human form, the weakened Kentuckian watched absent-mindedly. She could only hope that Synch would sink from existence but they never had that much luck. Physically she appeared to be fine but her injuries were no less dangerous now that they were hidden. Slowly, Paige turned to stumble back to base in her exhaustion.
|
ANNUAL #1
JAN 11 |
 |
“Asleep at Heaven's Gate”
XSE Headquarters
Miami, Florida
“I have no idea what’s been going on recently. We’ve have attacks from within the organization and now one of my agents has been hospitalized by one of her dead colleagues.” Morales tone was sharp. “I have reports streaming in of atrocities occurring across the X-Men and their bases and death tolls continue to rise. I want answers and I want them now!”
Morales was a no-shit kind of woman and her attitude was reminiscent of an old war veteran, even if she lacked the experience to compare herself to one. Folding her arms across her buxom chest, clothed in the uniform of the SHIELD Agency, she looked across the faces that had gathered before her, which was namely the field team from the previous mission with the exception of Paige Guthrie and Barnell Bohusk, both of whom were in the infirmary for different reasons. Barnell’s guilt and concern was becoming a constant drain on resources that she could’ve done without.
Lucas Bishop, the designated leader of this team, looked back at her. He had become more than just a member and leader to the XSE since the breakdown of the young southern belle; he had temporarily assumed her position as the head of X-Corps International: Florida. His newfound authority had seen his absence from the base over the last couple of days and he had missed many of the developments to occur. Jamie Madrox and Rahne Sinclair, who sat to his left, had finally been released from the programs designed to aide them in recovery. He could still see the scars clearly on Madrox’s neck but he chose not to comment as the New Mexican didn’t appear any less despondent than he had back in Korea. Bishop questioned the pastoral care he had undergone.
Rahne was weak but she was a survivor, though her cheeks flushed and brightened to the same shade as her shortly cropped hair. Bullet wounds were commonly faced by doctors and there had been no issues during her surgeries to retrieve the invading force and repair her system. Reportedly, she had attempted to transform since her recovery but had been unable too. It was something that clearly marked the panic on her fine features, which were as delicate as a flower. Her arms were folded across her stomach where they hung limply, her back was arched and her face taut. Even her human movements seemed to have become wolf-like.
“What of Bohusk?” enquired the African American man grimly. His gruff expression wiped any memories of his former weakness from the minds of those who were gathered with him. “He’s a lot of things I wouldn’t desire to work with again in a hurry, usually, but he proved himself to be an invaluable member of this team.” Bishop ignored the snorting sound Madrox made and continued to prevent any comments. “I think he should be present.”
Morales sighed. “Bohusk was summoned but he has chosen to ignore me. I would assume that he’s in the infirmary with Guthrie, where he’s lingered after her since she returned early this morning. Not that it’s changed much; before that he was in every shadow watching out for her.”
“Sounds like a sexual harassment case waiting to happen,” snarled Madrox. His injuries had led to depression; he was not the independent man who had always striven to be free from the hypocrisy of the X-Men anymore, and the freedom of person he had experienced in the Outback had long since been forgotten. Rahne glared at him. She didn’t view Blackwing’s return to the scene as abandoning her, Madrox was simply looking for a fight. Rahne recognized that Bohusk was part of the reason that she was alive today.
“Keep it pleasant,” warned Bishop. He couldn’t have Madrox creating tensions with the only baseline on the team. Humans were finally accepting mutants as having equal rights and he had no intention of destroying that fragile bond. His attention was thrown back to the Hispanic woman at the forefront of the room, butch in her attitude but feminine in her appearance. “What is it that you want us to do?”
Morales nodded, pleased by this response. “Wisdom is currently in Louisiana deconstructing the debacle that was Bayou Choupique and the remainder of Project Albert. We’ll be reinvesting the money into this scheme instead. Merryweather will be joining him shortly as she prepares for her address to the worlds media. These events are piling up and threatening to cave in around us but we won’t let them. I have individual tasks for the three of you and each is important to the success of this initiative; I ask that you remember that as you carry them out.” Her cold gaze fell on Rahne first. “Obviously you’re not fit for active duty just yet but I need answers. Correspondences with X-Corps International: New York have failed. Director Aquilla is a former teammate and long time friend of yours, so I can think of no one better to send in.”
“Amara and I have had our differences of late,” remarked the Scot. She was referring to her recent rejection to join her old colleagues as a team. It had shaken the foundations of their friendships deeply; it felt as if she had betrayed them. Rahne had merely felt as if she had outgrown the need for her old friends to join her in every aspect of her life. It seemed cold but the twenty-year-old desired her independence and felt the need to branch out on her own. Her friendships meant the world to her but things were tense still.
“Consider it an opportunity to forgive and forget.”
Morales was clearly adamant on the decision and Rahne supposed it would allow her the opportunity to make amends and show the worthiness of the job she had taken. The Scot shrugged her shoulders in acceptance of this role. Morales, the overseeing director of the initiative, took this as an argument won and moved on to the next challenge. She had always been an overachiever and she expected the same—if not more—level of commitment from her agents.
“Madrox, I want you to be my field man. I know you’re itching for a fight and I get your frustration, but this is purely a research activity unless there becomes a threat to yourself or the general public,” she warmed her tone. She was under strict orders from the clinical psychologist on staff that the torture he had suffered had left him fragile and he should be treated as such. It was a method that was beginning to grate on his last nerve. “All we got out of Guthrie is that she dropkicked Synch into the ocean. I want you to search the city, all of you, and make sure that he’s not hiding in some dingy crack den somewhere.”
Madrox smirked. “You want him gone? I can make him gone.”
“I want him located.” her warmth disappeared under the strain of his arrogance. He was a loose cannon and she didn’t appreciate it. Madrox said no more. “Bishop, you’re my man on the ground here. I want to know if Guthrie knows anything else. I want her sorted and back into all of her positions before I kick her and Bohusk off of my squad.”
“She’s suffering posttraumatic stress disorder, Morales. Her actions aren’t her own,” Bishop replied. He wasn’t sure if he was protecting Paige’s assets or his own. It had only been a few days but he had come to enjoy the management of X-Corps International. It allowed him to feel as if he was in control again, as he once had. His environment was safer and calmer; acceptance was rife instead of hatred. It was a different scenario with the same perks that he had known.
Morales shrugged coldly. “If she, or any of you for that matter, wants to play hero then you have to realize that things are real and shit can happen. We’re concluded here. Phaser is waiting to take you to New York, Rahne.” Gathering her briefs, the woman marched from the room and left them to their own devices. It was a stillness that hovered over them, only broken when the young Phaser entered the room for his assignment.
Bayou Choupique
Louisiana
Months of work crumbled around him. Pete Wisdom had spent a lot of time attempting to stabilize the robotic Albert and his companion Elsie Dee, but eighty-seven soldiers had died in the attempts to subdue the berserker and Wisdom had that on his conscious. Mechanical scientists tore at the machinery they had been asked to install in the very recent past but otherwise there was calmness. Wisdom understood his mistakes and he was certain that he would learn from them. He was only reminded of the events that had occurred from the putrid smell that continued to fill his nostrils.
“Don’t worry so much. I’ll spin it and it’ll work,” Merryweather informed him as she dusted off her horn-rimmed glasses and perched them on her nose. Her clothes made her look more casual than most were used to even though her uniform remained businesslike. “I’m not happy about it but I’ll fix it.”
Wisdom shrugged. “I wish it didn’t have to be fixed. There was potential there, even if Morales won’t acknowledge it.” He began to light a cigarette before he met the woman’s glare and pocketed it.
“Conceptually this was a non-issue and a major resource for the XSE to acquire, but you failed to look into the future and see the repercussions of your actions. Eighty-seven soldiers died and there’s no retracting that; these families have a right to know what happened to their children, their parents.” Irene inhaled as she shook her head. “You need to acquire the gift of forethought and quickly if you’re going to survive in this vocation for much longer.”
“Harsh words,” Wisdom replied. “Aren’t you meant to be diplomatic? I mean, you sound more like my conscience retreading what I already know.”
Merryweather placed her hand onto his shoulder but gauged little emotion from the cold Brit. “I’m playing devil’s advocate because someone has to. I’m challenging you like they will. I can only downplay this so much, but you’ll still need to answer for yourself. There’s nothing I can do to stop that.”
“I made my bed and I’ll lie in it,” Wisdom informed her without hesitation. His gaze fell onto the young African American soldier that currently stood feet from them. Phaser was just one of the recruits that had stumbled into his control and he now worried about the dangers they represented. It was the very forethought that Merryweather had asked of him only moments ago. “We’ve let them in pretty deeply in the last few days. How much do we really know about them?”
“We have files on them all, dating back through their training in their respective army bases.”
Wisdom began to walk away. “And how much of that can you verify?”
Merryweather was puzzled as she watched the British agent merge with the large crowd of gathered men. It held her attention for only a few moments before she turned back to Phaser, aka Christian Cord. His features were hard and torn between the freedom he was offered and his duty to care for his sister. Merryweather could barely hide her concern for him but she tried not to be overbearing. Christian brought a lot of sides of her personality to the fore and she teetered on the edge of being too corporate but also too maternal, though there was something in his strength that she admired. It was easy to talk the talk but bouncing back into the field after what had been faced could be tricky.
Still shaken from her experience, Merryweather downplayed her role in it. She was proud to have proven useful—beyond the obvious necessity of her seamless cleaning up of their messes—but she chose to ignore the events that had led up to it. Nightmares would plague her mind and draw her into a world of violence, suspicion and self doubt, though the same could be said for Wisdom’s words. Merryweather could tread cautiously in her relations with people suspected of lying and she should probably have considered the option more, but she usually chose to see the best in people even if that was only what they wanted her to see. Her designer heels clapped along the floor as she moved towards the young man, resting her hand on her him like a forties pin-up.
“None of this was your fault you know.”
Christian offered her a small but sincere smile. “I’ll take that into consideration. I’ll feel much better when she’s up and about again.” He arched an eyebrow somewhat playfully, gnawing on his lower lip as he watched the pale skinned woman ahead of him. She could not be described as astoundingly beautiful, not like some of the other women he had encountered since being called back to Miami. It was her attitude that drew him in. So many of those others women seemed to be damaged goods in one way or another, while Merryweather presented a unique confidence. “Anyone ever tell you that you should’ve been a counsellor?”
Tucking strands of red hair behind her ears, Irene smiled in response. “Maybe one or two. I’ve always been helpful at giving advice, even if I can’t heed it.”
XSE Headquarters
Miami, Florida
“And you’re sure that you didn’t hear him mention any names that would be helpful to us now?”
Bishop’s arms were crossed. Initially he had been willing to take notes of relevant details that she offered but Paige had been surprisingly sparse on information. He would have considered her to be observant with her surroundings but the haze of her ongoing battle with posttraumatic stress disorder seemed to have clouded her judgement. He was also surprised to notice that she wasn’t frightened. Bishop wasn’t sure if he should expect an inconsolable wreck but the svelte blonde was propped up against the white backdrop of cushions and bed sheets in the infirmary. Despite the markings on her face where her nose had been re-broken so that it could be set and the estimated position of the stitches, she was the picture of health.
Barnell stood at her bedside as if he were a bodyguard, eyeing Bishop with suspicion. He spoke up. “I think she’s already answered that question. Paige has told you everything that happened. I suggest that you leave and let her rest.”
Before the African American could bestow his gruff reply to the overeager soldier, Paige found the words to speak for herself. “Ah fully understand that you’re doing your job, Bishop, but ah’ve told you all that ah know.” Her face squinted, reacting to the obvious pain as she moved slightly. “Synch wasn’t in his right mind. He’s no longer the man that ah knew…he was like a zombie. His words made no sense; ah don’t think even he knew who he was working for.” Paige’s deep eyes flared as she shook her head. “Ah’m truly sorry ah couldn’t be of more help.”
“Thank you for what you did know.”
Paige’s voice called him back. Bishop noted the obvious concern on her face but anger was no longer present. She was as fragile as he had been told; she didn’t seem to have fully recovered from the two ordeals that had now befallen her. Her gaze was oddly forgiving. “Have yah not found him yet?”
Bishop shrugged. “Jamie’s searching for him as we speak.”
“Ev’s as good as dead if he finds him.”
Barnell gritted his teeth and growled. “Just as he deserves.”
“If Korea taught me anything…if there was anything to learn from that woman…it was that death is never deserved. We’re heroes and we’re meant to be better than that,” Paige replied with anger. “Only justice should be used against even the vilest of villains.” Her expression pleaded with him for justice and democracy but, as he looked at what had happened her, Bishop couldn’t be so forgiving. Synch had become a weapon that endangered all of them.
Bishop turned away from her. “You said it yourself, Paige, that isn’t your friend. Synch is dead.” Stomping towards the exit, his attention was garnered by another of the infirmary’s residents. Blaquesmith watched him with a blank expression, his wizened face contorted into dull simplicity. It drew the larger man in but there was no room for conversation. Bishop was frozen as he awaited the words he had expected from the man upon learning the torments he had faced.
“I would like you to pass my resignation onto Morales and Wisdom. I am no longer willing to play their abusive games.”
Bishop nodded. “I’ll pass on your message.”
Barnell Bohusk scratched at his head as he returned to his seat at Paige’s bedside. His dull glares watching the irritable leader as he made an exit from the clean glow of the infirmary. His strawberry blond hair fell messily across his forehead and his eyes were wide and thoughtful. Seeing the brutality of the attack on Paige had launched feelings in his gut that had shaken the young man. He was previously unable to bear the lazy drawl of her words but he now longed for her to speak. Yet she sat in silence, her eyes frightened and lost. She was surrounded by people who shared her beliefs and she was still isolated from them. It cut through him like a knife but he knew he was of no use to her.
“Paige...” Her narrowed gaze fell upon him and he was cut short. A length of blonde hair was swinging limply as she struggled to move, the hasty surgery that had re-broken and set her nose had left visible evidence. Barnell looked at all that was left of the southern belle that he had known for such a brief time and he wished that he had been given an opportunity to know her longer. He longed to know her as much as he longed to know himself. His history was clouded even in his own mind but he knew he was connected to the soldiers that had been residing in Louisiana. “I want to tell you...”
“What?” she growled in a low hum.
Barnell continued. “I didn’t like you at the beginning; you were quite possibly the most irritating person I had ever been faced with in my life. I looked at you with disdain and you rarely missed a chance to spark the fight I laid out.” He exhaled heavily as he reached for her hand. “I saw them wheel you in here and I thought you were as good as dead. Abrasions and blood covered the majority of your body and I panicked. I realized that I wanted you to live.”
“Barnell...”
“No, I have to say this. There’s something about you that draws me in and it won’t let me go and I can’t move on until you know that.” Paige looked on at him with a shell-shocked expression that caused his gut to sink.
Paige was speechless as she pulled her hand from his and turned away, heaving heavily as she cried into her pillow. She couldn’t do it again, she couldn’t fall for a teammate and spend the rest of her life worried whether he was alive or wondering when he would die. Husk was no longer sure that she was strong enough.
X-Corps International
New York City, New York
“Angelo, I understand that you’re worried but there’s honestly no need. The X-Men have calmed the attacks on their ranks and we have regained control over the situation. San Francisco is highly unlikely to be hit in lieu of the defeats they have already faced,” muttered the woman in her indistinct yet exotic accent. “No, I don’t think it’s likely. Nova may have gotten away for the time being but she will be reprimanded. She’ll have to take time to recover from the injuries her ranks have suffered. She’ll need to...”
Amara Aquilla’s eyes widened, not at the knock on the door but at who entered shortly afterwards. Her fingers lazily clutched at receiver that was currently relaying the panicked words of Angelo Espinosa. After accepting the position as Director of the New York base for X-Corps International, Amara had discovered she was the overseer to all of the other bases on the American continent. Bringing the phone’s receiver back to her ruby-red lips, she sought to abruptly end the phone call. Hotheadedness was an apt way to describe the Southern American woman and she had never taken kindly to people barging into her office. Rahne Sinclair had already been at a disadvantage.
“Can I call you back later, Angelo? There’s some business that I need to take care off. There’s honestly no need for you to worry. Uh huh…goodbye.” Amara’s eyes seemed to flare with very geothermal energy that she manipulated with such ease as they took on a bronzed appearance. Her lips were pursed as she moved into a standing position. Her movements blurred the line of elegant and aggressive. Amara spoke slowly. “What could you possibly want?”
Rahne moved further into the room. “Answers would be a start.”
“I must be missing something.” Amara shrugged her shoulders, blonde curls shifted heavily as they rested across her breasts and back. “What answers are you looking for? In case you haven’t noticed, I’m a busy woman.”
“You must be to ignore attempts from the XSE to get in contact with you. We’ve heard rumors about simultaneous attacks on some of your bases amongst the X-Men. Weapon X would be considered quite a considerable threat and we’ve yet to be brought into the loop.” The Scottish woman held no punches as she approached her former friend. “Don’t play dumb, Amara…I know how good ye are at it.”
“I have no intention of playing dumb, Rahne. I have been busy clearing up that mess,” the other woman replied coldly. “We’ve suffered casualties across the board and we’ve been preoccupied. Cassandra Nova was leading the attacks but she managed to evade capture when we challenged her. I wasn’t actually present so, much like you, I’m operating on hearsay.”
“But you’re confirming that the attacks happened.”
“Of course. I doubt your former friends would have any reason to lie to us about attacks that have left some of their friends and loved ones dead.” Amara bit her lower lip as her expression softened. “I don’t have exact lists of the dead yet; all I know is that the New Mutants that were involved survived the experience and Firestar died in Chicago.”
Rahne shuffled her feet. “It’s a criminal offence to get involved in this and Morales is not gonna hold back when it comes to reinforcing that.” Her words were filled with concern for her friends, despite the evidence that they felt betrayed by her. “She’ll crucify you all to make a point to anyone else in the same position.”
“What were we expected to do? Bolt our doors? Stand back and get slaughtered?” Her temper snapped as fired sparked from her fingers. “Morales can attempt to crucify us if she wishes but I, for one, will not stand by idly as everything we’ve built crumbles around us.” Amara successfully turned it back onto their friendship. “If you had any respect for us you’d have joined us when we asked you. Disillusioned as you may have been with what had happened, Morales will only create a bigger wedge between mutant-human relations.”
Rahne pleaded for her forgiveness. “This is why I need to be where I am now.”
“You can’t protect us from her laws anymore than you can protect yourself. We have acceptance but it’s unsteady and could crumble at any time. That was Weapon X’s hopes and I’m not sure that Morales is so different.”
Boston, Massachusetts
“What happened here and in Chicago is a complete travesty. As representatives of the XSE within the ranks of the X-Men, I would have expected you to act more like law enforcement that a pair of mindless vigilantes. I gave you these positions in the hope that the X-Men could be maintained, but Chicago is in shambles,” snarled the Director of the XSE, Alisande Morales. “I won’t even start on the current state of the Massachusetts Academy.”
“I would think ye were being unfair, Morales.”
Sean Cassidy was not a man who easily handled being treated like a child. He was a man with a daughter around the same age as the woman who now spoke to him with the familiar tone of hatred in her voice. Sean was recognizable as one of the X-Men who was the most capable of holding the position of an XSE member through his career with Interpol. Both organizations held similarities that could not be ignored and it was these similarities that had first attracted him into accepting the position. He had known the implications of allowing the attack to turn into a scuffle instead of a series of arrests, but he also understood the improbability of ever being able to make those arrests.
Angelica Jones’ death was still too fresh in his mind. His eyes were almost as red as his hair as he struggled against falling apart or allowing that sense of failure to overwhelm him. Like Morales, he only wanted justice and retribution but he was sure that their beliefs on how to achieve this would differ. Folding his muscular arms, the newly positioned and uneasy celebrity towered over her.
“Unfair? Two of your so-called superhero teams went against Weapon X only yesterday and both of you failed in reprimanding Cassandra Nova,” continued the woman. “I would hardly say that calls for a celebration. You both clearly failed.”
“Watch your mouth. Death still hangs in the air and I won’t tolerate what you have to say,” Elizabeth Braddock told her with a surge forward. Her psi-blades echoed around her hands like the halo on the head of an angel. Betsy would take awhile to come to terms with another assault on her friends and peers. Students had been killed in the event this woman so casually dismissed as a failure; their bodies was still being gathered from the expansive grounds of the Massachusetts Academy.
“Now you decide to show some of that fighting spirit.”
Sean’s arms wrapped around Betsy and pulled her back before she could impale the XSE agent in the throat with her abilities. Even a man as strong as him had trouble holding back the frustrated British woman. Morales shuck her head as she turned away from them but then she paused. Turning back, her dark eyes bore into them and her lip curled into a snarl. She wasn’t hungry for the extinction of the mutant-race nor was she happy about what had happened to them or the deaths that had mounted. Morales had a hard idea on what heroism was and she accepted no weakness, emotion was little more than the ultimate weakness of character. Betsy’s glares did nothing to distract her.
“I’m revoking the powers you hold as members of the XSE,” she informed them as Sean loosened his grip against the struggling Betsy. “Consider yourselves suspended pending investigation by the United States of America’s X-Gene Security Enforcement.”
XSE Headquarters
Miami, Florida
Bishop stared at the monitor with focus on what appeared in front of him. Blaquesmith had left an hour or two ago and he had yet to delete his comrade’s XSE membership. It was the first official detraction from their ranks which had only increased since the beginning of the initiative. Less than a month ago, Bishop had been a man with no worries who had successfully distanced himself from the frontline. He wasn’t sure if allowing himself to give into the temptation of the thrill of battle was acceptable. Rubbing his large hands across his balding head, he took in all that had previously happened since his return. Korea had been left crippled and was still on unsteady ground; a Wolverine-styled robot had tore through their human ranks in Louisiana; and one of their own had been savagely beaten by her dead teammate on the Miami front.
It somehow didn’t seem worth it. Lifting his eyes from the monitor, he watched the confusion form on Vin Stewart’s face as the man who had become known as Skybolt twisted some of the knobs on the control panel he stood at. The panel was for security, processing the images of multi-angle cameras strategically positioned around the facility. Bishop could see that he was currently staring at the exterior of the building and no sooner had his attention been caught was Bishop was summoned over by the young Arkansan. What was displayed before his eyes left him more worried than a desertion could ever have done. Hundreds of mutants marched towards them and, though he could only process a few as familiar faces, it was Nova at the front that caught his attention.
“Looks like they left the government for last,” murmured Vin.
Bishop growled. “They’re here now.” He then turned his attention to the men who were gathered in the information center. Nova couldn’t have chosen a better time, with all of their agents out on task. It all made sense of lieu of Paige’s assault in the earlier hours of the morning though. “Gather the rest of the men…we have an attack on our hands. Tell them to be ready for anything these mutants have to offer. We fight back but our focus is on arresting and detaining as many as we can. There’s a line we can’t cross.” It was a warning that he used to remind himself of the position he now held. Soldiers scrambled around him as they collected themselves for battle. He stared at Vin, who was dressed in his civilian clothing. “I think you’d need to armor up, son.”
Nova and her forces—Weapon X—were gathered in the distance but coming up fast. Instinctively he turned towards the communication station. Every member of the XSE was expected to carry a communicator on their person when they were deployed on an assignment and Bishop could only hope that they had remembered to carry them with them when they had left. He was not a man who was afraid to admit the surge of fear he felt, but he was strong enough not to let it overcome him. Morales and Wisdom where absent so there was only one person for the others to look up to so, as field leader, that position fell on him.
“This is Bishop from XSE HQ. We’re under attack from Weapon X and could use all the help we could get. Get back to base as quickly as possible.”
No sooner had he pressed the button and called out to them all, making his SOS call, than he felt another gaze on his back and Barnell pushed his way through the crowd. “So it’s true then. We’re under attack from the bitch that took down the other teams?” Blackwing was already suited as he strolled leisurely up to the African American hero. His pale skin seemed to have revived some color out of the luminescent light of the infirmary but he still looked weak and sickly due to the contrast of his dark armor. Skybolt slid beside him in the blue uniform that caused his eyes to have a ghostly appearance.
“I’m afraid so and we’ll have to go ahead without the others. I want to meet them outside of the facility to protect those inside.” Bishop spoke like a true leader. He had seen a lot in his time as an X-Man but he had never imagined or witnessed Weapon X so precisely organized since he had left his own time stream.
Skybolt pulled at his gloves, tightening them as he spoke. “Here we go.” He was the kind of guy who spoke to be heard, to break the silence in his nerves. This was his first actual excursion with the XSE. Skybolt had been penned up in Louisiana during the debacle that would become Project Albert. His heart was in his throat but he managed to paste on a smile. Blackwing met his gaze and offered a curt nod; something struck him as familiar about the boy but he couldn’t place it.
Doors swung on their hinges as the cool evening breeze chilled them. Bishop, Blackwing and Skybolt led the following army as they poured into the courtyard and met with Weapon X. Stopping to observe the situation, the armored heroes flanked him at either side which seemed to have caught the maniacal villainess’ attention. Her eyes narrowed and contorted her bald head into seeming somewhat catlike. It caused Bishop’s blood to boil.
“Well…if it isn’t my hand-me-downs.” Nova’s smile widened.
XSE Headquarters
Miami, Florida
Morales stumbled forward in agitation, nauseas from the effects of the teleportation she had just submitted herself too. Physically she rushed to recover as Phaser dispersed into nothingness for a second time and her eyes narrowed as she cocked her gun. Banshee and Psylocke where unwelcome guests but they proved their worth almost immediately, though neither had accepted her leadership position back in Boston when Phaser had arrived for her and neither accepted it now. Blatantly ignoring the orders she had gave them, the X-Men burst into battle.
Following suit she made sure to remember their actions as she slipped into the chaos around her, avoiding the pressure enforced by the arrival of Phaser for a second time.
“We were friends once.”
Amara Aquilla cast her gaze downward as she stood amongst the battlefield, staring into the emerald eyes of Wolfsbane. She remembered the ties of kinship but she continued to feel abandoned by the lycanthrope’s obvious rejection to rejoin them. “Once,” drawled the earthly goddess.
Rahne shrugged her shoulders in disdain as she watched the fiery form of Magma enthral some of the XSE’s own soldiers. Wolfsbane’s step transformed her body from that of a young woman into the monstrous werewolf of myth. Her jaws gnashed venomously and she bounded forward angrily, asserting her aggression at Magma’s attitude towards the men and women who now threatened her life and those of her friends. It was then that she noticed her colleagues, some of the human soldiers, turn towards her with hatred in their hearts and guns aimed towards her.
Wolfsbane’s acute senses noticed the change in their pupils and the strange hum of their breathing, which directed her narrowed eyes towards the bald woman who stood apart from the others she commanded. Lashing out angrily at the soldiers, Wolfsbane came under the immediate wrath of Morales.
“What do you think you’re doing? These are our men.”
“Not anymore,” growled the feral mutant lowly.
Morales’ eyes followed her own with reluctance as she stared into the emotionless gaze of the men she had known. Tightening her clasp of the stun gun she apologised to her God and held aim. “She doesn’t walk away this time.”
Opening fire, one of the men fell to the ground in convulsions as the capsule she had shot opened within his body. It would take a few minutes for the temporary paralysis to truly set in but, by then, Morales would already have three more men following his fate. Morales took that realization hard; she was fighting her own, namely humans, but she would never relate that information to the mutants who currently fought their own, as was usually the case. Her gaze was harsh and she set her eyes on her target at the other side of the battlefield.
Blue light exploded into the middle of the battlefield as the armored soldier known as Phaser entered the fray with Pete Wisdom and Irene Merryweather in tow from Louisiana. He was feeling the strain as he had been required to teleport around the country collecting the other heroes. Stumbling back as Wisdom bolted into the ongoing war zone, Merryweather groped at his arms and pulled him forward. Her eyes focused on his with intensity that rushed through her with the adrenaline of the action that surrounded her. As hastily as she had grabbed him, Phaser bounced back from her as his hands swelled with the now-familiar blue energy. He had been someone different but, for now, he was another of a long list of armored heroes.
Pausing as he looked back at her, he spoke coldly. “Get inside and protect yourself. We’ll hold them off.”
Merryweather pulled her gun from it holster on her hip. “You think I’m going to leave my friends to face this?” She spat her words as she checked for bullets in the revolver. In one shot she had taken down Albert, she could only hope that she was able to do it again.
Phaser turned back to her. “Are you kidding me? You’ll be killed. We’re equipped for this; you’re just a baseline with a gun.”
“A baseline with a gun is all its takes to be a hero sometimes,” Merryweather shouted at him as the troops crashed in around them and tore them apart. Firing a bullet into the shoulder of one of the rebel mutants, she rushed backwards to avoid his arm that had rapidly taken the form of a scythe in retaliation. Others crowded in around him and took the mutant’s focus elsewhere.
It was then that she heard a soft purr. Merryweather was more allured to the sound than afraid of it but she knew it was the wrong feeling to grasp. Slowly, with a painful resolution, she turned to see the furred, catlike features of one of the mutant terrorists. Her skin was a pale shade of brown and her hair rose high in an exaggerated bouffant hairstyle. Her clothing was something more revealing with a biker-girl twist; it did little to intimidate Merryweather but she was smart enough to realize that she was completely out of her league. Thornn, the alias taken by the traumatized Lucía Callasantos, snarled with a feline murmur as she looked down onto the human woman. Sensing that she had gained the upper hand, Thornn slipped onto all fours as her eyes smiled gently.
Thornn pounced. Merryweather ran.
Crashes woke the young woman from her hostile slumber. Doctor Rutger was gone but the other patients were standing by the door. Soldiers by trade but they now quivered in fear. Her skin was almost translucent as she silently approached the men, golden waves reflected around her face where azure eyes watched glumly. Men parted to allow her through; they didn’t know all of what she’d seen or been through, they just saw her as the hero. She was a member of the XSE and that’s all they saw. Her heart was breaking and it raced as it did so but she managed to move into the murky darkness of the hallway.
Sounds continued to echo around them as she looked over her shoulders. “What’s going on?”
“We’re under attack.”
Paige slid back as eyes watched her from the shadows of the hallway and her heart caught in her throat. Everett Thomas—or the body of the man she had known—bounded forward with the same speed she had previously witnessed. It was with a reaction that matched her pursuer’s attack as she twisted in the opposite direction and ran. Her hair fell from her exposed shoulders and revealed the already bruised body of the Kentuckian and it didn’t take long for her to snap from her catatonic daze this time. It was life or death and the time had come for Paige to choose; she had escaped the decision once before but she couldn’t hope to do so again.
Skidding to a halt, the woman tore off her skin as she spun to face her oncoming assailant. Long locks covered her face in the macabre scene as layers of pale, porcelain epidermis folded around her feet. Entirely transformed, the once fragile beauty stood as a pillar of freshly shone metal. Weapon Mu, the title that Everett had acquired in his recent reanimation process, launched at her with the weight of the form she had acquired. His powers may have been able to copy her but nothing could imitate her entirely. Swiftly, the heroic Husk tore at her arm and thrust the newly-formed blade into the body of her assailant.
Pulling her arm loose she watched him grumble mindlessly and it became even clearer that the man she knew was still dead. Recomposing himself with a rapid healing factor, his fist crashed into the side of her jaw and knocked her back; even in her metallic form she was susceptible to a good sucker punch. Rebounding quickly, Husk thrust her leg into his chest and smashed her fist down on his head simultaneously. The speed caught him off guard and she witnessed the healing process start to sow the patchwork quilt of a scalp that had been cracked open in her attack.
There was only one choice.
Husk turned the body to look into her face; his lifeless expression caught her breath as she lowered herself over him. Her knee’s positioned at either side of his stomach she slowly placed her hands on her metal face, which offered a mirror in which he could see himself.
“I’m sorry, Ev,” she choked, knowing that this wasn’t her friend.
Paige had never attempted to become something so inconsistent before and she felt the fear of God even as her fingers caught at her skin. Nerves sent electric impulses trickling over her skin and everything felt loose and baggy, which was an indicator that she was ready. Peeling the skin from the form underneath, she felt slimy and grotesque as she tumbled forward. Taking a leap of faith, the action was done as Husk became a corrosive green acid that fell onto the body of the young man beneath as he recovered consciousness.
Writhing violently as the acid tore the mismatch of skin from the bone, Weapon Mu was revealed as a mechanical structure that substituted only the bones of the dead mutant. These reveals lasted only briefly as the acid continued to work, and soldiers gathered around the decaying body as even the framework was affected. They all wondered about the young woman who had committed the crime of murder, if this could be called such, and whether her excuses would fly before their overzealous leader, Morales.
Acid snaked from the body and created a sturdier form of an entirely naked young woman. Her blonde hair was slicked back as the acid peeled from her body and dripped through the floor. Her body was moist and mesmerising to the wide-eyed soldiers and, briefly, she caught their stares as she turned her back on them and watched the scenes unfolding below her.
Paige saw a war.
Irene crashed into the wall with more force than she had expected as she skidded to an excruciating halt though the reprieve was short. Thornn snaked around the corner with a light sniff of her feline nose. Stepping right out of 70s Vogue, she bared her pointed teeth and offered a laugh that was reminiscent of a hiss. Thornn offered power that was off-limits to Merryweather but she refused to be beaten…she was stronger than that. Panting slightly, the media liaison quickly discarded her shoes as she rushed down the hallways of the XSE base. Each looked as alike as the last and the labyrinth was starting to confuse even her.
Led by a distinctive sense of smell, Thornn was less hindered.
Slamming her shoulders into a door to no avail, Merryweather was only certain that she may have dislocated her limb while the door remained shut. Glasses askew and red hair tangled, the former journalist slid forward in her corporate attire that was wholly unsuitable for the exercises that she was gaining from the experience. Chastising herself as the thought crossed her mind, Merryweather turned to face her attacker but found the hallway eerily void of life. Several lights flickered before they shut down. Merryweather’s breathing became quick as her fingers lightly clasped the trigger of the gun in her hand.
People would have died for the opportunity such a job as hers allowed but now she felt that she might actually suffer that fate. Screams sounded from the infirmary above her and Merryweather could only hope that Thornn—or one of the other rioters—hadn’t gotten to the sick and wounded. They had protectors, though, as she knew that Paige and Blaquesmith were in the infirmary…well, she knew they had been this morning but since then an all-out war had started on the estate so she was suddenly not so certain.
“I do love that I get to take out the token,” purred Thornn from the shadow’s, both confirming her joy and her fear. Merryweather involuntarily jumped. Thornn was no doubt indulging in her every weakness due to the human flaw of fear of self. Supremacists often enjoyed such torture.
Aiming the gun, Merryweather croaked in her strength, “I have no qualms about taking you down.”
“I don’t think that’s a problem,” lulled the Latina. “After all, I can still see you.”
Fuck, groaned Merryweather. I forgot she was a bloody cat. Spinning at every sound, the liaison bounced backwards as she looked into the sinister face of the mutant who cornered her. Thornn brushed forward with feline agility and tossed her from her feet. Crashing loudly, Merryweather’s gun shot ineffectively across the floor. It was in the moment that she had accepted her death, praying to a God that she had long abandoned that it only be quick, that she found herself the object of a shining savior.
Blue lights blasted past her, catching the feline around the waist before the duo crashed into a nearby wall, and the lights were diminished as they began to flash through the scuffle. Snaps resounded around the hallways as Merryweather burst forward and wrapped her arms around the heaving body of Phaser. His sweat was fresh against her skin as she fought to restrain him from further injuring the bloodied and battered body of Thornn, who now lay curled grotesquely at their feet like a child that had just suffered abuse and retreated to the fetal position.
“We don’t kill,” panted the woman as she fixed her glasses. “Heroes don’t kill.”
Phaser snarled. “This is war. It’s them or us.”
“If you’re really willing to kill, are there even them and us?”
“Amara, run!”
Amara Aquilla, the former student known as Magma, strained her neck to see behind her and she had to admit it caught her off guard to witness the charging elephant. Thunderous steps clouded her mind temporarily but she found a moment of thought amidst the chaos and caused a current of lava to toss her through the air and from the beast’s path. Soldiers were thrown from Mammomax’s path as his thick hide rejected their attacks. Magma’s offensive techniques had taken out a lot of the oncoming villains but there were still more at hand but by now only the really strong were remaining. She knew that he was her target and she braced herself for the impervious villain.
Gritting her teeth, the South American beauty of Greek descent launched forward with the elegance of a dancer but the energy of an athlete. Magma slipped past Bishop, her current leader, and placed her hand on the divider between the outer and inner estate as she jumped it. Pale skin and blonde hair was hidden in the flames that ignited from every cell in her body. It was a sight to behold as Magma erupted like a phoenix as she fell through the air towards some of the footmen of Nova’s attack. Her piercing blue eyes were the last of her assets to face away.
Landing in a crater of her own design, Magma caught some of the nearby mutants by the throat. Screams and screeches filled her ears but she knew better than to let them get to her. Magma often teetered on the edge of a battle; she was indescribably powerful as she harnessed the very earth beneath all of these rioters and, if she were to unleash her true power, Miami would sink beneath the waves. Morales caught her eyes as she slid backwards in a flurry of bullets.
“Stand down, Director Aquilla! This is an arrest only mission,” she growled before sinking a bullet into the chest of her assailant and knocking him to the ground. “This isn’t a barbeque.”
Mammomax crashed into her as she let them sobbing men drop to the ground as Magma went limp as she smashed her head against the wall she had previously hopped, and her fire extinguished as she looked at the oncoming behemoth. Frantically, the young woman flicked at her fingers for some sort of spark but it was to no avail as Mammomax reached her. In a human form she had no defence against any attack he could offer. Spritely she bounced to the side and dodged his oncoming feet. It was then that she noticed the saliva that dropped around his mouth and created puddles at the feet of all that surrounded him.
Lava boiled in the earth’s core as he struck out at her. Furnaces exploded around him and caught him in her trap. Amara’s hands outstretched toward the wall of magma as she once again became a fiery heroine. Walls dropped and she used his trunk to bound forward, funnels of concussive energy spraying from her palms as she fell down between his stomping feet. Mammomax screamed as he felt the full force of her attack burning him from the inside out. His underside was not as impervious as his exterior, as she had correctly guessed, but before she could celebrate a hand clasped her bare shoulders.
Looking upward she saw a well-built Chinese woman in a red bodysuit. “I will not be so easily discarded as the fool.”
“I always did like a challenge,” grinned Magma as she launched forward for the brawl.
Blackwing bounded forward to help Magma but was stopped by Bishop as they dodged another of the Ruby Dragon’s attacks. “She’s got more combat experience than you’d believe…she can hold her own. Focus on your own targets.” Bishop narrowly missed losing a limb as the ruby sword crashed down into the earth at his feet. Discharging a fuchsia blast of energy bought him some time even though the Vietnamese terrorist dodged the attack.
Skybolt launched an attack from behind, though Ruby Dragon anticipated his assault and swung the sword behind him, directly striking the young Arkansan through the scalp. He fell from the sky without an injury but the intensity of his screams revealed another aspect to the Ruby Dragon’s power and Skybolt’s eyes seemed to shine with a perverse joy as Blackwing and Bishop readied themselves for battle.
“What did she mean?” Bishop growled.
“I’m not sure.”
“Morales is gonna want some serious answers.”
“I know but I don’t have them.”
“Better find them and quick.”
Bishop rolled forward as he managed to place his hands on Ruby Dragon’s chest over a crest that represented his codename and released the same fuchsia energy as before. This time the Vietnamese terrorist was thrown through the air but he bounced onto his feet before he had even fallen.
Blackwing hurriedly took flight but it soon became clear to Bishop that Ruby Dragon wasn’t his target of choice. Before the Australian Aboriginal time traveller could fully react the Danish soldier was already hovering in on Cassandra Nova, readying for an attack. Ruby Dragon launched forward with another attack with superhuman speed, seemingly having recovered from the previous attack. Strategies and techniques ran through his mind as he dodged the strikes of the sword that appeared to be made up of some form of psychic energy. Magma crash-landed behind him and caused a path change that allowed him to take note of their own private army: the Madri.
“Jamie,” he grunted loudly. “How d’you feel about some pain?”
Madrox, the original, cocked a brow. “I’m up for anything that’ll end this shit.” His voice was cold and hollow.
“Give me a circle.”
Madrox and the Madri continued to beat their own targets within an inch of their lives as they turned to face the new threat. Ruby Dragon rubbed his hand across the blade he created as well as pulling the ruby katana from his back. Banshee’s scream echoed around them all and offered little but disorientation. Bishop was thankful as the assault supercharged him even as it floored him. Grabbing hold of the violet haired Psylocke as she was thrown to his feet, he turned her to face the army of Madri that now surrounded their Vietnamese foe.
“I need you to keep them grounded,” he informed her. “This is gonna hurt.”
Without hesitation she understood. Psylocke tied them all together as one person, doubling Madrox’s control over the duplicates. Bishop admired the trust she placed in him as he shot forward a blast of energy into the Madri. Energy crackled around them, transferring the energy into the psychic conduit that Psylocke had created and causing a mass explosion in the area. Even the two on the outskirts were thrown back as they tripped over the unconscious body of Skybolt.
Psylocke held her head. “I wasn’t expecting that.”
“I just hope it did the job...”
“Without killing Jamie,” she intercepted him. It worried her that she had domed Jamie Madrox in the very telekinetic field that she had housed the Vietnamese villain in. Her eyes watched the area for any sign of life but the duplicates all seemed as lifeless as the man that they had surrounded. It was one of the longest moments of her life but she heaved a heavy breath as bodies began to part and shuffle around Red Dragon. Clapping her hands to her mouth, she sensed another attack.
Bishop stood and watched the limping New Mexican as he scuttled forward to avoid the flurry of magma that rushed beneath his feet. He looked at Bishop with no reference towards his ordeal.
“Ready for round two?” Bishop asked.
He groaned. “Fuck…I’m not so sure...”
“It’s time to end this.”
Bishop and Madrox bolted forward as Psylocke drove her psi-blades into the mind of an oncoming terrorist. Bishop’s mind was focused only on the duo that lay ahead of them. Amidst the chaos, Blackwing was confronting Nova in a manner that seemed more fitting for a boardroom. His posture was arched and angry like a preying vulture but there was something eerie about Nova. Her tranquillity and her stillness offered them no insight into her mind. She was a blank canvas but it was a war that she had lost. Yet, she didn’t flee like some of her troops had.
“You know what I say is the truth, child,” she smiled as they approached. Her eyes were watchful as an army of tired and beaten duplicates surrounded her. “There is no need for that. I have lost the battle but the war is very much mine for the taking.”
“There is no war,” called the gruff voice of Morales as she marched towards them. “This is a battle that was created in the mind of a senile old fool who felt above the government. We’ve proven our case today. I have a few questions.”
Nova continued to smile. “Your troops have fallen and your base is decimated. I see victory in the war that I have waged. There will be a rematch. I have many loyal followers in the world, child.”
“They didn’t fight with you,” Bishop reminded her as if testing their loyalty.
“It is only wise to play your pawns at first,” Nova retorted.
Morales was disgusted. “Arrest her.”
Nova surprised them all by willingly accepting the arrest. It was then that Morales turned towards the others who had gathered around them: Magma, Psylocke and Banshee. Her eyes were no less menacing than when she had spoken to the villainess in charge of the brutality before them.
“As for you,” she growled through gritted teeth. “You’re all fired. I don’t want to even see any of you on XSE property. Get them out of my sight.”
Hands wrapped around the arms of Banshee, Psylocke and Magma. Magma shrugged them off angrily, prepared to fight the New Mexican soldier before she was stopped by a single glance from the Irish mutant. Ducking her head, the blonde woman marched ahead of the very men who were required to detain her. Morales saw a victory in the battle she had waged today.
She watched as Nova was marched towards the now broken base. Blackwing backed away uneasily when her eyes settled on him. Skybolt continued to scream in amongst some of the other soldiers but there was no sign of Phaser. What she had heard could not be unheard and she was taking a zero tolerance approached to the incidents that had stretched across every campus of the X-Men’s control. The XSE, which focused on the fair and justified treatment of all, unfortunately found itself in her custody. Wisdom was bent beside the screaming blond as she turned to give her order.
“Blackwing,” her voice said softly. “You and your kind are under arrest. I don’t know your involvement but I intend to find out.”
Morales turned back towards the ashes, preparing for the battle that lay ahead.
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To Be Continued...
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