[X-Writers] Uncanny X-Men #339
LEONE ATCHISON
X-Writers Web Site: http://coyote.accessnv.com/lia
-- The X-Writers Present... ----------
Mutants. Born to live different lives.
Mutants are humans born with genetic quirks; quirks which give
them powers, powers which divide them from the crowd. They are freaks.
Abnormals. The next phase. Feared and hated by those who do not
understand them, some mutants have turned against humanity and are
willing to exploit their powers towards evil ends. In this at least,
they are all too human.
Of course, just as some humans are wicked, so there are some
with warmer hearts, and just as there are evil mutants, so too are
there heroes. This is the story of one group of mutant heroes, followers
of the late Charles Xavier.
Storm, wayward and passionate daughter of mother nature.
Archangel, eagle keen and deathly determined sky pirate. Quicksilver,
fleet footed scion of insanity and adversity. Psylocke, strong and
indomitable harvester of minds. Colossus, orphan poet peasant and
resolute cavalier. These are the X-Men. This is the mutant's progress.
- - - -
Uncanny X-Men #339: "Progress"
By Andrew Wheeler.
- - - -
from DISCIPLE
to GUIDE
Three women and one man sat on the rooftop of the old sawmill
with a view over the old logging town. The first was an
African-American with a flurry of short white hair and freakish thin
blue cat's eyes. She wore black leather hipsters and a thin white
cotton shirt, barely buttoned so that it could ripple against her bare
skin in the gentle wind. She was drinking water whilst the others
drank coffee, because she had elected to give up caffeine.
To her right was a woman in skintight suede jodhpurs and a
tweed hunting jacket. Her purple hair was clipped back in a twenties
style, with a kiss curl resting gently on the brow of her handsome
Asian face.
Opposite her was the third woman, a redhead, older than the
other two. She was stern faced and frowning, and dressed in a knee
length black skirt and a ribbed cream sweater. Her eyes were fixed on
the coffee cup in her hand, which she clung to as if it were her
anchor.
Finally there was the man, in black slacks and a charcoal
shirt. He was neat and authoritative in appearance, and his black
hair was greying at the temples. "Would you like me to get the chaplain
for you Amelia?" he asked.
"No thank you Lucas. I shall be fine." She looked up into
Ororo's strange eyes. "Tell me, Storm, did you truly come all this
way just to tell me that Charles was dead?"
"As we understand it, this town has very little contact
with the outside world," replied Ororo. "We thought it would be
kindest to make certain you knew."
"It is true, none of us had heard," agreed Lucas. "When my
wife and I established a mutant community out here in the wilds of
Canada we made the decision that we would become totally isolated.
There are many mutants who do not believe that the world of humans
an ever find a place for us. We do not see why we should be
governed by rules that were not made for us. The town of Loggerhead
is our refuge. It is our chance to see if mutants can succeed where
humans have failed. Any contact with the human world would compromise
what we mean to achieve here."
"When did you come to this place, Amelia?" asked Ororo.
"When Avalon fell." she replied. "After helping you to try and
locate the others, I wasn't sure where to go next. I found out
about Loggerhead through friends. Lucas and I share the same
beliefs about mutant separation. Once I hoped mutants could just
live unnoticed amongst the rest of the population, but I learnt
to my cost that it cannot be. Now I know that the only way to
survive is to live apart from the rest of the world. It is a far more
realistic aim than anything that fool..." She bit back on her bitter
words and closed her eyes to collect herself once more. Then she
started on a new course. "Tell me, where are the other Acolytes now?"
"Skids and Scanner have joined the X-Men on Asteroid M, under
the guidance of Scott Summers and Magneto. Peter has also returned
to the fold," explained Ororo. "Carmella Unuscione is sick with the
T-O virus, but we have people looking after her. Cargill and Spoor are
in prison. I'm afraid I'm not sure about any others."
"Whilst we're exchanging information, I'm curious to know: how
did the X-Men find out about this place?" asked Lucas.
"We keep informed," said Ororo.
"As, I'm sure, do you," added Betsy.
Lucas nodded with a dry smile. "Well," he said, "It was
certainly good of you to come all the way out here and tell us this
sad news. Could I possibly impose on you to enjoy some Loggerhead
hospitality this afternoon? It is our policy never to refuse a new
mutant."
"Thank you, but we should return to New York," claimed Ororo.
"I'm sorry we couldn't have visited in better circumstances."
Amelia nodded and remained silent and still. Lucas, whose
home the old sawmill was, took the two X-Men downstairs and showed
them the door. "You are welcome to return any time," he told them.
"Thank you. We shall bear that in mind."
The door closed, and the two women headed back towards the
Blackbird. "I don't like it," claimed Betsy. "This sort of self
enforced ghettoism is wrong. Besides, I don't trust that Lucas
Woolf. Any man who establishes a community and then appoints himself
as leader..."
"It reminds me of the Morlocks, and we know what became of
them," claimed Ororo. "And now I think of it, it is not too great a
leap to go from this to what our fellow X-Men on Asteroid M are doing."
Ororo's assessments were interrupted as Psylocke suddenly staggered
backwards and reached for her arm to stop herself falling. "Goddess!
Elizabeth, what is wrong?" she asked.
"Oh God! I thought I saw this face, this metal face glaring
at me. Like a Sentinel."
"Where?"
"It wasn't real," explained Psylocke. "It was in my head.
Forget it, I'm sure it's just disorientation. When Revanche died
and gave me back that half of me that she had stolen, it didn't
remove the part of her that was trapped in me. With my bonding
with Bishop as he died, I've finally managed to cleanse her from
my psyche, but I think it's going to take a while before I feel
fully myself again. God, I haven't truly been myself since I
danced the Wildways. It's like I've only just stopped dancing."
"We all have much to adjust to now," said Ororo. "The sooner
we return to the others, the sooner we can start re-establishing
ourselves."
"And if nothing else, we'd better get back before the boys
hurt themselves," added Betsy with a wicked smile.
- - - - -
from DEATH
to REBIRTH
Her name is Lauren Spence. She is 23 years old. She majored
in business an finance. She has honey blonde hair which cups her
peach toned face, and pale green eyes that startle. Because of her
job she dresses smartly, in dark slacks and a loose matching jacket
over a snug white vest. She is bright, talented, and a mutant. She is
also personal assistant to the CEO of the newly reformed Worthington
Enterprises, and she is pouring the coffee.
"If it isn't too personal a question, Ms Spence, I'd be
curious to know what your powers are," said Curtis Verity as she
brought him his white-no-sugar.
"They're really nothing special," she replied modestly.
"She doesn't like her powers," explained Warren. "She doesn't
think they're very feminine."
Lauren shrugged. "It's not like I'll ever use them," she
claimed. "I'd just as soon forget they were there."
"So tell me, Mr Worthington, are you recruiting mutants
in preference to humans?"
"That would be reverse discrimination, Mr Verity. The fact of
the matter is, I'm finding a lot of mutants are applying for work at
W.E. because they know they can trust me to respect them."
"I have to say, I think you took a considerable risk making
a public declaration confirming your mutant status at the press
conference the other day," said Verity.
"Emma Frost said much the same thing. I discussed it with
Storm, and she thought it would be for the best. If I am successful,
I could become one of the first major role models for young mutants
who isn't just an outlaw. It's important that we set the right
example."
"If I might say so, Mr Worthington, it made all the difference
to me," said Lauren. "It gave me so much confidence. I can't tell you
how grateful I am."
"Thank you Lauren."
She smiled and blushed, then went to get coffee for Peter
and Pietro. The latter of these two spoke next: "I cannot decide
whether your decision was brave or foolish", he said. "After all, we
don't know that Worthington Enterprises will be a success. What if
your admission drives other companies away? If you fail, what sort
of example does that set for other mutants?"
"Thanks Pietro."
"Still, the alternative is unacceptable." added Peter. "To not
set that example when you have the chance, that would be to go against
all the X-Men stand for. We spend so much time fighting and not
enough time actively helping the mutant cause. That is a terrible
oversight."
"Either way, what's done is done," added Warren. "If nothing
else at least I don't need to carry an image inducer with me all the
time."
"But surely as an X-Man there are still certain authorities
who would seek to have words with you?" asked Verity
"We've dealt with that," claimed Warren. "Emma and I are
taking on several important contracts for the US government at
reduced rates. They seem conveniently to have forgotten all their
outstanding warrants, and as far as the public are concerned if the
police aren't after us, we can't have done anything wrong."
"We are twisting the law to suit our ends," complained Pietro.
"The law was twisted to start with," countered Warren. "Now,
Mr Verity, you surely didn't come here just to discuss Worthington
Enterprises, did you?"
"Oh no. I have some very serious matters I would like to
bring to your attention. As your man in the Mutant Underground I have
been trying to locate those threats which look like being of the
greatest immediate danger."
"I should think our greatest worry is Onslaught," pointed out
Pietro. "They do have Rogue, after all."
"I'm afraid we have made no headway in finding out more
about them," confessed Verity. "So far all we know is what Sinister
told Mr Summers. They were created by Apocalypse to strengthen his
power base, and he destroyed the organisation when it turned against
him. As far as we can surmise, the organisation has risen from the
grave, and Sinister is very probably involved again, though they
played no direct role in Xavier's death."
"Psylocke claims she almost encountered one of their number
when she was mindlinked to Bishop, but she was too absorbed to really
notice her. Evidently this mystery woman took Gambit, Sinister, and
probably Hank's doppelganger, but we don't know why," said Pietro
"Do not forget that it was Onslaught who threw the Juggernaut
from Canada to New Jersey," added Peter.
"They also invaded a government Sentinel plant and stripped
it bare," claimed Verity.
"They did what?" asked Warren.
"I'm afraid so. We have no idea what was taken though. Other
than that, we've not had much luck at all. We've dug into the
background of the Almagordo nuclear research facility, but that has
yet to turn up anything useful beyond what we've already surmised."
"What about Juggernaut? If you could track him down he might
be able to help," suggested Pietro.
"Yes. He seems to have disappeared..."
[See X-Writers: Cable #35 for details.]
"Great," muttered Warren. "I can see this Underground of ours
is a really sharp organisation. What about our other enemies? Any news
there?"
"Well, I gather there is nothing I need to tell you about the
Shadow King, and it seems the Externals are currently inactive. The
one I think you ought to be worried about is Apocalypse. He's the one
whose recent offensive has led to assaults on Genosha, the death of
the Professor, the virtual destruction of the Avengers and the placing
of a new monarch on the throne of Latveria; Flynn, the alleged son
of Doctor Doom. He hasn't made another move since the death of the
Professor, but I don't think we should allow him the luxury of any
more time."
"That would seem to be a good idea," agreed Peter, "But I fail
to see what it is we can do about Flynn. It is not our place to
interfere in politics."
"Well, it's your choice, but I certainly won't sleep soundly
knowing Apocalypse may well have dominion over any country, even one
as small as Latveria."
"So we have to eliminate Flynn?" asked Warren.
"Eliminate Flynn and fill the power vacuum," suggested Verity.
"You mean bring back Doom?" spat Pietro. "He is as bad as my
father - perhaps worse. Still, I suppose anything is more palatable
than Apocalypse."
"Fine. Looks like we're going to Latveria," said Warren. "Tell
me, is Doom still living on Muir?"
"He was last seen in London, and was due to come back to Muir
but never resurfaced. We think he may now be in Eastern Europe again.
Possibly Transia. Don't worry, we'll find him," said Verity.
- - - - -
from MAIDEN
to MOTHER
It is a dark room that houses the former X-Man known only as
Rogue. This young Mississippi born girl is still pure, at least in the
sense that she has never known the warm embrace of a lover, but she has
in her time destroyed a life; she has faced the very heart of evil; she
has known things that cannot be known by the pure. Indeed, she has
been invaded by the very darkest shades of the devil; touched by the
cruellest gods of hell. In the end, though, she is somehow immaculate.
Even when her love has been squandered and shredded and smeared, her
heart is true and intact. Perhaps that is why, imprisoned in the
deep below of a secret base belonging to the Onslaught organisation,
she alone can bring a smile to the face of the child she now holds
in her arms, and he alone can bring a smile to hers.
She doesn't know who else the child sees. There is the
fascistic cyborg Pierce of course, plus the peroxide blonde with the
tight fitting suits whom everyone refers to as Miss Cadmus, and the
muscular giant of a prison warder called Swann, but none of them
have any time for a child. According to Pierce the boy sees his
father at times as well. Gambit. The man who betrayed her. She used
to hold out hope that he would repent his sins and bring the other
X-Men to save her. Now Pierce tells her that he sold them out as well;
that they are dead, and Gambit is a loyal agent of Onslaught now. All
the last embers of her hope are kept for Bernard.
She has so much love in her heart, and she is the only one
left to love Bernard. She hopes and prays that in this dark room
she can preserve a little of his purity.
- - - - -
from DESPAIR
to HOPE
Shopping is a job for those with patience. Pietro Maximoff
lives life at an accelerated pace, and he cannot stand to shop.
Everything is too slow for him already, so he was certainly not
designed to cope with queues.
"I loathe New York," he complained as he tried to wade
through the crowds in a sportswear shop. "Dear God. I thought the
atmosphere in Worthington's office was claustrophobic!"
"Ororo insists that we buy new clothes, Pietro," replied
Peter. "She wishes for us to appear more casual than before. We
cannot always appear in our costumes, like a private militia,
exaggerating the gap between man and mutant."
"I hardly think Psylocke's riding jackets and tweeds are
casual," replied Pietro, nudging his way past a young couple
holding hands. "Eccentric, perhaps, but not casual."
"Ah, here we are. Lycra. That should allow for my additional
mass in my armoured form."
"Do you not find it ironic Peter, that on the one hand Storm
expects us to appear less like a militia, ans on the other hand she
wants us to become more proactive, more organised? All this use of
the Underground, the idea of going after our enemies before they can
act, pre-empting threats rather than responding to them. It worries
me that it could be taken too far."
"To me it seems the wisest course when our enemies include
the likes of Onslaught," claimed Colossus. "If only we had sought
out the Shadow King before..." he trailed off. During a fierce battle
with the psionic entity known as the Shadow King, an entire
prehistoric wilderness preserved for thousands of years in the
Antarctic had been destroyed by radioactive fallout. A tribe known
as the Fall People had lived in that remote land, and amongst their
number had been a girl called Nereel, who eventually rose up to
become leader of the united tribes. Nereel had a son, whom Colossus
had now come to realise was his own. Though the Savage Land had been
wiped out, and with it all the many lives it held, something inside
Colossus refused to accept that Nereel and her boy Peter were truly
dead. There was a way they might have survived. If only there were
time. "Tell me Pietro," said Peter eventually, "How is your daughter?"
"Doctor Richards claims she is strong," replied Pietro. His
dear Luna was dying of the accursed Legacy virus, and was currently
in the care of Reed Richards at Four Freedoms Plaza, also the
temporary home of his estranged wife Crystal. "I plan to visit her
this afternoon. Crystal intends to take her away to Genosha, where
MacTaggart and McCoy are running their new research centre. If she
goes, I may not get another chance to see her before she..."
"Before she is cured, tovarisch?"
Pietro smiled. "Yes, Peter. Before she is cured."
- - - - -
from NOBODY
to SOMEBODY
Cathy Dalgliesh popped her pizza in the oven, grabbed a beer
from the fridge, then slumped on the sofa in front of the TV. This was
a better life. Tomorrow she started work as a runner for a production
company. Already she was settled into her new London bachelorette pad.
Just because she was potentially the most powerful mutant in the
world didn't mean she couldn't have a human life. She'd had her
excitement, what with the spandex clad superheroes, coarse Liverpudlian
sorcerers, and crazed dispossessed tyrant monarchs - not to mention
creating a huge chasm along the England-Scotland border with what was
the first, and she hoped last example of her powers in action. Her
power to channel the strongest uniting desire of a common people into
physical phenomena - a sort of reality affecting empathy - was not
the sort of power that one could use all that practically, and she
would be more than happy if she never had to call on it again for the
rest of her life.
It was just as she relaxed into her complacent reverie that the
four armed goons in balaclavas kicked down her door and abducted her.
- - - - -
from ONE
to ANOTHER
"The Gen Yen: Is There Money In Mutants?"
Betsy tossed the Wall Street Journal off the couch and
collapsed onto it. She then struggled to remove her leather riding
boots and stripped off her tight fitting jacket. This was the
penthouse apartment she was sharing with Warren, and sadly she was
also having to share it with the rest of the X-Men, at least until
Ororo could find a residence close to the commercial airstrip where
the Blackbird was being housed. Betsy was not a particularly tidy
woman, but she liked to know that the junk beneath her feet was her
own, not someone else's. She was tired of walking into Peter's easel,
and had several times come close to sitting on that bloody violin.
"Why is Pietro learning the violin in the first place?" asked
Betsy.
"He isn't learning," replied Ororo from the balcony where she
was gazing down at all the small people beneath her. "He has already
mastered it quite adequately for my tastes. He plays beautifully. It
is a very expressive instrument, and he says it reminds him of the
happier moments in his childhood."
"My my," purred Psylocke, stretching out across the cushions
with her eyes shut. "Isn't our little silvertop quite the secret
romantic?"
"He is a very soulful man," said Storm.
"Sure he is. So when are you going to stop looking at his
soul and get down to dealing with the rest of him, 'Ro?"
Storm gently tilted her head around to glance at her friend
over her shoulder. "Elizabeth, I swear that you can be quite graceless
for a woman who has been both a model and a ninja in her time."
"Grace is a matter of occasion, Ororo," replied Psylocke with
a catlike grin. "A matter of propriety, if you will. All this seems
quite improper to me."
"I haven't the faintest clue what you're talking about."
Ororo stepped inside and closed the balcony door behind her. She
poured out two glasses of wine and brought them over to the couch.
"And anyway, there is no way that I can pursue anything with Pietro.
If there is any chance that he and Crystal might reconcile, I shall not
stand in the way of that."
Betsy opened her eyes and sat around to make room for Ororo.
"Shame. I dare say he's probably your type. A king to your queen, if
you will."
Storm arched an eyebrow. "That's a very... unusual observation.
Yes, I suppose in a way you're right. He has a certain dignity and
complexity that I respect. A certain regality, you might say. Besides,
I think after all he has experienced, he would have been... he could
have been..." She drifted away from finishing her thought.
Psylocke narrowed her eyes and glanced, just for one suspicious
moment, into her friend's mind, to catch the one elusive thought that
was nesting at the forefront of her mind. She almost choked on her
mouthful of merlot. "You want him to be the father of your children?"
she spluttered aghast.
"Elizabeth! How dare you invade the privacy of my mind!"
complained Storm.
"Oh shush. It wasn't hard to find. Besides, you shouldn't be
keeping secrets from your closest friend, so you're no better than me."
"You wouldn't have understood."
"Try me."
Storm sighed. She decided it was probably best to get this out
in the open now. She could deal with Elizabeth's bad manners later.
"You remember, of course, when I went to Mojoworld with Scott and Sam?
It was there that I helped give birth to Alison's daughter Marilyn.
I remember holding the newborn in my arms and trying to tell her about
what her parents had fought to achieve, and their hopes of creating
a better world for her to grow up in. In a sense that is what it was
always about. Not a better world for us, but for the next generation;
for those who will follow, such as Jean's child, Tabitha's, Meggan's.
I cannot help but wish that I might have a child of my own to share
that future with them."
"Why have you never mentioned this before?"
"I think it is only recently that I have started to realise
how precious time is. Look at Charles, he never really knew his only
child, and he will never be able to make up for lost time. Jean
had to suffer knowing children she never bore, and will now bear a
child she can never know. Even within this team we have two fathers
who may have lost their children. I want the chance to be a real
mother; to do it right and well." She sank down into the couch. "That
is why it is so important that we make changes now - that we make the
difference today. So that we might better treasure tomorrow."
"Wow," said Betsy. "God, I can't think of anything I want
less than a mewling brat relying on me day and night. I'm not in any
rush to settle down."
"Settle down? Why Elizabeth, I have no intention of settling
down. It is only with the birth of a child that life truly begins,"
claimed Storm.
- - - - -
from WAR
to PEACE
Young Luna lay sleeping in her warm bed in her private room
in the safe confines of Four Freedoms Plaza, whilst her father stood
watching over her. "She gets tired so easily," whispered her mother.
"It's as much the medication Dr Richards has placed her on as it is the
virus."
Pietro stroked his daughter's hair with a slow and steady
hand. "My little one," he whispered. "My poor little one."
"I'll be taking her to Genosha at the end of the week. Dr
Richards has said he will take us. He'll make sure she's comfortable."
"What's her condition like?" asked Pietro, refusing to tear
his eyes away from the child and look at his wife.
"She's strong," replied Crystal. "I tell you, Pietro, she's
going to pull through this."
"And you will stay in Genosha with her?"
"Always. You should visit whenever you can. For her sake."
"I could come with you," suggested Pietro. "I could stay in
Genosha with you. Protect her."
"No, Pietro. You're an X-Man now, you have other
responsibilities. Besides, I think it is best if we stay apart. We're
both too emotional right now, and you know we just wouldn't get
on. It would do Luna no good to see us fight all the time."
Pietro stood back from the bed and took his estranged wife by
the hand, leading her to the doorway. "That isn't fair," he
complained in a harsh whisper. "She is my daughter. I have as much right
to be with her as you do. I won't be kept away from her."
"Don't make this an issue, Pietro," hissed Crystal. "If you
want to fight me over this, then fine, I'll fight, but considering
your past, I think it's safe to say that there's not a single court
in the world that wouldn't side with me."
His eyes filled with anger and emotion. "You have no right to
bring my past into this. You know how much I have changed! I am a
better man than that!" His voice became a little louder than he had
intended. Luna stirred, and Crystal hushed him until they were both
sure she had settled again. "I love her, Crys," he resumed. "I've
missed too much of her childhood already, and I'm so frightened that
she might not have much left..." A tear ran down his cheek. Crystal
sighed and put her arms around him.
"I know how hard it is for you, Pietro, but I really think
this is for the best. For as long as she's sick, we have to keep
apart. When she gets better, well..."
Pietro broke away from her hug. "You think we should try again?"
he asked.
"I don't know. We'll wait to see how we feel when Luna is
better - when we're both sure what we want. You understand that I'm
not making you any promises?"
"Of course. I couldn't make any either," agreed Pietro. "It's
true that we are not at our best in each other's company. Perhaps
we have used up all our chances, and we would be fools to try and
force a happy family just for Luna's sake."
"Yes. That would be terribly unfair. Still, we will sort
something out. I would never take her away from you. I see that
you have changed, and I know she would never be happy without you."
He looked one more time at his daughter, then turned to pace
down the corridor at an unusually slow rate.
"Will you come tomorrow?" asked Crystal.
"Of course," replied Pietro.
- - - - -
from YESTERDAY
to TOMORROW
"If the world were a pizza," began Peter, "and the anchovies
represented evil, and the chilies represented suffering, and the
spiced beef represented fear, then what here represents human
fortitude?"
Warren and Betsy stared at him in amazement as they sat
around in the sunken lounge, listening to Betsy's Kinks CD.
"Did Dominos start doing an LSD special?" asked Warren.
Peter ignored him and continued to meditate on the pizza on
his knees. Ororo approached from behind the couch and peered over
his shoulder. "The cheese," she concluded. "Human fortitude is in
the cheese."
Peter nodded contentedly and removed a slice. "Yes," he
agreed. "I would like to think so." He took a large bite.
"Well, there goes the hopes and aspirations of another
million people," claimed Betsy, who was lying sprawled on a large
bean bag at Warren's feet, working her way through the garlic
bread, much to Warren's horror.
"You're all mad," claimed Warren. "No wonder the world hates
and fears us."
"Actually Blue, they hate and fear us because he's a reformed
gene-terrorist, I'm a reformed assassin, she's a reformed thief, and
you're a reformed avatar of death. Not forgetting Pietro, who is
the son of the world's most wanted man," argued Betsy. "I'd hate
and fear you too, but I know you too well."
"You're such a charmer," sighed Warren.
"I try."
There was a clunk from the direction of the apartment's front
door, and a second later Pietro came into the room. "Pizza, Pietro?"
offered Storm.
"Thank you, but I'm not hungry," he said as he collapsed
into an armchair. "Tell me, do we know what we're doing yet?"
"I shall be contacting Flynn later this evening," explained
Storm before licking the mozzarella from her fingers. "With any luck
we shall be on our way to Latveria some time tomorrow afternoon to
conduct our investigations."
"You're going to warn him that we're coming?" asked Warren.
"We can either do this the nice way or the nasty way,"
explained Storm. "I thought it would be interesting to try both."
"And on the bonus side, this robs him of an excuse for
shooting us out of the sky," said Betsy.
"We must hope that Verity can find Doom so that, if it proves
necessary, we have justification for removing a crowned head of state
from his throne," claimed Ororo. "I hope you all realise the potential
implications of this mission? What we may be called upon to do is
an extremely undemocratic action, and I would prefer to hear your
objections now."
"If it needs doing..." said Betsy.
"Sure," agreed Warren. "We are talking Apocalypse here."
"It seems we must adapt to a changing world," added Peter.
All eyes turned to silent Pietro. He looked up at each of
them in turn. "I will be there," he quietly said. "I will be there
in case you fall."
Ororo assumed this was the closest she would get to consent.
"Good," she said, and perched on the back of the sofa, then swung
her legs over the top and slid down next to Colossus. "Now, let us
discuss something else. How did the shopping trip go?"
"It was enough to make me yearn for Soviet Russia," claimed
Peter. "I am not yet convinced that I want to go into battle wearing
a tracksuit."
"I'm hardly suggesting that, Peter," corrected Storm. "I
just do not think we blend in very well in multi-hued skintight
uniforms with giant insignias all over them. People will get the
wrong idea."
"People will get precisely the right idea," snapped Pietro.
"That we are a militia. The civilian clothes will simply allow us to
believe we are a guerilla militia as well."
"Pietro, I begin to fear you have no faith in me," suggested
Ororo with an offended tone. "You know that what we do is for the
best."
"Yes," agreed Pietro. "We certainly have the best of intentions.
Excuse me." He stood up and crossed to one of the spare rooms, locking
the door behind him. The resulting silence in the room was broken
only by the telephone ringing.
"If it's Commissioner Gordon, tell him we're not in," said Betsy.
"It's probably Lauren," said Warren as he headed over to
take the call in the breakfast room. "I asked her to call me when
she finished her overtime."
"Did you know you smell of her perfume?" asked Betsy.
"Did you know you smell of garlic?" replied Warren. He
shut the door and pulled down the breakfast hatch. Betsy glared
towards him angrily for a moment, then pulled herself up into his
abandoned seat. Whilst she sat brooding over Warren, and Ororo sat
brooding over Pietro, Peter sat brooding over his pizza.
"Tell me," he said, "what does the tomato sauce represent, do
you think?"
"Oh for Christ's sake, Peter!" hissed Betsy. "Lies! Lies,
hypocrisy and bastard bloody men."
Peter frowned. "I was hoping for something a little more
positive," he ventured.
- - - -
from MONSTER
to MAN
Gravemoss grimaced at himself in the reflective glass that
separated hum and this Sheaf Key meeting room from the broad
expanses of the Sentinel workshop below. He still had a black eye.
It had been almost two weeks now since Clarissa had punched him into
the river. It was quite clear that she and Dr Fremont did not
understand the finer subtleties of magic.
Today he would see the fruition of his work. Fremont and
Trask had come to find him in Minsk in order to make him perform an
intensely difficult rite. Over a century ago the man called
Nathaniel Essex had made an absurd pact with a demonic freak called
Rahvin Ben-Simeon, or En Sabah Nur, or Simon Nicholas, or Apocalypse.
In exchange for immortality he had bound his life to the monster.
Ironically, he had since devoted that immortal life to destroying
the monster. That was why Onslaught had been created, and then
recreated, though it was not why Gravemoss had become involved. Still,
according to Fremont he had an obligation to the group. He had
to free Essex from his bind. Essex himself would never consent, but
since he was all but dead thanks to his encounter with Magneto, he
could hardly object. Immortality, said Dr Fremont, was a ruse. Nothing
truly lasts forever.
Thus it was that Gravemoss, already on the lowest ebb of the
Winding Way after having abused it thoroughly in his attempt to
secure the soulsword, was forced back into empowerment. He knew it
was a mistake to push the Way further, and that it was certain to
punish him soon, but he wasn't given a choice. Fremont had swiftly
ensured that the sorcerer ahead of Gravemoss on the Way had been
dealt with, and when Gravemoss had refused to accept empowerment,
Clarissa had punched him into the river and held him down to drown
him. He would have died if he hadn't accepted the power. Those
girls could certainly be persuasive.
Still, why should he worry about the next ebb? He was on
a peak now. He would simply have to maintain it for as long as
possible.
"Aren't they beautiful?" said Clarissa Trask as she came
to the window to look down on her workshop. "Oh Gravemoss, I just
have to show you the new model later on. Soon as it's finished,
we're going to test it on Shepherd's people. I can hardly wait."
"Sounds enthralling," said Gravemoss dryly, returning to
his seat. He faced the grim visage of Donald Pierce, with his
blond buzzcut and stormtrooper field coat. "Where is Fremont?"
"On her way," replied Clarissa.
"And the other two?"
"Can't make it."
"So much for the grand unveiling," muttered Pierce. "Really,
this is absurd. It has been days since you completed this rite of
yours. Since then Fremont has not allowed any of us access to Sinister."
"He needed to recuperate," explained Clarissa. "Really, it
took a hell of a lot of work just to get him as healthy as he is now."
"So am I to understand he is an invalid?" asked Pierce.
"For the time being, I guess. All I know is, he's not bound
to Apocalypse anymore," explained Clarissa.
"And that means he isn't immortal anymore," added Gravemoss.
"Nor is his healing power - or any of his powers, for that matter -
quite what they once were."
"For God's sake! The man will be useless! We may as well
put him out of our misery now!" insisted Pierce.
"I dare you to try," replied a cold, crisp voice. Silently
the subject of their conversation had entered the room. He walked
with a cane and was gripping tightly to the arm of Lilith Fremont.
He did not look any older, but he did look weaker. Not frail, but
weathered and tired. He had the same colourless skin, the same
furious red eyes, the same sneer, the same presence, but they could
all see that he was not quite the same man. He was no longer
invincible, and for the first time he looked truly formidable. Perhaps
now that he didn't have forever, he would make better use of what
time he had.
"It is good to have you back, Sinister," claimed Pierce.
"No," he replied angrily. "You will not call me that name
any more. Mr Sinister was the creation of the abomination Apocalypse.
He died in the fury of Magneto's furnace. All that is left now is
the man. You may call me only Dr Nathan Essex."
He took a seat at the head of the meeting table, and Dr
Fremont sat at his right hand side.
"Now," said Essex, "Let us begin."
- - - - -
NEXT ISSUE: "State Of The Nation" - I of III.
The X-Men arrive in Latveria, whilst Dr Doom plans his comeback tour.
- Get ready for the fireworks.
AND IN X-SAVIOURS #2: "The Body Politic"
Truth and lies in the heart of Genosha. Coming soon!
- - - - -