“Krys and I saw the man dragged down this alley by three attackers before we lost track of him,” Victor Ten Eagles explained, pointing his cybernetic arm at a gap between two ragged-looking buildings in the middle of the block. Xi’an nodded at his old friend, scanning the area with a cold gaze, trying to spot something – anything – that Victor and Krystalin may have missed when they originally witnessed a man being abducted the day before. Xi’an had gathered his X-Men to return to the spot to investigate further, but there was nothing left on the street to indicate there had even been any struggle; the slums of Halo City were overrun with garbage as the trucks never came this far down, and overrun with addicts as the police followed suit.
“If you lost them, why are we wasting time looking for him? The trail is obviously cold by now,” Bloodhawk, belligerently uncomfortable in his human form, snarled.
“That’s why we brought this,” Victor said, shrugging his flesh-and-bone shoulder upon which rested the strap of a black duffel bag, “I can hopefully use this equipment to scan the traces left by the teleport burns in the alley to narrow down our list of suspects. Different generations of ‘port technology leave different kinds of burn markings or different levels of residual warp energy. The ‘port burns left by this group were kind of faint, suggesting that their tech’s a few generations older. If this equipment can determine what generation of teleporter we’re looking for, we can run it through some government databases to narrow down our list of culprits – not that it wasn’t thin to begin with. This stuff ain’t cheap.”
Bloodhawk grunted in response and folded his arms across his chest. Xi’an put a hand on the X-Man’s shoulder.
“Patience, friend. Victor knows what he is doing – we must trust him,” Xi’an said calmly.
“I do trust him – I’d just rather trust him from a bar or a bed or… well, anywhere but here, really. Place bums me out,” Timothy Fitzgerald – Tim to his friends, Skullfire to his enemies – blurted out. La Lunatica, the albino Amazon with Tim’s arm around her waist, snorted a laugh, and the two giggled quietly to each other.
“Enough,” Xi’an said harshly, adjusting the shiny new “X” badge pinned to the front of his old Desert Ghost uniform. He hadn’t worn the costume since leaving the X-Men when his evil persona had taken over, and it had been a shock for some of the team’s older members to see the outfit make a return. When Krystalin had asked him about it that morning, Xi’an had said wearing it felt right somehow, now that he had pulled the X-Men together again to champion the cause of the underprivileged in Halo City. Krys had agreed, which brought a smile to Xi’an’s face.
“We’re here,” Victor said abruptly, dropping the bag from his shoulder to the ground and kneeling over it. He removed a folded-up tripod and what appeared to be a thick keypad from the bag, attached the pad to the tripod, and extended the legs on the tripod. Finally, he removed the scanner apparatus itself, which looked like a very small radar dish. This last part had a stand all its own, which Victor set on the ground before connecting the dish to the pad with a black wire. The system powered on and Victor began slowly tapping keys. Tim let out an exaggeratedly long sigh.
“How long is this going to take?” Tim whined.
“Not long,” Victor said absent-mindedly, still looking at the screen.
“And why am I here?” Tim asked impatiently.
“Because I asked you to be,” Xi’an interjected.
“And that was because…?” Luna added, annoyed as Tim.
“Because of your deeply engaging conversational choices, I would guess,” Bloodhawk snarled through a smirk. Tim took a step towards Bloodhawk, raising a glowing skeletal fist.
“Grow up!” Xi’an shouted, face shrouded in an angular snarl, “We’re trying to save a man’s life!”
“’We’ aren’t doing anything,” Tim shot back, “Vic’s the only one doing anything. We’re just standing around.”
“Well we can stop,” Victor said, catching everyone’s attention, “I’m finished.”
“Finally,” Tim sighed.
“What have you found?” Xi’an asked, positioning himself right next to his friend.
“Nothing useful, I’m afraid,” Victor said, “We waited too long to come back. If we had come back yesterday, then maybe… but there’s just not a lot here to scan.”
“Well, let me help you clean up and we’ll get going,” Xi’an said, obviously disappointed.
“We’ll wait for you out on the street,” Luna said, grabbing Tim by the arm and dragging him out of the alley.
“As will I,” Bloodhawk added, “The confinement of being between these buildings is… unpleasant.”
“Is this really a good idea, having those three working together?” Victor asked of his friend after the three X-Men were out of earshot.
“What do you mean?” Xi’an responded thoughtfully.
“I mean I wonder if it’s wise to have such… abrasive individuals try and work together. Bloodhawk has never really been a people person and Tim and Luna… well, they haven’t been happy unless they’re drunk or fighting in weeks. It doesn’t exactly send the ‘peace and understanding’ message of Charles Xavier, does it?”
“You needn’t worry about them, Victor. They’ll come through when it counts, I’m positive of that, or I wouldn’t have invited them to join us. I’m well aware of their particular… personal tics, but I promise you they will come around when they just see what we can accomplish together.”
“And until then?”
“Until then, we’ll just have to keep them close enough to make sure they stay out of trouble, won’t we?” Xi’an replied with a smile and a wink.
“’We?’” Victor responded with a smirk of his own, “I don’t recall signing up for that kind of job.”
“Thomas, I’m here to set things right,” Mama Hurricane pleaded into the holographic intercom set on the frame of the opulent golden gates in front of the Van Buren estate. The stern, grayed face of Thomas Van Buren slowly shook no.
“I don’t care why you’re here or what you think you can ‘set right,’ Hurricane, but I promise you that you can’t,” Van Buren stated coolly, “Please leave before my security is forced to escort you out.”
“Thomas, please just let me try –”
“I don’t think I was clear. Let me try this,” Thomas said before his holographic image disappeared. Within seconds, the hum and whir of autogun emplacements rising from the lawn and spinning their barrels to deadly life could be heard by Mama Hurricane and the members of her family, the Freakshow, who had accompanied her. The red-skinned pyrokinetic called Dominic hid behind Mama’s legs. The wind-caller named Psyclone tensed for a fight as Mama felt a nervous breeze on the back of her neck. The voluminous Tantrum placed herself between the guns and the plague-bearer Contagion, also tensing her muscles and warming her vocal chords for a fight.
“That’s enough, Dad,” a stern metallic voice called from behind the Freakshow. Mama and her family turned to see Eddie Van Beethoven – or at least they had been told this was his name – briskly marching up the long driveway to the Van Buren gates. “I know you’re still watching this.”
“Eddie?” a female voice called through the intercom, “Is that… really you?”
The pain heard in the voice was palpable, and it was equally evident on Eddie’s face as he replied.
“Yeah, mom. It’s me.”
“What – what happened to –?”
“It’s… a long story,” Eddie said, looking at Contagion, who could not meet his gaze, “But, please, can you just hear Hurricane out? It’ll only take a minute to do that, at least. It would mean a lot to her – and me – if you could.”
There was a long silence from the intercom. After a tense few seconds, the gun emplacements returned to their hiding places and the gates swung open.
“I just need your signature on this stack of stuff, and this stack, and then initials on these requisition forms, and I think we’re good,” Henri Hwang said cheerfully, plopping down a different mess of papers and datapads for each task on Shakti Haddad’s desk.
Look at you; Henri Hwang, model secretary,” Shakti laughed, picking up a stylus pen. Henri sarcastically smiled back.
Careful, Miss H. – you might be doing all this on your own if you keep that up.”
My apologies, then. I didn’t realize this was such a serious situation.”
Yeah, well, you’re destroying my handsome rebel loner badass image with this… paperwork. It’s really hurting my mystique with the ladies.”
Small loss, then.”
Henri was not amused. Shakti laughed a little harder than before.
Sorry, sorry. I’m sure the ladies find you very mysterious.”
Whatever,” Henri pouted, slumping into the chair in front of Shakti’s humongous desk. “So, about that… other business I’ve been looking into…”
Is it safe to talk?”
Is now. I’ve got an audio jammer in my gauntlet blocking the security cams from hearing us, and they’re on a short loop of us just sitting here while you sign things.”
Good. What have you found.”
Nada, baby. Not a shocking thing.”
What do you mean?”
I mean nothing. I can’t find word one on any of the new Protectorate members in any government databases or the underground ones – I even can’t find squat on a known quantity like Junkpile. It’s like none of them even have a past, as far as the ‘net’s concerned. And one other thing – when the X-Men were the Protectorate, there were an average of 28 missing persons reports filed every week in the slums. Since we were mostly replaced, that number has plummeted to zero.”
That’s not a bad average, I’ve got to admit.”
Yeah, but it ain’t an average – that’s zero total, Shak.”
Total?”
Yeah – even the one you filed yesterday is nowhere to be found in the system. If I were a more paranoid type, I’d go so far as to say someone erased your report from the system entirely.”
Who would…?”
Someone who needs to pad a resume, perhaps?”
Even Morphine Somers isn’t capable of something so… so…”
Please. He’s capable of way worse, just ask your dad.”
Don’t joke about my father.”
Who was joking? Morphine is a bad guy, Shak. He’s not going to hesitate to throw a few slum dwellers under the bus to get what he wants – figuratively or literally.”
So what do we do about it?”
I’ll get a message out to Xi’an – he’s based in the slums now, with the Sisters of the Howling Commandments Convent. He’ll have no problem keeping an eye out for anything suspicious, or taking action if and when it’s necessary. Beyond that, I’ll keep gathering intel and we’ll keep doing what we’re doing. We’re not going to find a better place to stop whatever’s happening than right where we are.”
And here I thought you couldn’t wait to get out of this place.”
Shakti jumped in her seat when her office door slammed open. She moved her eyes toward the doorway and watched silently as Morphine Somers stalked in.
“What is he doing here?” Somers demanded, thrusting a finger in the direction of the desk opposite hers.
“Who? Henri? He’s my assistant. The Council approved him,” Shakti said placidly. Morphine’s face turned a deeper shade of red as he prepared for his next screaming session.
“I can’t have this administration tainted by association with the X-Men and their failures--”
“I was an X-Man, and you’ve basically recruited me to be your face on the council,” Shakti countered, barely hiding a grin.
“It’s not the same,” Morphine growled. “When the city needed you, you were here. He wasn’t, and I don’t want my Freedom Force associated with that kind of dereliction of duty.”
“He’s an ideal candidate for the position,” Shakti said, “He has a genius-level intellect, which makes him ideal at troubleshooting. His super-speed allows him to take care of the bureaucracy faster than anyone else could – it would take hundreds of workers to match his pace. Hiring him saves thousands of dollars on the budget – hell, he could probably take on more responsibilities if we –”
“Absolutely unacceptable. His involvement in the Protectorate should in no way be expanded – I don’t even want him here in the first place!” Morphine screamed.
“Well, he’s here. Deal with it,” Shakti said in a low growl.
“Oh, and look how wonderful he is! He’s been sitting here this whole time without once touching his computer! What have you been doing this whole time, Henri? Hmm? Working hard?”
“Actually, I finished all of my work about half an hour ago. I even took the liberty of setting Ms. Haddad’s schedule of meetings for the next four weeks,” Henri stated matter-of-factly. Morphine stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.
“Ms. Haddad?” Shakti asked, incredulous. Henri shrugged.
“Seemed appropriate.”
The pair let smiles break their lips and give way to a torrent of laughter.
Sham ran the back of her hand over the forehead of the stranger’s face, feeling a fever growing under the man’s skin. She had to remind herself she wasn’t looking at a stranger – she was looking at her oldest – and maybe only – friend, Quiver. The Red Market had kidnapped him and sold his body to the highest bidder, and stuck him with a diseased husk from which they planned to suck out every last ounce of pain to sell to some rich thrill-seeker. Sham looked at the sweat beading on her friend’s brow and shook her head.
“Not good,” she whispered to herself, if only to have something to listen to over the droning hum of the maglev train they had snuck onto. They were in a half-empty cargo car, surrounded by boxes full of synthetic protein foodstuffs. That had been a stroke of luck, actually – Quiver had been half-starved when Sham had rescued him from the Red Market. The stuff tasted like chalk, but hey – a full stomach’s a full stomach.
“Wah’s no good?” Quiver mumbled, barely audible.
“Oh… I didn’t realize you were awake.”
“I’m fine. Just a little tired,” Quiver said, shifting his weight to face Sham. “Red Market gave me enough meds to keep the pain from getting real bad until they could harvest me properly. I’m starting to feel it, now, is all.”
“I’m here, Quiv. You’ll be fine. The X-Men will help you – you’ll see. They’re like that, y’know, they just help when someone needs it, without even thinking.”
“Sounds… nnnnh! Sounds good,” Quiver groaned curling into a ball. Sham put a hand on her friend’s shoulder. He was vibrating – at first Sham thought it was just the train, but the vibrations got faster and more violent over the next few seconds, and Quiver’s groan grew into a scream.
“Oh, God! The shakes are back! I can’t stop them! Sham, get away from meeeeEEEEEEAAAAAAGH!”
Quiver was on the floor in a full blown spasm, thrashing left and right violently. The shockwaves he created rocked the train car back and forth on the tracks – Sham could feel the floor of the car vibrating faster and faster until it was hurting her feet, at least until the force of Quiver’s shockwaves knocked her flat on her back. Sham heard a loud metal groan all around her as she was knocked from floor, to wall, to ceiling, then around again.
“Quiv, get a hold of yours- whoa!” Sham yelled as the car split down the middle in a roar of twisting metal and screeching wheels flying off the tracks in a shower of sparks and debris. Sham felt herself thrown through the air to the ground where she rolled to a stop in a bank of desert sand. She slowly got to her feet before she thought to look around for Quiver – and there he was, wedged in the sand under a battered box. Sham heard soft cries emanating from Quiv’s direction in an unfamiliar voice.
“It’ll be okay, buddy. I promise, the X-Men will make it better, I promise, just hang in there, Quiv. The train’s gone, but that’s okay. We’re right next to the highway. Emergency services should be here to pick us up in a sec and we’ll take a hovercar and get going on our own. Better yet, we’ll take an ambulance – yeah! And we can make the pain stop for long enough for us to get to Halo, and –”
“God! Why does it hurrrt?” Quiv moaned. He was still hurting; the vibrations were growing again. Sham heard sirens in the distance. They must not have been very far away from a town, after all.
“Thank God… and please think to have brought an ambulance,” Sham whispered to herself, cradling Quiver closer. “And hurry, while you’re at it…”
“…Because, calling Councilwoman O’Hare a simpering cow is not going to make her sympathetic to our concerns, it’s only going to –” Xi’an started, rubbing his temples. Bloodhawk, having long since lost his temper and transformed into his scaly winged form, slammed his fist onto the wooden table in the cafeteria of the Sisters of the Howling Commandments Convent.
“If she believes that poisoning her own city’s water supply with its own waste is acceptable, then she deserves no more consideration from me than does a common herd animal!”
“Be that as it may, it would help if she felt we truly respected how valuable her support is to us.”
“So then she has no desire to support her own well-being or that of her home?”
“That’s not what I – look, is it that hard to just call her by her name? Councilwoman O’Hare, or Mrs. O’Hare, or just Your Honor –”
“Honor? What knows she of honor if she –”
“It has nothing to do with her honor! It is basic decency! How can we expect her respect if we show none to begin with?”
“Hrrrr… I suppose what you say makes sense,” Bloodhawk agreed, shrinking back to his human form, “I suppose I am merely… uncomfortable with so much useless formality when there is real work to be done.”
“There, at least, I concede a point. But this is how it is done, Bloodhawk. This is the only way to get the power structure to want to change how it thinks, how it treats the world and its people.”
“That they don’t already concerns me, mutant.”
“Agreed, again. But I believe our presentation and proposition for the council will bear fruit. We can change the system by working within it, I am certain.”
Bloodhawk snarled. Xi’an knew the other mutant wanted to make a crack about the system’s history of failures, but the latter refrained. That, at least, was a sign of progress.
“One other thing, Bloodhawk. The growling… it would be best if you were to refrain from doing so when we are before the council. It can be… unsettling for those unused to it.”
“So not only must I stay my tongue, but my very emotions as well? What children are we dealing with that they cannot handle honest reactions?”
“You know what? Maybe I had better just do all of the talking…” Xi’an sighed, exasperated.
“My voice will be heard!”
“Sounds… great…”
Mama Hurricane had grown used to a variety of conditions in her considerably long years of adventure, but she hadn’t many occasions to accustom herself to the absolute grandeur in which the Van Burens lived. The golden gates through which she had entered the mansion had been one thing; she had been visited many locations locked away behind a variety of gates. Usually, they had hidden something that someone didn’t want anyone else finding out about, or in the case of mutant incarceration, something that no one cared enough about to look into.
Mama had cared, of course, those many decades ago when mutants were rounded up and forced into extermination camps. That was why she had joined the Mutant Underground and helped so many escape; that was why she had met the Van Burens in the first place. An estate like theirs had plenty of room in the cellar, and they were among the only members of the elite with enough humanity left in them to help fugitive mutants escape persecution. Mama had spent many a night in the Van Burens’ cellar with groups of mutants, praying they weren’t found and waiting for the Driver to come and take them away to Avalon. She never did find out if any of the mutants she ran with got to Avalon- never found out where Avalon was, or if it even existed. But she believed, and so did they; hope was high on those trips.
Regardless, for all those nights Mama spent in the cellars, she had never seen the upstairs – and there were ample opportunities to travel up in the Van Buren estate. She currently sat in a stateroom on the third of seven floors – all located in a house in which only Van Buren, his wife, and a dozen servants lived full-time. She sat on an antique couch; red velvet cushions adorning a gold-leafed oak frame. Mama didn’t move for fear of tearing the cushions. Mai Van Buren sat on a similarly-appointed armchair, hands folded in her lap, eyes focused on her husband. Thomas Van Buren stood at an enormous bay window overlooking the courtyard in front of the gate. Thomas’s estranged son Eddie Van Beethoven sat cross-legged in the grass, snuggling up to his new sweetheart Rosa and her baby Joaquim. The red-skinned pyrokinetic child Dominic from the Freakshow darted and jumped about the courtyard, investigating this plant, that sculpture, those bugs – a smile Mama had never seen him wear before was plastered on his face.
Slowly, Mama began to speak.
“Thomas –”
“No. This was a mistake,” Thomas uttered in barely a whisper, “I can’t, Hurricane. Thor help me, I cannot forgive you. Please – gather your family and leave at your earliest convenience. I am sorry. I am sorry.”
Thomas whisked himself away from the window and through the ornately decorated doorframe. The heels of his shoes clacked farther and farther away, echoing off the high ceilings of the hallway. Mama dropped her eyes in shame, and made a motion to rise. Mai Van Buren spoke for the first time since Mama Hurricane had entered the house.
“Wait.”
“Yes?” Mama said, settling back down into her seat and setting her eyes to meet Mai’s. Mama could see the beginnings of tears in Mai’s face; none were in her eyes yet, but Mama had spent enough time around people in pain to know the look on someone’s face when their heart is about to break for the hundredth time, and the tears long thought dried up were fighting their way to the surface once more.
“Do you remember a mutant - a man – you brought here during the Underground? By the name of Tiernan Clowes?” Mai asked wistfully. Mama shook her head no – she had guided hundreds, maybe thousands, of mutants away from persecution. She remembered a few, randomly – a little girl with snakes for hair, a young man with stone eyes – but she didn’t really remember names. There were just too many.
“That’s fine – there probably would have been no reason for you to remember him anyway. He kept to himself, mostly. He arrived with you and three other mutants – you left that night to make another rendezvous and left Tiernan’s group in our care for a week and a half. The estate is rather secure, you see, so when you were gone, we often let the refugees have the run of the grounds. There was no reason to make them suffer in a dank cellar, after all.”
Mama softly smiled to herself, wondering why she had never been extended that particular hospitality. Mai continued.
“Tiernan was… different. He was vital, and adventurous, and more than a little handsome. He had the power to mold metals – not magnetic in nature, really – he could just touch them, and make them… dance,” Mai said, dreamily smiling, seemingly unaware Mama was still in the room, “And, one night, he molded an old brass bed frame we had in the cellar into a statue of… of me. And he made it sing – sing so beautifully. He molded and modulated the nose to draw in air, manipulated the mouth to move, and it sang for me – he made this beautiful thing to sing for me.”
Mama shifted in her seat, growing more and more uncomfortable.
“Thomas… in those days, Thomas was very busy with the Underground. We loved each other – we always did, and will – but we saw very little of each other, talked even less. He was always off meeting, well, you, I suppose, and other runners beside, and organizing meets and trying to rally others to the cause of mutant rights. And eventually, specifically that one night, I just always felt so… alone.”
Mai brought the back of her knuckles to the corner of her eye gently – the tears weren’t long off now. Mai continued.
“When Eddie was born a few months later, Thomas and I were ecstatic. We had been having… trouble conceiving, and a baby was a blessing to us – it probably sounds a little trite, but Eddie really did make our life together feel complete. Thomas was overjoyed at having a son – Eddie had all the love and support Thomas could muster – and I assure you, a passionate man like Thomas has lots of love to give. And then… then came Eddie’s mutant powers. Neither… neither Thomas nor I have the mutant X-gene – we were mapped years before Eddie was born as part of our fertility tests. Thomas was… devastated.”
The tears were beading in the corners of Mai’s eyes now. Mama felt what was coming like a cannonball straight to the heart.
“He said he couldn’t bring himself to hate me. And he didn’t hate Eddie – he could never do that. It isn’t in him. He just –he said he couldn’t look at my son any longer, and know Eddie wasn’t ours. He just wasn’t… ours…”
Mai sobbed softly into her hands as she buried her face behind elegant, ringed fingers. Mama said nothing as she rose from the couch and made her own way to the courtyard where Rosa and Eddie sat playing with the kids.
“Get the others,” Mama said, “We’re leaving.”
“Did you get what you needed from my father?” Eddie asked.
Mama had no idea how to answer.
“Remember what I said about growling – and stop fidgeting with your tie. It’s like you’ve never worn… never mind,” Xi’an sighed remembering who he was talking to, “Just put up with it for now.”
Like a half-assed garrote,” Bloodhawk, in human form, mumbled to himself. Xi’an noted with some satisfaction that not only did Bloodhawk leave his tie alone, he didn’t lash out physically or scream for vengeance – that was a sign of serious progress. Xi’an looked Bloodhawk up and down – he actually looked fairly presentable in a black suit and tie. Even for all his fidgeting, Bloodhawk’s tie was still straight, and despite the clothing having come out of a goodwill bin, the jacket and slacks fit very well. Xi’an turned his head to the sound of footsteps approaching from behind.
Xi’an! What are you doing at a City Council meeting?” Shakti Haddad asked, smiling and extending her hand to her old friend, “And why are you dressed like a politician?”
Shakti added the last part with a snarky smile, and Xi’an placidly beamed his own pleasure at seeing her right back.
I’m here for politics, of course. Democracy works best when all of the people are represented.”
And who do you repre- is that Bloodhawk? In a… shirt?” Shakti asked, not faking her astonishment. Bloodhawk started to bare his teeth, but suppressed his snarl into a deep frown instead. Xi’an smiled again.
Yes, I’m glad you remember his human form,” Xi’an said, “We’re here to voice concerns over Halo City’s environmental policies.”
That’s certainly… something,” Shakti added hesitantly.
Don’t worry, I’ve got him to agree to try it without explosives for now,” Xi’an joked. Bloodhawk grunted and narrowed his eyes at the X-Man. Clearly the other man was not ready for casual jokes. Small steps, Xi’an reminded himself. “What are you here for, may I ask?”
“Oh – my principal duty for the Protectorate is liaison to the Council, so I’m required to attend all the meetings,” Shakti said, rolling her eyes, “Morphine’s too smart to try and ask them for anything himself. He may be the hero of the day, but he’s also a clear political rival. They don’t all get along real well.”
“I can imagine,” Xi’an started. He was interrupted by a voice on the intercom announcing that the Council was about to convene. “Well, that would be our cue, I suppose.”
“I suppose it is,” Shakti said, “I’ll see you later. I have to sit with the other officials.”
“Until later, then,” Xi’an responded, waving as she walked away. An unnamable smile rested on his lips and lifted his shoulders. Reminding himself of his purpose for the day, he turned to Bloodhawk and nodded toward the large double door leading into the Council chamber. The two men strolled purposefully through it.
“I think that went rather well, myself. Councilwoman O’Hare, particularly, seemed convinced that a gradual reduction in waste was not only convenient, but beneficial. I hadn’t considered the economic factors myself – but I suppose it will create some short-term employment. An added bonus,” Xi’an nodded, loosening and removing his tie. Bloodhawk had already torn his from his neck and was shedding the jacket as fast as he was able.
“Grrr… I suppose you are right – things look promising enough. For now. I still think the timetables should have been moved up.”
“No – we had to err on the side of caution in this instance. It’s hard to dispute the feasibility of this schedule, and hobnobbing with all of those reporters didn’t hurt. We should have enough coverage to ensure even Morphine Somers will be forced to uphold the resolution.”
“If it passes,” Bloodhawk added sourly, removing his shirt and transforming into his scaly, winged form. “Finally. Freedom. I’m going for a flight to clear my head.”
“What we’re doing will work, my friend. Give it time.”
Bloodhawk issued one of his famous grunts and turned for the door.
“I said I’m an X-Man and I need to get into the medical facility, you shocking stupid piece of slag!”
Sham slammed her hand down hard on the information terminal outside of the Protectorate wing of the Halo City Council Building. The calm, computer generated face of the terminal responded in an eerily sterile machine voice.
“I’m sorry. You are not authorized to –”
“To use the facilities provided for the Protectorate? The shock I ain’t!”
“If you would like to contact the Protectorate, please hold for the next available Freedom Force member.”
“Freedom Force? What happened to the X-Men?” Sham asked. She walked away from the terminal as it launched into an explanation she didn’t want to hear. Could this have something to do with Eddie’s e-mail getting bounced a few days ago? Sham lifted Quiver to his feet and wrapped one of his arms around her shoulder.
“Well, I guess we can try the Sisters of the Howling Commandments. Xi’an hangs out there a lot, and he’s the one we need to see the most anyway. He can heal you, Quiv,” Sham muttered to her companion. He barely seemed to hear her over his low, pained moans.
“Hold it together for a little while longer, buddy. We’re almost home free,” Sham encouraged, adding, please don’t have another episode in her head. She just had to find a cab that would go to the slums. She wished she hadn’t ditched the ambulance before they hit the city.
“Whyyyyy are we back here again, exactly? I thought you said you couldn’t find squat even if you wanted to, Vic,” Tim whined, running his hands through his hair. Victor ignored him, instead concentrating on fine-tuning his instruments, searching for any trace of energy he might find at all at the site of the abduction he had witnessed the previous day.
“We’re here because we can’t give up,” Krystalin Ogada said sternly. “I refuse to believe that there’s nothing we can do for the poor man who was taken here. We’re X-Men – this is what we were always supposed to be doing.”
“Yeah… but… shock,” Tim groaned. “I understand that, but if the energy traces were too faint before, they’re not going to be any better now, are they? And all that trash that’s spilled into the spot can’t be good for the scans. Some of it’s even glowing – that could be giving off energy that would supply a false positive on the scanners, right?”
“Glowing?” Victor spoke up for the first time all trip. Luna and Krystalin also gave Tim an odd look after keenly inspecting the teleport spot themselves.
“I don’t see anything glowing, babe,” Luna said, stepping closer to Tim. “You feeling okay?”
“Oh, for shock’s sake – it’s right there!” Tim yelled, pointing near the center of the burn markings indicating the teleport zone, then, when everyone else shook their heads in disbelief again, he took a step towards it, and more emphatically, continued, “Here! Glowing! Yellow!”
“Baby –” Luna started. Tim waved her quiet.
“No one sees this? Right here, under my hand – whoa. It’s warm,” Tim said, getting quieter.
“Timmy, honey, you’re scaring me,” Luna said, stepping forward and putting a hand on Tim’s shoulder. Tim didn’t seem to notice. Victor and Krystalin gathered closely around the pair as well, still straining to see what Tim was pointing to, with no success.
“Warm and… empty? It just needs a little spark, I think,” Tim said as his hand lit up a brilliant green, revealing the structure of a black skeleton underneath the energized flesh. A small tear of energy formed under his palm, yellow and growing larger by the second. Victor’s head turned towards his equipment as a series of tones issued from the machine.
“That frequency – the instruments are reading a teleport signature!” Victor gasped, turning his head back to Tim as his face turned cold. “Tim! Stop! I recognize that frequency, and the only people who still use the kind of teleporter that operates on that range is –”
Before Victor could finish, Tim had expanded the field far enough that it engulfed the quartet of X-Men, and reached critical mass. In a flash, the alley around the X-Men had vanished, and they found themselves atop a circular glass pad in a large room adorned with computer terminals and equipment unfamiliar to most of them – all of them except Victor.
Men and women in red lab coats turned abruptly to face the mutants now in their midst, eyes widening in surprise. Armed guards in red, Kevlar-mesh overcoats brought unfamiliar rifles to bear on the intruders, shouting warnings into comm units hanging on their ears and to each other.
“Uh, Vic? Care to finish that thought from a second ago?” Krys asked, dropping into a defensive stance.
“The Red Market. The only people who still use teleporters that operate on that range are the Red Market,” Victor said gravely, balling his hands into fists.
“Good,” Tim said with a smile. “I’ve been itching for an excuse not to hold back.”
“What were you holding back before?” Krys asked.
“Everything,” Tim replied with a sinister grin spreading across his lips as his face disappeared in a wave of green.
TO BE CONTINUED…
Next Issue: He wasn’t kidding.