X-Men: Old Wounds, New Nightmares
by Abyss
DISCLAIMER; all characters and concepts in this work that are not the property of the author are used without permission, for no profit. The story itself is the property of the author and may not be changed in any way or sold for profit without the author's permission.
So there, let's get on with it...
I am the Watcher.
For eons, my people have observed as events unfolded throughout the cosmos. My duty has been to chart the progress of the race called humans, on the planet Earth.
Recently, the conflict between homo sapiens, and homo superior reached a turning point, as the being called Onslaught, formed of the rage and frustration of two of mutantkind's leaders, Professor Charles Xavier and Eric Magnus Lensherrer, attempted to bring about the destruction of the entire human race.
Onslaught nearly succeeded, and only through the sacrifice of Earth's heroes... the Avengers and the Fantastic Four, were the X-Men and their allies, Cable, the mindwiped Magneto, and Nate Grey, able to put an end to the threat of Onslaught.
The sacrifice was great, the aftermath terrible.
But it could have been different.
It could have been much, much worse...
* * *
Tabitha's diary;
Well, it finally happened. Domino quit.
I guess none of us were really surprised. She's been going at it tooth and nail with the big guy for months, and after what happened in the Danger Room, well... it wasn't question of ‘if', it was a question of `when' she was going to leave.
Julio says this is a good thing... that Dom was too much of a bad influence, but Julio thinks the sun rises and sets in our fearless leader's boots.
I almost miss her, but really, she's been different since the Onslaught. Colder, less happy go lucky. Maybe she cared about Cable more than any of us guessed. Who'd a thunk it? Frankly, I had him and Storm pegged to be an item, but I guess that's just not gonna happen. Damn.
When I went through the whole ‘Boomer to Meltdown' transition, I tried so hard to be like her. Aloof, carefree, caring but untouchable... remind me never to have a role-model ever again.
Still, she's gone... another piece of stability pulled out from under us, and from the way things look, it's gonna get even more wild before it cools down.
X-Force is gonzo. We're X-Men now, or so our fearless leader insists... frankly, I liked the old name better.... was far more ‘new team, new ‘tude for a new millennium', we're mutants, mutate or stagnate, right? But hey, who am I to fight tradition?
So, X-Men it is. Gen X has gone into hiding, what's left of them anyways. Excalibur is busy over in Europe, and no one's quite sure what happened to X-factor... so we're it. The last remains of Xavier's little mutant dream team.
The fit hit the shan around noon today, when the boss sounded the assembly alarm. I hate it when he does that... it is such a rotten way to wake up...
* * *
"X-MEN, ASSEMBLE IN THE WAR ROOM, FIVE MINUTES."
The war room is alive. It hums with computers possessing information. Recorders tape newscasts. Modems reach out to networks, log on, find information and log off. Radar, sonar, lydar, tracking and scanning and analysing energy readings and flight paths and power surges. There is no light except the flickering screens... data readouts, newscasts from around the world, power readings, radar scans... and the faint glow coming from the right eye of the man sitting in the command chair at the centre of it all.
His face is lost in shadows. He sits at the centre of a massive skeletal metal dome built around a control chair. A helmet is suspended by wires above his head. From here, he can watch, analyse and direct. From here, he can plan a war.
He raises one hand to brush long brown hair off to one side of his face. It is a reflexive gesture, leaving only half his face and one glowing red eye visible. His voice is barely a whisper.
"Prosh... lights."
The room is filled with luminescence as neon tubes recessed into the ceiling come to life. The room is huge. The communication centre where the man sits is on a raised area at one end. Below, a round table dominates the centre. There are no seats. No one who comes here is meant to be at ease.
Even as the lights spring into being, there is the sound of running feet, the faint echo of a sonic scream, the crackle of solar energy and psionic flame.
Quickly, with an air of suppressed excitement and tension, the room fills with eight young men and women. They talk amongst themselves as they enter, but soon fall into a hush. The man who summoned them is known to all of them to one degree or another. They've known him in many different roles, teacher, leader, comrade, even enemy under certain circumstances. In spite of all of that, none really know what to expect from him now.
* * *
They arrange themselves before me, silent, wary. To their credit, its been only four minutes. Meltdown is the last one in, with a full thirty seconds to spare. Even Caliban is silent, a rare thing, but even the simple morlock has to be wondering what the future holds for them... for us.
This is the first time I've assembled them for anything other than training. I look at them, letting my eye study each for a moment.
They are all so very different, with different reasons for being here. Only the dream joins them all together... the dream, and the fact they have no place left to go. The world is a very unfriendly place for mutants right now, maybe more so than ever.
Sunspot watches me warily, his eyes pure black within the dark solar flames that sheath his body. Once, my mission would have been to help him control that flame. Now, I intend to use it, as a weapon. The only one of the original New Mutants to pick up the mantle of the X-Men... does he appreciate the irony that none thought he would stay this long? Will he go the distance?
Chamber stands next to Dacosta. I think Sunspot's mistrust of me has infected him. I'll have to watch that... he's our only telepath. I need him. One of Banshee's pupils no longer, he has joined the war. Of all of them, he and I have the most in common. We've both lost everything we cared about. We're both trying to fit into something new.
Rictor, on the other hand, looks relaxed. Trust? Lack of concern? Overconfidence? That last can get him killed. I may have to break him before I can use him.
Meltdown's eyes are hidden from me behind sunglasses, but her tension is plain to see. I think she trusts me least of all... And maybe resents me most of all... I'm alive, Sam is dead. If she thinks she has a bigger problem with that than I do, she's mistaken. So much power, so much insecurity.
Caliban, simple, yet complex. What hides behind that childlike manner. I've seen him hunt... there's a hellhound within that one.
Warpath... steady, stable, Warpath. The others rely on you so much, yet you doubt yourself and your path. Your path is mine, I need you.
Shatterstar, a warrior born, a born follower. His faith in Rictor leads to his faith in me.
And finally Siryn. Redheads... I'd ask God to save me from redheads, if I still believed in Him. She'll be the hardest one to win over. I think she may have left by now if not for the fact I've promised to help free her father. She believes in her own ability to lead. Does she believe in mine?
They stand before me... my soldiers. We fight to keep a dream alive... a dream that is a heartbeat away from death. They all wear the ‘X'. Their uniforms, all familiar to me, are all now different in one respect. Black; for the dark times ahead. Red; for the spilled blood of those we have lost.
They're not students any more. They're not hiding. We are going to make the world realize humans and mutants can live together in peace... because the alternative... is no alternative at all.
"Listen carefully, all of you. Word has reached me that work has resumed on the Nimrod project. With the near complete loss of their sentinel forces, the military is scrambling to find an alternative."
"So's small force o' elite killing machines is preferable to a large force of mediocre ones?"
"Apparently, Siryn."
"Yo, I thought we shut down that project way back when."
"I guess someone made a copy, Tabitha. Figures, doesn't it?"
"It sucks, is what it does."
I wait a moment for Warpath and Boomer's banter to cease. A good leader knows when to let his troops be at ease. At my gesture, Prosh calls up a hologram
"This is the Amalgordo nuclear research facility."
"Sir, is that not the facility where the X-men faced Hazard?"
I'm not surprised that Shatterstar, of all of them, read and remembered the files. His tactical sense is excellent. If he had any charisma, he'd be an effective leader.
"It is. It was heavily damaged, but has been rebuilt and apparently improved to serve as the centre for the project. Our first task is to get a copy of the defence schematics. Siryn, Shatterstar, you'll assist Prosh in locating the necessary files and copying them.
Warpath, Caliban, I want a soft recon of the area. Observation only. Do not engage. Sunspot, you're going too as backup and cover if a hot-extraction is needed, but Sunspot, do not power up unless the situation demands it. They may have sensors that can register power-levels like yours."
"What about the rest of us, fearless leader?"
I can't help but pause a moment when Meltdown calls me that.
"Ummm, Cyclops... sir?"
"Meltdown, you, Chamber and Rictor begin planning insertion scenarios. Modify them as the others bring in hard info. Any questions?
Caliban hesitantly raises his hand.
"Yes Caliban?"
"LeaderCyclops... what is a scenoreo?"
* * *
* * *
I had the dream again...
I think I have it every night, but this time was more vivid than most.
It's always the same...
We're all there... Jean, the professor... the X-men... We... I... I was so damn arrogant... Onslaught had turned New York into a battleground... he had turned back assaults by the combined might of the X-men, the Avengers and FF..., and still, I led those of us still able against it...
How could I not? The professor had gone, alone and powerless, to confront the monster. If we hadn't arrived when we did, he'd have died, then and there...
...instead of later.
Onslaught took us apart. Joseph, once Magneto, Nathan... Cable, my son... Jean, Logan, Rogue, Bishop, Gambit, Ororo... we never stood a chance... even if the others had been there, I think we would still have lost...
...and then the heroes came.
"Everyone breathing? Good. Backup's here."
So sure of themselves. So sure of their place in a world that loved and admired them. So ready to sacrifice themselves for it. And I... so ready to help them do it. Thor led the charge, the Thing and the Human Torch a step behind, the Captain America and the Avengers, and finally Reed and Sue.
"They're in! X-Men... ATTACK!"
And we did... we hit the pure astral form of Onslaught with everything we had optic blasts and bio-energy beams, kinetically charged playing cards and lightning, claws and strength enough to shatter mountains, and telekinesis, while Joseph and the Professor struggled to tear Franklin Richards and Nate Grey from within Onslaught. We hit it with enough power to shatter worlds, we tried to tear out its heart... and it wasn't enough.
This is where it becomes a dream... all this I saw, but what happened next removed me from the battle... yet it's all so vivid, I wonder if my psychic link to Jean let me see what happened even so...
* * *
"They're in! X-Men, ATTACK!"
Hearts heavy, they strike out, energy and violence, mind and body, every weapon at their disposal is turned against the Onslaught... while below in the shadow of Armageddon, one last forgotten figure stirred...
Dr. Bruce Banner, separated from his alter-ego, the Hulk, while facing Onslaught one-on-one, had watched as the heroes charged into the depths of the energy, sacrificing themselves. He looked once at the unconscious green features of the monster he held within... and joined the fray in the only manner he knew how... Bruce lunged forwards towards the energy essence... and fell as an errant bolt of power, its origin lost to the attack on Onslaught, struck him down. On his hands and knees, Banner pulled himself into the maelstrom... but it was too late.
The symphony of destruction that began with the heroes' sacrifice suddenly diminishes.
On the never ending greyness that is the astral plane, moments earlier, in the hellish space that is Onslaught's citadel...
"It's happening, Onslaught's vanishing! Nathan, Franklin, if we're going to pull you free, it has to be now!" Charles Xavier's words are anxious and commanding. Even at this dark time, he refused to lose his allies.
The X-Man tightened his grip on Franklin and gathered his power.
"Push your power to its fullest, Frank!"
"But mister... somethings hap'nin..."
Xavier sensed it first, and Joseph, magnetically manipulating the professor's powers, a moment later.
There was a darkening in the astral space around them, and the images of Xavier and Joseph suddenly winked out. Nate barely had enough time to cry out.
"NO!"
And the reply echoed throughout the darkness around them.
#YES#
Xavier and Joseph were snapped back into their physical bodies with painful abruptness. Joseph fell to the ground.
"What happened? Where are the kids? Stab your eyes, I had them... what went wrong."
Xavier looked up, into the flashing eyes of the man called Cable. His voice trembled as he responded.
"Onslaught cast us out."
Cable's left eye, his flesh and blood one, burned with telekinetic energy.
"Then we need to hit him again, before he recovers."
"That won't be necessary." Xavier and Cable looked at Joseph as he spoke, "I've already recovered."
The man called Cable was never one to hesitate. He struck out at Joseph with all the telekinetic and telepathic fury he would have used against the man's previous incarnation of Magneto... but this was not Magneto, or Joseph... this was Onslaught, and Onslaught cared little for the body he had possessed. Even as Cable struck, Joseph gestured at Xavier, and every particle of metal in his blood exploded. Professor Charles Xavier, who's only crime was to care too much, died without a scream.
#YOU HAD YOUR CHANCE X-MEN. YOU FAILED.#
The astral energy coalesced. Its form that of the armor clad Onslaught, but shifting, in flux as the pure energy set the very air on fire around it.
They all watched, stunned. And then Onslaught struck.
#THE END BEGINS WITH THE FIRST OF XAVIER'S CHILDREN.#
The first blast hit Cyclops full on. Phoenix rushed to shield him, but even she could only deflect some of the energy.
There was a moment of stunned silence, as the first soldier of Xavier stood, struck by the darkest essence of his leader and mentor. Cyclops looked at Onslaught, his visor blasted away, his optic beams arrested in the trauma of the blast, half his body smoking where Jean couldn't protect him... and then he toppled and fell.
"Scott!"
Phoenix rushed to his side, even as the others looked to Storm. They didn't know what had happened to the Professor, but she was as much a leader as Cyclops.
The wind rider watched her friend fall, watched as another, as dear to her as a sister, ran to him, stricken with fear and grief. And her rage was that of a goddess.
"Onslaught, you are a mockery of all that is life... if you would destroy this planet, then this planet shall destroy you!"
She rose into the air above the shifting energy. Her arms spread wide, her eyes white slits, lightning flying in wide arcs around her. Wolverine watched. His memories tended to be shady these days, but he could remember seeing Storm challenge Magneto, and give him pause. The power she was unleashing now, was far more impressive. Still adjusting to its new incarnation, Onslaught was held at bay under the fury of an electrical assault.
*But I'm bettin' that ain't gonna last.*
And knowing claws were little use against a foe this powerful, Logan turned his attention elsewhere, just in time to see Cable throw himself at Joseph.
The air around the two was supercharged... telekinesis warring with electromagnetism. And near the struggling powerhouses... Wolverine sniffed the air... his hackles rose, he crouched down and his lips drew back to reveal feral teeth. His sense sorted out the information... ozone, metal, blood... Xavier!
Realization and reaction were one. A headlong leap carried him across the distance, bone claws springing from his hands with an audible ‘snikt'. Magnetic fire tore at his body, even as his claws tore through Joseph's side and back. In the instant of distraction, Cable punched through the shield and ran a spike of telepathy right through Joseph's mind. Onslaught retreated and Joseph crumpled, the light dimming in his eyes.
"Cable, you a'right?"
"Barely... damn techno-virus... raging... couldn't get my breath..."
"Well, do it. We need reinforcements, and Jean can't call them in right now."
"The professor... Logan, I didn't..."
"It's done. We got no time ta mourn. Find the others Cable. We need them somethin' fierce."
And he turned and loped back towards the struggle. Cable watched him go, watched as Onslaught struck out, knocking Storm from the sky. Bishop and Gambit cut loose even as Rogue caught her, but Nathan Dayspring Askani'son could sense the building power. Onslaught was reading a strike that would finish them all, and there was nothing they could do about it.
He pushed the scene from his mind and reached out.
* * *
He had no idea how long he had been fighting. Three sentinels had ambushed him near the Daily Bugle building. A blast-field powered attack had taken the head off the first one in a rush, but then the other two had begun tag-teaming him, changing attack modes and directions as fast as he could defend himself. Sooner or later, they were going to slip past his blast field... and then Momma Guthrie was gonna be mourning her oldest son...
The sentinel to his left spread its hands wide, capturing him in some type of gravity field. He felt himself slowing, his blast field diminishing as he was forced towards the ground far below. The other sentinel was rising behind him, its open hand ready to put a blast of energy through his back... when razor edged techno-organic wings sheared the hand off. A second pass and the head was separated from the mechanical body. The sentinel made the characteristic ‘Squak!' Cannonball so loved to hear. He redoubled his efforts to resist the gravity field, even as the first sentinel registered the new threat. Its eyes flashed dangerously as it turned towards the silver-winged figure, when bands of ice suddenly wrapped themselves around the mutant-hunter's head. The gravity field faltered and Cannonball poured on the power, flying headlong into the machine and striking out with his fist, expanding his blast-field inside the sentinel's chest. The results were explosive.
Archangel hovered in the air near him a moment later. Iceman joined them, Psylocke riding behind him on his ice-slide.
"Ah assume y'all got Cable's message?"
"We did Sam," Archangel replied, "time for us to save the world one more time."
"Less talk, more motion kids... or the others won't leave anything for us."
With that, Iceman turned his slide towards the conflagration in central park. Sam and Warren flanked him. They were all silent, their eyes focused on the conflict ahead.
*Warren?*
*I hear you, Bets, barely.*
*Onslaught is throwing off massive telepathic static. The astral plane is on fire.*
*So is New York.*
*Warren, with all that has happened, to us, and now this... if we... *
*I know, Bets... me too.*
* * *
"I... can't... hold... him..."
"You got to... we gotta buy the others more time... come on Pup, you tougher'n dis!"
They stood together before the flickering energy that was Onslaught. Bishop, his stance like a man crucified, hands open, arms spread wide, energy cascading off of him like rain... and behind him Gambit, crouching, his glowing hands planted against the bigger man's back, supercharging the very molecules of Bishop's being.
"Lebeau... loosing it..."
"Change the energy... vary it so's he can't keep up... damn you, we all gonna die if you buckle... so SHAPE UP!"
Rogue watched... so very strong, so very helpless. Storm stirred in her arms.
"Is Ororo alright?"
So focused on the struggle was she, Rogue hadn't sensed Jean's approach.
"She'll live... Scott?"
"I did all I could... Logan, Nathan, still with us?"
Jean didn't turn as the two jogged up to them.
"Jeannie... Xavier's gone."
"I know Logan... I felt it. There's no time to mourn. Joseph?"
"I didn't kill him, just wounded him bad enough to scare Onslaught out. If we get through this, there's time to save him."
"I... beg to differ..."
This time they all turned, as Joseph floated down to them.
He was wrapped in flickering energy, his arm pressed against his side, blood painting his uniform a slick crimson.
His blue eyes met Logan's for an instant. Nothing needed to be said. Logan had done what he had to.
Jean Grey looked at them all. Her green eyes flashed with fire as intense as that being evoked in the park beyond them.
"Onslaught must be stopped. This is how we'll do it..."
"Tell us as we go, Red... there ain't no more time."
"Then, one last time, X-Men... attack."
*Nate.*
"Jean... Jean Grey? What's happening..."
*It's bad Nate... we have one chance to stop Onslaught... And we need your help...*
"What about Franklin?"
*Protect him if you can...*
"I'm not sacrificing him, lady."
*No, you're not...*
* * *
"Bishop, Gambit, let it go... NOW!"
She told them what to do, and they acted... without question, knowing this could well be their last act.
Psylocke struck first. Shielding herself telepathically, her mind less than a shadow on the astral plane, the ninja had crept as close as possible to the Onslaught. In one motion she glided forward and struck, the totality of her powers formed into a katana of pure telepathic force which she stabbed into Onslaught, burying the blade and her mind deep in the enemy's being.
#YOU DARE!#
Energies beyond belief tore into Psylocke. Grimly, she held her place, feeling the monster unleash itself on her mind.
"I more than dare, monster..., I do."
And then the others struck. Nathan Askani'son Dayspring and Jean Grey, two of the most powerful telepaths in the world, struck out with all their will, through the channel opened by Psylocke.
Deep inside the astral plane, Nate Grey felt their effort, and reached towards it as he tightened his grip on the five year old boy.
"Frank, I'm going to show you a picture in your head, of what I want you to do, and I need you to trust me, and try with all your heart and soul."
"Mister, will I see my mom n' dad soon?"
"I hope so, kid. Can I count on you?"
"I'll do my best."
"That's all I ask, Franklin."
#WHAT IS THIS... WHAT ARE YOU DOING... FOOLS... YOU CANNOT HOPE TO STOP ME...#
The X-Men ignored him. Joseph spread a net of magnetic force around the energy form. He loosened his hold on the lifeblood spilling from his body and poured his very soul into chaining Onslaught's form.
Magnetism is closely related to electricity. Intense cold intensifies electric currents. When Iceman dropped the temperature around Onslaught, the force of Joseph's attack tripled.
Bishop renewed his assault, Gambit charging him up, the massive bio-energies forcing Onslaught's being into a smaller and smaller physical space, even as the telepathic assault opened a channel to the astral plane. A channel that ran right through Onslaught.
Deep inside the monster, Nate Grey began to pull.
*That's it, force him to become physical... give him form, and let Nate pull him into the Astral plane... harder dammit, we don't get another chance.*
Phoenix's thoughts echoed in all their heads, her anger and spirit infecting their hearts, and they redoubled their efforts.
#FOOLS... PATHETIC FOOLS... WE CAN RULE THIS PLANET... WE CAN RULE THE UNIVERSE... DO NOT DO THIS.#
Bishop fell, Gambit with him. They both just crumbled as Onslaught suddenly expanded its form. Their bodies disappeared without a trace. Rogue cried out as Gambit locked his eyes on hers as he faded away.
A moment later Psylocke was consumed by psionic flame as well. Archangel howled like an animal as she disappeared from sight. To the last she held her blade in place... it was enough... Cable and Phoenix had their teeth in, and Nate wasn't finished.
Rogue and Archangel were the first to strike, Cannonball and Wolverine an instant behind... the others had forced Onslaught onto the physical plane, and tore his insides out... now a physical attack was the final strike. Like a force of nature, bone claws and techno-organic wings, muscles that could shatter mountains and a blast field erupted into the coalesced energy... For the second time that night, Central park was lit up by an explosion of power that left a massive crater where once there were grass and trees...and the Onslaught was ended. A single thought echoed through the silence.
*I love you Scott.*
"Jean!"
* * *
I wake up with the sound of her voice in my head.
The final clash with Onslaught is something I relive almost every night. What came after I would just as soon forget.
The blast had left no bodies, no remains. I lay where I had been struck down. I was found by a SHIELD recon team. The blast had decimated most of central park. They were the first ones on the scene. I was moved to a secure facility as the cleanup began.
Of course, I knew none of this when I awoke, confused and in pain.
By reflex I raised my hand to check if my visor was in place. Usually I would know instantly, but every nerve in my face felt like it was on fire. Restraints held my right arm in place. The left felt stiff.
There didn't seem to be anything over my eyes, so I was effectively blind. I felt worse than I did every time I sparred with Logan.
"You can open your eye, kid. You won't trash the place."
"Who are you... where am I?"
My voice was hoarse. My throat felt like sandpaper and gravel.
"Take a look kid."
"Whoever you are, you should know I can't..."
"I'm G.W. Bridge, current commander of S.H.E.I.L.D.. You may not remember me, but we met once before..."
"When you were holding me prisoner."
"Yep... then you may also remember that your friend Cable and I have a long history, and once, he trusted me."
"So I should trust you now?"
"I told the techs ‘bout yer little problem, Cyclops. There's a ruby quartz tinted contact lens on yer good eye."
"My... good...?"
"Open it kid, we got a lot to talk about."
And I did. It was eerie. As near as I could see, my vision was unimpaired. Hank had experimented with contact lenses, but we had found it too unreliable in combat. For the moment though, it was hardly a concern.
"Jean... Phoenix... The X-Men?"
"I've lost enough people ta know I can't sugar coat this for ya kid..."
But I already knew. The aching emptiness opened inside me like a chasm... I couldn't feel Jean... that warm comfortable presence that had been a part of me for so long was gone.
"Who else made it out?"
"We found you at the periphery of the blast, Cyclops. There was no one else."
"No... no one..."
* * *
Bridge was full of surprises.
"I'll need a visor."
"We'll worry about that when yer up'n'around, kid."
"Now commander, or I take out this lens and start looking for one."
"Fine kid... you do that."
It took me almost ten minutes to make it across the room to that mirror. Bridge sat there the entire time, watching me.
It was the first time I had seen myself since I woke up. Half my face was covered in white bandages, from my temple down over most of the left side of my face. The right side was more or less unscathed... including the glowing red eye that stared back at me. There was no lens.
He flinched when I whirled on him, perhaps expecting to be pulverized. When he wasn't, he let me stand there with my mouth open for a few instants. I nearly pitched over on my face and had to steady myself on the sink.
"It took a fair amount of work to fix you up. The docs found some old scarring inside your head, and some more recent scarring on top of it..."
I realized it weeks later, long after I had escaped from the SHIELD hospital. Ozymandias' cave, where we had found Logan after his escape from Genesis... the blow to my head had corrected the damage caused in the plane crash so long ago.
For the first time in my life, I was free of the curse of uncontrollable force from my eyes... I wanted to look the professor in the eyes... I wanted to wake up beside Jean and not have to fumble for a visor before kissing her... I wanted to hear the catch in Logan's voice the next time he called me ‘one-eye'... and instead all I could do was sit there, and stare at my scarred visage in the mirror.
* * *
The time I spent wandering after that is a blur. I was set on just losing myself, when Hank McCoy found me and turned my pathetic world upside down yet again...
"Surely there are more effective ways of passing one's time than seeking comfort in the bottom of a bottle, even one of so sophisticated a vintage as Johnnie Walker Black Label."
"Hank."
"And greetings to you fearless leader... I'm fine, thank you for asking. None the worse for wear from my forced incarceration at the hands of my evil doppelganger. I am somewhat aggrieved at the loss of my entire mutant family, and further at my remaining friend's total lack of contact. And how are you?"
"Hi, what can I getcha?"
"Ah, waitress... I would like a diet coke..."
"We just have Pepsi..."
"A pity, but it will suffice."
Five silent minutes later...
"Here ya go, that'll be one-twenty-five, thanks."
"Please, keep the change."
"Ummm... mister, this is a thousand dollars."
"Yes... it should cover the damage."
"Pardon?"
There was no reply, as three hundred pounds of blue fur and muscle, concealed by an image-inducer but no less effective, kicked over the table and launched at the man sitting across the booth.
Reflexes hardened and ingrained from years of training and combat did nothing. A wide hand picked Scott up and hurled him across the bar. Hank leapt after him, casually pulling the phone wire from the wall with a foot as the bartender reached for the receiver. Perched on the bar, Hank presented the bartender with another wad of bills and turned off the image inducer. It's hard to say whether the money or the blue-faced countenance with a mouthful of fangs made his eyes go wide.
"I suggest you and your staff leave."
"We're gone."
Scott was on his hands and knees as the Beast landed near him and grabbed him by the shoulders, lifting him up and slamming him against the mirrored wall. Bottles shatter and fall aside.
Blue lips draw back and fangs hiss words in Scott's ear.
"This is what you've fallen to? A pathetic drunk in a world that needs you more than ever? You, who led us through fire and hell time and again? I am disgusted."
Huge muscles flexed and Scott's limp body travelled along the bar. As bar ended, Cyclops found himself falling towards the floor when blue furred hands grabbed him again and lifted him up into the air, two feet off the ground.
"Does the dream die because some of the dreamers die, Scott? Does their memory mean nothing to you?"
A full half of his face was covered by long brown hair. His sunglasses were knocked aside when his face met the wall. The long hair fell aside as Beast swung him around and slammed his back against the wall. Hank McCoy had known this man for most of his life. What he saw now gave him pause. The left side of Scott's face was a mass of scars. From a point where the eye socket started all the way to the ear the skin was pale and cratered. The eye socket it self was lost to the scars. The right side was the same face the Beast had always known, but haunted, in pain that had nothing to do with alcohol or the beating. One dim red eye stares down at the accuser.
"I see you now resemble your mythic namesake more than ever. Pity you have none of his tenacity. The Cyclops of legend pursued Ulysses even after he was blinded."
"Leave me alone, Hank."
The response is an almost casual toss onto a table that creaked but didn't quite break. The wood was stressed further when a wide hand came down on Scott's chest.
"I will not. The war isn't over, Cyclops. Contrary to what you may think, your duties are not ended."
"My life ended when Onslaught tore away half my face and half my soul."
"And are you in that big a hurry to send the other half to join it?"
"That's my business"
"No... it is now mine."
The hand closed to a fist around Scott's shirt, lifting, preparing for another throw. Two hands, smaller, but fierce in their strength, grabbed the wrist. The throw was arrested as Scott planted his feet on Hank's shoulders and pushed, breaking the grip and back flipping to regain his feet. A furious roundhouse punch flew at him. He ducked right into a rising kick. The force pitched him over backwards.
"This is not Cyclops. This is not the man I followed for most of my adult life, the man I tried to emulate whenever the mantle of leadership fell to me."
Scott raised his head up, red eye suddenly flashing, its colour similar to the blood dripping from his cut forehead.
"Cyclops is dead."
"Scott Summers is very much alive."
"Oh, lucky me."
Scott rolled over, stood and grabbed a table, swinging it at Hank, who didn't even flinch as he batted it aside and slammed the palm of his hand into Scott's jaw, sending him flipping over backwards again.
"Get up, Summers. Get up and show me you still have the fire within you."
"Leave me alone!"
"The conclusion of a mission does not mean the conflict is ended. Your words, Scott. Your words."
"Damn you, there is no mission... Xavier is dead, Jean is dead, all of them..."
"Not X-force. Not Sean and Emma's students."
"Then let them fight for the dream."
"They can't. Operation: Zero Tolerance has captured them."
"What?"
"Bastion... perhaps you've heard of him... tall chap, likes to wipe out mutants in his spare time..."
"How?"
"X-force was taken in ambush. So were most of the kids. When Sean and Emma went after them, they were taken as well."
"How do you know this."
"The same way I found you Scott. The long arm of G.W. Bridge."
* * *
Hank.
I don't think of you much anymore.
Rather pathetic of me.
Jean, Charles, Nathan, some of the others, but rarely you. You sacrificed yourself to take down Bastion. I think maybe I hate you for it. I should have died there in the Hulkbuster base. Me, not you. You would have been a far better caretaker for the dream.
But you're dead, like so many others.
And because of a promise you forced from me as you died, I'm fighting for a world that hates and fears me and my kind... again.
And now a word from our author;
Hi, c'est moi, Abyss, big as life and twice as witty... I'll be honest, this story does, potentially, serve as a jumping off point for a new story arc... maybe.
I have some neat ideas, and if the muse grabs me (ouch!), I'll give them a whirl. In the meantime, the story stands as is.
So... waddaya think? Hated it, loved it, want to see the movie?
Comments, suggestions, hate mail and meatloaf recipes can be sent to; Abyss
‘Til next we meet, keep the faith.
Abyss