The security guard at Ion Commercial Labs only noticed something amiss two seconds before he was shot through the head. He was sitting in his chair behind the lobby desk eating a pastrami sub on an Italian roll when he caught a flicker of movement on the monitor that received feed from the hallway behind the lobby. It was the shadow of a person, minus a body. The guard jumped upright in his chair, lettuce and mayo going down the front of his shirt, and then thwap, a silenced .44 slug went through his head from behind.

The shooter tucked the pistol back into holster, stripped off the leather gloves, and straightened her suit jacket. She was young, but looked completely professional, perhaps a junior accountant working late. She pressed a few keys on the security guard’s computer, and deactivated the lobby alarms, cameras and motion sensors. Then she walked confidently to the front lobby door and let the rest of the squad in.

Fifteen minutes later Ion Commercial was in flames and the squad was gone, leaving nothing behind but a shadow on celluloid, a shadow that soon burned away.

"Unbelievable," said Marge, shaking her curly head at the tiny television resting on the kitchen counter. "What is this world coming to?" She got no response from the redheaded teenager at the dining room table. "Meg, did you see what happened?" demanded Marge. Meg, seventeen years old and much more intent on the history of Europe, which was on her quiz, than her foster mother, looked up, exasperated.

"No, Mom, what happened? Presidential scandal? End of the world? What?"

"Someone torched Ion Labs," said Marge. Meg shrugged.

"They deserved it." Marge sighed, short and sharp.

"How can you be so heartless, Margaret?" Meg slapped her textbook shut.

"Mom, Ion Labs was under investigation for environmental violations, radioactive waste dumping and experiments on human beings. Plus seventy percent of their raw materials factories use third-world slave labor."

"But people were killed!" said Marge. "Honestly, Meg, I don’t understand your logic anymore."

"My logic is the Ion Lab people were screwing with human lives and they got what they deserved," said Meg. "Whoever did this knew that it would hurt them more to get hit in the wallet than the press. The New York lab was where they were doing all that billion-dollar gene research."

"You sound like a regular detective," said Marge dryly.

"We have to watch the news for political science," said Meg. She pushed back her chair and stood.

"Where are you going?" said Marge, the protective mother always. Meg shrugged.

"Go to a couple bars, loose all my college money in a poker game, lift some cars, I haven’t decided yet," she said. Marge shook her head, humor failing once again.

"You don’t talk to your father that way."

"My father—" started Meg. Marge put her hands on her plump hips, ready for a confrontation. Meg heaved a sigh. "Forget it. I’ll be home for dinner." She escaped into the winter day before her mother could say anything else.

Outside, walking to the bus stop, Meg allowed the words she had been holding in to manifest. My father is dead.

"Are you still working on that? My god, Lauren, get a life." Lauren looked up from her pile of notes and scribbles and voluminous molecular biology textbook.

"I can have a life or a 4.0, Greta. I just chose the 4.0." Great Mills, Lauren’s roommate and best friend, shook her head.

"I don’t understand how you can work on that stuff, hour after hour. I’d go stark raving mad." She gave Lauren a pleading look. "Come on, Laurie, just go to the mall for an hour. It won’t kill you. Who knows, you might meet a hot guy." She grinned. Lauren had to smile as she shook her head.

"Yeah, those Brad Pitt types are very attracted to glasses and an early acceptance to Johns Hopkins."

"Aww," said Greta. "You’re cute, Lauren, you just need to open up a little. Like, eye contact. Smiling. You know." Lauren chuckled.

"Fine, fine. Just an hour, though."

"Cross my heart and hope to die," said Greta. "Come on, Laurie!"

In Greta’s Saab, Lauren noticed a white envelope in the dashboard tray. "Yale?" she asked, knowing her friend’s ambition.

"Oh god, no," said Greta. "Nelson." Nelson Mills was a textile mogul and Greta’s father. She had a less than easy relationship with him. Lauren sighed.

"I know you hate your father, Greta, but I have to say this: at least you have one."

"Laurie, if I could make it so my father was dead and both of your parents were still around, believe me. I would." Lauren looked out at the naked, gray trees that lined the street.

"Thanks, Greta. I know it’s silly, but sometimes, I really wish you could too."

Jumping out of the window and vaulting the chain link fence had been easy. Losing the remarkably fit NYPD officer had not been. "You stop right there, punk!" the officer had yelled after a hundred yard dash through alleys and garbage. "Stop or I’ll put a cap in you!"

"I’m sure," Damien muttered under his breath as he ran. Around the corner, fire escape, grab the ladder, haul himself out of sight, over to the next building and gone. He sat down hard with his back against the chimney of the brownstone he had jumped to, and took in a sharp breath of the winter night air. "Jackass," he muttered, referring to both himself and the policeman. Damien knew breaking into the heavily alarmed jewelry store was a mistake, but he was broke and living on the street, and even a tough guy like him had a hard time in ten below weather like they had been having this week. Damien drew out his prize—three twenty-karat gold bracelets, a pair of diamond dangly earrings and a large ruby ring, of poor quality but still worth a few hundred dollars to his fence. Damien’s breath misted in the air, and his shaggy black hair fell in his eyes, as it perpetually did. He knew he was good looking—all the girls at Hoover’s Billiards on Thirty Fourth Street would gladly be his date to anywhere. Damien had taken them up on it a few times, but they got to be annoying after a while, fussing with their hair, not able to walk anywhere on their ridiculous eighties-throwback high heels, and refusing to cut through alleys because they were scared of rats. Most of them weren’t even that useful for pure physical pleasure.

Damien leaned his head back and looked at the pink glow of the New York sky. He had only seen a real night sky a few times in his life, once from a foster home in the Catskills, once from a beach on Fire Island during the summer, with one of the particularly stupid Hoover girls. She had treated Damien like a god, which was nice for a while but got old. It was no fun when girls were no challenge. Damien almost wished one of them would give him a good stiff smack when he tried something. But his looks paved the way, albeit a rocky one. Damien had gotten out of a lot of trouble with a wink and a smile. He had his mother’s slightly pointed chin, black eyes and general face shape, but other than that his looks were his father’s. Square shoulders, lanky muscles, thick dark hair and sensuous lips, all from a man he’d never met, and knew nothing about. Damien sometimes wondered about his father—was he still alive, rich, poor, in prison or a shining member of society. Damien was inclined to think the latter, after all the times when he was a kid and misbehaved, and his mother would twist her little handkerchief between her hands and sob he was just like his father. Damien wished now he’d pressed her for some details.

Meg had been trying to avoid both of her foster parents after the tense exchange with Marge the day before, but Harvey, her foster father, was planted in the middle of the sofa when she walked in the door. He switched off the Green Bay-Miami game and looked at her over his glasses. "You came home late last night."

"I called," said Meg defensively. Harvey raised his eyebrows and pushed the glasses back up his nose.

"Sit down, Meg. I need to talk to you." A split second of panic ran through Meg. He couldn’t have found out… No. If that was the case, Harvey and Marge both would have been present, and she’d probably be on the way out the door with a boot in the backside. She sat down on the footstool and faced Harvey.

"What is it, Dad?" she said resignedly. Harvey licked his lips.

"Meg, don’t tell your mother I said this to you, but…" He looked as if Marge might be lurking just behind the door. "You know we can only legally care for you until you’re eighteen. After that, Social Services won’t place you any more."

"Yeah, I know," said Meg. Harvey looked really uncomfortable.

"Marge is having a hard time dealing with you lately," he said.

"I—" started Meg. Harvey held up his hand.

"She’s already looking into places for you to go after your birthday." Meg felt stung, but knew the heavy woman had always wanted children of her own and looked on Meg as a poor substitute.

"So, what’s your point?" she said. Harvey reached to his other side and held up an old-fashioned VHS tape labeled ‘Margaret LeBeau’.

"You parents left this with you, to be watched when you turned eighteen. I…want you to have it now, while you’re still here." He sighed. "Meg, I know I’m not your parent, really, but I love you, and I know what’s on here might be traumatic for you. I wanted you to watch it now while you’re still here with some moral support." Meg took the tape slowly.

"My parents are on here?" Harvey nodded.

"You can watch it in private, of course." He laid a hand on her shoulder, tentatively. "Please talk to me if it upsets you." Meg patted the hand.

"Thanks…Dad."

In her room, Meg hauled the VCR out of the closet and plugged it into the television. Feeling like she was moving in slow motion she pressed the two power buttons and slipped the tape into the slot. After an interminable moment of static, a face appeared, backed by what looked like a bedroom. The face was male, with straight red hair a few shades lighter than Meg’s, bangs hanging into his eyes, which were dark red. The face was handsome, the kind that could break into a grin at any second, with Meg’s high cheekbones and strong chin. Meg knew without a doubt she was looking at her father. "Is this thing on?" he said, squinting into the camera. He had a southern accent that sounded like maple syrup over pancakes. "Little red light is blinking…okay." He straightened up and cleared his throat. "Meg, if you watching this, you’re either eighteen or I’m dead." He ran a hand through his shock of hair. "My name is Remy LeBeau. I’m your father—real father, that is." Meg sat absolutely still on the bed, breath shallow. This is me, she thought, watching the face on the screen. This is where I came from. Remy cleared his throat again. "There’s some t’ings I need to tell you, chere. In case you haven’t already figured it out, you’re a mutant, like me an’ your mom. I don’ know what your powers are like, but I hope you’re doin’ the right thing wit’ em. You mom and I don’ know what it’ll be like for us in the future, but we hope it better den now." Yeah, right, Meg thought. "I’m real bad at dis stuff," said Remy, "so I’m gonna let your ma take over." He stepped to the side, still in the frame, and a red-haired woman took his place. She had a white streak running up the center of her hair, and a no-nonsense expression.

"Hi, sugar," she said. She also had a southern drawl, but to a lesser extent than Remy’s. "My name is Marie LeBeau. I’m your mom. We made this tape for two reasons—first so you’d know we didn’t just up and dump you, and second because Professor Charles Xavier asked us to."

"Dis is Xavier’s school we standing in right now," said Remy. Marie nodded agreement.

"The school is also the base for our…organization, I guess you’d call it." She looked directly at the camera. "I don’t know if they’re still going strong, or are long gone, but Remy and I are members of a mutant rights team called the X-men."

"Professor X founded dem," put in Remy. "An’ we, well, we do the down an’ dirty work to make the world stop looking at mutants cross-eyed."

"We use our mutant abilities, sometimes for fighting and sometimes just to help the rest of the world accept us," said Marie. "I can absorb another mutant’s powers, and use them for a little while. Copy-cat sort of thing."

"An’ she can fly," added Remy. "I can, well, Xavier calls it ‘atomic manipulation’. I sorta concentrate on somethin’ an’ it explodes."

"He makes it unstable," said Marie, "with kinetic energy. I hope you’ve inherited at least some of both our powers."

"Tell her about de names," said Remy.

"Right," said Marie. "Everyone on the team has a silly little name. I’m Rouge, and your dad is Gambit, for reasons that really have nothing to do with his powers," she threw Remy a look. He grinned innocently. "The rest of the team is Jean Grey, who’s just Jean, and Scott Summers, who’s called Cyclops, Logan, who doesn’t have a last name…"

"Amnesia," said Remy.

"He’s called Wolverine, then there’s Ororo Munroe, who’s Storm, and Jubilation Lee, who’s Jubilee."

"She’s not much older than you be by the time you watch dis," said Remy. "The reason we told you all dis, chere, was Xavier wanted the X-men’s memory to be kept alive, even if de times have gotten worse."

"Sorry to dump all this on you, sugar, but you’re probably the last person related to the X-men who knows about them," said Marie. "Scott and Jean have a little one-year-old girl, but they’re keeping the X-men a secret from her."

"And…" said Remy. "We just wanted to say in de end dat we love you, and we didn’t give you up because you were a mutant. We jus’ wanted you to have a better life den we did, without all de pain." Marie reached a delicate hand towards the camera.

"We love you, sugar, and we’ll be with you. Grow up strong." The picture dissolved into static.

Meg simply sat, in shock. She had been looking at two actual members of the X-men. Two members who were her parents. The X-men had been dead for years…but there it was on the tape. She had known she was a mutant since a day when she was fourteen, but never known she was the child of famous mutants as well. The tape kept running, and suddenly the picture came back on. Meg jumped slightly as she saw a man with wild black hair and thick sideburns retract his arm from turning the camera back on, and glance to both sides to see if he was being watched. "Hey, kid, sorry to break in on your family moment," he said in a gravelly baritone, "but this ain’t something I can share with the people around here." He looked around again. "My name’s Logan, Wolverine if you’d rather. You smooth talkin’ father has probably already filled your head with how much of a jerk I am, but here it goes anyway. I have a kid, your age. I don’t see him and I don’t know how he’s doing, but if he’s anything like me his life’s gonna be hard." He bit his lip. "I’d appreciate it if you could maybe find him, tell him about all this X-men crap. I don’t want him screwed up like I was. His name’s Damien. Damien North." He grimaced. "Thanks, and if you’re anything like your mom and dad you’re gonna be one hell of a mutant." The picture cut off abruptly.

"Lauren, there’s a weird girl here to see you." Lauren looked up at Greta over her oval reading glasses.

"Weird how?"

"Just…weird," said Greta impatiently. Lauren smiled.

"Well, Greta, biology classifies weird as a mutation from the accepted norm, or a natural event unexplained by modern science. Which is she?" Greta ground her teeth, annoyed as Lauren had intended.

"She’s weird enough to be a mutant, alright," said Greta, "Want me to tell her to buzz off?" Greta didn’t catch the smile leaving Lauren’s face.

"No. I need a break anyway."

"Ha!" said Great. "Since when does the great Lauren Grey-Summers take a break from anything?" Lauren pushed back her chair and went past Greta. Suddenly her friend was getting on her nerves.

"Since now," she murmured as she went down the stairs to the great room.

The ‘weird girl’ was sitting on a ratty burgundy sofa, out of place in her ripped jeans and military-surplus look jacket. She had deep red hair, almost wine-colored, in contrast to Lauren’s light shade, and eyes that were not quite brown and not quite gold—like a red honey. "I’m Lauren Grey-Summers," said Lauren. "Did you want to see me?" The girl stood and shook her hand.

"Meg LeBeau," she said. "I came here from Springfield."

"Massachusetts?" said Lauren. "Long trip." Meg nodded. She looked almost familiar to Lauren, and she was tempted to reach out and see if indeed she knew this girl…no. She had vowed never to do that, to curb those…wrong instincts.

"You okay?" said Meg. Lauren nodded.

"Of course. Please sit down, Miss LeBeau." They both took a seat on the sofa. "How can I help you?" Meg bit her lip.

"Man, I thought this was gonna be easy. Umm, okay." She shifted to face Lauren. "First of all, let me make sure I have the right person. Your parents were named Jean Grey and Scott Summers, right?" Lauren stiffened.

"How did you know that?"

"My…my parents told me," said Meg. "I know who you are, Lauren. You’re a mutant, just like me."

"Ma’am," said one of the squad uneasily. "He’s been sitting there for hours."

"Well then show him in, moron," said the squad leader as she put her briefcase on her desk and check her ‘while you were out’ box. She tossed her silver ponytail over her shoulder and straightened her black wool suit skirt. Bunks and supplies occupied the main part of the warehouse, and the man, or at least the creature that resembled a man, was sitting on a crate of canned chipped beef. She saw the squad member go over and gesture nervously towards the small glass-fronted office. The man got up, towering over him, and walked towards her. He had to duck his shaggy head and turn sideways to get through the door. "Greetings," said the squad leader smoothly. "I am Adrienne Poe." The man pulled back his lip scornfully, revealing oversized canines. Adrienne fought not to wrinkle her nose. The man smelled distinctly of…cat.

"Ain’t got a name you can be proud of?" Adrienne flicked to invisibility and back briefly.

"Shade. And you are?" The man crossed his arms.

"Victor Creed. Sabertooth." Adrienne nodded and smiled.

"My my, this is an honor. I’ve heard much about you, Sabertooth." The huge man softened under the flattery. "Very pleased you meet you," said Adrienne, sticking out her hand. Sabertooth’s engulfed it as he shook with a bone-crunching grip.

"I’ve heard a lot about this crazy little war you and those kids are leading. You ain’t much more than a kid yourself." Adrienne smiled, coldly.

"You’ll find me quite capable, Sabertooth. Now may I inquire the purpose of your visit?"

"Yeah," said Sabertooth. "Ya see, I’ve seen the job you kids are doing, nice bit of work. You got lot of bread, some respect and fear, and I figured hell, I’m not getting any younger, can’t drift around like a bum forever. I might as well join ya." Adrienne inclined her head.

"Well, of course, Sabertooth, you would be a great asset—"

"But then," said Sabertooth, "I saw how the leader of this little old army was a half-pint little princess with bad hair, and I thought, hell, I might as well take it over." He started for Adrienne with a feral growl, fully intending to crush her skull. Adrienne’s eyes flashed.

Sabertooth was pinned against the ceiling of the office, arms and legs writhing, baring teeth and growling murderously at Adrienne. "This half-pint princess happens to be the most gifted telekinetic being on the face of the earth," said Adrienne in a deadly voice. The pressure against Sabertooth increased slightly. "And you should talk about having bad hair." She walked out of the office, after a moment Sabertooth was released abruptly and fell to the floor with a thud.

Lauren stared at Meg. There was no way she could have known…but she did…who was she? "You’re a mutant," repeated Meg. Lauren grabbed her wrist in a death grip.

"Don’t you ever say that word in this dorm again!" she hissed. "Do you have any idea how hard I’ve worked to get here? To be accepted?" Meg extricated her hand from Lauren’s fist.

"I’m sorry, Lauren, but—"

"Do you know what would happen if these people found out I was a…not normal? Do you know what the dean and my teachers would do?" She stared at Meg with an almost panicked expression. "My life would be over." Meg’s expression changed from concern to scornful.

"Man, you are pathetic," she said. "Look at you. This is part of who you are, and you’re treating it like the plague."

"It’s worse than a plague," said Lauren softly. "I saw my parents struggle and struggle to give me a normal life, and I finally realized that I’d never get it unless I became a normal person."

"You’re not normal, and neither am I," said Meg simply. Lauren glared.

"You still haven’t told me how you knew who I am."

"Or your dirty secret?" said Meg, scornful again. "Our parents…worked together. Marie and Remy LeBeau."

"I remember Remy!" said Lauren suddenly. "He used to visit us when I was a little girl, two or three." She smiled at the memory. "He used to give me those airplane rides—my dad hated it." She saw Meg’s face soften as well. "So you’re his daughter. What’s he like?"

"I wouldn’t know," said Meg. "He and my mother gave me to a foster home when I was a baby, and they disappeared when I was fourteen."

"I—I had no idea," said Lauren. "I’m sorry. Both of my parents died when I was fourteen. Car crash."

"It’s over and done with," said Meg. "I never knew them anyway. Listen, Lauren. Do you have any idea what your parents did for a living?"

"My mother was a geneticist specializing in mutant DNA, and my father was a computer engineer," said Lauren surely. Meg shook her head.

"Ennh. Wrong. They were both part of a mutant rights team, lead by a doctor name Charles Xavier. They—"

"Stop it," said Lauren. "I don’t want to know. If it’s about mutants, I don’t want to know." She started to get up.

"Well you’re gonna hear it anyway," said Meg, half-standing as well and pushing her back down. "Sit." Lauren’s eyes widened.

"How dare you—I’ll call security!" She started up again. Meg grabbed an ashtray on the end table next to the couch. There was a flash and a pop, and the tray exploded into tiny particles. Lauren’s eyes went wide.

"Now that I have your attention," said Meg. "The team was called the X-Men. They were dedicated to making mutants a valid and accepted part of society. They were working against exactly what is happening now." She picked up a crumpled copy of the first section of the New York Times, several days out of date that had been lying on the floor. "Look at this. Mutant Beatings Continue in Five Boroughs," she read one headline. "Senate Lobbying to Pass Mutant Segregation Act. Five Mutant Citizens Hanged in Republic of China." She slapped the paper down on the floor.

"It’s horrible," agreed Lauren. "But I don’t see your point."

"My point is that my parents, your parents, saw a different future. Believed in a different future. This is not the way the world is supposed to be. It needs someone like the old team." Lauren saw where Meg’s conversation was going.

"No. Impossible. I’d never be a part of it."

"Why not?" said Meg. "You’re a mutant, whether you like it or not."

"I couldn’t," said Lauren. "Meg, I don’t know you well, but I feel I should advise you—something like this could get you killed." Meg’s face set.

"Listen. All my life, I wondered who I was and where I came from. I got beat up, teased, and ridiculed because I have mutant abilities. I spent seventeen years wondering if my parents gave me up because of that, and now I find that I’m part of something that works for mutants. I can’t, and won’t turn my back on that. I believe in it. I’ve never had that before." Lauren bit her lip. Meg’s conviction was certainly strong…but impossible for her to envision as well.

"I can’t leave my life here," she said. "I have plans, and obligations."

"Bull," said Meg. "Your life is based on the fact no one knows you’re a mutant. What if they find out, Lauren? What then?" Lauren looked away.

"I don’t let myself think about that, because it won’t happen. I don’t go around ranting and raving like you." She suddenly looked at Meg sharply. "Same to you!"

"I didn’t say anything," said Meg. Lauren clenched her fists.

"Dammit!" A smile grew on Meg’s face.

"You’re telepathic, aren’t you?" she said.

"Stop this!" cried Lauren. "Just leave me alone!"

"You’re telepathic and god knows what else," said Meg. "And if you don’t at least come with me to give this thing a try, every single person on this stuck-up campus is going to know it." She sat back. "I’d give you maybe an hour before the lynch mob." Lauren’s mouth fell open.

"You wouldn’t dare!"

"Wouldn’t I?" said Meg calmly. "From what I’ve gathered, my father was something of a hustler, and I’m no different." She grinned.

"You’re bluffing," said Lauren, voice wavering.

"Use your abilities and find out," said Meg. Lauren shook her head, lips pressed tight.

"Never."

"Alright then," said Meg, standing. "Which way was the dean’s office again?" She took a step towards the door. "And do you prefer ‘mutant freak’ or ‘mutant creature’?"

"Alright!" said Lauren loudly. Meg turned back.

"Say what?"

"Alright," said Lauren, subdued. "I’ll come with you." Meg’s grin returned and she rubbed her hands together.

"Now we’re in business."

Lauren sat on her bed and looked at the dismal hotel room. "All the comforts of home, eh?" said Meg as she began tossing things out of her duffel bag. Lauren looked down at her folded hands.

"I don’t want to talk, if that’s alright with you." Meg looked over at her.

"I don’t blame you being pissed off at me. Blackmail was kind of an extreme measure. Maybe when we get to the school you’ll understand."

"School?" said Lauren.

"Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters," said Meg. "The X-Men’s home base. It’s somewhere upstate, about an hour out of the city. Charles Xavier ran it as a prep school for young mutants to hide the real purpose."

"How do you know all this?" demanded Lauren.

"We have the net at home," said Meg. "Speaking of which…my parents are probably calling the cops out on me around now."

"Why? Did you steal their car or something?" said Lauren. Meg shook her head as she drew her wallet from the bag.

"Nah. I left them a note explaining about me being a mutant and why I had to leave."

"They didn’t know?" said Lauren. Meg counted her cash.

"Nope, in fact they’re ardent supporters of mutant suppression. I said they were calling the cops on me, not about me. I’m gonna go get a sandwich, you want?" Lauren marveled that Meg showed no emotion about her family status.

"No, thank you," she said.

"Back in a second," said Meg as she left and locked the door.

"Yo North!" Damien’s eyebrows drew together. He knew the voice, too well. It was Horse, the leader of a Chinatown street gang who’s turf Damien had to walk over to reach his ‘home’ in the basement of a condemned townhouse. "North!" shouted Horse again; who for a slight Chinese boy had an exceptionally thick and booming Brooklyn accent. Damien turned.

"What? What do you people want from me?" Horse and his groupies, all heavy with long hair and bad tattoos, closed in. Horse eyed his pocket.

"Good score, North?" Damien glared.

"None of your friggin’ business, scumbag."

"Oooo," said all the groupies in unison. Horse’s face turned a dark shade of red.

"Just for that," he said, stripping off his dusty black jacket, "I’m gonna tear you apart."

"Yeah, we’re gonna have a fight tonight!" said a groupie. Damien eyed him.

"A complete sentence. Impressive." Horse beckoned him, with the overdramatic edge of someone who watched too many crappy gangster movies. Damien slowly removed his own faded and battered jean jacket, setting it on an oil drum. He’d managed to unload everything but one of the gold bracelets, which had a unique pattern and could be traced. He turned back to Horse. The groupies gathered in a loose circle, as well as a few of the assistant bouncers from nearby bars. They all loved good fights, especially if an outsider was getting the tar beaten out of him.

The circled closed, and one of the groupies yelled, "Fight!" to punctuate the start. Horse was small, but made of tightly packed muscle and deadly fast. He came after Damien with a vengeance. Damien managed to block the first two blows, but Horse’s punch to his side made him feel like he had been slammed with a brick. Damien crumpled. As Horse kicked him in the ribs, his nostrils were suddenly filled with an odor overriding the wet pavement, exhaust from the bar kitchens, and general garbage. It wasn’t a bad odor—in fact it was pleasant, like a strong flower, orchid or narcissus. Damien lost it as Horse kicked him again, but it remained through his haze of pain. "Hit him again!" yelled someone in the crowd as Horse stepped back to let Damien writhe in total humiliation.

"Not worth my time," said Horse. "I could whip a mutant easier than his sorry butt." He puckered his mouth to spit in front of Damien.

Damien was going to just let him walk away, take his beating and be done with it, but at the words whip a mutant easier his red-hot temper flared. He felt the pain in his ribs ease, as his pains always did. Horse still had his mouth puckered up, laughs and jeers in the background, when Damien hooked his ankle with his own foot and brought him down hard on the concrete. Horse gave a yell that was choked out of him as he hit the ground. In an instant Damien was on top of him, two quick, hard hits to the face making red come from Horse’s nose and lips. The yells became louder, sides shifting. Damien’s hard fists kept up a rhythm, Horse getting bloodier and bloodier. He was aware of people pushing through the crowd to get a better look. Damien was aiming for a last, jaw-breaking punch when he saw the fear in Horse’s eyes, heard his garbled shout of "No!" above the onlookers. Blood came from his mouth. Damien stopped, fist in the air, the rage clearing. "Please!" said Horse, hardly able to force the word through the blood and swelling. Damien hesitated for another instant, then got up, hauling Horse with him "You listen and you listen good, punk," he growled. "I don’t like you, and I don’t like your friends." Horse tugged at his grip, frantic but weak. Damien stuck his face into the bloody boy’s. "And I don’t like your attitude on mutants." Horse’s eyes widened.

"You mean…" he choked. Damien tossed him into the cluster of oil drums. Horse was out for the count. The spectators took a collective step back with a gasp. Damien cast an eye at all of them. "What are you people lookin’ at?" Horse’s groupies scattered; the bouncers quickly developed a work ethic. Damien slipped his jacket back on, shaking his head. When that anger gripped him, it was like he had no control…and that smell was still there. Damien turned.

"Nice move," said the redheaded girl. Damien glared at her from his spot in the shadows.

"You want something, lady?" Her face quirked in a half-smile.

"I don’t know about the lady part, but no. Just complimenting."

"Thanks," said Damien turning up the collar of his jacket and taking a few steps away. "Have a nice life."

"Wait a minute!" said the girl suddenly. Damien turned back with a frustrated throat noise.

"I don’t have a phone, and I do have a girlfriend."

"And also an over-inflated opinion of yourself," said the girl. Damien turned back.

"What is it?" he snapped. The girl crossed her arms, knowing grin on her face. The grin was infectious, made her eyes sparkle with mischief. Damien softened a little.

"How long have you know you’re a mutant?" asked the girl. Damien’s eyes widened.

"I don’t know what you’re talking about."

"Oh come on," said the girl. "I’ve had my share of being beat up, and no one normal walks away from what that Chinese kid handed out."

"Maybe I’m just tough," said Damien, glaring at her. The girl crossed her arms.

"Maybe you’re a mutant."

"Maybe you should mind your own damn business," said Damien, glaring still. "I’ve taken on mutant-haters before and I’ll do it again."

"Oh come on, I’m not one of those idiots," said Meg.

"Then what are you?" said Damien impatiently.

"A mutant, of course," said the girl. "You’re not too swift, are you?" Damien glared even more stormily at her.

"So you’re a mutant. What’s it to me?"

"You ever hear of the X-Men?" asked the girl. Damien shrugged.

"Yeah, vaguely. Some terrorist group or somethin’." The girl shook her head.

"They were a mutant rights team. My parents both worked for them." Damien raised an eyebrow.

"No kidding."

"The world needs the X-Men again," said the girl. "Look what you just said about mutant-haters."

"What are you, on some sort of crusade?" said Damien derisively.

"No, in fact I’m a fairly self-centered and sneaky individual," said the girl. "But my parents gave me this legacy and it needs to be carried on."

"So, what, you want me to join up or something?" said Damien. The girl shrugged.

"Yeah, if you want. You seem like a pretty good fighter, we’ll probably need you."

"I guess," said Damien. "Not like I have any pressing engagements." The girl held out her hand.

"I’m Meg LeBeau. Welcome aboard." Damien stepped out of the shadows and shook it.

"Damien North." Meg suddenly stared. "Am I blinding you with my dark good looks?" asked Damien, deadpan. He hated to be stared at.

"Damien…North?" said Meg.

"Uh huh," said Damien. She shook her head.

"Wow. Wow. This really is a coincidence."

"What is?" said Damien. "Can I have my hand back?" Meg dropped it.

"I know your father," she said. "Well, not really, but he did ask me to find you, as it were." It was Damien’s turn to stare.

"Are you serious?"

"As a funeral," said Meg. "Your father was a member of the X-Men, just like mine."

The members of Adrienne’s squad stood in impressive formation as the huge moving truck backed into the warehouse. Victor Creed, looking very subdued, came to her shoulder. "What’s the excitement about?" Adrienne turned a preternaturally pale eye on him.

"Wait and see." The truck came to a halt, and less senior members of the squad rushed to begin unloading it. Several with flight or strength abilities took the largest pieces off the truck, setting them all in rough formation on the warehouse floor. Nancy Wilson, also called Starling, an incredibly delicate girl with feathers growing in a ruff down her arms and back, approached Adrienne.

"Once we have it offloaded it should be assembled in six hours," she said softly, not meeting Adrienne’s eyes. Nancy was incredibly shy, but a genius that could manage all of the army’s technology and planning with ease. Adrienne didn’t know if the feathers served a purpose or not. So far Nancy had demonstrated no mutant abilities.

"Make it four," said Adrienne. "We’re going to hit Fort Kelly in two days." Nancy’s huge blue eyes widened even more.

"Two days? Adrienne, I don’t think—" Adrienne gave her a sharp look.

"You only think what I order, Starling," she said. "We hit Fort Kelly in two days. Is that clear?"

"Yes, ma’am," said Nancy quickly, wilting under Adrienne’s command. She scurried off to confer with her fellow eggheads.

"You sure have a way with people," Victor observed.

"Save your humor for someone who cares, Creed," said Adrienne. She beckoned to Shawn Lacey, a young man with a penchant for killing and the ability to move at the speed of light. He was a psychopath, and her field general. His code name was Executor. A bit obvious, but it was fitting.

"Ma’am," he said, coming over and snapping to attention. Adrienne didn’t miss his eyes flicking quickly over her body. Shawn had had a crush on her for months now.

"Take Sabertooth here and brief him on our Fort Kelly operation," she said. "He will play an essential part." Shawn nodded once, with a snap.

"Yes ma’am." He saluted and then turned crisply to Victor. "Come with me, please." He executed another precise turn and strode back towards the squad. Victor gave her a look, as if to say ‘is he for real?’ and then followed.

"Where are we going again?" asked Lauren as they put their duffel bags into Meg’s battered Toyota.

"Westchester," said Meg. "That’s where the school is, according to the guidebook." Lauren grimaced.

"Are you sure this car will make it?" Meg shot her a look.

"Some of us don’t have boundless trust funds to draw from."

"I don’t have a trust fund," said Lauren grumpily.

"Boo hoo," said Meg.

"Sorry to interrupt the Abbot & Costello routine," said a raspy voice from Meg’s shoulder. "But if we’re going let’s go." Meg turned to find Damien with an army surplus kit bag slung over his shoulder, wearing the same outfit he had the night before. In broad daylight he looked even more like Logan on the tape, only the eyes black and the hair shaggier. Meg had told him the time and place to come with them, but hadn’t expected him to show up.

"Just who are you?" demanded Lauren.

"The name’s Damien North. She sucker you too?" said Damien.

"Blackmail is more like it," said Lauren with another poisonous look at Meg. Meg shrugged, non-apologetic.

"You two work like a team already," said Damien with more than slight sarcasm. He slung his kit back into the backseat and climbed in after it. Lauren sighed.

"Well, I’ve already screwed up my life by coming this far, might as well go all the way."

"That’s the spirit," said Meg with her signature grin. Damien had to admit her good humor was communicable, but Lauren seemed immune. She slumped in the front passenger seat and frowned at the dirty windshield. Meg hopped into the driver’s side and slammed her door. "Next stop on our tour, X-Men HQ," she said as she gunned the engine and accelerated into the New York Traffic.

"You could say we haven’t been found yet," said Meg, unbearably cheerful still. Lauren opened her mouth, possibly to emit an enraged scream, when Damien spoke up.

"Someone’s following us." Meg craned her neck backwards and looked at the curving, and empty country road behind them.

"Don’t see anyone." Damien sat back.

"They’re there. They’ve been behind us for about an hour now."

"Why didn’t you say something, then?" snapped Lauren. Damien shrugged.

"Didn’t seem important. But at least it shut you two up." Both girls turned on him with intense glares. Meg took a breath and looked back at their route.

"Which way do I go at this fork, Lauren?" Lauren turned the map around and traced with her finger.

"Right." Meg went left.

"Hello!" said Lauren loudly. "I said right! Opposite of left! Do you work at being irritating?"

"Nah, it comes naturally," said Meg. "And I figured since you got us so lost already, if I did the opposite of what the map said we might actually find the school."

"They aren’t following us anymore," announced Damien.

"Damn, I’m good," said Meg. She pointed. Sitting back from the road, fronted by a large and overgrown lawn, was a huge brick mansion. A rusty iron fence surrounded it. Lauren looked incredulous.

"This is the X-Men home base?" Meg pulled to a stop on the shoulder.

"Well, I didn’t say anyone still lived here. Let’s check it out." She got out and went to the high iron gate. Damien followed, Lauren coming last.

"I don’t like this," she murmured as wind made dead leaves scuttle across the cracked and potholed driveway beyond the gate. "It’s creepy, like someone in there is watching us."

"She always have the Rod Serling vibe going?" asked Damien as he placed his feet on the low decorative border of the gate and pulled himself up and over.

"That’s trespassing," said Lauren automatically. Meg placed her hand on the rusty chain and padlock, which glowed briefly and disintegrated to nothing with a sizzling pop.

"And that’s breaking and entering," she said, pushing the gate open and following Damien up the drive. Lauren, still looking worried, came after her, shutting the gate.

Adrienne, Shawn and Victor stood with their necks craning back, looking up at the behemoth before them. Victor had a slightly awed expression on his face, Shawn looked impressed, or as impressed as he ever got, and Adrienne simply smiled as if the massive metal machine were her due. "Marvelous, Nancy," she said. Nancy, wearing a white lab coat that was slightly graying from washing, and holding a clipboard packed with notes and schematics, blushed and smiled, not meeting Adrienne’s eyes.

"Thank you, ma’am."

"You may go back to work," said Adrienne dismissively, flicking her fingers at the younger girl. Nancy stopped smiling—she had been up all night assembling the unit and overseeing the reprogramming. She had hoped Shade would let her take a few hours and sleep. She stood too long, and Adrienne looked over at her with the one raised eyebrow that Nancy knew meant she was about to become irritated. "A problem, Starling?" she said in a voice that didn’t merit an affirmative answer.

"No ma’am," said Nancy, quickly turning and scurrying back to the bank of computers that constituted the nerve center of the army.

"I never thought I’d see one of these," said Shawn. "It’s…an excellent tactical asset." Adrienne smiled at the compliment, which she took as one to her cleverness.

"Are you sure the hunk ‘o rust is safe?" said Victor, looking at it skeptically. "How old is it, anyway?"

"That all depends," said Adrienne. "Of course we couldn’t find a complete unit, so we scavenged a part here and a part there, and manufactured a few internal components we couldn’t get." She smiled. "But I assure you, the sentinel is perfectly safe. It has been programmed to seek and destroy specific targets, and with my new improved codes it has a limited self-repair function in the field." Victor made a face.

"Yah, that’s impressive alright, but it still makes me nervous." Adrienne laid a soothing hand on his shoulder.

"You must learn to trust others, Sabertooth. We are a team here, all working for one another. And of course all mutants." Victor turned his skeptical look on her.

"Whatever." Shawn glared at him with his ice-blue eyes.

"That’s whatever, ma’am, Victor." Victor bared his teeth slightly at Shawn. Nancy broke up what could have been a nasty scuffle.

"Ma’am, we just picked up a reading in Grid 33!" Adrienne spun to her.

"Impossible." Nancy shook her head, jabbing her finger on the computer screen. Adrienne came behind her and looked at the console, Shawn and Victor crowding behind her in turn.

"See, there," said Nancy, pointing. "Three readings outside the hot zone, and one inside."

"Four mutants?" said Shawn. "What could they possibly be doing there? Grid 33 has been abandoned for over a decade."

"Would someone please tell me what Grid 33 is?" demanded Victor.

"The school," said Adrienne, eyes still on the screen. Three of the blips were clustered together; a fourth off on it’s own. "Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters."

"Oh boy," said Victor.

"Do you think they know where they are?" asked Shawn tensely.

"It’s doubtful," said Nancy. "The school went defunct fifteen years ago, and the mansion has been abandoned for twelve. All records except taxes and the like have been erased over the years." Shawn shot her a look that made her wither.

"If I want the Encyclopaedia Britannica answer I’ll ask you, Starling," he said cuttingly. "Ma’am? Do you think they know?"

"We can’t afford to take a chance, can we?" said Adrienne. She tapped Nancy on the shoulder.

"Deploy the sentinel unit with target information on the intruders. It’s time for a field test." Nancy swallowed and swiveled to type on the sentinel’s keyboard. All four of the group looked over as the eyes lit up and the joints creaked with first use. Nancy keyed another command and the warehouse’s massive doors opened. The sentinel took a few clunky baby steps, then it was out the door and gone with a shoom of rockets. "Get me live satellite feed for the school," said Adrienne. "I want to watch this."

"We’ve been all though the house," said Lauren as the group reconvened in the foyer of the mansion. "And there’s nothing here except cobwebs and dust." She sneezed as punctuation.

"What a waste," said Damien. Meg felt for the first time that maybe this had been a royally bad idea. She’d effectively severed all ties with her foster family, made Lauren lose her prestige with her school, and Damien…he was the only one who’s life she hadn’t screwed up too much. She sighed and cast around for anything to appease the other two, who were looking at her with less than friendly expressions.

"Um…did we look in the library?" was all she could come up with, gesturing through the arch.

"Yes, that was the first place I looked," said Lauren. "This is just an old abandoned prep school, Meg." Meg took a few steps into the library. That was it, then. Lauren would go back to school, if she could, Damien would take off his own way, and Meg herself…she didn’t know what she’d do. She sighed again, looking heavenward. She was suddenly very tired. Meg blinked suddenly out of her bleak state and looked again at the line the built-in bookcases made meeting the ceiling.

"Hey, guys," she said. "Look up there."

"What?" said Lauren impatiently. "Do you get a mystical message from the dead spiders?" Meg shot her a look.

"Do the bookcases look uneven to you?" Damien squinted.

"Yeah. Crooked."

"And since they’re built into the wall it must mean something is behind them," said Meg triumphantly. Damien walked up to the bookcase, looking at the seams.

"I think you might be on to something."

"Secret passageways. Lord," said Lauren. "This is all too, too trite." The other two looked at her oddly. Meg stuck her fingers into one of the seams and heaved with all her strength. The mahogany case didn’t budge an inch. Meg heaved again, until her fingers slipped off the polished edge, tearing her nails and drawing blood.

"Gahd dammit," she said in her best Irritated-New Englander voice. She was gearing up for another try when Damien stepped in.

"Let me." He almost gently moved her hands from the crack and braced his hands and well-muscled shoulders. He pulled, arms straining, pulled some more…with a creak the case swung outward, revealing a steel door with a keypad mounted in the wall beside it.

"Bingo." Meg grinned. "Jackpot bingo on three cards at once."

"That’s all very nice," said Lauren. "But where do we go from here?"

"Be careful, Lauren," said Meg. "If you’re a wet blanket too much you get moldy." Damien smothered a smile. Meg bent down next to the keypad, examined it. "Either of you got a pocket knife or something?"

"If I could afford a pocket knife I wouldn’t be here," said Damien, but not in a surly way.

"I have a nail file," said Lauren, extracting it from her pocket.

"Of course you do," said Meg, taking it. She pried off the plastic guard over the pad and crossed the wires of several components. She took and red one and a blue one and tapped them together. There was a spark and a whir of elderly belts, and the door slid up. Damien’s eyebrows flicked up.

"Nice." Meg stood aside with a flourish.

"Entrez vous, meis amis." Lauren was the first one to cautiously step into the gloom. All three of them walked slowly down the metal-plated hallway, which ended in an elevator. Meg looked at the others. "Do we go down?" Damien shrugged.

"Fortune favors the brave," said Lauren.

"Two minutes to target," said Nancy. She sounded almost resigned. Shawn, Victor and Adrienne were all clustered around a large flat-screen monitor that at the moment was showing only fuzz. The picture blinked and became a high, silent black and white view of the grounds of the Xavier School. "Satellite feed running," said Nancy. She wasn’t looking. Shawn’s mouth twisted into a half-grin, showing a perfect line of white teeth.

"This is going to be an impressive display," he said. Adrienne glanced at him.

"You expected anything less?" Shawn grinned fully and shook his head.

"No ma’am."

"I’ll admit it," said Lauren as the three walked down the softly lit metal hallway below the school. "This is impressive."

"Their decorator sure was big on that laboratory look," said Damien. Intriguing doors lined both sides of the hallway.

"Let’s split up," said Meg. "Laurie and I can look in here," she gestured to a wide metal door, "and Damien can go check out that one with the skull and crossbones on it." Damien shot her a look.

"Thanks a lot." He went to the other door. Meg and Lauren opened the big one.

"Wow," said Lauren, at the same time Meg said "Check it out." There was a plane in the room. It was a very, very impressive-looking plane, sleek and black with curved wings and three massive jet engines. Meg turned to Lauren.

"We have a jet," she said. Lauren was speechless. Both girls stared at the black machine. The thought crystallized in Lauren’s mind that this could all be hers. She could have all this technology to use, manipulate at her will. And a jet.

Suddenly, there was a rumbling overhead and a massive form crashed through the ceiling, landing squarely on the jet. It buckled in the middle like a Matchbox toy. Lauren screamed and Meg screamed a swear word. The thing looked like a human, only it had to be thirty feet tall. It bent down and fixed its red eyes on Lauren and Meg. "Targets one and two acquired," it boomed. "Elimination process beginning."

"Run," said Meg. The two girls almost stumbled over each other as they dashed for the door and into the room across the hall, which to Lauren’s frantic glance appeared to be some kind of med lab. The floor shook as the thing’s massive legs crashed through the wall.

"We’re dead," said Lauren softly.

The room Damien stepped into was in complete darkness, and his feeling along the wall didn’t detect a light switch. Damien could see pretty well in darkness, so he stepped forward cautiously. The room was circular and about two stories high, with random cement walls and blocks scattered over the main floor. Either it was an obstacle course or some sort of weird art installation.

Damien’s almost radar-like ears pricked as he sensed something in the room. A thumping…a heartbeat. That smell invaded his nostrils again, only this time it was more like…wet flannel. Casually, Damien walked across the room as if merely taking a tour. He could hear breathing as well as the steady lub-dub of a heart as he neared the last concrete obstacle wall. Whoever it was didn’t sound particularly nervous, but he was hiding in a supposedly abandoned school, and to Damien’s nose he stank. Both were, in Damien’s estimation, valid excuses to take a few nonchalant backward steps and clothesline the hider across the throat. He spun to see his target. It was a young man, about Damien’s age, only much more polished looking even lying on his back clutching his Adam’s apple. Damien stood over him, hands on hips.

"What’re you doing in here, buddy?"

"For god’s sake," said the other man with a slight accent—British, Damien thought. "I’m on your side." He stood up and glared at Damien. Damien glared back. This could have gone on for some time when there was a huge crash from outside the room, and the floor shook. "I suggest we put aside our mutual distrust for a moment and go see what that was," said the man.

"I second that," said Damien, already on a run for the door.

The huge thing had Lauren and Meg backed into the far corner of the lab. "We are dead," said Lauren again. Meg grabbed a chair.

"It ain’t over till it’s over." The chair glowed bright, and Meg flung it with all her strength directly into the android’s face. It exploded with a concussive boom. Smoke and sparks appeared in a crown around the machine’s head component. It looked like victory for a moment, and then the red optics blinked back on.

"Repair routine 55-887 completed," it said.

"Meg, do something," said Lauren with a tremor in her voice.

"Uhhh, no more furniture!" said Meg, starting to sound panicky. The robot reached a huge hand towards her.

"No!" shouted Lauren. Her fist clenched, her eyelids flickered…and the android’s head burst into flames.

"Resistance encountered," it said as a cloud of noxious chemicals came from its ear-like holes and doused the fire. "Eliminate resistance immediately."

"Eliminate this," said a voice. The unit’s massive arms were suddenly jerked straight up, then backward with a shriek of reversed joints. Meg and Lauren looked to see a strange man with his hands in the air like he was conducting a symphony. He looked at them in turn. "You might want to get out of the way." He jerked his arms back, and the android’s legs buckled. Meg dove to the side and Lauren made a mad dash as the unit came crashing down and deactivated with a protesting whine of power cells. Meg stood slowly and brushed dust and grit off her jacket.

"Man, I don’t know who you are, but we owe you." Damien glared at the man again.

"Yeah, wonder boy. Just who are you?" The man raised an eyebrow wryly at Damien.

"You’re welcome." Lauren recovered slowly, and also brushed debris from herself.

"You saved our lives. Thank you." The man nodded.

"The least I could do."

"The least I could do," mimicked Damien. "Who are you, buddy?" The man looked at all of them. Meg noticed his eyes were purple.

"I am Darien Magnus Lensherr. I am here to join the X-men."

New York City

1:30 pm

"Sentinel off line," said Nancy from her seat. Adrienne, who had watched the whole thing on the satellite feed, smacked her fist against the console.

"Blast!" She turned on Nancy.

"You said the unit was foolproof, Starling," she said in her most menacing tone. Nancy held her clipboard in front of her like a shield.

"I didn’t include the fact that it would encounter resistance of this magnitude," she said almost pleadingly. "Did you see that man? He just waved his arms and the unit—"

"Shut up!" said Adrienne and Shawn together. Adrienne pressed her lips together, thinking through the crisis. She pointed a thin finger at Nancy, who shrank away from it.

"You," said Adrienne. "Get the sentinel back online and get it out of there. You," she turned to Shawn, "get up to the school and eliminate the trespassers. Immediately." Shawn snapped a salute.

"My pleasure, ma’am."

"What do I do?" said Victor. Adrienne pushed past him on her way to the office.

"Stay out of my way!"

Westchester

1:36 pm

Meg, Lauren and Damien regarded the strange man for a moment. "Lensherr?" said Meg finally. The man inclined his head.

"Yes. And you are Margaret LeBeau, only child of Remy and Marie." Meg raised an eyebrow at him.

"How do you know that?"

"I know about all of you, and about the X-men," said Darien. Lauren had been looking off to the side, thinking. Darien Magnus Lensherr…

"Magneto!" she said suddenly. Darien nodded again.

"Very good, Ms. Grey-Summers." Damien held up his hands.

"Wait wait wait. Are you tellin’ me this guy is Magneto? The terrorist?"

"Highly unlikely, Damien," said Darien. "My father is deceased, unfortunately. But before he died he indoctrinated me thoroughly about mutants and the X-men. He expected me to carry them on after he and Professor Xavier had passed on."

"Which them?" said Lauren, crossing her arms. "The X-men or the Brotherhood of Evil Mutants?"

"What’s the Brotherhood of Evil Mutants?" said Meg.

"The unfortunate moniker of my father’s organization," said Darien. "And I assure Ms. Grey-Summers that I am not in any way affiliated with them."

"So you say," said Damien, who didn’t exactly know what the Brotherhood was either, but simply didn’t like Darien. Darien gestured to the crushed walls and now open-air ceiling.

"May I suggest we adjourn to the ready room to continue this conversation?"

"So you’re Magneto’s son?" said Lauren after they had taken seats in the comparatively comfortable ready room. Darien seemed to know where everything was.

"I am," he said with a short nod.

"Why are you here?" said Meg, studying him. He had classic good looks, a thin nose and a square face. And those intense purple eyes. Meg became aware Damien was slouched in his seat glaring at the newcomer.

"That is rather a long story, Meg," said Darien.

"We got time," said Damien. "We don’t know you ain’t part of that idiot mutant army."

"The Eclipse Army?" said Darien. "Please, Mr. North. You grossly underestimate my intelligence." Damien’s response was to intensify his black glare at the other man. Darien seemed to take no notice. "Now," said Darien. "To answer Meg’s question: My father placed me in a government mutant program at an early age, since he knew I would never be accepted at Xavier’s school." He steepled his fingers. "There I was taught to control my ability, manipulation of electromagnetic force fields, through strict training. My father also gave me the best tutors and his own teachings about mutants and their rights." He looked around the table at the other three. Meg could tell he was used to having a captive audience. "In the beginning they were rather inflammatory, but as he grew older and the attitude of baseline humans towards our kind grew worse, he began to see Xavier’s vision had merit."

"Mind getting to the point?" said Damien. Darien looked at him briefly, not even annoyed but simply to quiet him.

"Shortly before my father and Xavier passed on, they devised an artificial construct to download Xavier’s brain content into a computer. It had to be Xavier’s since with his telepathy he could transfer his mind just before death. This construct was to be used if the X-men were ever needed again. My father gave me the access codes and instructions, and I am here to start the systems and take charge of the rebuilding of the X-men."

"Wait just a sec here," said Meg. "The X-men were my idea."

"You were not born when they came to inception," said Darien, sounding a bit robot-like. Meg bristled.

"Well re-inceptioning them was my idea," she said sharply. "My parents left me the tape. They didn’t say anything about you."

"Yeah," said Damien. Darien shook his head slightly.

"Meg, I have been trained for almost a decade to take the mantle of field general of the X-men. What makes you think you, after watching a video tape, can do the job as well?" Lauren gripped Meg’s arm when she saw the younger girl tense.

"Hey, buddy, she got us here," said Damien. "She convinced me and Lauren this crazy idea could work. She may not have been trained by the great Magneto but her diplomacy skills are sure better." Meg sat back, joining the ranks of glaring at Darien. He merely shrugged.

"We must activate the construct first of all," he said. "Then we can sort out petty squabbles."

"He sounds like my dean at school," said Lauren softly.

"He sounds like my foster mother," said Meg, "only with better grammar." Damien snorted.

"And if it wasn’t for us, you wouldn’t even have found the place," he said. Darien raised an eyebrow at him. "Oh yeah, I smelled you tailing us," said Damien with a knowing grin. "So before you get on a pedestal let’s all have a reality check." Darien’s mouth quirked. He was not pleased.

"Meg, you got us here and got us in," said Lauren. "What do you think we should do?" Meg bit her lip. She had vaguely guessed she would be the authority figure if indeed they found the old headquarters, but this was unexpected. Darien turned his petulant eyebrow on her.

"She knows the only logical course is to activate the construct like we have been ordered by Magneto."

"The only logical course I see right now is punching you in the kisser," snapped Meg, immediately regretting it. That was sure leader-like. She saw Damien disguise a smile with his callused hand. Meg took a breath. "Let’s find the construct." Darien opened his mouth to utter a victory. "But," said Meg. "Fridge Magnet Junior here doesn’t touch it. You give us the codes." She gave Darien her best commanding stare. Darien was contemptuous.

"I would never give you the codes."

"55-3-8-GLSL," said Lauren. Meg smiled gratefully at her, then at Darien laughingly.

"Thanks, Laurie." She stood. "Let’s find the construct."

The construct was in a small room with a few chairs, enough for a meeting or an intimate conversation. "Very nice work," said Meg. "Top of the line artificial intelligence, with a holographic projector."

"Of course my father would use only the best," said Darien. Meg ignored him, and studied the two keypads mounted to the front of the large black box that housed the circuitry.

"Okay, I get this," she said.

"It would be much more time-efficient if you simply let me proceed as my father intended," said Darien.

"It would be much more pain-efficient to your teeth if you shut up," said Damien, making a none too subtle fist. Meg was in her computer zone, focused completely on the system. A few presses of the keys got the system booted up, and the small flat monitor flashed WELCOME. Meg entered the code, 55-3-8-GLSL. THANK YOU, said the screen. PLEASE ACTIVATE SYSTEM. Meg bit her lip, entered the code again. PLEASE ACTIVATE SYSTEM, the screen persisted.

"A problem?" said Darien in an unbearable voice.

"Nothing I can’t handle," said Meg, though in truth she was clueless.

"Ms. Grey-Summers is a telepath," said Darien, "as evidenced by her pulling the code from my mind. I believe a psychic cue is required to activate the AI." Meg looked at Lauren, who shrugged.

"I don’t know how to do that."

"Well try," said Meg, not about to be defeated after they’d come this far. Lauren bit her lip in a mimic of Meg’s nervous gesture, and closed her eyes. Her brow furrowed. The monitor suddenly went black except for the words SYSTEM ONLINE. Suddenly the holographic projector sprang to life.

"Oh my," said a bald man—well, half of him anyway. Only his upper torso was projected. "Who are you?" Meg, Lauren and Damien started, Darien stepped smoothly up.

"Professor Xavier. I am Darien Magnus Lensherr. I have activated your construct as per my father, Erik Magnus Lensherr’s instructions."

"Like fun you activated it," said Meg from behind him. Xavier turned his eye on her. Even though he was only a hologram Meg felt as if he was looking her over inside and out.

"Darien. I see you’ve grown into a fine young man," he said. "And you can be no one but Margaret LeBeau, young lady." Meg nodded in surprise. "And Lauren, you’ve also grown up well I see." He turned last to Damien. "And you are Logan’s son. You and your father look much alike." Damien shuffled his feet and looked at the ground.

"This is a nice little computer game, Magnet Boy," he said to Darien, "but how do we know it’s the real deal?" Meg thought Xavier smiled for a split second, then his thoughtful expression returned.

"You will have to trust that my mind is in this construct," he said. "I left it as a guide to you, in the event that the X-men would ever need to reconvene." He sighed. "In all honesty, I had hoped the day would never come."

"I know you and my father shared the same visions of world peace at the end," said Darien. "And I am here to make sure that they come about in this time."

"That sap just oozes out of you, you know that?" said Meg. "Professor, he says he has some God-given right to lead the X-men as a field general. Is that what you wanted?" Xavier inclined his head. "And also," said Meg, "we were almost wasted by a giant robot just a few minutes ago." Xavier bit his lip with concern.

"To your first question—you all have leadership skills, Margaret. I believe you should elect a leader freely." Darien started to say something, but thought better of it. "I will bring the power in the base and the school back online," said Xavier. "And analyze this…robot that attacked you. I am wired into the controls of the building. In the meantime, you should settle yourselves, and take an inventory of weapons, equipment and uniforms. We may need them sooner than I expected if you have already been assaulted." Meg could see Darien sensing another opportunity to suck up.

"Yes sir, Professor, right away," he said, standing to attention. "I will supervise the inventory."

"You put on lip gloss before you kiss his butt?" said Damien. Meg couldn’t help it. She laughed. Darien turned a scathing purple eye on her.

"But first you need to decide on a leader," said Xavier, heading off the confrontation. "I will deactivate my interface and bring the power and computer systems back online while you discuss it. Good luck." The hologram disappeared.

"This is ridiculous, but I must honor the professor’s wishes," said Darien. "Nominations for leader?"

"Meg!" said Lauren and Damien together. Meg was startled.

"Wait, guys…" she said. "I don’t know that I’m the best one for this job."

"You got us here, you saved me from that…machine thing, and you’re bossy and manipulative," said Lauren. "You’re perfect." Meg made a face.

"Gee thanks."

"Better you than the honor student from hell over here," said Damien.

"Name calling is for the small of mind, Mr. North," said Darien. "All opposed to Meg’s leadership?" he raised his hand. No one else did. Darien gave a small sigh. "All in favor?" Damien and Lauren shot up their hands. "I guess that’s it then," said Darien through tight lips. "Congratulations, Ms. LeBeau. I believe you’ll get a lot more than you bargained for."

Shawn Lacey had been hiding in shrubbery for almost an hour. It was just becoming dark when he’d pulled up outside Xavier’s school in an unmarked sedan, and scaled the fence, slipping quickly into the shadows. Shade had said there were four mutants, and that it was his job to dispose of them, quickly and quietly. Shawn licked his lips at the thought of the hunt and kill, and of Adrienne. He had a favorite fantasy in which he rescued her from angry humans, whisking her away to the Eclipse Army’s secret, if still fictional, island base, and she was grateful, so grateful that she finally acknowledged her feelings for him…

Shawn brought his mind back to the here and now as he heard a door slam and footsteps. He squinted into the darkness. From his vantage point he could see the back of the school, and the rear deck. One of the mutant intruders had come out and taken a seat. It was a girl, tall, with creamy skin that shone softly in the light spilling out from inside. His first target. Shawn’s blood coursed a little faster thorough his veins as he anticipated the kill…

Meg couldn’t remember feeling so tired in a long while. The entire afternoon they had worked, cleaning out rooms for sleeping in the school and taking inventories of all the old equipment left in the base. There were odds and ends of uniforms, nothing really useful, some antiquated tracking devices and communicators, and a closet full of things that were supposed to be weapons. Among them were sunglasses and five decks of cards. "Cards? You gotta be kidding me," said Meg when Lauren had unearthed them.

"Odd, I know, but how do I look?" said Lauren, slipping on the sunglasses. Meg gave her a thumbs up.

"Stylin’."

Darien had of course been insufferable while they had been exploring and cataloging, and had contributed nothing useful except when he scrubbed the floors. The far west end of the base was still in shambles from the robot’s attack, Meg had deduced from a blueprint she’d found that the hangar and medical lab were done for. The other rooms were the ready room, the danger room, which was some sort of holographic suite, and a thing called Cerebro.

Meg tucked her legs up under her and looked at the moon. The country sky was so open compared to the suburb where she lived, and the artificial daylight of New York. Suburb where I used to live, she reminded herself. She was here now, leader-elect of the X-men. She still couldn’t quite believe it. She also had no clue as to how to lead the other three. Suppose they actually had to do something, like fighting a battle or conducting a raid. She’d be helpless. Maybe Darien, for all his posturing, was the better choice. No. She would not let that smirking prep school boy get the better of her. It would be a learn-as-you-go experience, like breaking in a new computer program.

"Thought I was the only one out here pouting," said a gravelly voice. Meg turned.

"I wasn’t pouting," she said. Damien came and took a seat next to her.

"You’re beat, huh?" Meg looked at him.

"How could you tell?"

"You smell tired. And stressed," said Damien.

"Oh well thank you very much," said Meg. "You smell like…like…" In actuality Damien had a sort of comfy, smoky-flannel smell. "Dirty laundry," she said. Damien raised an eyebrow.

"Not like I cart around a washing machine." Meg tried to give him an irritated look, but it just came out, like he said, pouty.

"You wanted to be alone," she said.

"Don’t leave on my account," he said at the same time. They looked at each other.

"Just what makes you think I’d jump up and leave the second you invade my private moment?" said Meg indignantly.

"What makes you think I wanted you to?" countered Damien. Another look. Meg became aware Damien’s eyes were very black. You could fall into eyes like that. "Is your hair real?" he said suddenly. Meg snapped out of the moment.

"Excuse me?"

"Your hair," said Damien. "Is that the real color?" Damien had never seen hair like Meg’s; rich like a red wine. It glinted in the moonlight.

"Yeah, it’s real," said Meg snappishly. "So is everything else." She knew it was a bitchy line the moment she said it. Damien was just tactless, not trying to be mean. So she was very surprised when Damien moved closer, his face maybe two inches from hers.

"Everything?" he said softly, his voice almost a growl. His lips were very close…there was a scream from inside the mansion.

"Lauren," said Meg, jumping up. Her mind was still anticipating whatever Damien had had in mind, and she thought damn as she ran inside and up the stairs.

Shawn had been about to make his move on the dark-haired girl when a man had come out and joined her. Shawn had listened to their irritated banter, seen them get closer, and then decided to try for the two kills inside the school first. He moved silently, like a speeding shadow, so fast his passage barely ruffled the leaves. Inside, up the stairs…he saw a light under one of the doors. He pushed it open silently. A girl, shorter and more delicate than the first, was taking clothing out of a duffel bag and folding it neatly on the bed. Shawn stepped lightly, and drew his immaculately sharpened utility knife. He reached for her…and stepped on a creaky board. The girl spun, saw him, saw the knife and screamed. Shawn closed the distance between them in a millisecond, stepping behind the girl, grasping her across the collarbone with his free arm and preparing to cut her throat with the other. If he were lucky she would be dead before anyone else was alerted to his presence. "It would be advisable," said a voice from the door. "To release Ms. Grey-Summers and give me your knife." Shawn looked and saw a young, polished man with black hair and purple eyes standing just beyond the doorframe, calm but ready to strike.

"You move, she dies," said Shawn, pushing the knife against Lauren’s throat. Lauren stiffened. Shawn could feel her quivering, and found it delicious.

Lauren, said Darien’s voice in her head, incredibly calm. Do not panic. Be ready. Lauren didn’t even have time to wonder how Darien was speaking to her. She met his eyes and took in a quivering breath. "Back away easy," said Shawn. "And no one gets hurt." Lauren heard pounding footsteps and saw Damien come up to Darien’s shoulder.

"What in the—" he started, but Darien shushed him.

"One last time, my friend," he said in the same soothing yet deadly voice. "Put your weapon away and release my compatriot." Shawn grinned, feral.

"Not a chance, friend," he said. He was taking the strawberry blond out, and the other two. This would be good old-fashioned melee combat. Darien flicked an eyebrow upwards.

"As you wish." Shawn’s knife arm was jerked upward and away from Lauren’s neck, the shoulder almost dislocating before Shawn thought to let go of the weapon. Lauren drove her heel down onto his toes and escaped his chokehold. The knife came to hover an eighth of an inch in front of Shawn’s neck, miraculously held in the air. Damien collected the shaking Lauren in his muscular arms and moved her behind Darien, who was looking into Shawn’s eyes victoriously. "It seems you have lost the day," said Darien. Shawn knew he was beaten. Retreat and fight again. A good soldier always knew when to do that.

"Maybe," he said. "But this war is just beginning." He spun with his blazing speed away from the knife and then crashed through the window, dropping to the soft lawn below. Damien ran to the shattered pane and looked after him.

"Dammit!"

Shawn hit the ground, rolled and came up running. He didn’t get far before he was blindsided by a leg that stuck out from behind a tree and tripped him. "Where’s the fire, blondie?" said the girl from the balcony. Shawn jumped up, weaponless but certainly not defenseless.

"That was not smart, girlie. Not smart at all." The girl shrugged.

"So I’m not smart. I’m a genius compared to you, though." She jerked her chin over his shoulder. The black-eyed man who had been in the hall with the other two was running towards them at top speed, having followed Shawn out the window. Even to Shawn’s eyes he looked really pissed off.

"You’ll never catch me," said Shawn, and took off running. Something bright flashed over his shoulder, and exploded the ground in front of him, flinging dirt into his eyes and stinging his face. Shawn’s foot caught in the hole and he fell, blinded. The chasing man landed on top of him like a defensive tackle, grabbed him by the collar, and hit him in the face. Shawn felt blood start.

"Nice tackle, Damien," said the girl’s voice. "You ever think of going out for varsity?" Shawn was hauled to his feet, his already injured arm twisted behind his back at a breaking angle.

"Nah, too many rules," said the man’s voice. "That wasn’t a bad throw either. What was that thing, anyway?" Shawn’s vision was beginning to clear, and he blearily saw the girl holding up a deck of playing cards.

"The ace of hearts," she said. "If you can believe that."

"We lost contact with Executor," said Victor Creed from where he had been looking over Nancy’s shoulder. Adrienne strode over from talking with the secondary squad leader. They were checking guns and ammo for the Fort Kelly operation, Shade having to supervise them like a kindergarten teacher, of course.

"What do you mean lost contact?"

"He’s still in the grid, and he’s stationary," said Nancy.

"Captured," said Adrienne grimly.

"Duh," said Creed. Adrienne shot him her flower-wilting glare.

"Who are these mutants? How could they have captured my best soldier?"

"I’ll get on it," said Nancy before Shade could snap at her.

"You do that," said Adrienne. "What’s the status of the sentinel?"

"Still no telling," said Nancy. "It was badly damaged, and I’m having to feed it all the repair routines through the satellite link."

"Have it back here in six hours, Starling, or I cut you up and use you for a feather duster," said Adrienne. "And you, Creed, make yourself useful and search the database for these mutants that have Executor."

"I don’t do computers," said Sabertooth. Adrienne waved her hand and sent him backwards, sitting him down hard in a chair at one of the consoles. She smiled sweetly.

"Now you do."

"He’s in the ready room," said Damien, coming back to where Meg and the others were gathered around Professor Xavier’s construct. "I tied him to a chair with some extension cord."

"He almost killed me," said Lauren, who was still pale and rubbing her arms.

"You’re alright now, Lauren," said Darien, patting her shortly on the shoulder. "We must rise above this and find out who he is and why he came here."

"Rise above it my ass, he almost cut her throat," said Damien.

"Please, you two, just don’t start," said Meg. She touched the power button and Professor Xavier’s hologram appeared.

"Yes, Margaret, what is it?" he inquired. He took in all of them. "What has happened?"

"An intruder—" started Darien pompously. Meg waved her hand at him.

"A man broke into the school and tried to kill Lauren," she said.

"Oh my," said Xavier. "Where is he now?"

"He’s tied up in the ready room," said Meg. Xavier’s image went fuzzy for a moment, and then he nodded.

"I looked at him on one of my remote cameras…he appears, from my collected data, to be Shawn Lacey, also known as Executor."

"Second in command of the Eclipse Army," said Darien.

"What’s the Eclipse Army?" said Lauren.

"Terrorists," said Meg. "They torch laboratories and military installations mostly. Right, Professor?" He nodded.

"They are also made up entirely of dissatisfied mutants, most of them young, all of them under the thrall of a leader who’s code name is Shade. We don’t know if Shade is young, old, male or female, but…"

"Shade is a brilliant tactician and deadly adversary," said Darien. Xavier nodded again.

"Correct, Darien. So far the Eclipse Army’s efforts have been relatively small-scale, but my data indicates that they will soon move on to larger things, as any army would."

"And we have their field general trussed like a goose," said Damien. "Something tells me they won’t let that ride."

"I would be extremely alert," said Xavier. Meg nodded.

"Don’t worry, Professor. We can take ‘em." A smile played across Xavier’s face.

"Am I to understand you have been chosen leader elect, Margaret?" Meg made a face.

"Yeah, you’re right." Don’t know how great a job I’m gonna do, she thought. Lauren shot her a sympathetic look.

"You must rotate guard duty on Lacey," said Xavier. "He will take the first opportunity to escape." Damien smacked a fist into his palm.

"I’ll take the first watch."

"I’ll do second," said Meg.

"I will take a double shift and allow Lauren to rest," said Darien.

"You are already beginning to think as a team," said Xavier. "I would advise the rest of you to sleep, and tomorrow we must decide team equipment, leadership, and the like. I also wish for Lauren to run blood tests on all of you so my construct might analyze them," he said. Lauren nodded. She looked exhausted.

"Go to sleep, Laurie," said Meg. "Darien, take her to her room. Damien, get back to the door and keep an eye on Lacey." She started out the door behind the others, then turned back. "Can you watch that room with your camera, Professor?"

"Yes," said Xavier. "Excellent strategy, Margaret." She smiled slightly.

"You can call me Meg." The others had filed out of the room.

"Meg," said Professor Xavier. Meg turned back.

"What is it?" The professor’s bald brow was furrowed with concern.

"I ran a scan of the robot that destroyed the hangar and med lab. It is a unit that is known as a sentinel, originally used to…"

"Aid baseline humans that were hunting down mutants," finished Meg. "I’ve heard of them."

"This one’s brain board has been extensively reprogrammed to target specific DNA scans and destroy them, instead of simply coming after any mutant," said Xavier.

"So, we have this thing come after us, and then Lacey," said Meg. "I’d say the Eclipse Army has gotten their hands on some heavy hardware." Xavier nodded his agreement.

"Although it escapes me how they knew any of you even existed, let alone were here."

"Guess we’ve made our first enemies, eh?" said Meg.

"I’m afraid so," said Xavier. "The Eclipse Army are formidable adversaries, Meg, even for seasoned military troops. I must be frank. A team of four untrained and unproven teenagers won’t have much chance of stopping them in battle." Meg’s face set.

"Then we’ll have to make sure we stack the deck against them before we face off." Xavier chuckled.

"You sound so much like your father. He would be so proud of you. Get some rest, Meg. It may be your last for some time."

Meg, Lauren, Damien and Darien had all reconvened in the construct room at an early hour, Darien’s perfect pale skin showing signs of fatigue in the circles under his eyes. He had sat up for nearly five hours waiting for Shawn Lacey to make his move. It had never come. The younger man was still tied in his chair; with a few marches to the head the only relife of Darien’s boredom. He had amused himself by reciting Macbeth in his head and working equations on his pocket pad. Damien, whom he had relieved, had been nodding at his post—thoroughly unacceptable behavior from an X-Man, but only what he expected of the son of Logan. His father had told him many stories about the bad-tempered former soldier. Lauren Grey-Summers was the only one he thought might eventually show promise. She had her mother’s strong telepathic gift and also Jean Grey’s poise and education. With some intensive training she would be a good team member. Meg LeBeau remained an enigma. She was irreverent, rude, and contradicted his every suggestion, but she certainly had a leader’s charisma (an accident of birth rather than personality, Darien suspected), and she had prevented Shawn Lacey from escaping by knowing where to be. So far she hadn’t made any gross blunders as field general, but Darien knew it would only be a matter of time before they realized that he, Darien Magnus Lensherr, was the one that would truly lead. "Yo, Magnet Boy," said Damien. "You with us?" Darien sighed and turned his attention to the construct as Meg powered it up.

"Good morning, Professor," he said as Xavier’s hologram appeared. "I trust your shutdown cycle was restful?"

"You forgot to bring him an apple," said Meg. Lauren giggled, and even Xavier’s mouth twitched.

"It was indeed, Darien, thank you, but I’m afraid pleasantries will have to wait for the moment."

"Meg is our…field general," said Lauren. "We have a weapon inventory, not much there, most of the equipment is operational, the jet in the hangar is destroyed, as is the med lab, and we have no uniforms to speak of." Xavier stroked his chin with a worried gesture.

"It sounds as if we have rather more negatives than positives. First and foremost, I must ask you: You are all sure you want to stay here, to sacrifice a normal youth and undertake this demanding and potentially dangerous job of being a member of the X-men?"

"Yes," said Meg instantly.

"Absolutely," said Darien.

"Yes," said Lauren with a strong nod. Damien looked at the construct, down at the floor, and back up.

"Yeah. I do." Xavier nodded to him.

"Then let me declare you the first members of the new X-men: Margaret, Lauren, Damien and Darien. Now we must—" There was a deafening rumble from the direction of the hangar, and at the same time alarms began to whoop throughout the base.

"What the hell is that?!" bellowed Damien above the racket.

"The ready room door has been breached!" shouted Xavier.

"The robot is taking off!" Lauren cried, running to the door. Darien and Meg took off towards the crash site without a word. The sentinel was rising majestically into the air, taking more of the walls and ceilings with it. Meg was slammed into from behind, thrown to the ground, her ribs kicked savagely, and then Executor appeared on the top of the robot’s foot, waving an impudent goodbye.

The sentinel came to rest in the center of the warehouse, Shawn stepping off and snapping a salute to Adrienne. His uniform was wrinkled and his face smudged with dirt, but he was otherwise pristine. "So you finally made it back," said Adrienne snappishly.

"Yes ma’am," said Shawn. "It was a simple matter of waiting for them to drop their guard. They’re all amateurs."

"Very good," said Adrienne. "Our operation begins in twenty-four hours. Get back to work." Shawn loved how Adrienne commanded, thinking nothing of her personnel, only of the mission. He saluted again.

"Yes ma’am."

"Creed!" shouted Adrienne. Victor appeared from behind a console.

"I’m right here," he said. "You don’t have to scream your head off." Adrienne was wound tight, both with the mounting tension of the Fort Kelly operation and with the new complication of these unknown mutants. She almost blasted Victor with a telekinetic attack, but kept her cool.

"You had better have some ID’s on these mystery mutants." Creed bit his lip.

"Yeah. But you ain’t gonna like it." Adrienne snatched the printouts from his station telekinetically and brought them to her. Four sheets of Internet printouts, two from the DMV, one from the New York Police Department, and one…Adrienne’s fist tightened involuntarily, and the paper crumpled. For a moment the sounds of the squad prepping for the operation faded and all she could hear was blood roaring in her ears, all she felt was the floor starting to spin. "Shade?" said Victor, not mocking or antagonistic for once. Adrienne blinked, took a breath, passed a hand over her face. Her skin was cold as porcelain and she knew she must have lost all color. She dropped the fourth printout to the floor and ground it under her heel, almost savagely.

"What, Creed?" Victor relaxed.

"You just seemed a little—"

"Nothing that concerns you!" said Adrienne, turning away from him. Victor shrugged and went off to help the squad load weapons. Adrienne looked at the other three printouts—the two from the DMV were driver’s licenses issued to Margaret LeBeau and Lauren Grey-Summers, parents unknown in LeBeau’s case and Jean Grey and Scott Summers, both deceased, for the latter. The NYPD file was an arrest record for Damien North, mother Lida North, father listed only as unknown, presumed dead. His face, however, Adrienne would know anywhere. Her eyes narrowed, her face set into hard lines. Only a few members of the squad heard her growl the word: "X-men."

"I can’t believe he got away!" shouted Meg, then winced and rubbed her side where Shawn had kicked her.

"It was our own stupid fault," said Damien. "We shouldn’t have left him unguarded." Darien just shook his head like he couldn’t believe the level of incompetence.

"It’s not important right now who’s fault it was or wasn’t," said Xavier’s construct. "We must find out what plans the Eclipse Army has now that they know of our existence."

"How do we do that?" said Lauren.

"With their level of technology they have computers up the wazoo," said Meg. "We find ‘em and track ‘em down that way."

"Then we take ‘em out," said Damien. Darien, predictably, simply shook his head.

"You and Damien get our equipment in working order, and see if you can find us some decent transportation," said Meg. "I have a feeling we’re gonna need it real soon."

"What do I do?" said Lauren.

"Come help me, this will go much faster with two people," said Meg, already heading out the door. Lauren followed on her heels.

"You gotta admit, she’s a natural," said Damien with a sly look at Darien. Darien sighed again.

"She does have…some merits. We will be nearby, professor, if anything develops." Xavier nodded and shut off his interface.

"So what do we know about these Eclipse morons?" said Meg as she settled herself in front of the computer in the ready room.

"They’re a lot better than us," said Lauren as she sat in the next chair, in front of the television.

"Oh come on," said Meg. "Bigger, yes, meaner, yes, but better?" She grinned. "Not a chance."

"You have a pretty high opinion of yourself," said Lauren, flipping on the television and changing channels.

"Not me, us," said Meg. "We’re gonna take these guys."

"It would help if we knew who Shade was," said Lauren.

"That, unfortunately, is practically impossible," said Meg. "We don’t even know if Shade’s a he, she or it." Lauren settled on CNN and sat back.

"I think they have some sort of monitoring net up around here," said Meg. "How else would they have known we were here at the school?"

"Maybe they tapped into the security systems," said Lauren. Meg shook her head.

"They were off, because Professor Xavier was…deactivated. They must have some other way."

"GPS satellite monitoring," said Lauren. "They use it on military bases and in prisons because it can’t be broken into or deactivated from the ground." Meg snapped her fingers.

"I knew I brought you along for something."

"Actually, you blackmailed me," said Lauren.

"Yeah, but aren’t you glad?" said Meg with another irresistible grin. Lauren shook her head.

"Since you showed up I’ve had my whole life rearranged, nearly been crushed by a robot and stabbed by a psychotic maniac." She laughed. "Yeah. I’m glad. You guys are…real. Nothing artificial and snobby about any of you."

"Excepting Magnet Boy of course," said Meg. Lauren nodded.

"Of course." Meg typed more commands on the computer.

"Here it is. You were right. There’s a satellite-for-rent chain in geosynchronous orbit over Westchester. Currently being leased by Brotherhood, Inc." Lauren raised an eyebrow.

"Could they be more obvious?" Meg read down the screen.

"The satellites can be used for GPS tracking, alright, as well as pictures and video feed." She looked at Lauren. "What say we find out who’s feeding signals to these things, eh?"

"Go for it," said Lauren. The television boomed a musical introduction, and then a deep announcer’s voice spoke.

"This…is a CNN special report." Meg was hunched over the computer clacking furiously on the keys and paid no attention.

"I suppose this is a moot point, but is what you’re doing entirely legal?" said Lauren.

"What’s your definition of legal?" said Meg.

"Forget I asked," said Lauren.

"I’m standing outside Fort Kelly, New York, today," said a blond CNN correspondent. "Where crucial genome research, connected to the recently popularized manipulation of human DNA, is being done. The head of the project, Dr. Timothy Whittaker, is expected to announce a breakthrough in just a few minutes." Lauren leaned forward, she was a great admirer of Dr. Whittaker’s work.

"Ha!" said Meg from her seat. "Signal is originating from 1116 Lewiston Drive, Queens, New York."

"Pretty dumpy part of town for elite terrorists to hide out," said Lauren.

"Perfect cover," said Meg. "That area is almost completely condemned warehouses. It fronts right on the river."

"It looks like Dr. Whittaker is going to speak now," said the TV.

"Can you turn that off? We have to go tell the guys about this," said Meg.

"One second," said Lauren. "Timothy Whittaker is a leading gene researcher. We studied him at school."

"Is he the same Timothy Whittaker who described genetic mutations as an ‘unfortunate disease’?" said Meg caustically. Lauren looked down.

"He’s brilliant. I didn’t think about his politics."

"Ladies and gentlemen," said Dr. Whittaker. He was a remarkably young man with a shock of ink-black hair, a studious beard of the same color and penetrating deep blue eyes. "Today is a proud day, both for our country and for the scientific world at large." A few camera flashes snapped the photogenic doctor. "I have, in my laboratory here at Fort Kelly," said Whittaker, "isolated a complete strand of…human DNA containing the defective ‘X’ gene, as it is coyly named, and with therapy I have irradicated that gene completely, leaving the subject, as it were, completely free of mutation." He tugged his collar and pushed his hair out of his eyes as a flood of questions washed up from the press in front of his podium.

"That bastard," said Meg softly.

"I will agree," said Darien’s voice from over her shoulder. Meg twisted in her chair. "I knew Dr. Whittaker through my father," said Darien. "He had no idea what we were. A most pompous and unpleasant man."

"Voice of experience," said Meg. Lauren was looking uncomfortable.

"I’m sorry, Meg. I had no idea this would be his announcement."

"Coupled with the Senate’s proposed Mutant Segregation Act," said Whittaker, "I have suggested that the unfortunate freaks of nature among us will be treated with my new agent, and hopefully some can return to normal and meaningful lives. Thank you." Meg grabbed the remote and pushed the power button savagely. Whittaker’s smirking face disappeared.

"It doesn’t make sense," said Lauren.

"It makes perfect sense to those prejudiced jackasses," said Meg heatedly.

"No, I mean Dr. Whittaker’s agent," said Lauren. "All of my textbooks—" She was interrupted by Damien bursting into the room.

Shawn was an excellent pilot as well as ground soldier. He piloted the larger of the Eclipse Army’s two jets, equipped to drop a payload of explosives with pinpoint accuracy. In two of the passenger seats, Shade and Sabertooth fidgeted. "ETA to target?" said Shade sharply. She was going to finish these wanna-be X-men quickly and explosively.

"One minute," said Shawn, banking slightly.

"This is better than a video game," said Sabertooth. Shade shot him a look. She was intimidating normally, but in her black and silver-trimmed Eclipse uniform doubly so. Shawn, as always, was wearing his plain black one, and Sabertooth had squeezed into the largest size Adrienne could find.

"Thirty seconds," said Shawn. "Arming missiles—whoa!" He reflexively jerked back on the stick, and the jet jumped. Shade gripped the arms of her seat. Floating majestically in front of the jet’s canopy was the man with purple eyes. A force field shimmered around him, and he extended his arms, palms up.

"He is nuts!" said Meg as she, Lauren and Damien watched Darien floating, a tiny figure high above them. He made a gesture, and the jet slowed, then stopped in the air.

"He is nuts," agreed Lauren. Darien slowly lowered his hands in the same graceful motions he had used with the robot, and the jet began to lower. The engines were still straining, but they were no match for the electromagnetic field Darien controlled, and they finally shut down. The jet landed with a thump, on it’s belly, and Meg, Lauren and Damien ran to meet it. Darien came back to earth with a satisfied look on his face.

"How come you never told us you could fly?" demanded Damien.

"You never asked me," said Darien calmly. The door of the jet slid open, and the largest man Meg had ever seen confronted the four. He filled the doorway, had to duck and turn to make it through, but when he vaulted the steps and landed in front of them, Meg felt the ground shake. Lauren gulped and backed up a step. The mad raised his huge arms and let out a primal roar, swiping at Meg. He would have caught her with his claw-like nails if Damien had not tackled him from the side, throwing him to the grass. The big man instantly kicked him off, but Damien came back at him. Meg was distracted by a familiar blond head appearing at the door, and then with a flash Executor was facing her.

"Hey, girlie," he said. "You missed out last time." He practically leered at her. Meg reached into her jeans pocket, flipped out one of the cards she had there. The things were the perfect weight and size to harness her energy, and they got good distance. The card glowed to life.

"You want some more of this, Lacey?" she asked, poised to throw.

"Pah," said Executor. "Hit me if you can, girlie." He moved slightly to the side, and then he was gone. Meg felt him strike the base of her spine, and she crumbled to her knees, card skittering away over the grass and fizzling out. Lacey kicked her in the same spot he had when making his escape, and Meg cried out. Damien looked over from where he was locked in combat with the big man, and was distracted. The man sent him flying, to hit the side of the jet with a thud. Damien also went to the ground.

Executor turned his sights on Lauren, who had been standing, unsure of what to do. "Time to finish the kill," said Shawn, taking out his murderous knife. Meg, still in a large amount of pain, rolled over and took aim at him with another card. Shawn snapped his head to look at her and dodged just in time. Lauren literally couldn’t see the man, he moved so fast, but she knew he was coming for her.

Don’t think about where he is…think about where he’s going to be. She reached out, really reached, for the first time in years. It felt wonderful, like a dam in her mind had been released, like she was finally accepting a hidden part of herself. She saw Executor clearly, his thoughts. His mind was a frightening mass of dark images. Shawn reached into his Id on a regular basis…and he enjoyed it. Now he was almost hot at the thought of impaling her on his knife. But Lauren knew where he was going. For the first time in her life, Lauren Grey-Summers fought back. She used the bright, odd part of her mind that controlled her powers, and a ring of fire appeared in the grass around Executor, a white-hot fire that held him completely trapped. Lacey screamed a curse as he hit the heat, and stumbled back, stopped.

Damien jumped to his feet and hit the blond man with a slamming kick to the face. The man went over, not out but not getting up for the moment. He ran to Meg, who was on her knees, and helped her up tenderly. Meg brushed her hair out of her eyes, more angry than in pain. "Is that all of them?"

"Unfortunately no," said a female’s cold voice from the door of the plane. Meg looked and saw the most odd-looking woman she ever had. She had long silver hair gathered into a tight ponytail, and silver eyes to match. She had no pupils, just silver. She gave Meg the creeps, and the red-haired girl knew instantly who she was.

"Shade."

"We meet at last, X-Man. Or would that be X-girl?" mocked Shade. "I have to say, for a motley crew of losers you’ve been very hard to kill." Meg heard a whooshing in the air, and spun to see bricks from the wall around the school rushing at their heads at a deadly speed. Darien erected a force field around them with a buzz, the bricks bouncing off. Shade clenched her fists.

"You’re beaten. Take a hike," said Damien from inside the glowing bubble. The blond man slowly raised himself to his feet, and Shade lifted Executor from inside the fire with her mind. Lauren was awed watching her. The woman was incredibly telekinetic, and she had complete mastery of her powers.

"This is far from over, X-Men," said Shade. "Soon enough, you will all be merely a dusty memory."

"It is you who will be the memory," said Darien. Meg noticed he was at his most calm in situations like this.

"You are obviously a master of your powers," said Shade.

"I had a good teacher," said Darien. Shade looked grim suddenly.

"As did I. We share something in common. But none of you are a match for the Eclipse Army. And after tomorrow, none of this will matter." She jerked her head at Executor. "Take Sabertooth." Lacey went and gripped the big man by his arm. Sabertooth glared at him. "Farewell for now, X-men," said Shade. "I’ll be seeing you again. Soon." She shimmered and could not be seen any more. "Executor!" her voice came out of the air. Lacey nodded and zipped away, dragging Sabertooth. Shade made merely a flicker on the sunlit grass, and then she too was gone.

"Well, at least they left us the plane," said Meg as Darien’s force field dissipated.

"What do you think she meant—after tomorrow none of this will matter?" said Lauren.

"Talk," said Meg, flipping a hand. Darien rubbed his chin.

"So that’s Shade. If I didn’t know better I’d say there’s something oddly familiar about her."

"Blind date?" suggested Damien. Darien gave him his ‘don’t be ridiculous’ look, one he bestowed on Meg and Damien often.

"Lauren, you okay?" said Meg. The smaller girl nodded. She had color in her cheeks, and looked almost glowing.

"I feel…well, exhilarated," she said. "I used my abilities, really used them. It felt wonderful."

"Adrenaline, mostly," said Darien. "I felt a similar rush the first time I manipulated the force fields to fly. It will wear off soon."

"Aren’t you encouraging," said Lauren. Meg’s mouth opened.

"Laurie! You used sarcasm! There may be hope for you yet." Lauren laughed. Damien took Meg protectively by the shoulders and looked into her eyes.

"Are you alright? He gave you a nasty kick." Meg nodded, patting Damien’s hand in thanks. For all his outer rudeness, he had a rough charm.

"I’m alright. Thank you." Damien nodded seriously, then became aware he was actually displaying tenderness and took his hands off Meg quickly.

"I will deal with the aircraft, the rest of you tend to yourselves," said Darien. Meg had a feeling he was being generous with her. Neither of them were acknowledging how badly she’d led them into battle. Lauren nodded gratefully and headed for the mansion.

"Between this and Whittaker’s nauseating speech, I’m ready to go to bed for about a year," she said. The rush of her first use of her powers was indeed winding down, and now she felt heavy and exhausted.

"Hey Laurie," said Meg, catching up with her. Even though Meg was at least a year younger than Lauren, she felt like Meg was the experienced older sister of the pair. She may not be an able leader yet, but she knew how to master a situation well enough, and she was extremely perceptive. Lauren’s newly sharpened telepathy could feel Meg’s mind working in quick, concise jumps.

"What is it?" said Lauren.

"What were you saying earlier, about Whittaker’s genome crap?" She looked serious. "Sounded important." Lauren had forgotten completely about that train of thought.

"I was saying," she said as they reached the mansion, Damien trailing behind, "that mutant genomes, the ‘X’ gene, have been proven to be an integral part of the individual’s system. If you remove the mutated genomes, the subject will die." Meg’s eyes went hard.

"Then how is Whittaker doing it?" Lauren shrugged, passing a hand through her tousled curly hair.

"I don’t know. Maybe he found a hole in that research theory." Damien came up behind them.

"Or maybe he didn’t." Lauren’s mouth opened slightly.

"You mean—" Meg cut them off.

"We don’t know anything yet. But I say it’s time we paid the good doctor a visit."

"Oh come on," said Damien. "What makes you think four teenagers can waltz into Fort Kelly and grill Whittaker?"

"We can’t," said Meg, mouth curving into one of her mischievous smiles, "but the X-Men can."

Adrienne, Shawn and Victor arrived back in Queens some hours after they had crash-landed in Westchester, as stealing a car and driving back was their only option. Shawn was nursing second-degree burns on his shoulder and arm from the telepathic fire the small girl had conjured, and Victor had a lovely purple lump dead center on his forehead from Damien’s kick. Adrienne was the only one who was unscathed. Shawn went to the first aid corner to be treated and go back to work—he would never dream of slacking off on Shade. Adrienne herself marched over to the computer bank. Nancy could sense her foul mood from five paces away, and braced herself for a torrent of abuse, interrogation, and more orders. "Starling," said Adrienne in a calm voice she was struggling to keep, "what is the status of the Fort Kelly armory?"

"The payload is still there," said Nancy almost too quickly. "Fifteen canisters of a so-far unidentified nerve agent." She looked down and spoke softly. "As your intelligence said, specifically deadly to mutants."

"What?" said Victor from behind her. Adrienne turned. For a large man he could move like a wraith when he wanted to.

"Gas, Creed. Nerve gas." Creed’s eyes narrowed.

"Nerve gas for mutants is what you said. What’re you doing fooling around with that stuff?" His expression was downright suspicious.

"For one, liberating it from our government, who as you know holds no love for our kind, and second…with this gas, every mutant in greater North America will have great incentive to join me—or die." She leveled her silver gaze on him, not noticing Nancy’s looking of disgust at Shade’s willingness to kill her own kind.

"Ah, so it’s kinda like vengeance and recruitment all at once," said Creed. Adrienne nodded shortly.

"For once you perceive correctly, Creed. Now go find someone else to bother, we move at midnight tonight, and there is a great deal to be done." She looked towards a high window of the warehouse. The winter sky was beginning to darken, gray and hard. "And once we have the gas…the X-Men are mine forever."

Meg looked at the assembled group. Their faces wore nervousness in Lauren’s case, complete calm in Darien’s and anticipation in Damien’s. She pressed the power button on the construct and Professor Xavier sprang to holographic life. He looked them over. "Am I to deduce you are about to depart on a mission?" Meg nodded. All four of them were dressed in some semblance of a uniform with communicators they had found, Meg in a long dark coat, black pants and mock turtleneck, and a pair of knee-high combat boots that she’d brought from Springfield. Lauren had on a smart black jumpsuit she’d found in the base’s storage room, Damien was also in combat boots, dark pants and a padded motocross jacket with the ‘X’ logo that he’d turned up, and Darien in a red and black jumpsuit he’d lovingly packed in a dry-cleaning bag. He cradled an odd helmet under his arm, black and silver with a point that went down between the eyes. "I see you have Magnus’s helmet," said Xavier. Darien nodded.

"He willed it to me when he passed on. It will be useful if we encounter any telepaths."

"We’re going to have a…talk with Timothy Whittaker," said Meg.

"Whittaker? The controversial gene researcher?" said Xavier.

"We think he might be up to something funny," said Damien. "Like mutant genocide with this new ‘eradication agent’ he’s come up with."

"I suspected he was capable of something like that," said Xavier. "He was only recently graduated when I was alive, but his university papers and studies were brilliant. Brilliant and dangerous."

"He’s a nut, if you ask me," said Damien.

"I’m inclined to agree," said Meg. "So we’re going to pay him a little visit and see if we can scare something out of him."

"Good strategy," said Xavier. "You have transport?"

"The Eclipse Army generously left us a jet when they attempted to bomb the school," said Darien.

"You can fly that thing, right?" said Meg.

"Of course," said Darien.

"I’ll keep you on my scanners," said Xavier. "In case I must contact you, it’s better to use a code name. Do all of you have something I can use?" The four looked at each other. Meg had been thinking a lot about a code name. Something fitting, not too long, something…leader-like.

"Blaze," she said. Darien approved of her choice with a nod of his head.

"Magneto," he said. "The second."

"Flame," said Lauren. Damien raised his chin, almost as if his code name gave him pride.

"Werewolf." He looked at the others. "It fits." Meg looked at the three.

"Well, X-Men. This is it." Her smile lit her face. "Let’s do it."

The jet came in low and silent, like a black wraith. Darien set it down in the stand of trees just beyond the wire fence of the fort, which was lit up with activity even at the late hour. Damien stepped out and sniffed the air critically. "Something’s up," he said. "They’re all in a big rush."

"We’ll never get past all that personnel," said Lauren.

"Not from the ground anyway," said Meg. "Magneto, lift us up and fly us—quietly—to the barracks." Darien nodded. Meg stilled her pounding heart. This was it. The do-or-die test. Either she could lead the X-men or she couldn’t.

Darien’s force field shimmered up around them, and they lifted silently off the ground. They passed over the barbed-wire fence of the fort, over the milling soldiers in the yard, and set down on the grimy roof of the officer’s barracks. Damien landed silently in a crouch, his black jacket shining slightly in the moonlight; Meg landed next to him, keeping her head below the roofline. Lauren stumbled and Darien held her upright with the force field as he himself came back to earth.

Meg crept to the ledge and peeked over. The courtyard was beyond the enlisted barracks, so they were safe from prying eyes, but a sentry was walking back and forth on the path below, a large rifle in his hands. "I’ll get the guard," said Damien, swinging himself expertly over the ledge and climbing quickly down the building.

"Why do I have the feeling he’s done this before?" muttered Meg. "Flame, make a distraction for him." Lauren held up her hand slightly, and a patch of grass in front of the guard burst into flame. The man gave a surprised shout, and didn’t see Damien until the young man spun him around and felled him with one punch. He turned and gave the three on the roof a thumbs-up.

"Keep a lookout down there," Meg spoke into her communicator.

"Will do," he replied. Meg leaned over the ledge and looked at the side of the building.

"There’s a window below us but it’s wired," she said.

"Unfortunately, my unlocking the window would set off the alarm," said Darien. Meg bit her lip, then swung one leg over the ledge and lowered herself down by her arms until her feet found purchase on the windowsill. Darien came to float next to her.

"Don’t tell me you are also a cat-burglar." Meg shook her head.

"Nah. I just have a lot of experience sneaking out after curfew. I’m gonna short out the contacts for this window while you open it." Darien nodded. Meg felt a rush. So far, so good. This mission just might be successful. Keeping one hand fastened on the window ledge, she reached out with her other and touched a finger to the alarm contacts. They glowed, then sparked. Meg felt the jolt in her hand and pulled back, loosing her grip on the ledge. Darien caught her before she could scream, at the same time opening and unlocking the window. Meg pulled herself in.

"Thanks, Magneto." He nodded briefly, then lifted Lauren in the air and floated both of them in.

"Which room is Whittaker's?" whispered Lauren. Meg shrugged.

"I’d say it’s somewhere on this floor, usually the bigwigs get the highest rooms."

"I will check the east wing," said Darien, also whispering.

"We’ll go this way," Meg agreed. The three split up, Meg and Lauren walking down the dark corridor to the right, reading nametags as they went. At the end of the hall a light was on under a door, and Meg could hear a voice. She motioned Lauren to be quiet, then slipped up to the door and listened.

"And furthermore," the speaker droned in the voice people use when dictating, "the general human population will be safer and our country will be a better place." The voice was unmistakable. Meg tried the door softly, found it locked and gripped the doorknob. It exploded inward, door debris flying. Timothy Whittaker jumped away from his desk and his dictating machine, back to the far wall. Meg stood in the doorway and spoke into her communicator. "Magneto, we found him."

"What is this?!" Whittaker demanded. "Who are you?"

"You might call us interested parties," said Meg. Darien came to her elbow as Whittaker made a move for his desk drawer. "Sit down," she said in her sharpest voice. Darien lifted the man away from the desk and set him hard in his easy chair. Meg moved into the room and stood before him. There was some alarm in Whittaker’s eyes, but mostly it was pure hatred.

"What are you really doing with your so-called ‘agent’?" demanded Lauren, crossing her arms. She also moved in on Whittaker.

"I warn you," said Darien as he picked up the pocket voice recorder Whittaker had been using and crumpled it with his mind. "Lying to us would be a mistake." Whittaker shot baleful looks at all three of them.

"Who are you freaks?"

"We," said Meg, leaning into Whittaker’s face, "are the X-Men. And you better answer her question."

"I know that your agent can’t produce the results you claim," said Lauren. "It’s theoretically impossible."

"So what’s your real deal?" said Meg. Whittaker looked at her, at Lauren, then back at her.

"Alright, mutie. You want you know, I’ll tell you. That agent is a gaseous form of an genetic eradicator that targets the ‘X’ gene. I have fifteen canisters of it here at Fort Kelly, and twenty more spread around the greater New York area, all tied into my master computer here."

"Nerve gas," said Lauren, horrified. "You made an anti-mutant nerve gas?" Whittaker nodded.

"You’re bright, for a mutie. Yeah, it’s nerve gas. I’m pretty proud of it, if you’ll let me brag."

"And what are you going to use this gas for?" said Darien quietly.

"The senate votes on the Mutant Segregation Act tonight," said Whittaker. "It doesn’t pass, and…poof. No more mutants in Manhattan." He chuckled. Meg felt her face pale. "Oh ho, did I scare you, mutie?" said Whittaker.

"You’re insane," said Lauren.

"Nope," said Whittaker. "I’m doing what millions of baseline humans want to do. Get rid of you freaks of nature for good. Oh, and if you’re thinking of stopping me, any fiddling with the canisters, the trigger or the computer will set it off, regardless if the act passes." Meg looked over at Darien. He looked calm, but it was the kind of calm that immediately precludes panic. Lauren was shaking slightly.

"Why tell us all this?" said Meg. "Are you a egomaniac as well as a total nutcase?" Whittaker shook his head and reclined in his chair.

"Nope. I’m no egotist, mutie. But I think you have a problem." Meg’s communicator crackled to life.

"Blaze," said Damien. "We got trouble. There’s maybe fifty soldiers heading for the barracks. They’re coming—" There was a shot and then static.

"Werewolf!" shouted Meg. She frantically jiggled the ‘listen’ button on her communicator. "Werewolf!"

"Scratch one mutie," said Whittaker as soldiers burst into the room.

Darien and Lauren were thrown into a cell with plain metal walls and a solid door, which slid shut with a fatalistic clang. "Can you get us out?" said Lauren almost frantically. Darien lifted his hands and focused, which produced no results.

"I can’t…they have some kind of dampening field around the cell. The walls are made of electromagnetic shielding." Lauren bit her lip. Her large eyes were beginning to pool. Darien knew he had to keep her calm.

"Can you burn through the door?"

"I don’t know," said Lauren. "I’ve never tried anything metal before."

"Well, now is a very good time to find out," said Darien. "The Senate is only in session until ten o’clock, we haven’t much time before the results of the vote are known." Lauren closed her eyes, and soon a glowing molten circle appeared on the door, growing larger and brighter, then wavering.

"I can’t! It’s too hard!" said Lauren, breathing heavily and dropping her pose of concentration. Darien gritted his teeth, then forced himself to take a calm breath.

"I hope Blaze and Werewolf are having more luck than we are."

"Squad A is primary attack," said Executor, standing in front of the formation of mutants with a pointer in his hand. "Squad B covers our retreat. Squad C is responsible for the payload. Is everyone clear?"

"Yes sir!" thundered the assembled army.

"The command team is myself, Sabertooth and your general, Shade. She will speak now." Shawn stepped aside.

"Thank you, Executor," said Adrienne coolly. She was having a hard time suppressing her excitement. This was it, the payoff for all her work brining together the Eclipse Army. For all the abuse and pain she and they had endured at human hands. "Tonight is a great night for all mutants. Tonight…" she let her eyes rove over the squads. "We strike back." The soldiers cheered. Adrienne gave another curt smile and stepped back to where Sabertooth and Shawn were waiting.

"Stirring speech, ma’am," said Shawn.

"Yes, I know, Executor. Give the order." Shawn raised his voice.

"Squads! Move out!" He offered her his arm. "Ma’am? May I escort you to the helicopter?" Adrienne inclined her head.

"You may, Executor. It’s time to witness our glory."

Meg had been sitting frantically in her cell, wondering if she should make a break, or wait for help, if Whittaker was crazy enough to actually gas every mutant in the Five Boroughs, if Damien was alive. Her last question was answered as the cell door rolled up and an unconscious Damien was tossed in, face bruised, nose bleeding, and a burned patch across the front of his jacket. Meg was horrified. "What did you do to him?!" One of the soldiers who had been holding him laughed.

"Relax, mutie. We just had some fun. He’s a tough bugger when he’s awake." Meg’s hand went into her pocket for a card, but the door rolled closed and the glowing heart bounced off it with a loud pop. Her energy did nothing to the heavy armor. Damien moaned slightly from where he lay on the concrete floor.

"Damien…" Meg crouched next to him and gently felt for his pulse. It was still beating strong, but Damien’s breathing was labored and his face was pale. Meg slipped off his motocross jacket and felt his ribcage under his tight t-shirt. The shirt had a hole from the shot Damien had taken, and scorched flesh underneath. He let out another moan, this one of pain. His breath was becoming slower by the second. "Damien, please don’t do this to me," said Meg. "Come on. Keep breathing." Meg suddenly realized she would be profoundly sad if the surly teenager didn’t survive. Damien understood her, in a perverse way, and he had stood up for her to Darien, saved her from being cut to ribbons by Sabertooth. Damien’s breath was barely a shallow wheeze, and his pulse was weakening. Meg bit her lip, then leaned over and breathed into Damien's mouth. She desperately tried to remember her first-aid unit from high school health. Was it three breaths and then hold, or one breath and hold for three?

She felt Damien’s eyelashes fluttering against her cheek, and then suddenly he was responding to her lips. Meg’s start rapidly passed, and she returned Damien’s kiss for a long moment, one of his strong arms coming up to hold her. Finally they pulled apart and he coughed slightly. "If that’s what happens when I get shot, I’ll do it more often." Meg laughed with pure relief.

"Don’t ever scare me like that again!" Damien sat up, frowning slightly as he felt his chest and ribs.

"It takes a little more than that to get rid of me, don’t worry." His burn had already lost its raw, red look.

"You can heal," said Meg. Damien shrugged.

"It’s just a thing I can do. Aren’t you glad though?" He smiled at her. His smile was surprisingly sweet, his square face crinkled appealingly and his black eyes laughed. Meg impulsively hugged him.

"Yeah, more glad than you know." She stood and faced the door with resolve. "Let’s get out of here."

"Wait," said Damien, standing and pulling on his jacket. He sniffed. "Guards. Four, I think. They all have guns. All alert…it’s too risky." Meg kicked the cell wall in frustration.

"If we don’t get out of here and they don’t pass that stupid act we’re dead anyway!" Damien was still smelling the air.

"More people coming, five or six of these." He looked at her. "Mutants." There were shouts from outside, and then shooting and screams.

"No way…" said Meg. "They couldn’t have come here."

"Guards are distracted now," said Damien. Meg slapped her gloved hand on the door.

"Good." The entire door lit up, and exploded into the hallway with a shattering blast. The hallway was a scene of mayhem. One of the guards lay dead, and the others, thrown away by the explosion, were running for their lives. Meg stepped out of the cell and came face to face with blond hair, muscle, and silver eyes. "You!" she and Shade cried at the same time.

"What the hell are they doing here?" said Damien. Shade snapped her fingers and the black-clad soldiers with the three aimed their weapons at Meg and Damien.

"It seems you just cannot mind your own business, X-Men," said Shade. "Regrettable, you would be great assets once I had the gas." Meg’s mouth dropped open.

"What gas?"

"No time for chitchat," said Shade. "So sorry." The three soldiers fired. Meg and Damien took off running down the corridor, hunched over and dodging laser blasts.

"After them!" shouted Shade as the X-men disappeared around a corner. Victor Creed bared his teeth.

"I’ll smell ‘em out."

"Kill them," said Shade, "and meet us in the armory. Time is of the essence." Victor nodded and took off at a heavy run down the corridor. Shade and Executor made for the armory.

"Down here!" Damien shouted as he ran ahead of Meg. "Magneto and Flame are in one of these cells!" They reached a door that was out of synch with the rest, sealed at the seams with electronic panels along the frame. "Here," said Damien.

"Blaze?" came Lauren’s worried call from inside.

"It’s us, Flame, don’t worry!" Meg shouted back as she zapped the electronic panels. A moment later the door crumpled to an accordion shape and Darien stepped out. "The Eclipse Army is here," Meg told him without preamble. "They’re going after the nerve gas."

"They don’t know about the tampering?" said Lauren. Meg shook her head grimly.

"We have to keep them from touching that gas, or it’s bye-bye mutants, us as well as them." There was a roar from behind the X-Men, and they turned as one to see Sabertooth bearing down on them. Damien stepped to the front.

"I’m gonna take you apart, runt," said Sabertooth. Darien lifted him off his feet and tossed him inside the cell, yanking the door back into shape after him.

"Maybe another time," said Meg as Sabertooth’s shoulder impacted with the door, denting it.

"Speaking of time, we don't have much of it," said Damien. "Where's the gas?"

"The gas is in the armory," said Meg. "I don’t suppose any of you know where that is."

"I believe I do," said Darien. "My father and I toured Fort Kelly once many years ago and I memorized the location, although bear in mind that it could have been a false armory, in case of a terrorist attack."

"Or the gas might be in that giant building we flew over with ‘ARMORY’ painted on the side," said Damien. Meg was already running for the stairs.

"Let’s go."

The yard the X-Men had flown over was partially in flames, jeeps and oil drums burning brightly. A few wounded soldiers lay moaning on the ground. The armory was a long, low building, walls made of armored steel. The main door was thrown open and a squad of about twenty Eclipse soldiers were standing in front of a pyramid of canisters, puzzling over the small black box with blinking lights attached to one of the cans. "Don’t touch it!" screamed Meg. The soldiers turned as one.

"Who’re they?" cried one.

"Who cares? Blast ‘em!" said the squad leader. The X-Men scattered, Damien rolling and disarming one of the soldiers, Lauren making the weapons of two others super-hot, Darien yanking ten rifles away from their owners. Meg saw one of the soldiers make a move towards the pile, intending to get as much as he could, and she flung a card in his path, knocking him backwards.

In a matter of minutes Darien had the soldiers neatly pinned to the wall with their own weapons, squirming and cursing the four teenagers. "How do we turn this thing off?" said Damien.

"You don’t," said a voice from behind Meg. She spun just in time to see Dr. Whittaker grab Lauren and press a pistol to her temple. Meg stepped forward.

"Let her go, Whittaker."

"One more step, and I splatter her cute little brain," said Whittaker. "All of you put up your hands."

"Meg," said Darien tensely. Meg’s eyes traveled over Whittaker’s shoulder to the doorway and darkness beyond.

"Alright, Whittaker," she said. "You win." She stuck her hands up.

"What?!" snapped Darien. "I knew it—you’re totally incompetent, this is the most easily—"

"Magneto," said Meg, turning to him with a lethal stare. "Shut. Up. Now." Darien’s mouth opened, then closed. He was quiet.

"So long, muties," said Dr. Whittaker, putting his finger on the trigger.

"So long, Whittaker," said Meg as the huge shadow of Sabertooth came into the light and yanked Whittaker off his feet. Whittaker gave a strangled cry. Damien put his hands down.

"Nice bluff, Blaze." Shade and Executor came to view.

"You’ll find I’m not so easy to bamboozle as a baseliner," said Shade. "We still have a hostage." Sabertooth was holding Whittaker and Lauren in each of his massive hands, ready to snap their necks in an instant. A growl came from Damien’s throat.

"Let me take him." Meg held up her hand for quiet.

"Shade, the gas in those canisters is rigged to go off, connected to more canisters all over New York. If you touch it it's the end of us all."

"You really expect me to believe that?" said Shade derisively.

"It’s the truth," said Meg. "You’ll kill us all."

"You play a very convincing part, Blaze, but unfortunately I don’t believe you." Her eyes flashed. "Executor!" Executor flickered and disappeared, reappearing just in front of Meg and hitting her once in the face, sending her backwards. Blood trickled out of her nose.

"I have had enough of this," Meg growled, jumping to her feet.

"Behind you!" Lauren screamed, and Meg turned just in time to block a head-crushing blow. Executor wavered for an instant at Meg’s counter, and she jabbed a fist into his face in turn, bloodying his lip.

Shade raised her arms and sent canisters, ammunition, and any sharp object she could summon flying at the three X-Men. They bounced with a sizzle off Darien’s shield. Shade let out a primal snarl as she faced the purple-eyed man. "It has come down to this," said Darien. "A duel of the fates."

"One I have been waiting for," said Shade, never taking her eyes from his.

"I know about you, Shade," said Darien. Her mouth opened.

"You know nothing, Magneto!" As if on some cue, they both levitated on their respective force fields, circling, Shade looking for an opening to finish him.

On the ground, Lauren sent her elbow into Sabertooth’s eye, and he released her with a howl of pain. Whittaker also squirmed free, ripping the collar of his button-down shirt. He made a run for the back of the armory and the computer console there, but Lauren caught him and jerked him back. "Tell me how to turn off the bomb."

"Burn in hell, mutie!" shouted Whittaker. Sabertooth started for Lauren and him once again, but Damien blocked his path.

"We got some unfinished business, ugly." Sabertooth bared his teeth.

"Let’s go."

Executor’s rage at the hit Meg had taken off him was almost palpable as he whirled around her faster than the eye could see, looking for an opening. But Meg knew his pattern now, knew that he bled just like anyone else. Executor appeared, fist coming forward, Meg dodging the hit and slamming her booted foot into his midriff. She heard ribs crack and saw Executor double over. An oil drum whizzed by, deflected off Darien’s shield as he and Shade danced over head. Meg grabbed Executor by the collar of his sharp uniform and slugged him in the face once again. "Magneto, watch it!" she yelled as blood blossomed under Executor’s nose. His eyes held shock, then rage, and then hatred. "That," said Meg, "was for calling me girlie." She shoved the blond man away, heard him clatter into a pile of weapons crates.

"This isn’t over," hissed Executor. Meg came over and kicked him hard, putting him out but good.

"Now it is."

As Sabertooth and Damien hit one another hard and repeatedly, neither of them giving an inch, Whittaker broke away from Lauren and reached the console, where he hit keys frantically before Lauren tackled him away. Whittaker stumbled over a low crate and hit his head on the concrete floor, where he lay, unconscious. "Countdown initiated," said the computer in clarion tones. "Disbursement in one minute."

Shade and Darien came down abruptly. Meg looked at Shade again. "Now do you believe me?" Shade looked back at the pile of canisters, and Meg and Darien.

"Sabertooth! Retreat!"

"No way," said Sabertooth. Shade impatiently yanked him to her, along with Executor’s prone body, and then floated up herself, turning to look down on Meg.

"I will see you again, Blaze. This war has just begun." Meg looked the other girl in the eye.

"Bring it on."

"Forty seconds!" shouted Lauren from the console. "Blaze, you’re the computer person! Do something, dammit!" Meg was galvanized by Lauren’s language, and rushed over to the computer console, where five wires attached to the main circuit board.

"Okay, the black wire connects to the trigger, so the red wire must send the signal to the remote canisters."

"Yes, but that could also be the detonator," said Darien. "I say the green wire."

"Thirty seconds!" Lauren practically shrieked.

"You’re both wrong, I know electronics and I say the blue wire," said Damien.

"What electronics?" scoffed Darien. "The closest you’ve come to an electronic is stealing a VCR!"

"Fifteen!"

"Green wire, Blaze, who are you going to listen to?!" snapped Darien.

"He’s an idiot, blue wire!" shouted Damien.

"Seven seconds!" Meg’s eyes searched frantically over the deadly strands of color.

"Green!"

"Blue!"

"Four, three two…"

"You morons," said Meg. "Yellow."

"She hasn’t come out at all?" said Victor Creed, casting a look at Shade’s office. The miniblinds were pulled, and Shade had not emerged since the raid, except to shout at Starling to look up a telephone exchange in England.

"Doh," said Shawn, whose ribs were taped and nose was still plugged with cotton. Victor and members of his squad were hard-pressed not to snicker when he talked. "Dot since last night."

"These X-Men," Nancy spoke up from her customary post at her console. "They stopped you?"

"Dot for long," said Shawn with murder in his eye. "Dey’re dead beat when I catch theb." Victor looked at Nancy, and burst out laughing. "You’re deab too, Victor!" said Shawn, starting for the older man. Victor beat a hasty retreat. Nancy bit her lip to hold back a wicked smile. She knew it was only a matter of time before Shade came up with another plan like the Fort Kelly raid, but until then, Nancy was rooting for the X-men. They had cost the Eclipse Army one jet, a small fortune in sentinel repair, and the dignity of its field general. And they had very likely saved a lot of innocent mutants from being murdered by Shade. Nancy smiled to herself again, and hummed as she went about her work.

"A terrorist raid on Fort Kelly last night appears to be the combined efforts of the known terrorist group the Eclipse Army, and a new force calling themselves the X-Men. The target of the raid was a nerve gas specifically targeted at mutants, designed by renowned gene scientist Dr. Thomas Whittaker, who is currently missing." The perky CNN anchor turned a page and smiled at the camera. "Dr. Whittaker was contracted to our government, and this gas, which qualifies as a weapon of mass destruction, was supposedly not sanctioned by them."

"Yeah, and I own the Brooklyn Bridge," snorted Damien from his seat around the ready room table.

"No other information is available about these so-called X-Men at this time, but they are presumed dangerous and considered fugitives from the law." The graphic by the reporter’s head changed. "In other news, the controversial Mutant Segregation Act failed to pass in the Senate last night by a mere two votes, and goes back to the lobby until the next Senate session." Meg switched off the TV.

"Well, guys, not bad for our first night out eh?"

"Yeah," said Lauren. "I didn’t know it was so easy to become a fugitive from the law."

"Imagine lumping us with the Eclipse Army," sniffed Darien. "We far outweighed them in skill," he looked over at Meg, "and leadership." Meg half-smiled.

"Coming from you, Magnet Boy, I’ll take that as a compliment." She bit her lip. "Shade was right, you know. This is just the beginning."

"We damaged their pride. They’re gonna be coming for us," agreed Damien.

"Then we’ll just have to be ready," said Lauren firmly. Meg nodded, and pushed back from the table.

"In the meantime, Damien and I are going to a movie. I don’t know about the rest of you, but I deserve a break." Damien stood and slung an arm around her shoulder.

"A nice dark theater and a pretty girl. What more could I ask for?" Meg gave him a playful look.

"You just keep hold of yourself there, Wolfie." Damien chuckled and the two left the room.

"They seem very happy," said Lauren after the door shut. Darien nodded thoughtfully.

"Indeed." Lauren cocked her head.

"You knew Shade before all this, didn’t you?" Darien rubbed his chin, then nodded once, shortly.

"You might say that."

"It’s not something you want to talk about," Lauren stated. "That's why you pretended not to know her." Darien shook his head slowly, his look far away.

"Indeed it is not, Lauren. Indeed it is not."

"I’m just gonna grab a candy bar before the movie," said Damien, turning into a convenience store on the main street.

"I’ll have one too," said Meg, following him. She was almost bowled over at the door by a man with a watch cap on rushing out with a small shopping bag. His face was shaded, but the eyes were unmistakable. "Damien, that was him! That was Whittaker!" Damien spun to look at the doctor’s retreating back.

"What!" He started after the man with murder in his eye. Meg caught his arm.

"Damien, let him go." Her eyes narrowed as Whittaker disappeared around a corner. "Without his lab and his government grant he’s useless. Let him go," she repeated. "And tell everyone the X-Men are back."