They are the grandchildren of the atom, the descendants of the greatest heroes the world has ever known. Now, they fight a new battle, one not for ideals but for their own survival.
Mutants
mutandis.
Writer Caitlin Kittredge |
Editor Sara McDonald-Lunday |
Penciller/Inker Melinda Viderman |
Color Christian Gramnaes |
The Brand Corporation, Manhattan |
February
1st |
12:20 pm |
Tyler
Brand was having a very good day. As chief executive officer of the Brand Corporation,
he had made a lot of money with a minimal amount of effort. It was just after lunch and Tyler was relaxing
in his office with the latest copy of Forbes. His face graced the cover. He had just gotten comfortable when his secretary
stuck her head around the door. “Mr.
Brand?” She looked nervous.
“Your, uh, twelve-thirty is here.”
Tyler looked up and chuckled slightly.
“She’s
early.” He tucked his magazine into
his middle desk drawer. “Tell her to come in, Yvonne. And
stop looking so twitchy.” He grinned
at his secretary. “She’s only a mutant.”
The
woman who came into Tyler Brand’s office was younger than he expected, and
two dangerous-looking blond men trailed her. One was slim, with a disturbing Mona Lisa smile
and a bulge under his suit jacket, and the other was massive, with pointed
teeth and a ratty trenchcoat that swept Tyler’s parquet floor. Tyler stood smoothly. “Ms. Poe, I presume?” He made a point to look down his nose at her
bodyguards. “I assure you, the heavy
artillery wasn’t necessary.” The woman,
who was really a girl, fixed him with pupiless silver eyes. Her voice was cutting.
“I’ll
decide that for myself, Mr. Brand.” Tyler blinked once and then indicated the chair
and sofa opposite his desk.
“Please,
sit.” The girl sat in the chair and
crossed her long legs demurely. She tucked her lush silver ponytail over her
shoulder with one hand and looked at Tyler.
“You
have what I need, Mr. Brand. How much is it going to cost me?” Tyler put one foot on his desk, settling in
for a good long haggle. He noticed
that neither man had sat down. The
short one was standing just behind his mistress, and the big lump was systematically
inspecting Tyler’s office for anything out of the ordinary. Tyler bristled as he picked up a pre-Colombian
statute and shook it to see if it contained anything sinister.
“That’s
expensive, Mr…?” The man looked over
his shoulder at him.
“Creed.
Victor Creed. But ya can call
me Sabretooth.” He bared his pointed
canines. The girl smiled slightly.
“It
would be a good idea to let Victor fondle your crockery, Mr. Brand. He’s
very cranky. It’s his old age.” Tyler could have sworn he heard the big man
mutter an obscenity at the classification ‘old’. The girl fixed him with her disturbing eyes again. “Now. Let’s
stop wasting time and agree on a price.”
“Well,
that’s the thing,” said Tyler. “You see, Ms. Poe—“
“Adrienne,
please,” she interrupted him. Tyler smiled.
“Adrienne.
This stuff you want is government regulated.
I can’t just ship it out in regular fifty-gallon drums. We have to be a little discreet.” He steepled his fingers, going in for the kill.
“And discreet, Adrienne, costs money.”
“We
have money,” said Adrienne. Tyler looked mildly amused.
“Oh
yes. The Eclipse Army.
Turning a profit, is it?” Adrienne’s
eyes flashed.
“It’s
no concern of yours, Mr. Brand. All you need to worry about is if I have the
right amount for what you have.” Tyler
shook his head, becoming more aggressive in his patented deal-closing haggle.
“You
just don’t get it, do you kid? I’m doing you a favor. I’m sticking my neck out to put a dangerous
biological agent into the hands of a whacko teenager. Frankly, Adrienne, you should be paying me
annuity until I die.” There was a
ruffle of air in the room, and the papers scattered off Tyler’s desk. The next thing he knew, there was a large,
sharp knife pressed against his throat and a strong hand clamping him in his
chair.
“I
think you owe General Poe an apology,” hissed the slim blond man in his ear.
The knife carved into Tyler’s throat and a bead of blood stained the
collar of his shirt.
“Agh,”
Tyler choked. Adrienne was smiling.
“Tyler,
Tyler. You should have treated me
with respect. Shawn is very touchy about things like that.” Shawn nocked his knife into Tyler’s throat
another sixteenth of an inch. Tyler
whimpered in terror. Adrienne stood
up and leaned across his desk, bringing her face close to his. “I will pay you sixteen million dollars for
five ounces of your lab-created Legacy Virus.
That works out to over two million dollars an ounce. That’s a very generous sum, Tyler. I suggest you take it.”
“Sixteen
million? Don’t make me laugh,” snapped
Tyler, suddenly growing a backbone in the face of profit loss.
Adrienne backed off and took a few steps away from his desk.
“You
should have taken it, Tyler.” She nodded to Shawn, who put his knife in the
kill position at Tyler’s carotid artery.
“You
really should have,” Shawn agreed. “Because if anyone’s a whacko in here it’s
me. I’m afraid this is going to hurt.
A lot.” He grinned. Beads of sweat
broke out across Tyler’s forehead.
“Please,
Ms. Poe—Adrienne,” he begged. Adrienne turned back to him.
“Yes?”
Tyler felt the point of Shawn’s knife slip into his skin.
“Sixteenmillionisfine!”
he shouted. Adrienne cupped a hand behind her ear.
“Say
again?”
“Sixteen
million is fine!” Tyler screamed, seeing his entire life flash before his
eyes.
“Ah,”
said Adrienne. “Stop, Shawn.”
Shawn withdrew his knife, disappointed.
“Too
bad. I would have really enjoyed skinning
your oily hide.”
“Shawn,”
remonstrated Adrienne. “Is that any way to talk to our business associates?” Shawn put his knife back in its sheath, inside
his jacket lapel.
“Sorry,
ma’am.” Tyler had found a linen handkerchief
and clapped it across the bleeding lines and dots on his neck.
“Get
out. All of you out!”
Adrienne snapped her fingers at Sabretooth, who took out a computer
disk and passed it to Adrienne, who in turn floated it over to Tyler’s desk.
Tyler was too deeply shocked to even notice the method of transport.
“The
coordinates of our meeting and exchange are on the disk,” said Adrienne.
Shawn opened the door for her. “I
trust you’ll be punctual. I’d hate
to tell Shawn you were impolite.” Tyler
blanched slightly.
“I’ll
be there,” he ground out.
“Excellent.
Good day.” The three mutants
walked out. Tyler pushed his intercom
button.
“Yvonne,
call my doctor.” He sank back in his leather executive chair, seething over his humiliation
at the hands of an impudent child. Tyler
dabbed at the blood on his throat, already plotting his revenge.
Xavier’s School for Gifted Children |
Westchester,
New York |
1:01 pm |
“You
have got to be kidding me,” said Lauren Grey-Summers.
The slim redhead was ensconced in front of a computer console, staring
with disbelief at what was on the screen.
Across the room at a steel table, another redheaded girl looked up.
“What
is it, Laurie?” Lauren swiveled to
face her friend.
“I
can’t get over some of these files is all. I mean, the U-Men?” Meg LeBeau, Lauren’s friend, looked at her
askance.
“What’re
the U-Men?” Lauren rolled her eyes.
“You
don’t want to know.” Meg put down the papers she had been working on and gathered her
hair, a wine-red shade, into a braid.
“No,
I do.”
“You
asked for it,” said Lauren, turning to read off the screen.
“The U-Men: a group of normal human individuals who seek to become
mutants by grafting mutant body parts onto their own.”
Meg wrinkled her nose.
“That
is just gross. And really, really
stupid.”
“I
can’t believe some of the people in this database managed to walk down the
street without falling on their face, never mind be supervillains,” said Lauren.
“The old X-Men sure had it easy.”
“I
beg to differ,” said a voice from the doorway. Meg turned to confront the speaker.
“Okay,
Darien, you tell me, who has it easier: grown adults with jobs and a means
to support themselves or teenagers who have to fight off crazy psychos with
nerve gas and evil mutants who want to make them all dead?”
Darien Lensherr raised his eyebrows.
“Am
I sensing some resentment here?” Meg growled something in Meg-speak and slumped
back down before her pile of papers.
“What
was that first part, about a means to support themselves?” asked Lauren.
Meg sighed and tossed the papers on the table with a thwap.
“We’re
broke. Do you have any idea what electricity
and heat for this place costs? Not to mention medical supplies, equipment
for the team and fuel for the Dodo.”
“It’s
actually a Lockheed Blackbird,” said Darien, taking a bill at random and looking
at the bottom line. He winced and set it back down.
“I’m
calling it the Dodo from now on,” said Meg, “because after the fuel in the
tank runs out it’s extinct. It costs more to fuel that jet than this week’s lottery jackpot.”
“Wow,”
said Lauren. “That’s bad.”
Meg sighed, her amber eyes tired.
“We
barely have enough to eat, never mind keep this place up and running.”
Lauren went back to typing on her console.
“I
may have help for us there. According to this database, there are two fusion generators on the
grounds which are supposed to keep the school and the headquarters beneath
it powered.”
“Did
you say fusion? As in nuclear?” asked
Meg. Lauren waved a hand.
“Nuclear
fusion is perfectly safe. It’s nuclear fission that causes meltdowns.
And besides, these generators are some kind of alien technology.
I think they’re safe.” Meg
sighed.
“You
think being the operative words.” Lauren bit her lip.
“Want
me to hold off on starting them, boss?” Meg shook her head.
“No.
We can’t afford to not start them.
Go ahead and fire the suckers up.”
“If
I’m not mistaken,” said Darien. “Activating the generators will also restore
power to the Danger Room and Cerebra.” Lauren
nodded.
“That’s
what Xavier’s construct said.”
“English,
please,” said Meg. “Danger Room and Cerebra?”
“The
Danger Room is a holographic suite,” said Lauren.
“It’s that big dark room where Damien beat up Darien when we first
got here…”
“Please,”
said Darien, “must you reference my encounter with Werewolf every time you
bring up the Danger Room?”
“Why
not?” said Meg. “It’s fun.”
“I
hate you,” said Darien pleasantly.
“And
Cerebra is a telepathic amplification device,” broke in Lauren.
“The
big round room?” asked Meg. Lauren nodded.
“That’d
be it. It amplifies a psychic’s brainwaves
to reach over greater distances. It can even locate other mutants, according
to the schematic.” Meg was impressed.
“Wow,
Laurie, you should have some fun with that.” Lauren stopped smiling.
“The
professor says I don’t have enough control to use it yet.
It could fry my brain.”
“You
should listen to him,” said Darien. “He knows what he’s talking about.”
“I
know he’s right, of course,” said Lauren, still looking a little crestfallen.
“I don’t want to use it until I’m ready.”
Meg patted her friend’s arm.
“Don’t
sweat it, Laurie. You’ll be surfing
the psychic spacewaves before you know it.”
“Psychic
spacewaves?” said Darien. “And you complain I don’t speak English…”
“You’re
British, of course you don’t speak English,” said Meg flippantly.
“Have
I told you lately that I hate you?” asked Darien.
Lauren moved to another, bigger screen at the computer console and
began to type.
“Quiet
now, guys. I need to turn on the generators.”
Meg gathered her pile of bills.
“I’m
going to go outside and mull over our debt in the frozen beauty of nature.”
Darien followed her to the door.
“See
if you can find the errant Mr. North while you’re at it.”
“Don’t
worry,” said Meg. “I’m sure he’s just
up a tree somewhere brooding.”
“Werewolf
is just like his father,” said Darien. Meg winked at him.
“Yeah.
But that’s not a bad thing.”
Eclipse Army headquarters |
Queens,
New York |
5:10 pm |
Even
in the smallest size, the hazard suit hung off Nancy Wilson like a balloon
gone soft. The young woman, code named
Starling, shifted uncomfortably as the ruffs of feather on her back and arms
were crushed against the inner layer of the hazard suit.
Her fingers felt stiff and bulky in the white plastic gloves, and the
faceplate of the helmet tilted down so she could barely see.
It didn’t help that only soft blue bulbs with absolutely no ultraviolet
rays lighted the level four containment lab.
Nancy reached into a supercooled transport container with a pair of
tongs and extracted a vial. The liquid was a milky gray, sloshing benignly
in its tube. It was a lab-engineered
strain of the Legacy Virus. Nancy
was testing it to see if it lived up to its claims.
First,
Nancy carried the vial, still holding it far away from her in its tongs, to
a table where an open petri dish lay. The dish contained a blood sample from a random
mutant in the ranks of the Eclipse Army. Nancy set the vial in a rack and took a dropper in her huge, clumsy
glove. She placed one drop of the
virus in the petri dish and turned on the microscope camera so she could watch
the reaction. The red cells of the
blood lay in their dish, the soldier’s X genes treated with a dye so they
showed up in white clusters inside each cell.
The Legacy Virus raced through the dish and went straight for the cells,
attacking them and turning them a sick black.
Nancy took another prepared dropper and introduced a spot of green
to the dish. The cure for the original
strain of the legacy virus. The cure
attacked the viral cells, but it was quickly overpowered and in the end speeded
the process. Satisfied, Nancy moved
on to the crucible.
Nancy
didn’t know where the tissue sample had been obtained, and she didn’t want
to think about it. She put 50 ccs of the Legacy Virus into a needle. Time to see the results on mutant flesh.
As Nancy steadied the slippery sample with one hand and aimed the needle
with the other, she felt her slick gloves loosing their grip on the syringe.
She grabbed with her other hand, missed the barrel and jammed the steel
tip deep into her glove. Her other
fumbling thumb pressed down on the plunger as Nancy felt the needle prick
her skin. The entire syringe flooded
into her bloodstream, filling her with the killing fire.
The
lights came on. “That’s the third
time you’ve died, Nancy!” Adrienne Poe, general of the Eclipse Army shouted
at her. Adrienne was also known as
Shade, and she looked every inch the mutant terror now.
“I sincerely hope you’ll perform better with the real virus than you
do in the simulation!” Nancy took off the helmet of her hazard suit.
“I’m
sorry, ma’am,” she said, her eyes downcast. “This isn’t the sort of thing I’m used to.”
“That’s
what the damn simulations are for!” Adrienne shouted.
“Get use to it!”
“Did
you see the computer test?” asked Nancy hopefully.
“It worked really well in the computer.”
“Well
that’s just wonderful, Starling,” said Adrienne sarcastically.
“I’ll rent time on the jumbotron in Times Square and show the computer
test to all the mutants in New York. I’m
sure they’ll all die horrible deaths.” Behind
Adrienne, Nancy saw Shawn Lacey, Adrienne’s field general, slink up to her
shoulder.
“Want
me to give her some incentive, ma’am?” he asked, putting a hand on the hilt
of his knife. A smile flickered over
Adrienne’s lips.
“No,
Shawn. Nancy knows the cost of her
failure. Death by virus or death by
knife, it’s the same thing if she fails us.” She turned her cold silver eyes on Starling.
“Right, Nancy?” Nancy felt a chill run through her, her feathers
standing up.
“Yes,
ma’am,” she whispered.
Xavier’s
School for Gifted Children |
February
2nd |
10:33
am |
“Good
morning, Lauren,” said Professor Xavier, his holographic interface flickering.
“Good
morning, Professor,” said Lauren politely. “I brought the generators back online last
night, and their startup cycles have completed. Everything should be back to full power.”
“Excellent
work,” said Xavier. “My systems also show a complete restoration of power. You’re a credit to my vision, Lauren.” Lauren smiled slightly.
“Glad
to hear it, Professor.” Professor Xavier’s brain inhabited the mainframe construct in front
of Lauren, and appeared as a hologram of the man himself. It was very realistic, but Lauren couldn’t
get over the creepy feeling of talking to a ghost. “I’ve been thinking,” she said aloud, “about what you said a few
days ago. About Cerebra.” Xavier frowned at her.
“Now,
Lauren, I hope you won’t go trying any foolish stunts.
That system is a powerful tool and is not to be used lightly.
Your control of your telepathy is nowhere near the level required for
Cerebra.”
“But
it would help us!” said Lauren, her voice more angry than she’d intended.
“There’s only four of us on the team, and face it, more members would
help. A lot.”
“The
matter is closed,” said Xavier.
“Fine,”
muttered Lauren, going to the door of the room.
“And
Lauren?” said Xavier as she went out. “I have a twenty-four-hour monitor on Cerebra.
Please don’t get any silly ideas.”
“The
only silly idea I had was thinking you’d listen to me,” said Lauren sharply,
and left the mainframe, slamming the door.
Damien
North was perched high in a pine tree, tracking the movements of a deer through
the undergrowth in the wood around Xavier’s school, when his sensitive nose
detected the odor of another mutant walking through the forest.
A moment later his equally sharp ears heard footsteps and breathing. Damien growled slightly from his shadowy perch and swiveled to track
his new target. He slid his feet off
his branch and hung by his arms for a moment, then dropped down in front of
the intruder. “Gotcha!”
“DAMIEN!”
screamed the intruder. Meg LeBeau, his girlfriend, Damien thought,
hit him hard upside the head. “You
jerk! What the hell are you doing
skulking around in the treetops?!”
“Ow!”
said Damien, moving out of Meg’s range. “That hurt.”
“You
have a healing factor, you big wuss,” said Meg, angry. Damien
rubbed the spot on his skull, which soon stopped throbbing.
“Still
hurts.”
“You
deserved it,” said Meg with a toss of her head. Damien scuffed one booted foot in the carpet
of pine needles.
“Sorry.
I smelled you, and I thought you were someone who wasn’t supposed t’be
out here.” Meg sighed.
“Did
it occur to you to look before you leaped, Rambo?”
Damien smiled sheepishly.
“Not
really.” Meg laughed and rolled her
eyes.
“The
wrath of the Werewolf strikes again.”
“Hey,”
said Damien. “I thought you liked the wrath of Werewolf.” Meg linked her arm through his as they began
to walk back towards the school.
“Oh
I do,” she said, planting a kiss on his cheek. Damien stopped, lifting Meg’s chin, and kissed
her gently on the lips. “What was
that for?” she said. “Not that I minded
or anything.”
“I
don’t honestly know,” said Damien. “You just seemed kissable, so I thought, what
the hell?” Meg laughed.
“And
so romantic, too. Boy did I luck out.”
“Has
anyone ever told you you’re a real smartass?” asked Damien.
“The
Jedi Master of Non-magnetic Personalities told me this morning,” said Meg.
Damien frowned.
“Is
he still giving you that ‘I should have been the leader of the X-Men’ crap?”
Meg shook her head.
“Not
really. I think he actually likes
me, but he’s got that whole British crumpet-up-the-butt thing going on.”
Damien snorted.
“How
astute.”
“Thanks,”
said Meg. “I have a flash of brilliance
from time to time.” They reached the back door of the school and
came into the warm kitchen. “Ahh,
heat,” said Meg. She regarded Damien,
in his ratty jean jacket with no gloves or hat. “Aren’t you freezing?”
“Not
really,” said Damien. “Cold never bothered me. My
mutation, I think.”
“Speaking
of which,” said Meg, shedding her long coat, gloves and scarf.
“The reason I came to find you is that Lauren needs to take a sample
of our blood.” Damien made a face.
“Does
she have to? And is she even qualified
to do that?” Meg shrugged.
“She
was premed, and yes, Professor’s orders on the sample.”
“Ooo,”
said Damien sarcastically. “Let us all bow down and worship the great
and mighty god Xavier.” Meg elbowed
him.
“He’s
not that bad.”
“He’s
got a crumpet up his butt, too,” said Damien. “A big one.” Darien came into the kitchen with a coffee mug just in time to hear
Damien’s last line.
“Talking
about me behind my back again, Wolf-man?” Damien bared his teeth in a half-snarl, half-smile.
“Amazingly,
no.”
“Too
bad,” said Darien, washing and drying his mug neatly. “I always like to provide amusement to the
lower classes.” Meg put a firm hand
on Damien’s chest to stop him from tackling Magneto.
“Why
don’t you go down to the lab and have Lauren take your sample?” she said.
Damien glared blackly at her.
“You
wouldn’t be trying to placate me, would you?” Meg glared back.
“Yes,
as a matter of fact. But if this works any better for you—get your butt down to the lab
before I charge something up and ruin your day.”
“All
right, all right,” said Damien. “Ms. Mood-Swing…are you PMSing or something?”
Meg’s evil stare caused him to turn and hurry out of the kitchen before
he got a reply.
“Bit
of a live wire, isn’t he?” asked Magneto. Meg turned on him.
“I
swear to god, Darien, the next time you pick a fight with him I won’t stand
between you.” Darien looked at her
mildly.
“I
never asked or needed you to do that.” Meg walked over and stood so she was toe-to-toe
with the taller man.
“I’ll
let you in on a little secret, Darien. Contrary to all you may believe, I’m the leader
of the X-Men, and I’m going to stay that way for a long time barring death
or maiming. Another thing—I don’t
particularly like you, and if it takes Damien messing up your five-grand nose
to hammer that home then so be it. Stop
causing trouble with my friends.” She
stepped away and dared him to challenge her.
Darien looked taken aback.
“I—,”
he sighed. “You’re too touchy, Margaret.
I would never compromise the team’s integrity by allowing things to
degenerate into violence. Your response
was proper, but you used a mace to kill a fly.”
He walked out of the kitchen, leaving Meg even more outraged than when
she’d started in on him.
Eidelstrauss, Bavaria, Germany |
12:02 pm East German Time |
Johann
Wagner was praying for the strength to tell his father he was leaving.
The small chapel in the ancient monastery where Johann lived was conductive
to prayer, but Johann knew his was probably futile.
Pray for strength—better to pray for a divine intervention,
he thought. He opened his eyes and got up off his knees.
He had to get this over with before he lost his nerve.
Johann looked around quickly to be sure no one was in view, and then
quickly teleported himself from the chapel to the floor above it, appear in
the hall outside his father’s quarters. He
did another check. No one had seen him. He sighed in relief. “Why do you tempt fate, my son?” asked a voice
at his shoulder. Johann jumped.
“Father!”
He turned to face his parent, who was wearing a traditional monk’s
robe and clerical collar. “I didn’t
see you…” Kurt Wagner pressed a button on his wristwatch,
and his blue furry coat and shining yellow eyes disappeared, replaced by the
features of a middle-aged man with black hair.
“Turning
off your image inducer can sometimes be very useful,” Kurt smiled slightly.
“You do know I can blend with the shadows?”
Johann nodded. Kurt became
serious. “What are you doing here,
Johann? And why are you using your
powers where someone could catch you?” Johann
bit his lip. It was now or never.
He relaxed, and allowed himself to shift back into his true form, which
was also blue, furry and fanged. Kurt
looked furious. “What are you doing?” he hissed.
“Something
I should have done a long time ago,” said Johann.
Kurt grabbed his arm and pushed him into his chambers, locking the
door behind him.
“Johann,
have you gone crazy? Do you realize the repercussions if the brothers find out you’re
a mutant?”
“You
mean if they find out you’re a mutant,” said Johann.
“Father, I know you’re afraid, and you have every reason to be, especially
in a place like Eidelstrauss, but I don’t have to be.
I have more choices than that.” Kurt
pressed his lips together.
“I
hope you’re not saying what I think you’re saying.”
Johann took a deep breath.
“I’m
leaving, Father. I can’t stay here
anymore, hiding who I am for the rest of my life. I need to go someplace where I’ll be accepted.”
“You
won’t find it,” said Kurt. His anger left him, and he simply looked sad. “I’ve seen mutants who looked as normal as
we pretend to killed for no reason. Humanity
hates us, Johann, and there will be no safe haven if they see how you really
look.” He put a hand on Johann’s shoulder.
“Johann, I love you. I don’t
want to lose my only son.”
“You
won’t lose me, father,” said Johann. “And I won’t be in danger.” He smiled.
“I’m going to join the X-Men.”
Kurt’s
mouth worked silently for a moment before he choked out, “The who?”
“The
X-Men,” said Johann. “I saw on American CNN that they’ve reformed. That’s where I belong, father. With people like me, who want to end this stupid
hate.”
“Johann…”
started Kurt.
“I
know, father, I know you’ll say they’re just a terrorist group using the old
name, and that I’m foolish and too idealistic and that I’ll get hurt and come
crawling back ashamed, but I have to go! I have to at least try!” Kurt shook his head.
“I
was only going to tell you to have a safe journey.”
Johann’s eyes widened as he looked at his father.
Kurt nodded to the unspoken question.
“You have your things packed?”
“Yes…”
said Johann.
“Good,”
said Kurt. “I’ll drive you to the
airport in the morning.” His mouth curved into a smile. “Unless, of course, you would prefer the teleportation
express.” Johann laughed in victory.
Westchester |
1:45 pm Eastern Standard Time |
“So
what’s the verdict?” asked Meg as she looked over Lauren’s shoulder at the
lab reports. “Any exotic diseases
or hidden biological discoveries that will makes us rich and famous, emphasis
on rich?”
“Nope,
sad to say,” said Lauren. “I did find some real interesting stuff when
I analyzed yours and Damien’s blood, though.”
Meg sat on the edge of the counter in the makeshift medical lab that
Lauren had assembled when a Sentinel unit destroyed the real one.
“Shoot.”
“Alright,”
said Lauren. “First comes you.”
“Goody,”
said Meg, rubbing her hands together.
“When
I put your blood sample under the electron microscope, it, well…” Lauren tried
to think of how to put the odd event. “It absorbed the light.”
“Say
what?” said Meg.
“And
then it exploded,” Lauren added. Meg’s eyebrows went up.
“Sorry
‘bout that. What does it mean?”
“Well,
your X-genes absorb electromagnetic energy,” said Lauren.
“And if you don’t release the buildup of stored energy, you go poof.”
Meg looked alarmed.
“Is
there a danger of me going poof anytime soon?” Lauren shook her head.
“No,
you’d have to absorb a constant, large amount of energy to fill up your reservoir.
Like the power from Xavier’s construct.”
Lauren cast a baleful look at the door of the mainframe room.
“Some
bad mojo go down between you and Xavier?” asked Meg.
“Nothing
you need to worry about,” said Lauren, becoming businesslike again.
“Now Damien—his blood is very unusual, to say the least.”
“Well,
yeah, the man’s a walking mass of regenerative cells,” said Meg.
“His
blood cells are bonded with some sort of alloy,” said Lauren.
“I think it’s a metal called adamantium.”
“And
it’s in his blood?” said Meg. “What the hell does that mean?” Lauren shrugged.
“Beats
me. I was only premed.”
“Is
it helping or hindering him in any way?” asked Meg.
“Not
that I can tell,” said Lauren. “its just part of his blood, like hemoglobin
or plasma.” Meg nodded.
“Okay.
That it?” Lauren looked down
at her last lab report.
“Yeah.
That’s it.”
“Well,
thanks for the info,” said Meg. “I’ll be upstairs if you’re lookin’ for me.”
Lauren nodded absently as Meg left, and then after the door shut sat
down in her chair with a sigh. The last lab report was a DNA analysis of all
four of the X-Men. According to the
test, Meg and Darien were brother and sister.
Lauren had retested twice, hoping that there had been some mistake,
but there was none. The two were related,
and Lauren had no idea how to tell them.
She couldn’t even bring herself to mention the test to Meg. Lauren put her head down on the table. Her life suddenly seemed very bleak.
The
med lab door opened again, and Lauren jumped into a sitting position.
“Meg, you forget something?” Lauren
froze when Meg was edged in the door, a soldier with a black uniform pressing
a laser rifle into her back.
“They
jumped me, Laurie,” said Meg. “Don’t know where Damien and Darien are.”
She looked down at her friend. “I’m
sorry.”
“And
well you should be!” Adrienne Poe walked into the med lab with a flourish. “Well, well, this is quaint. Primitive, but quaint.” Lauren’s blood ran cold when she saw Executor,
Adrienne’s crazy right hand man enter the lab behind her. “You ladies are to come with me,” said Adrienne.
“Shawn, please collect Ms. Grey-Summers.”
Executor jerked Lauren up roughly.
“You
won’t get away with this,” said Meg as she was marched out of the med lab
after Lauren.
“How trite,” said Adrienne. “And how utterly untrue.”
***
TO BE CONTINUED...
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original characters are copyright 2001 and 2002 by Caitlin Kittredge and may
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