Back to GatefoldIssue #37
December 2017 |
Now.
Abigail Brand and Alex Summers stared into the empty and dimly lit S.H.I.E.L.D. interrogation room from the other side of a two-way mirror. They had been waiting patiently in the observation room for some time now. Their patience was rewarded.
The door on the other side of the interrogation room buzzed for a moment and then opened. Two S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, armed with rifles, marched a woman in an orange jumpsuit into the room. She was shackled at the wrists and ankles with bulky restraints. However, the most striking details about her appearance included her striking red hair, piercing yellow eyes, and blue skin. The agents sat the woman down at a chair and table in the center of the room, and then began to methodically attach her shackles to both the chair and the table.
When they were finished, the exit buzzed and they walked out, shutting the door firmly behind them. The woman looked up to the mirror in front of her, seeing only a reflection of herself and the room she was restrained in, but she knew better. She was not alone.
“Looks like our guest has finally arrived,” Brand said flatly. Alex nodded and walked up to the security panel by the door to the interrogation room. He put one hand by the switch to open it and gestured with another to the door itself.
“After you,” he insisted. Brand shook her head in response.
“She’s all yours. I prefer to watch.”
“Fair enough,” Alex said with a shrug. He hit the button on the panel. A quiet buzzer sounded. When security unlocked the door for him remotely, he opened the door and walked into the interrogation room. Brand continued to watch through the two-way mirror with her arms crossed over her chest.
Alex let the door shut behind him as he approached the table that Raven Darkholme was shackled to. He took note of the inhibitor collar flashing around her neck.
“Hello, Mystique,” he greeted as he sat down. “It’s been a long time. Probably not long enough for either one of us, though.”
Mystique cocked her head to the side, feigning insult.
“You wound me, Alex. I thought our last mission together was a rousing good time.”
“It was quite a success, I’ll give you that,” Alex replied. “Seems like it didn’t take you long to blow all of the goodwill it garnered you with S.H.I.E.L.D. and the X.S.E.”
“Please,” Mystique said with the roll of her piercing yellow eyes. “Would you fault the scorpion that stung a fox ferrying it across a lake?”
“No, I guess I wouldn’t,” Alex said with a bit of a scoff. “I’ll cut to the chase, Mystique. You were one of Jamie Madrox’s handlers on Genosha, right? Forge told us you were privy to all of the dupes that had infiltrated the island’s various operations. We need to know where they were all assigned. Help us out and I’ll see what I can do for you.”
Mystique appeared intrigued.
“And what is it that you think you can do for me?”
“Has Fury given you a bucket for that hole he threw you in after you sold S.H.I.E.L.D. out?” Alex asked pointedly. Mystique’s demeanor shifted from intrigue to somewhere else altogether. She stared at him coldly. “I’ll take that as a ‘no.’ Let’s start there then.”
Mystique leaned back as far as the shackles would allow her to in her chair. After a moment of consideration, she asked with a coy smile, “What would you like to know specifically?”
Alex locked eyes with her.
“Everything.”
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Marvel 2000 Proudly Presents...
Fallen Angels #37
“WAR UNLEASHED”
Part Three
Written by Steve Crosby and Cory Wiegel
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PREVIOUSLY IN FALLEN ANGELS: Having once again been transformed into the Horseman of Apocalypse known only as “War,” Exodus set his sights on the nation of San Marco and the cabal within its government called X-Nation. War singlehandedly destroyed Abyss and his subordinates and left the nation in a state of civil unrest, but judged that the nation’s President – Roberto DeCosta a.k.a. Sunspot – was worthy of survival. He then set his sights on Magneto and the island-nation of Genosha, declaring that their destruction would follow…
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Then.
Infiltrating the oil tanker hadn't required much effort from Shinobi Shaw. With enough money, anything can be achieved. And his allies had a great deal of money. Before the tanker had even left port to collect the shipment of Genoshan oil, the captain had been in Shaw’s pocket. He and his team had been able to board quietly, with most of the crew unaware and none of the surveillance registering their presence. It was important that nobody had reason to suspect tampering.
While the mercenaries kept watch, Shinobi Shaw made use of his mutant power to manipulate molecular density. Carefully he would phase his arm through the steel wall that contained oil on the other side and release a canister that would slowly dissolve, mixing its contents into the oil. Over a dozen times he did this, to make sure the entire supply was tainted.
It wouldn’t take long for the tainted oil to affect any machine that used it. Explosions would catch public attention. Tests would reveal toxic, highly cancerous by-products. Genosha, and especially Magneto, would be blamed. The resulting wars, trade and otherwise, would cause the stock in Roxxon Oil to skyrocket. And Shinobi Shaw was being paid in stock.
“Sir.” One of Shaw's men approached him. “There appears to be a situation upside.”
“I’ll take a quick look.” Shinobi Shaw relaxed his body and began to float upward, lighter than air. He passed through the ceiling, and soon his head peeked through the deck of the ship. He quickly saw what had spooked the captain, a shape flying through the air that certainly was not a bird nor a plane.
The tanker's captain jumped when Shinobi passed through the wall to enter his cabin. “Oh be quiet and give me your binoculars.” Through the telescopic lenses Shaw was able to identify the object flying toward them. “Exodus, dammit. Magneto must have learned of our plans somehow. New plan, then. Have your men open fire, we can claim he attacked us fi-”
The attack took Shinobi Shaw completely by surprise. The being that called itself War unleashed a wave of telekinetic power the moment he was over the tanker. It burst apart in the center so quickly there wasn’t even a spark to ignite the oil.
“Energy is power, and the world shall taste all of Genosha’s,” War declared loudly enough for any survivors on the tanker to hear, were they so inclined to pay attention. “In a manner of my choosing.”
Mental energy flared from War to the ocean, and all at once the oil ignited. A massive gout of black smoke burst through the air. The effect could be seen across much of the African continent, including Wakanda. War burst through the smoke to continue on his journey to Genosha.
Below the ocean’s surface and the layer of burning oil, Shinobi Shaw was still alive. He couldn’t say the same about the captain, whose burnt skeleton floated in the cabin that was rapidly filling with water. Shaw was frantically opening the emergency locker. His abilities could protect him from the worst of the fire, but he would still need to breathe. If he could reach the oxygen tank in time…
Shaw’s hand closed around the tank of oxygen, and at his manipulation the temperature cooled before combustion could occur. With a sigh of relief, Shinobi Shaw placed the breathing apparatus over his nose and mouth soon before the cabin was completely filled with water. Though he lamented the loss of carefully laid plans and pondered how he would get home, Shinobi Shaw was thankful for one thing.
He was not on the island of Genosha.
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Now.
Twenty miles off the coast of Genosha in the Indian Ocean, a SHIELD jump ship lands on a ship in the After their interrogation of Mystique, Brand returned to coordinating relief efforts on behalf of the X.S.E. and Alex settled into an office S.H.I.E.L.D. set aside for him. He was taking the lead on the search for Jamie Madrox in an attempt to find out more information relating to what happened on the devastated island of Genosha. It would take some time to follow-up on all of the leads that Mystique had provided him, but he was fortunate that they already had boots on the ground (so to speak) and one lead already being investigated.
One of the three monitors on his desk flashed the words ‘Incoming Communication’ on a large window with an X.S.E. logo on the background. He was quick to accept it. A snowy video appeared in front of him with a static filled transmission.
{{ “Alex, do you read me?” }} a familiar voice crackled through interference. It belonged to a man with a ruddy complexion, sparse facial hair, and a long black hair tied back in a ponytail appeared in what looked like a high-tech HAZMAT suit. He was inside of a tanker of some sort and was removing his helmet in the middle of the call.
“Hey Forge, “Alex replied loudly and deliberately, hoping to break through the interference as clearly as possible. “Long time no talk. It’s good to see you.”
{{ “Likewise. I wish I could say it was under better circumstances.” }}
“Pretty sure we still have a rain check on beers.”
{{ “May have to wait a while longer on that,” }} Forge said as he adjusted the camera on his end of the transmission. He directed Alex’s view to a window looking outside of the tanker and adjusted the focus so that Alex could see the massive wall of flames and smoke behind him. The U.N.’s fleet was only twenty miles off of the coast of Genosha, but the island couldn’t even be made out behind the flames. {{ “This oil fire is, without a doubt, one of the worst ecological disasters the world has ever seen… It’s going to take us quite a while to develop a technological intervention, let alone assess the damage to the environment.” }}
“Damn,” Alex just shook his head in disgust. He had few other words. “So I hear you have something for us?”
Forge readjusted the camera to focus on him.
{{ “Yes. Are you set up to receive secure transmissions?” }}
“I am.”
{{ “And have you had any lunch yet?” }}
“Nothing but coffee since this morning.”
Forge cocked his head and began typing some commands into the computer on his side of the video feed. {{ “Let’s hope you went easy on the cream and sugar... Transmitting now.” }}
Alex sat up as a second window appeared on his communication monitor. It displayed a video of charred and mangled bodies laying in a row. Numerous men and women in HAZMAT suits similar to Forge’s were examining them, collecting samples, and bagging them up.
“What am I looking at?” Alex said with a furrow brow.
{{ “The results of the U.N.’s search and rescue operation,” }} Forge answered flatly.
“No survivors at all?”
{{ “It’s hard to say at the moment, but if I had to hazard a guess any and all survivors evacuated long before we got here.” }}
“Why do you say that?”
Forge typed in a few more commands. The video on Alex’s screen seemed to fast forward a bit and landed on one corpse in particular. He paused on a frame and zoomed into the corpse’s forehead. Two gaping holes were clearly evident.
Alex leaned into his desk and swallowed back a lump in his throat. “Is that who I think it is…?”
{{ “Jamie Madrox, or one of his dupes I should say, yes,” }} Forge said with a somber nod. {{ “Double tapped along with several other of the oil tanker’s crew members.” }}
A third window appeared on Alex’s screen of a bird’s eye view of a Genoshan oil tanker burning and sinking with flaming crude leaking out of it. Forge did his best to explain the new video.
{{ “Satellite footage shows the oil tanker attacked by Exodus and, shortly after that, a ship arriving and several armed men boarding and departing with someone before it finally goes under,” }} he said to Alex. {{ “The forensics team isn’t sure but they think the second boat killed all of the oil tanker’s survivors before ushering off their target.” }}
“Christ,” Alex exclaimed before leaning back into his chair, taking it all in. “Any idea who our mystery man is?”
{{ “It’ll take time to recover the voyage data recorder and get a hold of the manifest, but I’ve instructed the S.H.I.E.L.D. liaison here to keep you updated.” }} Forge explained. {{ “Wish I could tell you more, but there isn’t much else for the forensics to examine yet. The U.N.’s search and rescue mission has turned more into a salvage operation at this point.” }}
”Not a problem, Forge,” Alex with a sigh. “Thanks for all of your help.”
{{ “Take care.” }}
Alex ended the transmission with Forge. He rubbed the tension out of the bridge of his nose as he took a moment to process all of the new information. Mystique’s first lead wasn’t going to go anywhere any time soon, but there were still more to follow. After a moment, he pressed a button on the office phone at his desk and an X.S.E. agent answered.
{{ “Go for Ops.“ }}
“This is Agent Summers. Assemble a strike team and prep a jump ship for Madripoor.”
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Then.
Magneto’s opulent tower palace was the highest point in Hammer Bay, the highest point in all of Genosha. From the presidential office at the very top, one could see the whole city. On one side was the magnificent stretch of water from which Hammer Bay received its name, the city’s access point into the Indian Ocean and the world. Skirting the edges of the bay were the impossible plants that converted all forms of matter into base petroleum, one of Genosha’s many accomplishments that Magneto was proud of.
On the other side of Hammer Bay were the mountains that separated much of Genosha from its capitol, accessible only by marvels of engineering. Further marvels served to extract rich iron ores and other valuable minerals from within those peaks. For many years, the world was ignorant that such accomplishments were possible due to mutant slaves, their powers specifically genegineered for such labor. Now the work was done by paid mutant employees, who used their many varied powers in creative ways.
As a result of such common decency, the mining was far more productive and safer. Unnoticeable from the outside, great sections of the mountains had been virtually hollowed out, the space put to use for other endeavors. The primary use was a grand mutant detection array, modeled somewhat after Cerebro. But it was also an ideal location for discreet holding cells.
“Please.” The pitiful words dripped from Mikhail’s lips, along with streams of blood. He was hanging from the ceiling, in manacles that were nowhere near as gentle as those that had bound Exodus. “When…will this end?”
“When you have answered to my satisfaction,” said Magneto in a voice that betrayed his cold rage. Standing on either side of him were Ever and Gamesmaster, who were among the most powerful telepaths in the world. Magneto had made little use of them, preferring the many sharp objects he held magnetically around Mikhail Rasputin. “You were alone with Exodus…with War, at the time he made his escape. Again, what was the reason for your visit?”
“To…to gloat. I had beaten him, utterly.” Mikhail’s eyes flicked to Gamesmaster. “You were there. I went there to rub my victory in his face. Instead he trapped me with no effort and escaped on his own.”
“If what you say is true, that may be even worse,” said Magneto menacingly. “A competent traitor is one thing, but a loyal fool who makes such senseless actions… That may be unforgivable.”
Magneto glanced toward Ever. “What do you think, General?”
“Mikhail is known for his ego,” said the mutant whose body was a mass of muscle and brain matter. “The endless waves of shame are easy to sense, though I can’t be certain of the reason behind him.”
“It fits with how he treated Exodus during our attack,” Gamesmaster added. “As would suddenly finding himself in over his head. More likely than such a blatant act of treason.”
“Perhaps by design. Either way, he will be of most value here.” Magneto flicked his wrist, and Mikhail screamed as the metal penetrated his body. Ultra-thin filaments dug into his organs and spread out to the machines that filled much of the chamber. “I’m loathe to exploit any mutant, Mikhail, but you’ve shown yourself to be unwilling and incapable.”
The chortle caused more blood to bubble from his mouth, but Mikhail was past caring. “Just as Exodus had?”
Ever frowned. “If his mental faculties are no longer needed, I can-”
The array of machines lit up. An extremely powerful mutant was approaching Genosha.
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“You think this can stop me!” War screamed.
The mutant formerly known as Exodus was met less than a mile from Genosha’s shores by the nation’s powerful Genoshan Military Forces. Ironically, these soldiers were not true mutants but genegineered clones, far worse than the mutate slaves of the old regime. They were essentially robots of flesh, and War knew their powers of flight, strength, endurance and energy projection were based off the late Kleinstock brothers.
Plasma bursts splashed against War’s telekinetic shield, and any forces that came too close were reduced to ash. Still, even for a powerful mutant enhanced by Apocalypse, the sheer weight of numbers was daunting. Screaming his defiance, War pressed forward, flying ever closer to Genosha.
“Rraarrgh!” The second assault on War was far worse. The Psi-Corps was also made up of genegineered clones, but their base powers were telepathy and telekinesis. The power of one paled against War, and when he lashed out with his own telepathy dozens of weak minds were fried.
But there were hundreds more in the Psi-Corps, and their collective assault threatened War’s defenses. This division of concentration weakened the telekinetic shield, and the Genoshan Military Forces continued to blast at him.
Even a mutant as powerful as War has his limits. Bursts of plasma exploded all around him, and he was hurled into the water, just a few hundred yards from Hammer Bay.
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Now.
Nestled in the southern portion of the Strait of Malacca between Singapore and Sumatra was another island nation overrun by corruption and violence: The Principality of Madripoor.
Its capital and largest city, Madripoor, was divided into Hightown (dominated by the rich and affluent) and Lowtown (left to the thugs, pirates, and impoverished). It was in the basement of the infamous Lowtown establishment known as “the Princess Bar” that a man screamed in agony at the top of his lungs. The numerous men and women on the first floor basked in the evening’s cabaret entertainment, willfully oblivious to the establishment’s true nature, as the savage art of torture and interrogation was practiced only a dozen or so feet below them.
A Caucasian man sat bound to a wooden chair in the basement, stripped as naked as the day he was born, with purple and black bruises littering his body along with cuts and burns. He had only a burlap sack over his head. It provided him very little dignity. As the pain subsided, he dropped his head low, huffing and heaving. His body ached and his lungs burned. It was then someone leaned in close to him.
“What say you, friend?” a Southeast Asian man smoking a cigarette asked. Though his accent was thick his English was clear. “You got anything to say to us now?”
The Caucasian man took a deep breath.
“Uh… uh… little to the… left… next time… please…”
The cigarette smoking man looked up to several other Southeast Asian men in the basement. Some were dressed in black suits and ties. Others were wearing only white dress shirts with the sleeves rolled up and the collars loosened. They were all as unamused as he was.
“Get a fresh bucket of water,” the cigarette smoking man said in Mandarin with a quick nod. Another man nodded back and moved to do just that. “Grab the car battery,” he said to another, who responded in kind.
“Sub… subtitles… anyone?”
The cigarette smoking man took a drag from his cigarette and looked back to their captive.
“You said you got an itch that needs scratching, yes?” he said in English again. “We’ll take care of that for you, friend.”
One of the men walked up with a bucket while the other walked up with a large sponge attached to an electric rod hooked up to a battery. As they prepared to go to work, the power throughout the Princess Bar suddenly went off and the basement fell into pitch darkness.
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Then.
Magneto witnessed the fall of War, and smiled. “You see, Amelia, there is no need to recall the Fallen Angels from their mission.”
Amelia Voght frowned as she watched the combined Genoshan Military Forces and Psi-Corps blast at the area of water where War had disappeared. “It could be a feint. Eyes in the water would be nice.”
“Yes, I’ll reconsider Dr. Sando’s idea for Aqua-Marines.” Magneto then made a dismissive gesture. “Though in this case their only use would have been to recover the body. War came to Genosha, and has been repelled. It is that fate that awaits all threats to our mutant way of life.”
At that very moment, lasers came from above the assembled soldier-clones of Genosha. Any of the Psi-Corps who were struck fell from the sky, but many of the Military Forces were tough enough to withstand the attack and flew up to meet the new threat. They found the other-dimensional mutant known as Ragnarok, at the head of his Superior Force. The collision over Genosha was explosive, and Amelia Voght shielded her eyes while Magneto looked up in fury.
“What affront is this?” A crack had emerged in Magneto’s facade of confidence. “One threat we can repel with ease. Perhaps two, but more…”
At the Genoshan Military Forces, Ragnarok lashed out, destroying waves of them with his incomprehensible power. The seven artificial mutants that made up Superior Force were also struck, but Ragnarok had designed them to be immune to his power. He drew his power from them, after all, and the loss of one would weaken him that much.
“It would appear that Ragnarok has come to Genosha, and will be more difficult to repel.” Mist was rising from Amelia Voght’s body. “I’ll summon the Fallen Angels to assist.”
“Do not bother.” Magneto rose from his tower in a sphere of magnetic energy. His rage was expressed in every word. “Genosha was granted to me, with the expectation I would fail to hold it. I will deal with Ragnarok personally, and the world shall know the power that defends Genosha!”
Rising to follow Magneto were cars, boats, virtually every loose metallic object in Hammer Bay. As Magneto approached the butchery that surrounded Ragnarok, the metal objects were hurled before him. Explosions thundered around the mutant traitor, some so close that even he was staggered.
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As mutant titans clashed above, Voght turned her eyes below. Mutants of minor ability were gathered in Hammer Bay’s streets by the thousands, looking up in awe and fear. In Genosha they had been promised safety from a world that irrationally hates and fears them. They had not been told it would make them a target for those the world rationally hates and fears.
The Fallen Angels were a part of that protection and, whatever Magneto’s orders, Voght knew they had to be called. “Meltdown, what is your status?” Voght asked into the communicator she carried. The lack of response was more than troubling. “We have a situation. Meltdown?”
Fearing the problem, Voght cycled her communicator through various channels and received no connections. It was more than any interference the battle may cause, as the communicators relied on multiple fail-safes. This was a jamming from the inside, cutting Genosha off from the world in a moment of crisis. Voght suspected the source, and teleported.
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Now.
With only the cherry of a cigarette lighting the basement, several of the gangsters pulled out their cell phones and illuminated as much of the room as possible while the others drew handguns. After a moment of waiting, the cigarette smoking man began yelling in Mandarin.
“Somebody check the back-up generators! They should have come on by now.”
Two of his men ran to the stairs leading up to the first floor, but a small explosion ripped through the door and sent them flying back down the steps. Agent Sean Watanabee, a.k.a. Brass, and several X.S.E. agents in tactical gear flooded into the room after the explosion with flash lights on the end of rifles drawn at the ready.
“X.S.E! Hands in the air!” Brass yelled in Mandarin. “Drop your weapons!”
The remaining gangsters did quite the opposite; they backpedaled across the room and began frantically opening fire.
“Contact!” one of the X.S.E. agents yelled in English as they returned fire.
As bullets whizzed across the room, lighting up the darkness, another explosion – this one made up of brightly colored plasma waves instead of C4 – rocked the basement wall closest to the Southeast Asian men. Rubble and plasma sent them crashing to the ground.
The strike team leader, Alex Summers (otherwise known as Havok in the field), emerged from the gaping hole in the wall he just made and nodded to the X.S.E. agents across from him.
“Hold your fire!” Brass commanded. “They’re down.”
Havok approached the group of men as they struggled to stand. When Brass and the X.S.E. agents surrounded them with rifles drawn, they slowly began putting their hands behind their heads and lying in a prone position… except for one. Havok looked to the cigarette smoking man crawling toward his dropped handgun, cigarette still lit and in his mouth. He stepped up to him and kicked him in the face before he could grip his handgun, sending his head reeling back and knocking the cigarette cleaned out of his mouth. He then stomped the cigarette out.
“Good job, everyone. Mission accomplished.”
“Al… Al… ex?” a voice grumbled from across the room.
Havok looked to the naked Caucasian man bound to the wooden chair and briskly moved over to him. He crouched down in front of the captive and looked him up and down before gently pulling the burlap sack off of his head. Bloodied and bruised, Jamie Madrox’s head slipped out of the sack and lulled to the side before looking up to his former teammate.
“What… what took you… so long?” he muttered with a weak smirk.
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Then.
Spectators were gathered around the ring and its combatants, two mutants utilizing their powers against each other. Above the ring appeared the Fallen Angels, teleported in by the Vanisher. Feral leapt into the ring, hoping the fighting mutants would turn on her. Meltdown allowed herself to fall with a twirl, hurling explosive spheres of energy in all directions. They exploded over the spectators’ heads, sending them running for the exits.
“Forced to fight each other for human amusement,” Feral spat. “How pathetic. Well, at least you’re done bleeding for their amusement.”
“Forced nothing. I get paid good money for this,” said one of the mutants, his body covered in tattoos. “For ending that, you’re the one that’s going to bleed. With my slight telepathy, I know every move you’re gonna make.”
Faster than a normal person could react, Feral slashed the mutant’s face. He fell to the mat, screaming. “Yeah, that helped you out. What about you?”
The other mutant raised his hands. “Please, I surrender. The mild force-field I have can only weaken blows to half-strength.”
The rest of the Fallen Angels were outside the ring, dealing with the security. Orphan’s sensitivity allowed him to somehow dodge the bullets they fired. While those men wore bullet-proof armor, Anarchist’s acid sweat ate through it with ease. The two made quick work of any resistance, while Meltdown ran for the announcer’s booth.
“Ah ah!” A self-made bomb of Meltdown’s blew up the booth, and a man she assumed as the promoter fell out. “This casual exploitation of mutants has to be answered for!”
The overweight, balding man fell to his knees to beg. “Please, I just manage the business. The fighters are paid, and treated well. One of them is even the owner!”
“Oh, a race-traitor, eh?” Meltdown formed a bomb in her hand and hovered it over the promoter’s head. “Tell me what you know about him, and maybe you won’t leave here a foot shorter.”
But the promoter was now looking behind Meltdown. She then heard two soft thuds. She turned to see both the fighters lying on the floor, as was Feral. Meltdown heard another thud, and out of the corner of her eye saw Orphan flying through the air. Whoever they were up against, he was fast.
Anarchist was panting heavily, working himself up into a sweat. “This guy’s welcome to get in close to me. I can’t wait to burn his - aahh!”
At the same time a beam of energy struck down Anarchist, Meltdown heard a faint and familiar hum. She turned and threw her bomb at the beam’s source, but their attacker was already on top of her. The blow was swift. Meltdown barely felt a thing.
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Now.
The X.S.E.’s jump ship had picked up Havok’s team and began a hasty departure from Madripoor airspace in mere moments after the operation concluded. The men who held Jamie captive were left for local law enforcement, though knowing Madripoor they would likely evade justice, but that wasn’t the X.S.E.’s priority. They were there for information and time was of the essence. It wasn’t long once before Jamie was in sweat pants and covered in an emergency blanket. A medic hooked him up to an IV and began to examine his injuries and apply what aid he could. He would need more extensive care once they returned to base.
“How are you feeling?” Alex asked as he approached Jamie a thermos and a cup of coffee.
“Like I had my junk whipped with saps and my nips attached to an electrode for the last two and a half days,” Jamie said dryly. He then snickered and hunched his brows at Alex mischievously. “In other words, pretty darn satisfied.”
The medic looked up from his work at Jamie for a moment, taken aback by his sense of humor, but Alex just shook his head and laughed quietly.
“You’re disgusting, man.”
“I don’t know, Alex. I could think of worse ways to pass the time,” a familiar woman’s voice said. Jamie and Alex turned to the cockpit of the jump ship as a tall, caramel toned woman with short blonde hair and a stylized ‘M’ tattooed across her right eye.
“Shard, as I leave and breathe,” Jamie cooed exaggeratedly as Shard Bishop approached them. He looked to Alex and elbowed him. “Gettin’ the whole X-Factor band back together, huh?”
“Not quite,” Alex explained. “Shard’s with the X.S.E. now. She was running back-up for this operation. Thankfully for your friends, everything went off without a hitch.”
Shard winked at Jamie. “Yeah, lucky them.”
There was a time when Jamie and Shard seemed to share a mutual flirtation and attraction, but Jamie always assumed she was just having fun with him. Little did he know, she was really just trying to get close to him to try and get information on Alex’s Brotherhood at the time. Still, especially after everything he just went through, that little bit of extra attention sure felt nice.
“So hey, I’d love to make more time to catch up, but we’re on a bit of a time crunch here,” Alex began. “We had some questions for you, like do you know where Jamie Prime is and what can you tell us about your operations for Magneto?”
The dupe finally took a sip from the coffee Alex brought him, sort of settling back into reality. “Can’t tell you where the ‘real me’ is, sorry, but I figure Genosha. Easier to pump more dupes outta him there and send them off to do Mags’ dirty work.”
“You haven’t heard?” Shard asked, glancing to Alex. Alex looked to her, seemingly trying to tell her with his eyes not to go there. It was too late, though. Jamie looked at both of them with a puzzled expression.
“Heard what?”
“Genosha has fallen,” Alex said reluctantly. “The island’s been completely devastated. The U.N. has S.H.I.E.L.D. and the X.S.E. investigating.”
“Wow,” Jamie said in semi-shock. “But Genosha’s where I kept all my stuff… like… my clothes…”
“I can fill you in on everything later,” Shard said with a nod to Alex. “Can you tell us anything more about what Magneto had all of you doing?”
Jamie leaned back into the jump ship’s bulkhead, taking a deep sigh and cradling his coffee. “More like what didn’t he have us doing. We had a dupe running security at his cloning facilities, another dupe was providing crew for the oil plants and tankers, one dupe was running with the Fallen Angels, another was doing intelligence analysis…” the dupe could go on, but could sense his former teammates wanting him to get to the point.
“What about you?” Alex asked.
“Me? I was with The Vanisher’s crew, peddling his drugs and watching over deals,” Jamie went on. “This last time in Madripoor we got ambushed and jacked. That’s how I ended up in a Fifty Shades of Gray spin-off with our Lowtown friends.”
“Wait, drugs? Like street drugs?” Shard said with some surprise. “That seems so… beneath Magneto… I can’t see him tolerating that.”
“Hey, as long as Vanisher was only selling to humans, Mags didn’t really care. Genosha was broke when he took over and he was trying to drum up cash any way he could,” Jamie explained with some levity in his voice. “So yeah, the Madripoor boys got the drop on us, and wiped out all of my dupes and beat me senseless. Left me too weak to make any more dupes and escape, so you can bet my black and blue nuts I sure was happy when you all showed up.”
“Hey, what are friends for?” Alex mused. The dupe didn’t answer; he simply closed his eyes and took another sip of his coffee as the medic continued to clean and dress his injuries. Alex crossed his arms as he processed everything that he had learned that day.
The dupe in the hospital was on Genosha at the time of the attack and was one of the injured evacuees. He was seemingly the one working on island intelligence that this dupe had mentioned. The dupe Forge discovered was the oil tanker crew member. The dupe providing security for the cloning facilities likely wasn’t going to be found if he was still alive. However, the Fallen Angels… S.H.I.E.L.D. often gathered intelligence on their operations from around the world. It’s possible they were off island at the time of the attack.
“Jamie,” Alex began, catching the dupe’s attention. “What can you tell us about the Fallen Angels and their most recent operations?”
******************************************
Then.
The difficulty it took Voght to teleport the short distance highlighted the problem at hand. Her power worked by side-stepping one plane of reality for another, the Psychic Plane. With mild difficulty she reappeared in one of the tower’s lower levels, in the labs of Dr. Sando. She barely registered the woman’s arrival, calming flicking switches and generally locking up the lab.
“Leaving so soon?” Voght had never trusted Dr. Sando. Despite all she’d done for Genoshan, she was still only human. “I’m unable to contact the Fallen Angels.”
“Yes, well, one of these switches jams communications.” Dr. Sando made a dismissive gesture. “It wouldn’t due for them to die with the rest of you. A few subjects out in the wild can make for a fascinating study, even after the experiment is over.”
“And that’s all we ever were to you, and experiment.” Voght could feel herself starting to sweat. “How much of this is your doing?”
“The mere act of observation can be a variable.” Dr. Sando smiled as she flicked a final switch. “But I did try to minimize my involvement. Small things like goading Mikhail into the proper actions, and of course coordinating my exit with Genosha’s utter destruction!”
It wasn’t sweat coming off Voght’s skin, but the vapor that was her actual body. Voght screamed as she struggled to keep her body together. Dr. Sando walked over to a drawer, pulled a syringe and filled it from a vial.
“The pulse I activated weakens your concentration over your mutant powers. While it isn’t effective enough as to be damaging, it does render you helpless enough for this. The solution I put in Siena Blaze’s IV was diluted, to provide me time to escape, but you’ll receive the full dose.” Dr. Sando walked toward Voght, the syringe held menacingly. “By my estimation, you should dissipate into the atmosphere. Perhaps in a few years I’ll gather you into a container, to study the effects.”
While Voght’s grasp over her power had become as slippery as an eel, she was far from helpless. As Dr. Sando bent down to inject her, Voght kicked out. Dr. Sando was struck in the face and sent reeling back. Voght grabbed a chair and slowly pulled herself up off the floor, as Dr. Sando recovered.
“If I weren’t already doing the worst possible thing…”
The clipboard on the table was metal and thick, used to store papers in when carried out of the office. Voght grabbed it and swung. The metal corner smashed against Dr. Sando’s head. With only a slight cry she went down bleeding, more than dazed.
Voght didn’t stop. This human had used mutants, abused them, contributed to the downfall of a nation and all on it. These ran through Voght’s mind as she smashed the metal down again and again. When she was done, blood and bone and other things were spattered across the lab floor.
There was one thing left to do, Voght knew as she struggled across the room to deactivate the pulse. A rumbling nearly sent Voght back to the floor, and she prayed it wasn’t Dr. Sando’s final act. At that moment Sienna Blaze was a living bomb that could go off any second. She needed to be deactivated, at any cost.
******************************************
Now.
According to Jamie Madrox’s dupe from Madripoor, the Fallen Angels had recently been sent out on a mission to shut down several mutant fight clubs across the globe. It didn’t take long to get a short list of known and suspected clubs that would be easy targets for Magneto’s hit squad, and then it was just a matter of the X.S.E. to investigate each one.
The door to one such establishment was busted clean open. Havok, Brass, and their armed strike team charged in to an empty arena. With the wave of his hands, Brass directed them all into different directions, sending them scattering over the tiers of chairs and bar areas.
Chairs were flipped over in all sorts of contorted positions, beer bottles and trash were littered everywhere, and what looked like plasma burns scarred the walls and floor.
Havok and Brass walked down an isle to the fighting ring itself as the members of their strike team cleared the area around them. Havok glanced over the blood stained ring.
“Brass?” he said suggestively. Brass furrowed his brow and narrowed his eyes as he concentrated on reaching outwards with his latent telepathy.
“Someone’s definitely still here… maybe more than one person, actually…” Brass replied. “Their thoughts are faint, though. They may be injured or have telepathic resistance training.”
Havok nodded slowly and pressed on a communicator in his ear.
“Alright, everyone. Split up and keep your eyes open. We’re not alone…”
******************************************
Then.
A great shaking occurred throughout the island of Genosha. Explosive bursts of water erupted across the length of ocean just off the coast, followed by brief gouts of flame and unending plumes of black smoke. The once-pristine waters that Hammer Bay overlooked appeared to fall away, briefly exposing great stalks of plant-life that seemed to flop in agony.
These plants were the great accomplishment of Genosha, the solution to dual problems of pollution and energy. War had ignited them all.
******************************************
TO BE CONTINUED…
******************************************
Abigail Brand and Alex Summers stared into the empty and dimly lit S.H.I.E.L.D. interrogation room from the other side of a two-way mirror. They had been waiting patiently in the observation room for some time now. Their patience was rewarded.
The door on the other side of the interrogation room buzzed for a moment and then opened. Two S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, armed with rifles, marched a woman in an orange jumpsuit into the room. She was shackled at the wrists and ankles with bulky restraints. However, the most striking details about her appearance included her striking red hair, piercing yellow eyes, and blue skin. The agents sat the woman down at a chair and table in the center of the room, and then began to methodically attach her shackles to both the chair and the table.
When they were finished, the exit buzzed and they walked out, shutting the door firmly behind them. The woman looked up to the mirror in front of her, seeing only a reflection of herself and the room she was restrained in, but she knew better. She was not alone.
“Looks like our guest has finally arrived,” Brand said flatly. Alex nodded and walked up to the security panel by the door to the interrogation room. He put one hand by the switch to open it and gestured with another to the door itself.
“After you,” he insisted. Brand shook her head in response.
“She’s all yours. I prefer to watch.”
“Fair enough,” Alex said with a shrug. He hit the button on the panel. A quiet buzzer sounded. When security unlocked the door for him remotely, he opened the door and walked into the interrogation room. Brand continued to watch through the two-way mirror with her arms crossed over her chest.
Alex let the door shut behind him as he approached the table that Raven Darkholme was shackled to. He took note of the inhibitor collar flashing around her neck.
“Hello, Mystique,” he greeted as he sat down. “It’s been a long time. Probably not long enough for either one of us, though.”
Mystique cocked her head to the side, feigning insult.
“You wound me, Alex. I thought our last mission together was a rousing good time.”
“It was quite a success, I’ll give you that,” Alex replied. “Seems like it didn’t take you long to blow all of the goodwill it garnered you with S.H.I.E.L.D. and the X.S.E.”
“Please,” Mystique said with the roll of her piercing yellow eyes. “Would you fault the scorpion that stung a fox ferrying it across a lake?”
“No, I guess I wouldn’t,” Alex said with a bit of a scoff. “I’ll cut to the chase, Mystique. You were one of Jamie Madrox’s handlers on Genosha, right? Forge told us you were privy to all of the dupes that had infiltrated the island’s various operations. We need to know where they were all assigned. Help us out and I’ll see what I can do for you.”
Mystique appeared intrigued.
“And what is it that you think you can do for me?”
“Has Fury given you a bucket for that hole he threw you in after you sold S.H.I.E.L.D. out?” Alex asked pointedly. Mystique’s demeanor shifted from intrigue to somewhere else altogether. She stared at him coldly. “I’ll take that as a ‘no.’ Let’s start there then.”
Mystique leaned back as far as the shackles would allow her to in her chair. After a moment of consideration, she asked with a coy smile, “What would you like to know specifically?”
Alex locked eyes with her.
“Everything.”
******************************************
Marvel 2000 Proudly Presents...
Fallen Angels #37
“WAR UNLEASHED”
Part Three
Written by Steve Crosby and Cory Wiegel
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PREVIOUSLY IN FALLEN ANGELS: Having once again been transformed into the Horseman of Apocalypse known only as “War,” Exodus set his sights on the nation of San Marco and the cabal within its government called X-Nation. War singlehandedly destroyed Abyss and his subordinates and left the nation in a state of civil unrest, but judged that the nation’s President – Roberto DeCosta a.k.a. Sunspot – was worthy of survival. He then set his sights on Magneto and the island-nation of Genosha, declaring that their destruction would follow…
******************************************
Then.
Infiltrating the oil tanker hadn't required much effort from Shinobi Shaw. With enough money, anything can be achieved. And his allies had a great deal of money. Before the tanker had even left port to collect the shipment of Genoshan oil, the captain had been in Shaw’s pocket. He and his team had been able to board quietly, with most of the crew unaware and none of the surveillance registering their presence. It was important that nobody had reason to suspect tampering.
While the mercenaries kept watch, Shinobi Shaw made use of his mutant power to manipulate molecular density. Carefully he would phase his arm through the steel wall that contained oil on the other side and release a canister that would slowly dissolve, mixing its contents into the oil. Over a dozen times he did this, to make sure the entire supply was tainted.
It wouldn’t take long for the tainted oil to affect any machine that used it. Explosions would catch public attention. Tests would reveal toxic, highly cancerous by-products. Genosha, and especially Magneto, would be blamed. The resulting wars, trade and otherwise, would cause the stock in Roxxon Oil to skyrocket. And Shinobi Shaw was being paid in stock.
“Sir.” One of Shaw's men approached him. “There appears to be a situation upside.”
“I’ll take a quick look.” Shinobi Shaw relaxed his body and began to float upward, lighter than air. He passed through the ceiling, and soon his head peeked through the deck of the ship. He quickly saw what had spooked the captain, a shape flying through the air that certainly was not a bird nor a plane.
The tanker's captain jumped when Shinobi passed through the wall to enter his cabin. “Oh be quiet and give me your binoculars.” Through the telescopic lenses Shaw was able to identify the object flying toward them. “Exodus, dammit. Magneto must have learned of our plans somehow. New plan, then. Have your men open fire, we can claim he attacked us fi-”
The attack took Shinobi Shaw completely by surprise. The being that called itself War unleashed a wave of telekinetic power the moment he was over the tanker. It burst apart in the center so quickly there wasn’t even a spark to ignite the oil.
“Energy is power, and the world shall taste all of Genosha’s,” War declared loudly enough for any survivors on the tanker to hear, were they so inclined to pay attention. “In a manner of my choosing.”
Mental energy flared from War to the ocean, and all at once the oil ignited. A massive gout of black smoke burst through the air. The effect could be seen across much of the African continent, including Wakanda. War burst through the smoke to continue on his journey to Genosha.
Below the ocean’s surface and the layer of burning oil, Shinobi Shaw was still alive. He couldn’t say the same about the captain, whose burnt skeleton floated in the cabin that was rapidly filling with water. Shaw was frantically opening the emergency locker. His abilities could protect him from the worst of the fire, but he would still need to breathe. If he could reach the oxygen tank in time…
Shaw’s hand closed around the tank of oxygen, and at his manipulation the temperature cooled before combustion could occur. With a sigh of relief, Shinobi Shaw placed the breathing apparatus over his nose and mouth soon before the cabin was completely filled with water. Though he lamented the loss of carefully laid plans and pondered how he would get home, Shinobi Shaw was thankful for one thing.
He was not on the island of Genosha.
******************************************
Now.
Twenty miles off the coast of Genosha in the Indian Ocean, a SHIELD jump ship lands on a ship in the After their interrogation of Mystique, Brand returned to coordinating relief efforts on behalf of the X.S.E. and Alex settled into an office S.H.I.E.L.D. set aside for him. He was taking the lead on the search for Jamie Madrox in an attempt to find out more information relating to what happened on the devastated island of Genosha. It would take some time to follow-up on all of the leads that Mystique had provided him, but he was fortunate that they already had boots on the ground (so to speak) and one lead already being investigated.
One of the three monitors on his desk flashed the words ‘Incoming Communication’ on a large window with an X.S.E. logo on the background. He was quick to accept it. A snowy video appeared in front of him with a static filled transmission.
{{ “Alex, do you read me?” }} a familiar voice crackled through interference. It belonged to a man with a ruddy complexion, sparse facial hair, and a long black hair tied back in a ponytail appeared in what looked like a high-tech HAZMAT suit. He was inside of a tanker of some sort and was removing his helmet in the middle of the call.
“Hey Forge, “Alex replied loudly and deliberately, hoping to break through the interference as clearly as possible. “Long time no talk. It’s good to see you.”
{{ “Likewise. I wish I could say it was under better circumstances.” }}
“Pretty sure we still have a rain check on beers.”
{{ “May have to wait a while longer on that,” }} Forge said as he adjusted the camera on his end of the transmission. He directed Alex’s view to a window looking outside of the tanker and adjusted the focus so that Alex could see the massive wall of flames and smoke behind him. The U.N.’s fleet was only twenty miles off of the coast of Genosha, but the island couldn’t even be made out behind the flames. {{ “This oil fire is, without a doubt, one of the worst ecological disasters the world has ever seen… It’s going to take us quite a while to develop a technological intervention, let alone assess the damage to the environment.” }}
“Damn,” Alex just shook his head in disgust. He had few other words. “So I hear you have something for us?”
Forge readjusted the camera to focus on him.
{{ “Yes. Are you set up to receive secure transmissions?” }}
“I am.”
{{ “And have you had any lunch yet?” }}
“Nothing but coffee since this morning.”
Forge cocked his head and began typing some commands into the computer on his side of the video feed. {{ “Let’s hope you went easy on the cream and sugar... Transmitting now.” }}
Alex sat up as a second window appeared on his communication monitor. It displayed a video of charred and mangled bodies laying in a row. Numerous men and women in HAZMAT suits similar to Forge’s were examining them, collecting samples, and bagging them up.
“What am I looking at?” Alex said with a furrow brow.
{{ “The results of the U.N.’s search and rescue operation,” }} Forge answered flatly.
“No survivors at all?”
{{ “It’s hard to say at the moment, but if I had to hazard a guess any and all survivors evacuated long before we got here.” }}
“Why do you say that?”
Forge typed in a few more commands. The video on Alex’s screen seemed to fast forward a bit and landed on one corpse in particular. He paused on a frame and zoomed into the corpse’s forehead. Two gaping holes were clearly evident.
Alex leaned into his desk and swallowed back a lump in his throat. “Is that who I think it is…?”
{{ “Jamie Madrox, or one of his dupes I should say, yes,” }} Forge said with a somber nod. {{ “Double tapped along with several other of the oil tanker’s crew members.” }}
A third window appeared on Alex’s screen of a bird’s eye view of a Genoshan oil tanker burning and sinking with flaming crude leaking out of it. Forge did his best to explain the new video.
{{ “Satellite footage shows the oil tanker attacked by Exodus and, shortly after that, a ship arriving and several armed men boarding and departing with someone before it finally goes under,” }} he said to Alex. {{ “The forensics team isn’t sure but they think the second boat killed all of the oil tanker’s survivors before ushering off their target.” }}
“Christ,” Alex exclaimed before leaning back into his chair, taking it all in. “Any idea who our mystery man is?”
{{ “It’ll take time to recover the voyage data recorder and get a hold of the manifest, but I’ve instructed the S.H.I.E.L.D. liaison here to keep you updated.” }} Forge explained. {{ “Wish I could tell you more, but there isn’t much else for the forensics to examine yet. The U.N.’s search and rescue mission has turned more into a salvage operation at this point.” }}
”Not a problem, Forge,” Alex with a sigh. “Thanks for all of your help.”
{{ “Take care.” }}
Alex ended the transmission with Forge. He rubbed the tension out of the bridge of his nose as he took a moment to process all of the new information. Mystique’s first lead wasn’t going to go anywhere any time soon, but there were still more to follow. After a moment, he pressed a button on the office phone at his desk and an X.S.E. agent answered.
{{ “Go for Ops.“ }}
“This is Agent Summers. Assemble a strike team and prep a jump ship for Madripoor.”
******************************************
Then.
Magneto’s opulent tower palace was the highest point in Hammer Bay, the highest point in all of Genosha. From the presidential office at the very top, one could see the whole city. On one side was the magnificent stretch of water from which Hammer Bay received its name, the city’s access point into the Indian Ocean and the world. Skirting the edges of the bay were the impossible plants that converted all forms of matter into base petroleum, one of Genosha’s many accomplishments that Magneto was proud of.
On the other side of Hammer Bay were the mountains that separated much of Genosha from its capitol, accessible only by marvels of engineering. Further marvels served to extract rich iron ores and other valuable minerals from within those peaks. For many years, the world was ignorant that such accomplishments were possible due to mutant slaves, their powers specifically genegineered for such labor. Now the work was done by paid mutant employees, who used their many varied powers in creative ways.
As a result of such common decency, the mining was far more productive and safer. Unnoticeable from the outside, great sections of the mountains had been virtually hollowed out, the space put to use for other endeavors. The primary use was a grand mutant detection array, modeled somewhat after Cerebro. But it was also an ideal location for discreet holding cells.
“Please.” The pitiful words dripped from Mikhail’s lips, along with streams of blood. He was hanging from the ceiling, in manacles that were nowhere near as gentle as those that had bound Exodus. “When…will this end?”
“When you have answered to my satisfaction,” said Magneto in a voice that betrayed his cold rage. Standing on either side of him were Ever and Gamesmaster, who were among the most powerful telepaths in the world. Magneto had made little use of them, preferring the many sharp objects he held magnetically around Mikhail Rasputin. “You were alone with Exodus…with War, at the time he made his escape. Again, what was the reason for your visit?”
“To…to gloat. I had beaten him, utterly.” Mikhail’s eyes flicked to Gamesmaster. “You were there. I went there to rub my victory in his face. Instead he trapped me with no effort and escaped on his own.”
“If what you say is true, that may be even worse,” said Magneto menacingly. “A competent traitor is one thing, but a loyal fool who makes such senseless actions… That may be unforgivable.”
Magneto glanced toward Ever. “What do you think, General?”
“Mikhail is known for his ego,” said the mutant whose body was a mass of muscle and brain matter. “The endless waves of shame are easy to sense, though I can’t be certain of the reason behind him.”
“It fits with how he treated Exodus during our attack,” Gamesmaster added. “As would suddenly finding himself in over his head. More likely than such a blatant act of treason.”
“Perhaps by design. Either way, he will be of most value here.” Magneto flicked his wrist, and Mikhail screamed as the metal penetrated his body. Ultra-thin filaments dug into his organs and spread out to the machines that filled much of the chamber. “I’m loathe to exploit any mutant, Mikhail, but you’ve shown yourself to be unwilling and incapable.”
The chortle caused more blood to bubble from his mouth, but Mikhail was past caring. “Just as Exodus had?”
Ever frowned. “If his mental faculties are no longer needed, I can-”
The array of machines lit up. An extremely powerful mutant was approaching Genosha.
******************************************
“You think this can stop me!” War screamed.
The mutant formerly known as Exodus was met less than a mile from Genosha’s shores by the nation’s powerful Genoshan Military Forces. Ironically, these soldiers were not true mutants but genegineered clones, far worse than the mutate slaves of the old regime. They were essentially robots of flesh, and War knew their powers of flight, strength, endurance and energy projection were based off the late Kleinstock brothers.
Plasma bursts splashed against War’s telekinetic shield, and any forces that came too close were reduced to ash. Still, even for a powerful mutant enhanced by Apocalypse, the sheer weight of numbers was daunting. Screaming his defiance, War pressed forward, flying ever closer to Genosha.
“Rraarrgh!” The second assault on War was far worse. The Psi-Corps was also made up of genegineered clones, but their base powers were telepathy and telekinesis. The power of one paled against War, and when he lashed out with his own telepathy dozens of weak minds were fried.
But there were hundreds more in the Psi-Corps, and their collective assault threatened War’s defenses. This division of concentration weakened the telekinetic shield, and the Genoshan Military Forces continued to blast at him.
Even a mutant as powerful as War has his limits. Bursts of plasma exploded all around him, and he was hurled into the water, just a few hundred yards from Hammer Bay.
******************************************
Now.
Nestled in the southern portion of the Strait of Malacca between Singapore and Sumatra was another island nation overrun by corruption and violence: The Principality of Madripoor.
Its capital and largest city, Madripoor, was divided into Hightown (dominated by the rich and affluent) and Lowtown (left to the thugs, pirates, and impoverished). It was in the basement of the infamous Lowtown establishment known as “the Princess Bar” that a man screamed in agony at the top of his lungs. The numerous men and women on the first floor basked in the evening’s cabaret entertainment, willfully oblivious to the establishment’s true nature, as the savage art of torture and interrogation was practiced only a dozen or so feet below them.
A Caucasian man sat bound to a wooden chair in the basement, stripped as naked as the day he was born, with purple and black bruises littering his body along with cuts and burns. He had only a burlap sack over his head. It provided him very little dignity. As the pain subsided, he dropped his head low, huffing and heaving. His body ached and his lungs burned. It was then someone leaned in close to him.
“What say you, friend?” a Southeast Asian man smoking a cigarette asked. Though his accent was thick his English was clear. “You got anything to say to us now?”
The Caucasian man took a deep breath.
“Uh… uh… little to the… left… next time… please…”
The cigarette smoking man looked up to several other Southeast Asian men in the basement. Some were dressed in black suits and ties. Others were wearing only white dress shirts with the sleeves rolled up and the collars loosened. They were all as unamused as he was.
“Get a fresh bucket of water,” the cigarette smoking man said in Mandarin with a quick nod. Another man nodded back and moved to do just that. “Grab the car battery,” he said to another, who responded in kind.
“Sub… subtitles… anyone?”
The cigarette smoking man took a drag from his cigarette and looked back to their captive.
“You said you got an itch that needs scratching, yes?” he said in English again. “We’ll take care of that for you, friend.”
One of the men walked up with a bucket while the other walked up with a large sponge attached to an electric rod hooked up to a battery. As they prepared to go to work, the power throughout the Princess Bar suddenly went off and the basement fell into pitch darkness.
******************************************
Then.
Magneto witnessed the fall of War, and smiled. “You see, Amelia, there is no need to recall the Fallen Angels from their mission.”
Amelia Voght frowned as she watched the combined Genoshan Military Forces and Psi-Corps blast at the area of water where War had disappeared. “It could be a feint. Eyes in the water would be nice.”
“Yes, I’ll reconsider Dr. Sando’s idea for Aqua-Marines.” Magneto then made a dismissive gesture. “Though in this case their only use would have been to recover the body. War came to Genosha, and has been repelled. It is that fate that awaits all threats to our mutant way of life.”
At that very moment, lasers came from above the assembled soldier-clones of Genosha. Any of the Psi-Corps who were struck fell from the sky, but many of the Military Forces were tough enough to withstand the attack and flew up to meet the new threat. They found the other-dimensional mutant known as Ragnarok, at the head of his Superior Force. The collision over Genosha was explosive, and Amelia Voght shielded her eyes while Magneto looked up in fury.
“What affront is this?” A crack had emerged in Magneto’s facade of confidence. “One threat we can repel with ease. Perhaps two, but more…”
At the Genoshan Military Forces, Ragnarok lashed out, destroying waves of them with his incomprehensible power. The seven artificial mutants that made up Superior Force were also struck, but Ragnarok had designed them to be immune to his power. He drew his power from them, after all, and the loss of one would weaken him that much.
“It would appear that Ragnarok has come to Genosha, and will be more difficult to repel.” Mist was rising from Amelia Voght’s body. “I’ll summon the Fallen Angels to assist.”
“Do not bother.” Magneto rose from his tower in a sphere of magnetic energy. His rage was expressed in every word. “Genosha was granted to me, with the expectation I would fail to hold it. I will deal with Ragnarok personally, and the world shall know the power that defends Genosha!”
Rising to follow Magneto were cars, boats, virtually every loose metallic object in Hammer Bay. As Magneto approached the butchery that surrounded Ragnarok, the metal objects were hurled before him. Explosions thundered around the mutant traitor, some so close that even he was staggered.
******************************************
As mutant titans clashed above, Voght turned her eyes below. Mutants of minor ability were gathered in Hammer Bay’s streets by the thousands, looking up in awe and fear. In Genosha they had been promised safety from a world that irrationally hates and fears them. They had not been told it would make them a target for those the world rationally hates and fears.
The Fallen Angels were a part of that protection and, whatever Magneto’s orders, Voght knew they had to be called. “Meltdown, what is your status?” Voght asked into the communicator she carried. The lack of response was more than troubling. “We have a situation. Meltdown?”
Fearing the problem, Voght cycled her communicator through various channels and received no connections. It was more than any interference the battle may cause, as the communicators relied on multiple fail-safes. This was a jamming from the inside, cutting Genosha off from the world in a moment of crisis. Voght suspected the source, and teleported.
******************************************
Now.
With only the cherry of a cigarette lighting the basement, several of the gangsters pulled out their cell phones and illuminated as much of the room as possible while the others drew handguns. After a moment of waiting, the cigarette smoking man began yelling in Mandarin.
“Somebody check the back-up generators! They should have come on by now.”
Two of his men ran to the stairs leading up to the first floor, but a small explosion ripped through the door and sent them flying back down the steps. Agent Sean Watanabee, a.k.a. Brass, and several X.S.E. agents in tactical gear flooded into the room after the explosion with flash lights on the end of rifles drawn at the ready.
“X.S.E! Hands in the air!” Brass yelled in Mandarin. “Drop your weapons!”
The remaining gangsters did quite the opposite; they backpedaled across the room and began frantically opening fire.
“Contact!” one of the X.S.E. agents yelled in English as they returned fire.
As bullets whizzed across the room, lighting up the darkness, another explosion – this one made up of brightly colored plasma waves instead of C4 – rocked the basement wall closest to the Southeast Asian men. Rubble and plasma sent them crashing to the ground.
The strike team leader, Alex Summers (otherwise known as Havok in the field), emerged from the gaping hole in the wall he just made and nodded to the X.S.E. agents across from him.
“Hold your fire!” Brass commanded. “They’re down.”
Havok approached the group of men as they struggled to stand. When Brass and the X.S.E. agents surrounded them with rifles drawn, they slowly began putting their hands behind their heads and lying in a prone position… except for one. Havok looked to the cigarette smoking man crawling toward his dropped handgun, cigarette still lit and in his mouth. He stepped up to him and kicked him in the face before he could grip his handgun, sending his head reeling back and knocking the cigarette cleaned out of his mouth. He then stomped the cigarette out.
“Good job, everyone. Mission accomplished.”
“Al… Al… ex?” a voice grumbled from across the room.
Havok looked to the naked Caucasian man bound to the wooden chair and briskly moved over to him. He crouched down in front of the captive and looked him up and down before gently pulling the burlap sack off of his head. Bloodied and bruised, Jamie Madrox’s head slipped out of the sack and lulled to the side before looking up to his former teammate.
“What… what took you… so long?” he muttered with a weak smirk.
******************************************
Then.
Spectators were gathered around the ring and its combatants, two mutants utilizing their powers against each other. Above the ring appeared the Fallen Angels, teleported in by the Vanisher. Feral leapt into the ring, hoping the fighting mutants would turn on her. Meltdown allowed herself to fall with a twirl, hurling explosive spheres of energy in all directions. They exploded over the spectators’ heads, sending them running for the exits.
“Forced to fight each other for human amusement,” Feral spat. “How pathetic. Well, at least you’re done bleeding for their amusement.”
“Forced nothing. I get paid good money for this,” said one of the mutants, his body covered in tattoos. “For ending that, you’re the one that’s going to bleed. With my slight telepathy, I know every move you’re gonna make.”
Faster than a normal person could react, Feral slashed the mutant’s face. He fell to the mat, screaming. “Yeah, that helped you out. What about you?”
The other mutant raised his hands. “Please, I surrender. The mild force-field I have can only weaken blows to half-strength.”
The rest of the Fallen Angels were outside the ring, dealing with the security. Orphan’s sensitivity allowed him to somehow dodge the bullets they fired. While those men wore bullet-proof armor, Anarchist’s acid sweat ate through it with ease. The two made quick work of any resistance, while Meltdown ran for the announcer’s booth.
“Ah ah!” A self-made bomb of Meltdown’s blew up the booth, and a man she assumed as the promoter fell out. “This casual exploitation of mutants has to be answered for!”
The overweight, balding man fell to his knees to beg. “Please, I just manage the business. The fighters are paid, and treated well. One of them is even the owner!”
“Oh, a race-traitor, eh?” Meltdown formed a bomb in her hand and hovered it over the promoter’s head. “Tell me what you know about him, and maybe you won’t leave here a foot shorter.”
But the promoter was now looking behind Meltdown. She then heard two soft thuds. She turned to see both the fighters lying on the floor, as was Feral. Meltdown heard another thud, and out of the corner of her eye saw Orphan flying through the air. Whoever they were up against, he was fast.
Anarchist was panting heavily, working himself up into a sweat. “This guy’s welcome to get in close to me. I can’t wait to burn his - aahh!”
At the same time a beam of energy struck down Anarchist, Meltdown heard a faint and familiar hum. She turned and threw her bomb at the beam’s source, but their attacker was already on top of her. The blow was swift. Meltdown barely felt a thing.
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Now.
The X.S.E.’s jump ship had picked up Havok’s team and began a hasty departure from Madripoor airspace in mere moments after the operation concluded. The men who held Jamie captive were left for local law enforcement, though knowing Madripoor they would likely evade justice, but that wasn’t the X.S.E.’s priority. They were there for information and time was of the essence. It wasn’t long once before Jamie was in sweat pants and covered in an emergency blanket. A medic hooked him up to an IV and began to examine his injuries and apply what aid he could. He would need more extensive care once they returned to base.
“How are you feeling?” Alex asked as he approached Jamie a thermos and a cup of coffee.
“Like I had my junk whipped with saps and my nips attached to an electrode for the last two and a half days,” Jamie said dryly. He then snickered and hunched his brows at Alex mischievously. “In other words, pretty darn satisfied.”
The medic looked up from his work at Jamie for a moment, taken aback by his sense of humor, but Alex just shook his head and laughed quietly.
“You’re disgusting, man.”
“I don’t know, Alex. I could think of worse ways to pass the time,” a familiar woman’s voice said. Jamie and Alex turned to the cockpit of the jump ship as a tall, caramel toned woman with short blonde hair and a stylized ‘M’ tattooed across her right eye.
“Shard, as I leave and breathe,” Jamie cooed exaggeratedly as Shard Bishop approached them. He looked to Alex and elbowed him. “Gettin’ the whole X-Factor band back together, huh?”
“Not quite,” Alex explained. “Shard’s with the X.S.E. now. She was running back-up for this operation. Thankfully for your friends, everything went off without a hitch.”
Shard winked at Jamie. “Yeah, lucky them.”
There was a time when Jamie and Shard seemed to share a mutual flirtation and attraction, but Jamie always assumed she was just having fun with him. Little did he know, she was really just trying to get close to him to try and get information on Alex’s Brotherhood at the time. Still, especially after everything he just went through, that little bit of extra attention sure felt nice.
“So hey, I’d love to make more time to catch up, but we’re on a bit of a time crunch here,” Alex began. “We had some questions for you, like do you know where Jamie Prime is and what can you tell us about your operations for Magneto?”
The dupe finally took a sip from the coffee Alex brought him, sort of settling back into reality. “Can’t tell you where the ‘real me’ is, sorry, but I figure Genosha. Easier to pump more dupes outta him there and send them off to do Mags’ dirty work.”
“You haven’t heard?” Shard asked, glancing to Alex. Alex looked to her, seemingly trying to tell her with his eyes not to go there. It was too late, though. Jamie looked at both of them with a puzzled expression.
“Heard what?”
“Genosha has fallen,” Alex said reluctantly. “The island’s been completely devastated. The U.N. has S.H.I.E.L.D. and the X.S.E. investigating.”
“Wow,” Jamie said in semi-shock. “But Genosha’s where I kept all my stuff… like… my clothes…”
“I can fill you in on everything later,” Shard said with a nod to Alex. “Can you tell us anything more about what Magneto had all of you doing?”
Jamie leaned back into the jump ship’s bulkhead, taking a deep sigh and cradling his coffee. “More like what didn’t he have us doing. We had a dupe running security at his cloning facilities, another dupe was providing crew for the oil plants and tankers, one dupe was running with the Fallen Angels, another was doing intelligence analysis…” the dupe could go on, but could sense his former teammates wanting him to get to the point.
“What about you?” Alex asked.
“Me? I was with The Vanisher’s crew, peddling his drugs and watching over deals,” Jamie went on. “This last time in Madripoor we got ambushed and jacked. That’s how I ended up in a Fifty Shades of Gray spin-off with our Lowtown friends.”
“Wait, drugs? Like street drugs?” Shard said with some surprise. “That seems so… beneath Magneto… I can’t see him tolerating that.”
“Hey, as long as Vanisher was only selling to humans, Mags didn’t really care. Genosha was broke when he took over and he was trying to drum up cash any way he could,” Jamie explained with some levity in his voice. “So yeah, the Madripoor boys got the drop on us, and wiped out all of my dupes and beat me senseless. Left me too weak to make any more dupes and escape, so you can bet my black and blue nuts I sure was happy when you all showed up.”
“Hey, what are friends for?” Alex mused. The dupe didn’t answer; he simply closed his eyes and took another sip of his coffee as the medic continued to clean and dress his injuries. Alex crossed his arms as he processed everything that he had learned that day.
The dupe in the hospital was on Genosha at the time of the attack and was one of the injured evacuees. He was seemingly the one working on island intelligence that this dupe had mentioned. The dupe Forge discovered was the oil tanker crew member. The dupe providing security for the cloning facilities likely wasn’t going to be found if he was still alive. However, the Fallen Angels… S.H.I.E.L.D. often gathered intelligence on their operations from around the world. It’s possible they were off island at the time of the attack.
“Jamie,” Alex began, catching the dupe’s attention. “What can you tell us about the Fallen Angels and their most recent operations?”
******************************************
Then.
The difficulty it took Voght to teleport the short distance highlighted the problem at hand. Her power worked by side-stepping one plane of reality for another, the Psychic Plane. With mild difficulty she reappeared in one of the tower’s lower levels, in the labs of Dr. Sando. She barely registered the woman’s arrival, calming flicking switches and generally locking up the lab.
“Leaving so soon?” Voght had never trusted Dr. Sando. Despite all she’d done for Genoshan, she was still only human. “I’m unable to contact the Fallen Angels.”
“Yes, well, one of these switches jams communications.” Dr. Sando made a dismissive gesture. “It wouldn’t due for them to die with the rest of you. A few subjects out in the wild can make for a fascinating study, even after the experiment is over.”
“And that’s all we ever were to you, and experiment.” Voght could feel herself starting to sweat. “How much of this is your doing?”
“The mere act of observation can be a variable.” Dr. Sando smiled as she flicked a final switch. “But I did try to minimize my involvement. Small things like goading Mikhail into the proper actions, and of course coordinating my exit with Genosha’s utter destruction!”
It wasn’t sweat coming off Voght’s skin, but the vapor that was her actual body. Voght screamed as she struggled to keep her body together. Dr. Sando walked over to a drawer, pulled a syringe and filled it from a vial.
“The pulse I activated weakens your concentration over your mutant powers. While it isn’t effective enough as to be damaging, it does render you helpless enough for this. The solution I put in Siena Blaze’s IV was diluted, to provide me time to escape, but you’ll receive the full dose.” Dr. Sando walked toward Voght, the syringe held menacingly. “By my estimation, you should dissipate into the atmosphere. Perhaps in a few years I’ll gather you into a container, to study the effects.”
While Voght’s grasp over her power had become as slippery as an eel, she was far from helpless. As Dr. Sando bent down to inject her, Voght kicked out. Dr. Sando was struck in the face and sent reeling back. Voght grabbed a chair and slowly pulled herself up off the floor, as Dr. Sando recovered.
“If I weren’t already doing the worst possible thing…”
The clipboard on the table was metal and thick, used to store papers in when carried out of the office. Voght grabbed it and swung. The metal corner smashed against Dr. Sando’s head. With only a slight cry she went down bleeding, more than dazed.
Voght didn’t stop. This human had used mutants, abused them, contributed to the downfall of a nation and all on it. These ran through Voght’s mind as she smashed the metal down again and again. When she was done, blood and bone and other things were spattered across the lab floor.
There was one thing left to do, Voght knew as she struggled across the room to deactivate the pulse. A rumbling nearly sent Voght back to the floor, and she prayed it wasn’t Dr. Sando’s final act. At that moment Sienna Blaze was a living bomb that could go off any second. She needed to be deactivated, at any cost.
******************************************
Now.
According to Jamie Madrox’s dupe from Madripoor, the Fallen Angels had recently been sent out on a mission to shut down several mutant fight clubs across the globe. It didn’t take long to get a short list of known and suspected clubs that would be easy targets for Magneto’s hit squad, and then it was just a matter of the X.S.E. to investigate each one.
The door to one such establishment was busted clean open. Havok, Brass, and their armed strike team charged in to an empty arena. With the wave of his hands, Brass directed them all into different directions, sending them scattering over the tiers of chairs and bar areas.
Chairs were flipped over in all sorts of contorted positions, beer bottles and trash were littered everywhere, and what looked like plasma burns scarred the walls and floor.
Havok and Brass walked down an isle to the fighting ring itself as the members of their strike team cleared the area around them. Havok glanced over the blood stained ring.
“Brass?” he said suggestively. Brass furrowed his brow and narrowed his eyes as he concentrated on reaching outwards with his latent telepathy.
“Someone’s definitely still here… maybe more than one person, actually…” Brass replied. “Their thoughts are faint, though. They may be injured or have telepathic resistance training.”
Havok nodded slowly and pressed on a communicator in his ear.
“Alright, everyone. Split up and keep your eyes open. We’re not alone…”
******************************************
Then.
A great shaking occurred throughout the island of Genosha. Explosive bursts of water erupted across the length of ocean just off the coast, followed by brief gouts of flame and unending plumes of black smoke. The once-pristine waters that Hammer Bay overlooked appeared to fall away, briefly exposing great stalks of plant-life that seemed to flop in agony.
These plants were the great accomplishment of Genosha, the solution to dual problems of pollution and energy. War had ignited them all.
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TO BE CONTINUED…
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