SPRINGFIELD, MISSOURI
“Beautiful dreamer, wake unto me,
Starlight and dewdrops are waiting for thee;
Sounds of the rude world, heard in the day,
Lull’d by the moonlight have all passed away.”
Charity continued to sing the lulling parlour song, shifting from vocals to hums, and tapping her hands against the dashboard. With no available teleporter on the compound, the Mutant Underground’s primary struggle had been travelling to the areas where mutants needed their help. Although James and Charity had been more than willing to do their part, even if it would gain the wrath of a non-consulted Kitty Pryde later, the journey was proving to be an arduous one. James was used to the lifestyle of the X-Men but even his earliest start into, what he assumed at the time was, heroics had been one of wealth and privilege. He’d hated the X-Men in the aftermath of his brother’s death and that loathing had made him the perfect target for Emma Frost and her Hellfire Club. His training had been adequate, he’d been pampered, but as a member of X-Force, he’d finally been to war. Driving cross country through flat states wasn’t his idea of heroism.
James understood Warren’s concerns. The cars they’d been provided for transport were top of the line and bulletproof but he’d drawn the line at anything more accessible, like the Blackbird, since it could be easily misconstrued as belonging to a military operation. Both Warren and Kitty had been quick to remind every X-Man that passed through the doors of the Underground headquarters that their mission statement was a diplomatic one. A man as hot-tempered as the Apache warrior had been reminded on more than his fair share of occasions. Still, as lulling as James had found the dulcet tones of Charity’s songs, after so long behind the wheel, he was growing tired of it. His heart almost raced when he saw a convenience store and he was quick to veer onto the parking lot.
“I think it’s time we eat,” he announced.
“I’m starving.”
He hated to admit it but the voice caught him by surprise. Mortimer had been so silent, for so long, in the backseat that James had easily forgotten the former villain was even amongst their company. An oddity in himself, Mortimer had been brought for a very specific reason: he acted as a beacon to even the most peculiar or horrific of mutations that there was a home for them at the Underground. Ruth’s briefing, not that he would have considered her stumbling diatribe to be as such, had indicated an extreme mutation. He’d assumed as much given that he’d driven across two state lines to reach what could generously be referred to as a circus. It was less generously considered to be nothing more than a distasteful Freakshow. It was in moments such as this, when James looked into the eyes of more heavily afflicted mutants, that he thanked genetics for the powers he’d gained and the appearance he’d been able to maintain.
James scratched the back of his head awkwardly as he tried to remain diplomatic. “I’m not sure it’s a great idea to bring you in here, Mortimer. Maybe we can just grab you some food for the rest of the drive? It’s just . . . this is small-town Missouri and I don’t know if their a pitchfork kinda people here. I don’t want you to get hurt or for us to have to punch our way out of a situation.”
Mortimer looked downcast but he didn’t put up a fight, he’d always been subservient and easily led.
Charity turned, smiling brightly. “No. If Mortimer doesn’t eat in the diner then none of us do. We’ll take the food and eat in the car. All of us.” She brushed back the strands of crimson hair that had fallen across her face. “Besides, if their the type to pick on others for their differences, you might not be so welcome either Jimmy.”
“True that,” he replied, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. Exhaling, he opened his door and hopped out. “One way to find out.” He hunched over and peeked into the backseat. “We’ll be right back, Mort.”
At the other side of the car, Charity had climbed out and was proactively stretching her limbs. She was vibrant but restrained, Jimmy looked at her as a woman he could easily imagine was once full of life before the act of living as a mutant had worn her down. The pink skirt rustled around her knees as she moved towards his side of the car, flashing her familiar smile and contenting his mind as she had so many before him. With a gesture of his arm, the duo moved towards the diner. Upon entering, he was quick to note it’s stereotypical midwestern small-town feel. Locals, all sat in their booths, spun to gawp at the new arrivals with a mild curiosity. He easily assumed it was because of him. Dreamer was a beauty but easily passed as a baseline. He was built like a shit brickhouse and towered above most people he’d ever met.
“What’ll it be?” asked the cashier.
James answered. “Three burgers and fries, to go.”
“That’ll be right up,” replied the cashier. “Take a seat and we’ll call you when it’s ready.”
Shuffling into the seats across from each other, James exhaled heavily as Charity used her hands to fan herself against the heat. Unlike so many of the others, who were relatively at ease with the role of rescuer and diplomat, leaving behind the position of soldier had been a difficult position with James. He’d never been remarkably social, his interactions often seemed hostile and unwelcoming, and situations such as the one he was headed to at that moment were a continuing concern for him. Mortimer was too busy drowning in his own self-pity to be of much use, although James stood by recruiting him for this specific mission. The Apache was thankful to have someone as warm as Charity on the endeavour, it seemed to come easily to her. Although, he couldn’t deny that even the frankest conversation with her seemed to be somewhat guarded.
He looked out the window, spotting the bobbing head of Mortimer as he bounded around the front cabin of the car. James pondered for a moment what he could possibly be doing before turning his attention back to her.
“You’re really good with him,” said the Native American. “Kinder than most of the others back at the compound. He’s done a lot of bad things, and I think everyone’s still getting used to giving him a second chance.”
Charity shrugged. “C’mon, Jimmy, we all have pasts that we don’t wanna be defined by. We’re not really any different than Mortimer.”
As quickly as she’d defended the former villain, the Texan looked away, afraid she might betray herself. Not that James had any opportunity to pry further.
“Order up,” called the cashier, catching James’s attention. “Yeah. You two.”
They paid, collected their burgers, and returned to the car in silence. Sliding into the front seat, James turned to Mortimer and handed him his food.
“What were you doing?” asked the man.
Mortimer looked at him innocently. “You left the country station on. I hate the country station.”
Charity barely stifled a laugh as they ate their burgers before taking off on the highway, circus-bound. Mortimer and James had broken into a conversation but Charity was distracted by the memories of her past, haunting her and leaving her on the precipice of disdain. She knew better than most that no act could define a person as wholly good or evil.
“Beautiful dreamer, wake unto me,
Starlight and dewdrops are waiting for thee;
Sounds of the rude world, heard in the day,
Lull’d by the moonlight have all passed away.”
Charity continued to sing the lulling parlour song, shifting from vocals to hums, and tapping her hands against the dashboard. With no available teleporter on the compound, the Mutant Underground’s primary struggle had been travelling to the areas where mutants needed their help. Although James and Charity had been more than willing to do their part, even if it would gain the wrath of a non-consulted Kitty Pryde later, the journey was proving to be an arduous one. James was used to the lifestyle of the X-Men but even his earliest start into, what he assumed at the time was, heroics had been one of wealth and privilege. He’d hated the X-Men in the aftermath of his brother’s death and that loathing had made him the perfect target for Emma Frost and her Hellfire Club. His training had been adequate, he’d been pampered, but as a member of X-Force, he’d finally been to war. Driving cross country through flat states wasn’t his idea of heroism.
James understood Warren’s concerns. The cars they’d been provided for transport were top of the line and bulletproof but he’d drawn the line at anything more accessible, like the Blackbird, since it could be easily misconstrued as belonging to a military operation. Both Warren and Kitty had been quick to remind every X-Man that passed through the doors of the Underground headquarters that their mission statement was a diplomatic one. A man as hot-tempered as the Apache warrior had been reminded on more than his fair share of occasions. Still, as lulling as James had found the dulcet tones of Charity’s songs, after so long behind the wheel, he was growing tired of it. His heart almost raced when he saw a convenience store and he was quick to veer onto the parking lot.
“I think it’s time we eat,” he announced.
“I’m starving.”
He hated to admit it but the voice caught him by surprise. Mortimer had been so silent, for so long, in the backseat that James had easily forgotten the former villain was even amongst their company. An oddity in himself, Mortimer had been brought for a very specific reason: he acted as a beacon to even the most peculiar or horrific of mutations that there was a home for them at the Underground. Ruth’s briefing, not that he would have considered her stumbling diatribe to be as such, had indicated an extreme mutation. He’d assumed as much given that he’d driven across two state lines to reach what could generously be referred to as a circus. It was less generously considered to be nothing more than a distasteful Freakshow. It was in moments such as this, when James looked into the eyes of more heavily afflicted mutants, that he thanked genetics for the powers he’d gained and the appearance he’d been able to maintain.
James scratched the back of his head awkwardly as he tried to remain diplomatic. “I’m not sure it’s a great idea to bring you in here, Mortimer. Maybe we can just grab you some food for the rest of the drive? It’s just . . . this is small-town Missouri and I don’t know if their a pitchfork kinda people here. I don’t want you to get hurt or for us to have to punch our way out of a situation.”
Mortimer looked downcast but he didn’t put up a fight, he’d always been subservient and easily led.
Charity turned, smiling brightly. “No. If Mortimer doesn’t eat in the diner then none of us do. We’ll take the food and eat in the car. All of us.” She brushed back the strands of crimson hair that had fallen across her face. “Besides, if their the type to pick on others for their differences, you might not be so welcome either Jimmy.”
“True that,” he replied, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. Exhaling, he opened his door and hopped out. “One way to find out.” He hunched over and peeked into the backseat. “We’ll be right back, Mort.”
At the other side of the car, Charity had climbed out and was proactively stretching her limbs. She was vibrant but restrained, Jimmy looked at her as a woman he could easily imagine was once full of life before the act of living as a mutant had worn her down. The pink skirt rustled around her knees as she moved towards his side of the car, flashing her familiar smile and contenting his mind as she had so many before him. With a gesture of his arm, the duo moved towards the diner. Upon entering, he was quick to note it’s stereotypical midwestern small-town feel. Locals, all sat in their booths, spun to gawp at the new arrivals with a mild curiosity. He easily assumed it was because of him. Dreamer was a beauty but easily passed as a baseline. He was built like a shit brickhouse and towered above most people he’d ever met.
“What’ll it be?” asked the cashier.
James answered. “Three burgers and fries, to go.”
“That’ll be right up,” replied the cashier. “Take a seat and we’ll call you when it’s ready.”
Shuffling into the seats across from each other, James exhaled heavily as Charity used her hands to fan herself against the heat. Unlike so many of the others, who were relatively at ease with the role of rescuer and diplomat, leaving behind the position of soldier had been a difficult position with James. He’d never been remarkably social, his interactions often seemed hostile and unwelcoming, and situations such as the one he was headed to at that moment were a continuing concern for him. Mortimer was too busy drowning in his own self-pity to be of much use, although James stood by recruiting him for this specific mission. The Apache was thankful to have someone as warm as Charity on the endeavour, it seemed to come easily to her. Although, he couldn’t deny that even the frankest conversation with her seemed to be somewhat guarded.
He looked out the window, spotting the bobbing head of Mortimer as he bounded around the front cabin of the car. James pondered for a moment what he could possibly be doing before turning his attention back to her.
“You’re really good with him,” said the Native American. “Kinder than most of the others back at the compound. He’s done a lot of bad things, and I think everyone’s still getting used to giving him a second chance.”
Charity shrugged. “C’mon, Jimmy, we all have pasts that we don’t wanna be defined by. We’re not really any different than Mortimer.”
As quickly as she’d defended the former villain, the Texan looked away, afraid she might betray herself. Not that James had any opportunity to pry further.
“Order up,” called the cashier, catching James’s attention. “Yeah. You two.”
They paid, collected their burgers, and returned to the car in silence. Sliding into the front seat, James turned to Mortimer and handed him his food.
“What were you doing?” asked the man.
Mortimer looked at him innocently. “You left the country station on. I hate the country station.”
Charity barely stifled a laugh as they ate their burgers before taking off on the highway, circus-bound. Mortimer and James had broken into a conversation but Charity was distracted by the memories of her past, haunting her and leaving her on the precipice of disdain. She knew better than most that no act could define a person as wholly good or evil.
Issue #3 (October 2018)
"Sanction of the Sapiens"
Written by Gavin McMahon
"Sanction of the Sapiens"
Written by Gavin McMahon
Featuring:
Archangel
Colossus
Dazzler
Shadowcat
Dreamer
Marrow
Toad
Warpath
Ashton Simonson
Mammomax
Lydia Nance
Leper Queen
|
DALLAS, TEXAS – TWO YEARS AGO
Louisa Brigman raced from the store, her clutch tucked under her arm and her movements jittery and cautious. Her long red-hair was drawn back into a ponytail and her cheeks shone almost as brightly. Quickly, Louisa attempted to fix herself in the mirror of the car. Reaching into her bag for her compact, a gun fell out and bounced from the seat onto the floor. Frightened at being seen, she frantically looked out both windows before reaching down and returning it to its concealment. Hurriedly reapplying her make-up and fixing her hair, the woman turned on the ignition and sped down the highway away from the civilisation she’d always known. It felt to her as though time was almost at a standstill as the flat plains of the Texan land rushed at either side of her but she persevered with a singular thought leading her to her destination: justice. Killing the ignition as she slipped from the car and onto the sparse lot of the Motel 6, Louisa looked around for the clerk’s office. When she found it, she marched forward and found a slovenly clerk watching a television show in Spanish. Yet, she got the impression he didn’t understand a single word that was being spoken. Despite the trilling of a bell above the door at her arrival, the man failed to acknowledge her, even as she stood at the desk waiting patiently. By clearing her throat, she finally gained his attention and he reluctantly stood up to greet her. “Yeah?” Louisa smiled, although it was more of a broken half-smile. “I need to find my husband. I know he’s staying here and–” “Look, lady, I don’t care what kinda dispute you have going on at home. We have a policy of not giving out those details,” he replied dismissively. His thick Italian-American accent drawling. “You’ll just have to wait for him on the lot like every other disgruntled missus.” He was about to return to his seat when she reached out, grazing his hand as fuchsia sparks shot from her fingertips. He suddenly slumped to the ground, a broad grin stretching from ear to ear. “I’m not like every other disgruntled missus, sir.” Drawing up the entryway built into the desk, Louisa slid through and began to thumb through the closed ledger until she found what she’d been dreading. Tucking stray hair behind her ear, she examined the name before her: Buck Brigman, 13B. Biting her lip, the woman turned towards the key slots and located the spare as she moved through the door and up the metallic stairs. It didn’t take her long to find the room in question and the sounds from inside permeated the walls, and the still night air that seemed claustrophobic to her. Hesitating, afraid of the realisation of what she might confirm, Louisa wondered if she should turn away. She could disappear into the night but she knew that if she did, the weight of her shame would destroy her. Without further halting, Louisa turned the key and charged into the room to find Buck mounted against a big-breasted woman with even larger blonde hair. “Lou,” exclaimed Buck as he bounced from the bed, naked and exposed in more ways than his feeble mind could even have begun to comprehend. He grabbed for his stray boxers, oddly hiding his modesty from his wife, as he feigned innocence. “Look, honey, I can explain this.” Tears welled in her eyes as she clutched at her hand-bag. “You can explain,” she spat vehemently. “You can explain what exactly? Why I spend my weekends feeling the back of your hand whilst your handing this whore diamonds? Is that what you want to explain?” Buck stuttered, attempting to formulate an excuse but she refused to give him the time that he need as she continued with her own emotional outburst as his tart struggled to hide beneath the bedsheets. “No. I don’t want to hear it. There’s nothing you can say to make this go away, or remove the shame of what you turned me into. Nothing can do that.” Louisa exhaled. “I didn’t come here to fight with you, Buck. I came here to say goodbye.” Louisa reached into the bag and pulled the gun from her purse. Every time he’d slammed his hand or fist against her face passed through her mind. His indiscretion was the least of her concerns as she aimed the gun, stony-faced, and fired a single shot into his forehead. Before he’d even hit the ground, Louisa had spun and delivered a second shot into the bedsheets that housed the now screaming harlot. She was quickly silenced as crimson spread across the white sheets. Louisa, resting her eyes on Buck’s frightened face, took a seat on the edge of the bed and simply studied him as the blood pooled around his head like a halo. Had that been her? Had she looked so frightened every time he’d lifted his hand to her? WORTHINGTON INDUSTRIES MANHATTAN, NEW YORK – THE PRESENT “I demand a retraction.” Lydia stormed past the apologetic secretary in the hallway and continued into the office without so much as the standard pleasantries that were expected of people in their position. Warren had sighed upon discovering she’d entered the building. He’d asked Kitty not to draw the attention or wrath of the Heritage Initiative because he knew how influential they had the potential to be and he didn’t need her or the Underground fuelling the fire. However, he was aware that he’d been looking externally to remain detached when he should have been keeping a closer eye on his own business affairs. Before she’d even opened her mouth, Warren knew Lydia’s reason for taking his office like the beaches of Normandy and he was only thankful that, as of yet, Kitty wasn’t involved. Warren smiled insincerely as he watched the grey-haired woman barge into his office and slam a newspaper squarely on his desk. “Ms Nance, if you have a grievance with one of the Guardians’ stories then I suggest you take it up with the subsidiary and/or reporter in question because there’s nothing I can do about it. I might own them but I own a lot of things and I let them do their job so I can keep on doing mine.” “You think I don’t see what’s going on here,” she snarled as she folded her arms. “This is clear bias. The only newspaper owned by a mutant and its launching a smear campaign against my organisation.” He pushed the newspaper back towards her. “The only newspaper that is openly run by a mutant and, as I said, I have no say over the content they produce. That said, I did notice that even the Daily Bugle’s recent articles have been quite scathing of your little . . . what did they call it? Supremacy group? Did you find yourself storming irately into Jameson’s office?” He held his hands up, feigning innocence. “Just out of curiosity.” Lydia exhaled and flicked her hair. “I won’t deign that argument with a response other than informing you that Norah Winters is and always has been a liberalist half-wit. As for this Harper Simmons, I demand an apology and an interview with someone much more suited than him so that I might vindicate myself from the claims he’s made.” “I understand the concern of Simmons’ statements but we do live in a country of free speech and, forgive me if I’m wrong, but the article is very clearly earmarked as an opinion piece,” replied the winged businessman. “As I said, I’m than happy for you to be directed to the Guardians offices so that you can speak with Simmons or the editor. This isn’t an issue where I can intercede.” She stared at him imperiously. “I think you already have. Your mutant agenda doesn’t negate my rights as an American citizen to protect the country that was built on the backs of my ancestors.” Warren cleared his throat. “I think you’ll find America was built on the backs of the slaves and the graves of the Native Americans, Ms. Nance, and I dare say there were probably a few mutants too. However, I won’t bore you with such a liberalist lecture. Kindly leave my office, I’m incredibly busy.” “If Kenneth could see you now,” Lydia glowered. “Swanning around like you own the place, like you deserve the privilege that his decades of hard work built. He’d be ashamed to have such a filthy animal at the head of his empire.” Her vitriol fell upon him like an acid wash. Warren was genuinely taken aback by the words that left her mouth. Lydia Nance was well-received because of her eloquent and composed public persona but he’d heard of the nastier, common side from some of his associates in the business world. It was shocking to witness her complete lack of self-control and hatred first-hand. He stood to his full height of six foot two inches and stared down at her sternly. “You won’t be asked again, Ms. Nance. Remove yourself before I have you removed.” She backed away slightly. “You and yours will get what’s coming to you, Mister Worthington. You only have to watch the news to see that this country will soon turn against those that wish to harm its values.” ATHENS, GEORGIA “Sarah. We have to go.” Marrow continued to cradle the broken corpse of Evan Daniels. His blood had stained all her clothing and the gaping holes in his flesh from the expulsion of bone where a never-ending reminder of the horror they had all witnessed. Kitty scowled. “Sarah.” “Katya,” rebuked Piotr, taking a rare stance against his girlfriend. “They were friends. We mentored him, no matter how brief. Despite the rush, we can maybe make just a little bit of time so that those who need to can mourn. This isn’t a war zone and another bomber won’t be activated that quickly.” Dazzler frowned, gaining no reassurance from the words she spoke. “At least we know one thing for certain. This isn’t random and it isn’t just a mutant problem. This is more organised than we could have imagined.” She rubbed her temples aggressively. “That telepath you have, Ruby–” “Ruth,” Piotr stated. “Whatever. Ruth, we need to know exactly what she saw when she was in the heads of those men,” continued the musician. “Any detail could help us find out what the hell is going on here and why mutants are getting blown to pieces in any area that has a high footfall of civilians. Why have there been two in Georgia but only one in Massachusetts and Florida?” “Did you have shows in Massachusetts and Florida?” enquired Kitty suddenly. Dazzler glared. “You’re gonna say this has something to me now? It doesn’t. I had one in Boston, yes, but I’ve not been to Florida for at least a year so there’s no possible connection to . . .” She trailed off as her thoughts caught up with her. “My grandfather is in Florida. He’s in a senior’s home down there.” “We think this has to do with Ali?” asked Piotr, his face told them that he was unconvinced. “No offense, zvyozdochka, but you’re simply another celebrity now. You have been for months. Unless there’s something you aren’t telling us, again.” Dazzler held her hands up. “I’m not holding anything back anymore.” Marrow panted as she stood and turned towards the musician. “This is your fault.” “Excuse me?” said Dazzler indignantly. It seemed like a flash as Marrow bolted forward, grabbing Dazzler by the waist and tackling her to the ground. The musician hit the dirt with an unfeminine grunt, her blonde-and-pink hair shielding the anger that surged across her attractive face. Marrow wasted no time as she balled her fists and punched Dazzler squarely in the face, her head snapping back at a wholly unnatural angle but she rebounded like the girl from Greendale that she had always been. With the fury of a panther in her blue eyes, Dazzler caught Marrow by the shoulders and bounded atop of her, slapping her firmly. Shadowcat caught Dazzler by the waist and hoisted her off as Colossus pulled Marrow to her feet and restrained her. Dazzler was spitting locks of hair from her mouth as she screamed expletives at the bony-faced mutant who simply glared towards her, holding only a modicum more decorum. “Ali,” snapped Kitty as she tightened her grip of the struggling songbird. “Calm down.” Her command was stern and filled with reproach. “Compose yourself.” Colossus stepped in to assist his girlfriend. “We have no way of knowing if this directly involves Ali but we can’t start tearing people apart, Sarah. We don’t strike out against those that are helping us.” His gravelly voice was falling on deaf ears. “I think we need to apologise and move on if we’re to get to the bottom of these tragedies.” Marrow and Dazzler simply stared at one another, each wanting to strike the other rather than admit they may have overreacted as an emotional response. “You heard the man,” snapped Kitty. “Don’t worry,” announced the clinically masked woman as she stormed forward and aimed her rifle. “You won’t need to apologise once we’re done with you.” The four mutants turned, horrified to find themselves staring down an army. BYATT’S CIRCUS SPRINGFIELD, MISSOURI It was everything that James, Mortimer and Charity would have expected from a circus as they stepped out of the car. A big tent, coloured intermittently in stripes of red and cream, stretched out ahead of them as carny folk marched across the front lot, so jovial and full of life. Even the stoic James had to admit that there was something freeing about the environment they’d stumbled across in the middle of a flyover state as they moved towards the tent, sliding through the beaded curtains and stopping amidst the sides rising at either side of them. Mortimer and Charity were initially on his tail but the redheaded woman slipped off to the side, unbeknownst to either of her colleagues, disappearing behind the bleachers. A bespectacled man strode towards them. “How can I help you fine folks? The next show isn’t for an hour or so, but the tickets can be purchased right through there.” He was smug and gestured to the right of the tent with a flourish. James replied. “We’re not here to catch the show. We’re here to speak with the proprietor–” “Ringmaster, my good sir, that’s how we address it in this business. I am he.” “Yes,” continued the Apache, irritated to have been interrupted. “I believe there may be a mutant on the premises and our intel tells us they may need assistance.” The ringmaster laughed. “As you can see, we are a happy troupe here, a family. If there is a mutant then there is no need to assist them because all are welcome in this family. As it has been for generations of my family. Opened arms embracing open wallets has always been the way of the Byatt family.” He gave a soft chuckle. James was about to continue as he caught sight of Charity ushering him from the corner of the stands. Without further argument, the Native American turned on his heels and stormed off but Ringmaster Byatt had already turned his focus to the cloaked hunching figure. Curiously, the ringmaster drew back the hood to reveal the perplexed toad-like features of Mortimer. “Splendid.” Toad tilted his head, unsure of how to respond to the reaction he was unfamiliar with. “What is?” “The glorious specimen that stands before me, of course. You could be happy here, dear sir. There are plenty like you and the people love this timeless show. It’s a proven track record. A creature such as yourself would be adored by the masses. I’ve seen it before.” Mortimer seemed taken back initially but his features soon told the ringmaster that he was softening to the idea of a life where he was adored rather than mocked and belittled by all that had known him for the acts he’d committed through his turbulent life. Mortimer had once believed that he had found a home, and a family, in the embrace of Magneto and his Brotherhood of so-called “evil mutants”. His delusions had been broken when he realised he had been little more than a pawn in the ego-maniacal mutant’s plans for genocide and control. Still, Toad had stood by and participated in his endless plots. As much as he would have wished otherwise, Mortimer was subservient by nature. Ringmaster Byatt continued. “The world is an awful place but in here, behind the protection of those curtains, there is another form of acceptance. You would be able to join us, to be yourself without fear of reprimand or ridicule. Doesn’t that sound much better than lurking, cloaked, in the shadows?” Mortimer considered the offer. He had traded the cold isolation of Magneto’s troupe for the relative comfort of the Mutant Underground but, even there, the Englishman had been unable to escape the atrocities of his past. There were those that would never let him forget. He saw it when they looked upon him. Even the comforting smile of Kitty Pryde was betrayed by the judgement that rested behind her hazel eyes. She allowed him to stay in their ranks, to assist so that he would feel useful, but he knew Kitty doubted his sincerity in rehabilitating his life. In truth, they were doubts that filled his own mind too. The Apache stormed from the bleachers, Charity following him demurely, as he seethed with anger. “And how is that family kept here?” His tone fluctuated through his anger. “In bonds and chains? We found the mutant.” He squared up to Ringmaster Byatt, towering above the weighted man. “You bastard.” Losing his temper entirely, as prone to it as he was, James extended his clenched fist in a jutting movement as it crashed into the ringmaster’s jaw. There was an audible crack as he was launched backward, toppling over the red-and-cream ledge of the ring and collapsing. Mortimer, unsure of how to react, simply froze with his jaw slack whilst Charity stared disapprovingly at the violence, already aware that their unsanctioned mission would create a rift with Kitty but the negative connotations that overshadowed the rescue would certainly set the Chicagoan’s teeth on edge. “Was that necessary?” she said as she looked at the groaning ringmaster, rolling and clutching at his jaw. Tucking a strand of red hair behind her ear, she continued. “You can take the soldier from the war, but you can’t take the war from the soldier.” James glared at her. “You saw what he did. He got off lightly for how he’s been treating that man.” “Remember why we’re here, Jimmy,” she snapped. Storming back towards the bleachers until she’d disappeared again, James and Mortimer merely watched her. Mortimer’s eyes were wide, his tongue lashing against his pointed teeth, and they observed Charity with the reverence of an addict. James, meanwhile, seemed more hurt by her words than his hardened exterior would care to indicate but, as with as men, he was betrayed by the longing of his gaze. He simply grunted and indicated that Toad should follow them as they moved through the bleachers and into the depths of the tent until they came to a wide extension of the tent and the caged form of Maximus Jensen, the man billed on the posters as Mammomax. Charity was brushing his thick hide, offering him solace and comfort. James, striding forward, used his immense strength to rip the cage door from its hinges and then proceeded to tear the shackles that held Maximus in place. He was surprised to see the deep wounds that had formed beneath them, the metal had managed to cut several layers and it carried the scent of vibranium which gave him cause for concern. Wakanda’s supply of vibranium had been closely guarded by the Black Panther but there had been instances in the past when it had appeared in various forms on the black market, traditionally as weaponry. He could recognise the scent so clearly as it was the metal that had formed his own bowie knives. “Thank you,” panted the elephantine mutant. He sounded almost breathless but there was more to it than that, Maximus had relented to the life that he now held and his gratitude at rescue was sincere and expressed thoroughly in those simple words. Charity stroked at his forearm, careful to avoid the wounds. “It’s what we’re here for. We’re the Mutant Underground, and you’re safe now. No one else will hurt you. Come home with us.” An expression of relief etched onto his features as Maximus followed James, Charity, and Mortimer’s lead back through the big tent. Several carnies were assisting the still groaning Ringmaster Byatt as they moved into the light of the front lot. Mortimer looked from Maximus to the car. “What’re we gonna do about this? There’s not enough room in the backseat.” James took his head in his hands and groaned. “I’m going to kill Ruth.” Charity cast him half a glance, aware that he wasn’t serious, but it brought her back to a time when her choices had destroyed the normalcy she’d tried to hold onto for so long. A memory that continued to threaten the life she’d rebuilt for herself if ever they were to become known to them. ARLINGTON, TEXAS – FOUR MONTHS AGO She’d made a life for herself, far from the tragedies that had defined her or the murders that rested on her mind. Louisa Brigman had died the same day as her husband and found herself reborn as Charity Cornell. To escape conviction or detection, she had been forced to leave in the night and leave behind all the privileges and wealth that her husband had amassed. Yet, starting over had been far from the worst decision she’d ever made. There was something peaceful about her simple life. It had all been so easy that she’d almost allowed herself to forget Louisa Brigman entirely. Much as her powers offered others, she had finally understood the bliss and freedom that could be offered in the world. Yet, bliss was never made to last. As Charity found herself running through the back alleys of Arlington, she prayed to a god she wasn’t sure would even acknowledge her prayers. There were too many hunting her for her to mesmerise, but she had no further resources available to her and so, without options, the woman had done what she’d always done best and run. The redhead spun on her heels as the mob continued to pursue her. They were angry, relentless, and they had discovered simply that she was a mutant. The true crimes from her past remained a mystery to her hunters and the injustice of her persecution wasn’t lost on her. Charity, lost in her thoughts and fears, slammed into a brick wall. She patted her hands against it desperately, unsure of how she would escape now that her path was blocked. The mob blocked the path that she’d come through, a man carrying a flaming bottle at their forefront. The man launched the Molotov cocktail into the air. It was followed by a heavy thud from above but she didn’t notice as she’d shut her eyes, awaiting the violent death that was to befall her. She flinched, a wave of heat rushing over her, but, miraculously, she remained unharmed. Charity’s eyes opened tentatively as she stared at the man, standing at approximately two feet above her, who had taken the brunt of the bomb. Fire still sparked from his tattered clothing and, in the dim light of the evening, she noticed his body seemed to be formed of a sheer silver metal substance. It took her a moment longer to recognise him from the newspapers, he was the X-Man Colossus, and this was the closest she had ever found herself in the presence of a “celebrity”. Her awe gave way to relief, but the fear still rested uneasily on her mind. Colossus slammed his foot against the earth, a shockwave shooting forward as several of the mob where knocked from their feet. “Miss Brigman,” spoke the metallic man in a distinctly Russian accent, the barest traces of his time in America ringing through in his words. “Follow me.” Without awaiting her answer, the Russian drove his fist through the wall that had blocked her escape and pushed her through. They rushed through the remaining alleyways, gaining a lead on the mob as they attempted to regain their footing. Charity felt relieved but also unsure of how to proceed. How had the X-Men found her? As they came to an armoured car, Colossus pulled the door open for her and stared at her expectantly. “Miss Brigman, they will follow us. We have to hurry.” She sighed. “Charity. Charity Cornell. How did you find me? How did you know that I needed to be saved?” The questions rushed through her head as she attempted to structure them in a way that made sense. “And where are you taking me?” “I gave us a short lead,” he replied. “They’ll already be on their way and none of these questions are worth your life. I will answer them. Get in.” She’d always imagined the hero to be friendlier than she currently found him, but she acquiesced and slid into the front of the armoured car. He followed quickly, and they took off, swerving through the streets as his metallic form shifted back to human skin. He was more handsome than she would have expected, the strong jaw and bulging muscles only heightening his boyish features. “My questions?” He cleared his throat. “We’ve been searching for you since you murdered your husband, Miss Brigman.” Piotr seemed uncomfortable with the topic of conversation. “I don’t condone your actions, none of us do, but from what we’ve learned you seemed to have made a better life for yourself. We can respect the efforts you’d made. We wouldn’t have let Magneto face such a trial, so I certainly wasn’t going to stand back and let you.” She bit her lip. “And where are you taking me?” Charity almost feared the answer. “Georgia,” he replied. “After much debate, we’ve decided to offer you sanctuary. I won’t be sending you to the Raft for what you’ve done but, there are those who would, and you’ll be safe with us until you can re-establish your life. As far as local authorities are concerned, Louisa Brigman is missing but presumed dead. You built your new identity well. So, you have a third chance with us. We hope you’ll rebuild that life and make something of this opportunity.” Charity exhaled. “Will everyone know? I mean, will people know who I really am and what I did? I don’t want them to. I’m ashamed of what I did, how I acted, and how I abused my powers. I was lost in a moment. That’s not who I am, not then or now.” Piotr was quiet for a moment as he moved towards the city’s border. “No. Only Kitty and I know who you really are. We’ll not actively keep your secret, but we won’t share the news either. If you decide to continue as Charity Cornell or take a new identity, we’ll respect that.” She leaned back in the chair, relieved, as she watched the “You are now leaving Arlington, Texas” sign come into view and disappear behind her. Her simple life seemed to be dispersing into the distance but now, she found herself looking toward a future where she would be free from the sins of her past. MUTANT UNDERGROUND HQ ATLANTA, GEORGIA “And this is where the magic happens.” Ashton walked into the compound with his arms outstretched, a glint of excitement and curiosity in his eyes. It was an expression Warren had seen many times before. He remembered the faces of many students as they had walked through the oaken doors of the institute, escaping the harsh outside world as they were introduced to a haven where they could thrive rather than simply survive. In a way, the Mutant Underground had been designed for such a reaction. It was the true continuation of his former mentor’s, Charles Xavier, dream and ethos. The institute, and the X-Men, had become about transforming children into adults that could be used as soldiers. Warren had teamed with Kitty and Piotr in the hope of cultivating a brighter future for mutants, allowing them a chance to better themselves in the world rather than die to protect it. Warren was unsure why he felt a kinship with Ashton, a human whose ambitions were surely what had brought him to the aide of the mutant plight, but the story he’d shared of Annalee had resonated with him. The winged mutant smiled. “Yes, the compound is the base of the day-to-day operations for the Mutant Underground. It provides shelter, temporary or long-term, and allows for each person that comes here to take the opportunity to develop and grow so that when they return to the outside world, they’re better equipped to sustain themselves. Even protect themselves if necessary. It’s kind of a revolving door, they can come and go as and when they need too.” “And Kitty Pryde is the director of these operations?” enquired Ashton nonchalantly. Warren cocked a brow, he didn’t remember mentioning Kitty or who led the organisation on the ground. “It seems like you’ve done more homework than I gave you credit for, Ashton.” The politician laughed. “Don’t look so suspicious, Warren. It’s nothing insidious. I simply wanted to know who, as well as what, I would be getting into bed with. There are some mutants on your rescue team that are a little more unsavoury.” He shrugged. “I’m talking about Toad and Marrow, both known terrorists with an incredibly long rap sheet, but Kitty has a squeaky-clean record and that’s certainly something we can work with.” “Marrow and Toad are vital to the protection of what we have here,” replied Warren bluntly. “We believe in second chances, as Xavier did before us, and we don’t turn away people in need because of the lives they’ve led before. It’s what separates us from the other organisations that you’re so against.” Ashton nodded. “I understand the long-standing tradition amongst the X-Men of accepting waifs and strays. Sorry, I mean, former X-Men.” He walked further into the compound, peering in at several mutants as they watched television. “I’m not passing judgement on how the Underground is run, believe me. I’m just saying that a woman with Kitty’s scholastic and heroic background is someone of definite interest in terms of providing a face for the organisation.” “Kitty’s a pleasure to have on board but the Underground doesn’t need to be propelled into the spotlight,” countered the businessman. “The Underground works because we fly below the radar and offer our services with discretion. Is there a platform to build upon? Definitely. However, as I’ve said, we’re a young organisation and we need time to find our feet.” Ashton nodded. “I agree,” he said. “However, I wonder if Kitty would be interested in accompanying me to Chicago in a couple of days? There’s a political conference at the University of Chicago that I’ve been invited to by one of the Heritage Initiative’s student affiliations. I think it would be a great opportunity to kickstart the partnership I’m hoping to build when, and I don’t mean if, the Underground is willing to step into the light and show the world just how resilient and compassionate mutants can be.” The angelic man shrugged. “You’d need to ask her. I know she’s not here but I’m happy to put her in contact with you when she returns.” “Awesome,” Ashton grinned. “Shall we continue the tour?” They marched towards the staircase and into the upper levels of the compound. ATHENS, GEORGIA The woman twirled a gun in her hand as she approached them menacingly. “You’ve stumbled headfirst into a situation that doesn’t involve you. This is what happens with you mutants. You can never keep your noses out of other people’s business, always interfering and making matters worse. Still, it’s always the humans that suffer from your misdeeds.” Shadowcat immediately clenched her fists as she stared at the armed soldiers ahead of her. In the months since leaving her life of heroics behind the Chicagoan had almost forgotten that every waking moment of their lives was spent fighting an invisible war, a battle that no-one but a mutant could fully understand. She internally reprimanded herself for having allowed herself to become comfortable, complacent, as she knew nothing would ever change as long as there were people like those that stood, heavily armed, before her. Kitty glared. “Somehow, this feels a lot like it did involve us. I presume you’re the one that’s been murdering mutants, or should I say, using mutants as a weapon to murder everyone who came to close.” Leper Queen laughed. “Silly mutant. You can’t kill an animal, you just put it down. At least these muties have served a purpose beyond anything they could’ve achieved alive. I only made them what they would’ve become eventually. Murderers and terrorists.” “You bitch,” screamed Dazzler as she burst forward but Colossus was quick to act, grabbing his friend by her waist and hoisting her into the air as she fought against him. Although she understood the need for Shadowcat and Colossus not to escalate the situation, Dazzler had been through the destruction this woman and her ilk had wrought. She’d smelled the burning flesh of those in the Tabernacle, watched as death and terror overcame her concert, and the rage is the pit of her stomach was insatiable. Even held back, Dazzler continued to scream obscenities. The soldiers that flanked the Leper Queen cocked their weapons, but she waved them off, none too eager to annihilate those who had jeopardised her plan too quickly. She was enjoying the devastation she’d wrought, the reactions she’d gained from Dazzler and the bony-faced Marrow, who stood frustratingly twirling a bone-shard in her hand. Spyke had been a disappointment, Leper Queen couldn’t help but wonder what chaos she could wreak to throw the likes of Marrow or the renowned Dazzler into the next crowd as weapons. She almost salivated at the thought, but it was a thought she was quickly drawn from. A soldier tackled her, forcing her clinical mask into the dirt as the remains of her nose burst inside of it. She bounded to her knees, shrugging him off and firing a shot through his head before she realised he’d protected her from Marrow’s attack. Another of her soldiers lay dead behind her. She should’ve felt shame or regret for her rash actions, but Leper Queen was unwilling to do so. It was war and deaths were unavoidable. She stepped over the corpse and turned towards them, smiling as the coppery taste ran along her tongue. “Get them,” she ordered. “But take them alive, I might have plans for them yet.” Amid the onslaught of bullets, the Sapien League soldiers barrelled forward as the Mutant Underground rushed to meet them. Had it been anyone else, her body would have been torn apart by the shards of metal but Shadowcat wasn’t simply anyone. Distending the atoms within her corporeal form, Shadowcat moved forward akin to a ghost. The former X-Man solidified only long enough so that she could strike the men and women that attempted to harm her. During one such instance, a woman managed to smack her in the face with the butt of her gun and drew blood. Angrily, Shadowcat lashed out, breaking the woman’s leg with a swift kick to the kneecap. Behind her, Colossus drove his fists and feet into anyone within reach. Indiscriminately, the Russian caught their weapons and snapped them in half. Marrow and Dazzler ended up back to back as the Sapien League surrounded them on every side. The musician was throwing blasts of light, occasionally connecting her balled fist with a Sapien Leaguer that got too close. Behind her, Marrow was using her jagged bone shards to deflect weapons and bullets. Blood spewed from the wounds she inflicted on anyone within her reach. “Close your eyes,” called Dazzler as she prepared to outstretch her hands. Marrow barked in return. “Don’t order me around, princess.” “Fine. Blind yourself.” Without further argument, Dazzler felt the cacophony of sounds around her being absorbed through her body. Each pulse seemed to ignite the photokinetic energy within her as the icy blue of her eyes faded into nothingness. Extending her hands, concussive blasts of energy shot forward and thinned out the soldiers ahead of her. The rapid increase of sound allowed her to create an explosion of bright light, it tore through the crowd and they paused, blinded and struggling to make sense of their surroundings. The musician was prepared to turn towards Marrow, a smug expression on her face, when the pink-haired mutant caught her blonde locks and forced her to the ground. “Down!” she yelled as the shards of bone passed through her skin and fired into the Sapien League, causing them to collapse like dominos until there were none left standing around them. Dazzler bounded to her feet, squaring up against the former Morlock furiously. “What the actual fuck?” “Sarah. Ali. Stop,” glared Shadowcat as she approached. “This isn’t the time or the place. So, get a grip.” “Katya,” interrupted Colossus, his face stern and arms folded. “She’s escaped.” Kitty spun on her heels, looking over the sea of Sapien League soldiers, but Leper Queen was gone. Her heart sank, disheartened at her lack of foresight, and she wondered what she would have to do next. |