MUTANT UNDERGROUND HQ
ATLANTA, GEORGIA
“You.”
James had barely entered the room before his eyes homed in on the fragile form of the ebony-haired Ruth Aldine, sporting the familiar blindfold from which she had taken her unofficial codename. She stopped in her tracks immediately. Although she’d lost her physical eyes during puberty, it was a common misconception that Ruth’s was without sight. She held a vast number of psionic powers that allowed her a clear picture of the frustrated Apache marching towards her, and the redheaded woman who slinked behind him, rolling her eyes and subtly attempting to calm him. Ruth was an overseer, her precognitive abilities offering insight into the plight of others, but her interpersonal skills had always been subpar. Traumatic childhoods in fractured homes had a way of stunting the growth of a person, and she understood that better than most.
He continued despite her silence. “You didn’t think it was crucial to tell us that we were going across state-lines to collect an elephant before we left in a single car. The thought of that being impractical didn’t cross your mind.”
Ruth tilted her head, confusion clear across her long features. “I sent a replacement vehicle, please.”
“We waited at the side of the road, with circus-goers waltzing past us . . . judging us . . . for five hours, Ruth.”
Charity stepped between them; her palm spread firmly across his chest. “Jimmy, I know it was frustrating but we’re back now. The ordeal is over. We all know by now just how Ruth sees things sometimes. So, back off and leave her be. Your frightening her.”
“I’m not frightened, pardon, Miss Cornell,” replied the psionic mutant. “I simply don’t understand Mr Proudstar’s frustration. Was the mission not a success, yes?”
James stopped himself for a moment, exhaling heavily and attempting to follow Charity’s words to a form of composure but the anger and embarrassment continued to boil inside of him.
“Ruth,” he said slowly, drawing out her name so that he could find more time to settle his temper. “The success of the mission is irrelevant in this situation . . . It . . . It was the fact that you sent us somewhere without the correct extraction. You need to see more than the end of the vision; you need to think logistically about how that ending is achieved.”
Charity twirled, offering a soft smile. “You just need to make us aware of all that you see, sweetie. It’s not enough to know we’ll succeed without knowing how we did it.”
Ruth stood blankly. Her mind running through the focused words of her peers as she considered her actions within the last twenty-four hours.
“Oh,” she whispered. “Perhaps I should have warned Miss Pryde, yes.”
Charity and James exchanged a confused glance but Ruth, true to her normalcy, didn’t expand upon her words before she slouched off to ponder the information she’d just learned.
ATLANTA, GEORGIA
“You.”
James had barely entered the room before his eyes homed in on the fragile form of the ebony-haired Ruth Aldine, sporting the familiar blindfold from which she had taken her unofficial codename. She stopped in her tracks immediately. Although she’d lost her physical eyes during puberty, it was a common misconception that Ruth’s was without sight. She held a vast number of psionic powers that allowed her a clear picture of the frustrated Apache marching towards her, and the redheaded woman who slinked behind him, rolling her eyes and subtly attempting to calm him. Ruth was an overseer, her precognitive abilities offering insight into the plight of others, but her interpersonal skills had always been subpar. Traumatic childhoods in fractured homes had a way of stunting the growth of a person, and she understood that better than most.
He continued despite her silence. “You didn’t think it was crucial to tell us that we were going across state-lines to collect an elephant before we left in a single car. The thought of that being impractical didn’t cross your mind.”
Ruth tilted her head, confusion clear across her long features. “I sent a replacement vehicle, please.”
“We waited at the side of the road, with circus-goers waltzing past us . . . judging us . . . for five hours, Ruth.”
Charity stepped between them; her palm spread firmly across his chest. “Jimmy, I know it was frustrating but we’re back now. The ordeal is over. We all know by now just how Ruth sees things sometimes. So, back off and leave her be. Your frightening her.”
“I’m not frightened, pardon, Miss Cornell,” replied the psionic mutant. “I simply don’t understand Mr Proudstar’s frustration. Was the mission not a success, yes?”
James stopped himself for a moment, exhaling heavily and attempting to follow Charity’s words to a form of composure but the anger and embarrassment continued to boil inside of him.
“Ruth,” he said slowly, drawing out her name so that he could find more time to settle his temper. “The success of the mission is irrelevant in this situation . . . It . . . It was the fact that you sent us somewhere without the correct extraction. You need to see more than the end of the vision; you need to think logistically about how that ending is achieved.”
Charity twirled, offering a soft smile. “You just need to make us aware of all that you see, sweetie. It’s not enough to know we’ll succeed without knowing how we did it.”
Ruth stood blankly. Her mind running through the focused words of her peers as she considered her actions within the last twenty-four hours.
“Oh,” she whispered. “Perhaps I should have warned Miss Pryde, yes.”
Charity and James exchanged a confused glance but Ruth, true to her normalcy, didn’t expand upon her words before she slouched off to ponder the information she’d just learned.
Issue #4 (September 2023)
"Conflict in Chicago"
Written by Paige McMahon
"Conflict in Chicago"
Written by Paige McMahon
Featuring:
Archangel
Colossus
Dazzler
Shadowcat
Dreamer
Marrow
Toad
Warpath
Ashton Simonson
Blindfold
Mammomax
Alive Tremaine
Thomas More
Lydia Nance
Olivia Trask
Leper Queen
|
UNIVERSITY OF CHICAGO
CHICAGO, ILLINOIS “We hide in the shadows, cowering and too afraid to speak our minds in case the social justice warriors of our generation proclaim us racist or hate-mongers. I’m done hiding, I’m done standing by as the death toll rises, and so I ask that all of you take this moment, this opportunity, to speak to the people who can fix this so that we can instrument change.” “Oh, give me a break,” groaned Kitty, folding her arms and watching the collegiate senior continue to spur her hatred. “Is this really what amounts to free speech on this campus nowadays?” Ashton smiled at her obvious disdain. “Warren mentioned this was your alma mater, that’s why I thought you might be interested in what’s happening.” “Crescat scientia; vita excolatur,” replied the mutant, disinterested in discussing her past with him. “Maroons bringing it home, as the saying goes.” She turned to him. “So, what is it you’re actually doing here, Mister Simonson? I’m not sure challenging university protest groups is going to create significant rise to your persona.” “Ashton, please,” he said. “I’m part of a panel that was invited at the behest of Miss Tremaine and her Purity movement to discuss the rights of mutant lives versus those of humans. Everyone treats them as if their mutually exclusive. What you’re really asking if why I asked you to accompany me. I thought it might let you see me in action, earn a bit of your trust, and maybe we could move forward with your legal protections together.” Kitty sighed. “I left politics behind a long time ago, Mister . . . Ashton. I run a refuge centre.” Her hazel eyes narrowed on the passionate woman on the stage ahead of her, spewing hatred that Kitty remembered all too well. “There’s no working with these people. They’re set in their ways and we’ll always be a threat to them. No matter how many times we protect them or save the world. We’re still the monsters from under the bed.” He gave a stifled laugh. “I don’t intend to work with them, Kitty. I intend to discredit them for the bigots that they are and when they’re off the table, that’s the chance to make real change. Surely you can see that.” Kitty wanted to speak, but instead she was silent, allowing the continuing tirade of Alice’s speech and Ashton’s words to wash over her as she considered the reality of her situation. MUTANT UNDERGROUND HQ ATLANTA, GEORGIA “Are you a nurse?” asked the elephantine Maximus as the woman applied the brown ointment to the burning wounds caused by his former shackles. He flinched reluctantly as the salve contacted the raw portion of his skin, broken from years of captivity despite his heightened imperviousness. It was a fact known all to well to Maximus that heightened imperviousness could be a gift, but it also inspired others to be more creative in their methods of torture and abuse. Alison laughed softly, the blonde and pink waves of her hair cascading from her shoulders as she continued to dab iodine against the wounds. Despite the severity of the pain before her or the smile that rested steadily on her face, Alison was reminded of the horror she’d witnessed in Athens. It was a truth that her eyes couldn’t hide. She found it even more devastating, perhaps selfishly, that this was the life that she’d run from and the role that she’d refused to play. She wished her sorrow could simply have been for the young Spyke who’d lost his life, even though she’d never known him, but her real sadness was for the life that would never be available to her even when she tried. Still, with a bright smile, she stared into the stony eyes of Maximus. “No but if there’s one thing you learn as a member of the X-Men, it’s how to patch up other people,” replied Alison. He nodded, his trunk eliciting a quick trump sound. If he’d been able to blush, the sheepish expression on his face told Alison he would have been and so she chose to focus on the wounds, ignoring the chuckle she desperately wanted to release. “I learned of the X-Men. The mutants in the cells spoke about them,” recounted the large man, shifting uneasily against the pain as his mammoth shadow washed over her. “They called them beacons, then saviours.” The words seemed to catch in his throat but still, he continued. “Then they called them nothing. They learned the X-Men would never save them and they would die in their service to the circus.” His words were solemn, and they caught Alison off-guard. “I’m sorry that this happened to you. All of you,” she tucked her hair behind her ear. “We save who we can, but we can’t save everyone. We don’t choose who lives and dies but when we know, we do everything we can to stop it. I’m glad we saved you and I wish we could’ve saved them. We’ll do better next time.” He nodded. “I’m grateful.” Still, Alison was shaken by the hardness of his revelation and the thought of the people that the X-Men – and, by association, herself – had never been able to save. The anonymous mutants who had prayed for their ‘saviours’ and learned to lose that hope through the horror of their lives. She remembered the pressures that had turned her away from the calling of the X-Men but now she was further aware of the necessity of her servitude, for better or worse. HERITAGE INITIATIVE HQ GEORGIA “Well, you were an absolute disaster.” Lydia’s features were contorted to match her frustration, her lips were pursed, and her eyes narrowed. She stood with her back to the masked militia woman, staring out across the high rises of the city to distract herself from the mistakes that had been made. She had developed the Heritage Initiative with a singular focus: to protect the rights and livelihoods of humanity in the face of the growing mutant menace. At first, Lydia had made attempts to do so within the arms of the law and under the honest guise of politics. However, as she struggled to make a mark with her dream, she became bitter and frustrated. She turned to unseemly methods to achieve her goal, and this had, unfortunately, lead to her association with the so-called Leper Queen. As best she could, Lydia continued to keep her hands clean. Shell companies and unincorporated subsidiaries run through off-shore accounts financed Leper Queen and her army – not the Heritage Initiative. She turned, her eyes further examining the Leper Queen. She was a tall woman, domineering, with a face that was, and always had been, hidden behind a simple white mask. In contrast to the soft grey bob of Lydia, the Leper Queen was bald and so scarred that it almost appeared as if she’d been scalped. Her composure was straight, so much so, that her every visible muscle seemed to be tense to exhibit it. Leper Queen glared, unperturbed by the woman’s disdain towards her. “I’ll rebuild my army. There are always more willing to die for a worthy cause.” “Your cause is only worthy because I’ve made it so,” spat Lydia in a moment of losing control, an uncharacteristic trait. “I created the platform that you and your hooligans eat from. I built the protection you enjoy in the face of your mindless vitriol and violent tendencies.” Her finger jabbed into the jump-suited woman’s chest. “Without what I have made you, you aren’t worthy.” There was a moment of silence . . . . . . then Leper Queen laughed stiffly. “You sped the dream I created, Nance, but you had no role in creating it. You’re a simpering fool that panders at the feet of politicians and financiers that are only tangentially more deserving of life than the mutant scum.” She cleared her throat. “You hide behind righteousness and unjust development within your company, but I’m action. Cold, swift, decisive action. Without me, and those like me, you’re nothing more than another idiot in a skirt who talks to hear her own voice instead of making her views incapable of being ignored. Your dream will be realised in this lifetime, but it will be moulded by my hands whilst you inevitably fade into obscurity.” Lydia glared. “We’ll see about that.” The women stood, squared off in defiance, in tense silence. MUTANT UNDERGROUND HQ ATLANTA, GEORGIA “Have you seen Katya?” Piotr entered the room with his customary thunderous countenance. Despite harbouring the mind of an artist, the Russian had always been the epitome of physical hypermasculinity in Warren’s eyes. The pair had never been close. In fact, Piotr’s entrance to the X-Men had been around the time of one of the darkest periods of Warren’s history. He’d been a foe to the so-called All-New, All-Different X-Men before he’d ever become an ally. In hindsight, there was very little new or different about them. Under the leadership of Scott Summers, they’d become a military unit like any other. It was, unfortunately, the fate of all X-Men. Childhood innocence was stripped from them at the emergence of their powers because the haven they clamoured too was little more than a target that, through necessity, transformed them into soldiers. It had been part of the reason Warren had saw fit to establish the Mutant Underground. Yes, he still had soldiers on the ground, but he was closer to the dream of Charles Xavier than the man had ever managed to achieve himself. It was a legacy that he wished to carry on. He could allow Scott to lead his war as long as he was on hand to offer an alternative, a commune where those new mutants could join and learn the true depths of their abilities before re-joining the world around them – where that was possible, at least. Warren’s eyes returned to his paperwork. “She’s in Chicago. I had an assignment for her. I’d have thought she’d have told you herself.” He was careful not to make eye-contact, Warren had no desire to inadvertently learn of any potential romantic strife the couple had found themselves in. He had enough problems of his own with Lydia Nance and her latest legal demands. He continued to peruse the papers, detailing her claims towards a retraction of the recent article on the Heritage Initiative, when he realised Colossus hadn’t moved. “Yes?” he sighed. “Is there something else?” Piotr scoffed. “You really have nothing to say on what happened in Athens?” Bored and confused, Warren indulged him. “Is there something you’d like me to say, Piotr? If not, I really have better things to do than play guessing games all evening.” “Evan,” he replied simply. At the sight of Warren’s bewilderment, the Russian explained himself. “Evan Daniels was the kid that was killed in Athens. We housed him until he disappeared. He was a good kid who’d been caught in a dangerous situation, by all accounts. He was one of our own, Warren. He just disappeared, and we did nothing. That’s on all of us.” “Of course, I feel bad about what happened,” replied Warren diplomatically. “I just fail to see what we could have done to prevent it. Evan Daniels went off on his own, we can’t be held accountable for anything that happened to him after that. Besides, Kitty is responsible for the day to day running of the Underground. I don’t hold her responsible, but this was beyond all of our control, not just mine.” Piotr cleared his throat. “He didn’t. He never left. There are protocols. He just disappeared and we were so busy that we never even noticed. There aren’t enough people on the ground here and that . . . that is on us. It’s on you.” “I don’t like your tone.” Piotr scowled. “I’m not asking you to. I’m asking you to fix it.” Piotr left before he could respond. UNIVERSITY OF CHICAGO CHICAGO, ILLINOIS Kitty sat in the college auditorium, arms folded across her chest, as she watched the debate between Alice Tremaine and Ashton Simonson on the stage ahead of her. “Are you deliberately ignoring the facts?” commented the figurehead of Purity. “We’ve seen time and time again just how dangerous and volatile these individuals can be. Please, Mister Simonson, don’t insult my intelligence or those of everyone here. In less than several weeks we’ve seen a spate of terrorist actions with unknown reasons. Mutants, even those that have seemed previously harmless, are losing control and turning against humanity. The known terrorist Fever Pitch cost lives when he caused an explosion at that Dazzler concert. Allyship with the mutant cause has also caused more trouble than it’s been worth.” “You can’t take incidents that, through your own admission, are related to unknown factors and collate the violence and damage with a terrorist motivation,” responded Ashton coolly, unperturbed by the cheers and jeers her response had elicited. “Investigations are ongoing, and the outcome will and should be based on the facts. I’d ask if you’d look at any other people and cast the same wild, generic aspersions onto their characters. Over the years, we’ve seen a multitude of travesties from those involved in both sides of this argument, but the fact remains that the presence of mutants, such as the X-Men and the current refuge known as the Mutant Underground have proven to be more beneficial to the safety of all than to our detriment.” Alice shrugged. “Those so-called benefits don’t outweigh the threats that mutants represent, Mr Simonson.” Kitty stood, her fists balled as her focus narrowed the political activist. She’d seen this before, the darkness that could rise in the biases of humanity until there was little more than vitriol spewing from their mouths masked in eloquent parables – examples of worse case scenarios with an ignorance to the best. “I’m not a threat to you,” she declared coldly as some collegiate intern fumbled towards her with a microphone. Yet even before he’d reached her, Kitty’s words and conviction carried around the room. “It’s because of the sacrifices of myself and people like me that you’ve the freedom to stand on that stage spouting these opinions. The world hasn’t ever saved itself.” She cleared her throat, unclenching her fists only to take the microphone. “That may sound vainglorious or self-indulgent but that was the choice we, as X-Men, made every single time a situation escalated beyond humanity’s control.” She noted Alice’s smirk, the pursing of her lips as if she considered Kitty’s outburst to be a victory. Yet she didn’t intervene, she remained calm and collected behind those narrowed eyes. “Mutants are a part of humanity and that can’t be waved away. I can’t say there haven’t been those who’ve challenged that view or used their powers in despicable ways but they’re far outweighed by those of us who have worked not only for the betterment of mutants, but also everyone in this room.” She inhaled quickly. “Humanity has done it’s fair share of damage to the world your trying to paint as safe.” Alice stood, drawing her microphone from it’s stand and walking to the forefront of the stage. “Ah,” she said with an almost gleeful expression. “An X-Man amongst us. Should we perhaps evacuate the civilians? Or do you think you’ll be able to regain your self-control?” Her words were jeering, an attempt to lure Kitty into a verbal trap and discredit the words she’d preached. Kitty didn’t answer, she composed herself beneath her grimace. “You’re more than welcome, Shadowcat. What is a debate without a sparring of the minds?” Alice’s smile was uncomfortably sweet in the face with her enemy – a mutant. “So, what do you say? What’s the X-Men’s view on the ongoing situation?” Kitty realised that in opening her mouth, she’d become a voice for all mutantdom and that she’d made a mistake. TRASK INCORPORATED PHILADELPHIA, PENNSYLVANIA – TWO DAYS LATER “I’ve never seen anything quite like this.” Tom and Alice waltzed breezily into the foyer of the clinically sterile metallic and glass building – semi-circular and sparsely populated despite being the middle of the work-day. Whilst Alice remained calm and collected, Tom was lost in an expression of awe and intrigue. Chicago had been exciting from the Minnesotan’s perspective, a stark contrast to his rural upbringing, but now he was stood in the world of the wealthy and elite. Although, he was entirely underdressed for the experience. Alice, dressed smartly in a red pant suit, was the opposite of her boyfriend, in his torn jeans and denim jacket. It was more than just their attire. Tom felt inspired by what could be achieved in the space, Alice felt entitled to it – as though it were already hers for the taking. He had accompanied Alice to the city of Brotherly Love. Although his views were softer than her strict expressions, Tom followed her blindly to support her. He lurked in the shadows, hoodie over his head, watching her speak before the crowds with a deliberate sense of ease and control. She impressed him every time she’d stepped on a stage and now, still in college, she’d received an invite for an audience with none other than Trask Incorporated. Alice smirked. “Now, this is the kind of backing we really need.” She could barely maintain her composure, joy threatened to erupt with every thought. “A powerhouse in the field of scourging the mutant scum from the face of our planet.” Tom, disconcerted by the harshness of her hate compared to the persona she’d cultivated for her audiences, spoke more bluntly than usual. “This doesn’t align with your political agenda; Al. Trask are an arms dealer.” “We’re the arms dealer, Mister More.” Tom and Alice turned to find a statuesque brunette in a pure white suit – bright and unblemished. She smiled. “At least were mutants are concerned.” “I’m sorry–“ he began with a slight stutter but he was quickly silenced by the woman as she turned her focus to Alice, reminding him he was an addition to her plans and not the totality of them. Tom fell silent. “Olivia Trask,” she said coolly as she extended her hand and shook Alice’s. “I’m glad you took me up on my invitation, Miss Tremaine.” “Alice is fine,” responded the Purity figurehead, an air of authority despite their surroundings. “I was intrigued by your message. Purity is growing but we can always use friends in high places.” Olivia almost smiled but held back, ever the businesswoman and negotiator. “Trask’s have always had an investment in the ideals of your grassroots organisation, Alice. Why don’t I show you what we can offer in exchange for your involvement?” Alice nodded. Olivia led her and Tom through a series of similar hallways, each more disorientating than the last as they blended. Tom reached for Alice’s hands, feeling overwhelmed and uncertain of the terrain that they were entering, but she loosed his hold of her and marched forward to fall almost in line with Olivia. He noticed that she maintained a short distance behind, a mark of respect for the woman of superior standing. “What made you contact me? I can’t imagine a student has much to offer someone as influential as yourself.” “You mean wealthy,” remarked Olivia. “In truth, my grandfather attempted an offensive. He sought full physical assault and was overcome by the brutality of the mutants. He was intelligent and driven, but he failed to their brawn. I believe there’s another way. We can’t underestimate their penchant for violence and so we need to disrupt not only their physical safety, but the policies that offer them any protection. It secures the victory and that means I need someone with political power on my side.” Her expression was somewhat snide as she glanced toward Alice. “You don’t have that yet but, in time, I can curate you and Purity into the beacon of hope for the humans who can see the truth.” Olivia placed her palm onto a scanner as it whirred to life and the metallic doors sprung open. She walked into the darkness with Alice on her heel, but Tom was slower to follow. Lights, sensing their movement, sprung to activity and Olivia’s plan seemed laid before them. Sentinels. Half-built and seemingly merging multiple previous generations into one unified being. It was more beautiful than anything Alice had even seen, the means to an end and the start of everything she’d been working towards. She failed to notice Tom nervously scrapping the group with his shoes. “The next extreme of artificial intelligence, adapting to the mutants from all that we’ve learned from them in previous Sentinels and allowing a creation that can challenge them proactively instead of reactively.” Alice couldn’t even speak, “So, what do you say?” Tom stepped forward. “Alice–?” “How soon can we start?” Alice asked. Olivia nodded. “Progress can take some time, but the journey has begun.” Alice smiled darkly. “And the future looks bright.” |