Back to Gatefold
Issue #4 by Brad Horton
June 2016 |
The Domicilium.
Secret Mansion to the Clan Akkaba.
England.
“Where did this armor come from?”
“We mined it from one of your father’s many sarcophagi. A rare crystal from his Celestial Ship from thousands of years ago,” Frederick Slade explained. “We wouldn’t have even thought of the idea if not for you…another you, from an alternate reality. It seems to be the only substance that can contain your bio-microwave energies safely.”
“It burns and soothes at the same time,” William Rolfson said.
“The ancient blood of the first mutant flows strongly through you, Genocide,” Frederick said. “You have taken a life and you have survived the Celestial armor, but now I need you to do more.”
Genocide shook his head from within the armor. His body was made of pure energy now that he had put it on, or rather, the armor sucked him into itself. He had no ears to hear what Frederick was saying, but he could interpret the vibrations.
“I don’t have blood, just…this bright energy,” Genocide said, holding his right hand, encased within a large muscular gauntlet.
“The celestial blood of the universe, then,” Frederick said. “The point is, you will not be the Fittest until you prove that you can lead this family. This house has sheltered our family, but a house this large is only as strong as its foundation.”
“Then, we need to cull the weak from the strong…from our own family, before we focus on the world?” Genocide asked.
Frederick smiled, wrinkles forming under his emerald eyes, “Precisely.”
Secret Mansion to the Clan Akkaba.
England.
“Where did this armor come from?”
“We mined it from one of your father’s many sarcophagi. A rare crystal from his Celestial Ship from thousands of years ago,” Frederick Slade explained. “We wouldn’t have even thought of the idea if not for you…another you, from an alternate reality. It seems to be the only substance that can contain your bio-microwave energies safely.”
“It burns and soothes at the same time,” William Rolfson said.
“The ancient blood of the first mutant flows strongly through you, Genocide,” Frederick said. “You have taken a life and you have survived the Celestial armor, but now I need you to do more.”
Genocide shook his head from within the armor. His body was made of pure energy now that he had put it on, or rather, the armor sucked him into itself. He had no ears to hear what Frederick was saying, but he could interpret the vibrations.
“I don’t have blood, just…this bright energy,” Genocide said, holding his right hand, encased within a large muscular gauntlet.
“The celestial blood of the universe, then,” Frederick said. “The point is, you will not be the Fittest until you prove that you can lead this family. This house has sheltered our family, but a house this large is only as strong as its foundation.”
“Then, we need to cull the weak from the strong…from our own family, before we focus on the world?” Genocide asked.
Frederick smiled, wrinkles forming under his emerald eyes, “Precisely.”
#4 - "LIFEBLOOD"
Previously:
Adam Essex battled Ava Slade in London, gaining the attention of her hooded bodyguards. Adam unleashed a shockwave, expanding his psionic dead zone outward and rendering every mutant in the area powerless. Fed up with his father being the puppet master from beyond the grave, Adam decides not to kill Ava and teleports away. Frederick Slade (Ava’s father), meanwhile, gave William Rolfson his signature crystalline armor, transforming him into Genocide, much to the dismay of his mother, the former Horseman of Famine as well as Ava herself, horrified by the ease in which Genocide murdered one of her elder family members. Rethinking his mission, Adam discovers an anomaly in his blood which can be used to create an airborne agent to kill anyone related to Apocalypse. It was then where Ava teleported into Adam’s secret lair, offering her talents to bring the machinations of her father and Genocide to a stop once and for all. Sabretooth almost killed her outright if not for her resemblance to Blink.
Salem Center.
Science Wing.
“What is a virus?”
Adam shrugged as he tapped his pen against his notebook, “Leftover RNA from evolution over billions of years?”
He had been tutored by Dr. Henry McCoy for months since enrolling at the Xavier Institute of Higher Learning. Although Adam forged his way in, he could have easily aced the SATs, ACT, and any other college placement test. He also had his father’s array of genetics knowledge at his disposal, but he learned a lot of it intuitively.
Beast smiled, “It’s a popular theory, so you’re not wrong.”
A holographic image appeared in front of the teacher and student, as Dr. Moira MacTaggart appeared, “Hello, Henry.” She nodded in Adam’s general direction, “Mr. Simmons.”
“Dr. MacTaggart, good morning. I trust the weather is rainy on Muir Island?” Beast inquired.
Adam’s eyebrows arched out of genuine shock, “I didn’t know we’d be having a guest lecturer.” He turned to Moira’s holographic projection, “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Beast smirked, “Keeping you on your toes.”
“Let’s look at the Legacy Virus, Adam. Your father unknowingly released it upon the world, helping the time traveling mutant terrorist known as Stryfe. Nathan Summers was eventually the key to providing a vaccine. This virus targeted those with the x-gene specifically, attacking their immune system whenever the victim used their abilities, so it was dangerous to mutants,” Moira explained. She paused for a second, “I was the first human diagnosed with the virus due to my close proximity to mutants for decades.”
# # # # # # # # # #
“There’s somethin’ he ain’t tellin’ us,” Wolverine said as he leaned up against a bookshelf on the west wall of the headmaster office. Once it was where Charles Xavier sat as headmaster and Scott Summers after him. Now, it was Jean Grey—the X-Man known as Phoenix—that sat behind the desk.
Admissions forms, tax documents, and utility bills floated around her telekinetically as she signed them whilst transferring bank funds on her floating tablet and typing up budgets on her laptop.
“Adam Simmons,” Jean said without blinking. “I thought he was cleared. He’s a mutant. There’s no way he can be Sinister.”
Logan shook his head, “It ain’t that. During his Danger Room training. He put a move on me that I didn’t teach him. Only one other person knew how to do it. Sabretooth. I think Creed may have been training him. He’s good at holding back, because he knows he can take the punishment. The kid is playin’ us.”
Jean stopped typing as the paperwork stacked itself into a neat pile before being placed and locked in a filing cabinet. She sighed and folded her hands, “Enlighten me.”
“Dark Beast, Onslaught, and Apollyon were right under our noses,” Wolverine said. “Right here in our home. I don’t wanna have it happen again with Adam. I ain’t doin’ it. Not while we’ve got kids here, human and mutant.”
“I’ll tell Cerebro to track Sabretooth’s movements, if we can find him,” Jean said. “His mind is difficult to track ever since you impaled his brain.” She paused, “Are you positive Adam is in league with him somehow?”
“I don’t know why, but yeah…his mind can’t be read, he doesn’t have a scent, his heartbeat doesn’t fluctuate at all, so I have to rely on what I can observe…his actions, his body language,” Wolverine said. “Weapon X programmed me to slide in and slide out—but even before that, I was well-versed in espionage.”
Jean sighed, “And Hank is too wrapped up with having a student that can challenge him intellectually, so he’s not going to be looking for the possibility that Adam isn’t being completely honest. And Bobby—clinging to dear life onto what little youth he has left—got duped into letting Adam see the Cerebro chamber a few weeks ago*. One of the records was edited, but it was somewhere in Northwestern Europe.”
*(Last issue—Brad)
“Goddamnit,” Logan huffed, “I can’t believe anyone related to Sinister would even be allowed near a chemistry set…”
“Alright,” Jean said calmly, trying to maintain her composure. “You can investigate, but you need to do it quietly. If we’re wrong, we could face a lot of backlash. I’ll link us telepathically so you can report back to me.”
Logan nodded, coughing as he exited the office.
# # # # # # # # # #
“Thank you for listening—good luck with your tests, Adam,” Moira said before her holographic image faded out.
Beast smiled and folded his arms, “So?”
Adam mirrored the smile, “I think I’ve got all I need. For the test, I mean.”
Beast walked over with his simian gait, and plopped down a thick stack of papers neatly stapled together, “Ninety minutes.”
“I’m taking the test now?” Adam wondered aloud.
Beast shrugged, “Is it too much of a challenge?”
Adam scoffed, “‘Course not. Just didn’t expect it.”
Beast nodded, “Just making your degree more official. I realize a lot of this is intuitive for you. I envy you—but I had to get where I am the hard way and so shall you.”
Adam nodded, “Not a problem. Ninety minutes? I’ll do it in twenty.”
“I’ll leave you to it, then,” Beast said as he exited the lab, leaving Adam with some privacy to take his test.
Adam took out his pen and emptied the ink well into a beaker. It was a diluted mixture of his retrovirus derived from his own blood. The ink kept it from outwardly affecting anyone on the mansion grounds.
He then picked up the beaker and raised it to eye level. He then reached into his breast pocket and emptied a small vile of hair follicles onto the table. Using his shape-shifted fingers as a pair of tweezers, he picked up a solitary blonde hair and dropped it into the beaker. The follicle immediately sizzled as it hit the liquid.
The hair follicle belonged to Alex Summers, proving that even an extreme-distant relative of Apocalypse would be affected by the retrovirus.
“Test complete,” Adam said with a smile as he swilled the steamy beaker around like a glass of wine.
“And what kinda test would that be?” Logan asked from the opposite corner. “It don’t look like the essay test Professor McCoy gave yah.”
“Side project,” Adam said calmly, despite his alarm. “Independent study.”
“That same independent study that had you wandering around our sub-basement?” Logan inquired. “And now you’re dissolving Havok’s hair into a beaker…someone related to Sinister messin’ around with a Summers? Now, stop fucking lyin’ to me, boy…”
*SNIKT*
*SNIKT*
“…or I’ll make an honest man outta yah,” Wolverine warned as he held his extended adamantium claws in front of him in an offensive position.
“Honestly,” Adam said, dropping his American accent, “it is not what you think.”
*SHLUCK*
Logan nursed his raw knuckles, the wound from his claws still fresh. Blood flowed casually out of his fists.
“I know you’re in telepathic cahoots with Ms. Grey,” Adam said as he pointed to his temple, “but obviously, when you’re around me, telepathy doesn’t work. I’m also canceling out your powers—something I only recently learned how to do. If you don’t die of adamantium poisoning, your secret ailment will do the work for me.”
Logan’s brow furrowed, “You lyin’ sonofa…I’ll have yer head for this!”
“I’m not going to kill you,” Adam said. “Your son would be pretty upset he wouldn’t be able to do the deed himself.”
“So you are working with Creed?”
Adam reclined in his chair, “Well, he’s working for me, more specifically. You’re obviously investigating me, so I’ve already been made. Now, I’ve got to improvise to keep my cover here and continue my mission out there…”
“The X-Men ain’t your target?” Logan deduced.
“Of course not,” Adam said. “I’ve actually grown quite fond of the school. My mission is to wipe out Apocalypse’s bloodline. Permanently. Call it post-mortem revenge on behalf of my father.”
“Apocalypse is dead,” Logan said. “We destroyed every secret base of his we could find.”
“And yet, his descendants are still alive. They need to be weeded out. I’ve been killing them off slowly—that’s what I needed Victor for. His expertise. But now, I’ve found the key to wipe them out. A targeted retrovirus.”
“And you needed Alex’s hair to test it out…? Are you tellin’ me the Summers family is related to that maniac?” Logan deduced. He slowly sat down as blood continued to trickle out of his knuckles, “This is worse than I thought…you’re a goddamn serial killer. You’re worse than your father ever was.”
“No I’m…,” Adam paused, “every garden is full of weeds. The Clan Akkaba is an invasive weed that must be uprooted before it spreads. I’m a gardener, if anything.” He leaned forward in his chair, “I’m sorry for misleading you and the other X-Men, but I had to keep this secret.”
“So we wouldn’t stop you in yer tracks?”
“I’m a necessary evil,” Adam proclaimed.
“What then? After yer done, do you wipe out the rest of the Morlocks? Or just the bloodlines you see fit? Yer killin’ Apocalypse’s bloodline, but yer becoming just like him,” Wolverine spat.
Adam slowly nodded, “I know my father was methodical and cold, but I would never kill another being for having a so-called inferior bloodline. Life is beautiful. I know because I can read it, I can actually feel it. DNA is all around us, from the plants to insects, even the microorganisms in the air. I value life. But the Clan Akkaba are monstrous. Isn’t it the samurai code to face something like that?”
Logan arched an eyebrow, “Yer playin’ that card?”
Adam stood up passively, “Trying to justify genocide is difficult and not always pretty, but someone has to do it, especially if the victims in question keep trying to take over the world or resurrect Apocalypse.”
“How’s that test…coming?” Beast asked as he walked in. “Logan? Adam?”
“Doctor McCoy,” Adam said in his British accent, “I’m deeply sorry…and that’s the truth.” A diamond-shaped portal opened behind him and he exited the room quickly.
“Adam?” Beast called out as the portal closed. He exchanged a glance with Logan, who merely looked defeated, partially from the loss of blood, which was still on the floor.
“Would you like to tell me what’s going on?” he asked as he helped Logan stand upright.
Logan sighed, “You a whiskey-drinker, Hank?”
Beast winced, “No, but I have a feeling I will be…how much trouble are the X-Men in?”
Logan shook his head, “He’s not targeting us, an’ I don’t think there’s much we can do to prevent who he is targeting.”
“What?”
“He’s targeting Apocalypse’s last living descendants…Sinister’s final revenge,” Logan said with a slight chuckle. “He’s a genocidal maniac and I don’t even…blame him.”
Beast clenched his jaw, “I’ve been so…naive…we’ve never had a student that could challenge me intellectually. I felt a weight lifted—thought I could focus on other matters with the school itself or he could assist the X-Men in the field. Adam’s compromised everything we stand for…”
“Do you want to tell Jean, or should I?” Wolverine asked.
Beast nervously ran his hand through his hair, “I have a feeling she already knows.”
“Meeting,” Jean said from the doorway, arms crossed, impatiently tapping her foot. “Now.”
# # # # # # # # # #
The Domicilium.
England.
Frederick walked down the massive halls of the large mansion, passing many portraits of slain Clan Akkaba. Genocide noticed a strange amulet—a smooth jewel that seemed to be blue and yellow at the same time was adorned with cast gold. “What is that…?”
Frederick paused and took a deep breath, “Protection against ancient evils and demons. Your father amassed powerful enemies over the years. When it comes to dark magic, we had to resort to appropriate countermeasures. That amulet throws off the scent of our location by supposedly canceling out magic itself. Legend says our family ventured into distant lands, hidden dimensions and then battled a Sorcerer Supreme to obtain it.”
“Are these ancient evils something or someone I have to worry about?” Genocide wondered. “Why go through all that trouble? Wouldn’t my father object to such a cowardly piece of jewelry?”
“I wish I knew the answer to that question. It was a decision made long ago.” Frederick simply smiled, trying to hide his nervousness, “Thousands of years and there have been no incidents. It is a nice piece of decoration, if anything.”
The two continued their walk as they approached a darkened room.
“These are our eldest family members that have not been able to sustain themselves,” Frederick Slade said as he walked down the middle of an elongated room. On both walls were rows of hospital beds with various occupants being intravenously fed nutrients and trace amounts of blood from younger Akkaba.
Genocide walked into the hospice room, each step of his crystal armor shook the room with a thud. The orange glow from his body radiating its bio-microwave energy illuminated the dimly-lit corridor.
“Why keep them alive?” William asked. “Don’t we kill these ones?”
Frederick smiled as he ran a hand through his bright pink hair, “Knowledge. These men and women have seen monarchies rise and fall. Fought with barbarians, centurions, and knights. There is much our family can learn from them.”
“I don’t care, they need to go…I have all the knowledge from everyone healthy enough to walk,” Genocide muttered coldly.
Frederick stood with his arms crossed, shrugging, “Very well. You have my permission to dispose of these poor souls.”
“I don’t need your permission, either, I am Apocalypse’s son!” Genocide yelled. He aimed his left arm cannon at a decaying man, “I kill who I deem weak.”
Before the glow of his cannon could even ignite, the occupants suddenly all turned gray—their skin flaking off like dust. Soon, their blood and bones followed suit. The heart monitors blared together with an inhuman melody of death.
Standing in the opposite doorway was Autumn, the former Horseman of Famine.
“This isn’t what we signed up for!” she yelled as she focused her abilities on Frederick, forcing his body to feed on itself.
He howled in agony and fell to the marble floor, “William, is this what you want your own mother to do? Destroy your birthright?!”
“I won’t let you turn my son into a killer!” Autumn grimly uttered as she focused further on a Frederick’s body. He was more resilient than it seemed. His body had a fresh dose of a younger Apocalypse’s blood running through him. She turned her gaze towards her son, “William…you don’t want this, do you?”
“I…,” William spoke. He groaned and pointed his arm cannon at his mother, “I have to do this! Let him go!”
Frederick began to show signs of his true age as wrinkles formed on his face. His bright pink hair began to look paler. His emerald eyes, however, did not change pigment.
Autumn’s eyes widened, but she continued onwards to keep Frederick at bay, “You didn’t know your father like I did…come on, this is crazy! Your armor is stimulating the same parts of your brain that affects addicts! Do you really want to do this Biblical End of Days song and dance bullshit?”
William lowered his cannon, looking away with a sigh, “Damn it…”
Autumn sighed with relief, “Thank you…”
*BLINK*
“You’re welcome,” Frederick growled, his eyes glowing green. His once-pink hair was now silvery-white and he had liver spots speckled over his face, but physically, he was as strong as a man in his sixties.
Autumn felt her knees buckle as she fell flat on her back, her head hitting the floor hard, but she soon realized her knees were no longer below her. In fact, everything below her waist was teleported clean off. It was so clean, she could barely feel the pain.
“Mom!?! NO!” William shouted. His armor seemed to react to his anger and grief as spikes formed around his gauntlets and shoulders. Flames burned through his eye sockets as his entire body radiated light and energy. He was going nuclear.
Frederick shielded his eyes as he laughed, “There it is! The push you needed, my boy! You shall be Fittest in no time!”
Genocide lunged his cannon forward, firing off multiple blasts of concentrated force and energy, “This isn’t a game! I’ll fucking kill you!”
Frederick calmly opened multiple portals around him while still shielding his eyes to dispel the blasts harmlessly, “William…you need molding, just like any prince to the throne. But I won’t just hand it over to you—you will face me in combat…when the time comes!”
“Motherfucker, I’ll do it NOW!” Genocide screamed as he leapt upward with his fist drawn back, but he connected with the marble floor—as Frederick had teleported before he could crush him.
“William, William…tsk tsk,” Frederick taunted from the balcony above the former hospice. “That isn’t up to you to decide.”
Dozens of hooded guardsmen ran into the room, surrounding Genocide and the upper torso of his mother. William knelt down beside his mother as she struggled to breathe. He looked up at the hoods, “Kill him. Kill Frederick Slade.”
“But, young William, Lord Slade is Fittest,” one of the guards said.
“I am Apocalypse’s son, he is a distant relative. Screw formalities…if Apocalypse were here, who would have higher favor? A pureblood, or some fake dictator?” Genocide asked as he stood up. “Bow to your true lord and master and kill that son of a bitch imposter!”
Backing up slowly, Slade glanced upward at the skylight, noticing the draconian silhouette above. Enyalius, the First Horseman, had arrived to enact his vengeance…or perhaps reaffirm his true allegiance to the Clan Akkaba?
Frederick nodded at the prospect of this chaos, his forearms shapeshifting into long bladed weapons, “If you wish.”
# # # # # # # # # #
“Now, we vote?” Iceman asked with a shrug. Sitting around him were the other senior staff members of the Xavier Institute. An emergency telepathic meeting table constructed by Jean Grey herself. Being conscious within the astral plane was like lucid dreaming, it could be a whirlwind of chaos to the untrained mind, but even the non-telepathic X-Men were masters of keeping themselves centered.
“We can’t let him finish what he’s planning to do,” Wolverine said. “What’s to stop him from targeting another mutant bloodline? He’s in league with Sabretooth and at least one other.”
“If he’s his father’s son, we should look for Melody Jacobs—Threnody,” Rogue suggested.
Jean nodded, “I’ll leave that to you, Rogue.”
“We can’t tell Warren, either. He’d make a rash decision,” Logan said.
“Ah was a Horseman, too!” Rogue shouted as she stood up, unconsciously accessing psionic powers and transforming her astral form into Famine—pale white skin, elongated clawed fingers, pitch black eyes, tattered rags and leather covering her body. She shifted back, “Believe me, Ah’m not having a great time dealin’ with the moral implications of this.”
“I don’t like the idea of keeping that from Warren or his team,” Iceman declared. “We went through a lot, the original X-Factor team, dealing with Apocalypse. I’m sick of these separate X-Men factions, anyway. Isn’t it about time we just tell each other what’s happening?”
“I still can’t believe I’m related to Apocalypse,” Havok said with a deep sigh. “It’s sickening. Like finding out you’re related to Hitler or something.”
“Can’t be any worse than realizing you’re related to Cyclops,” Logan said with a wry smirk.
With an eye roll, Jean purposefully cleared her throat, “Gentlemen!”
“One thing that is good is that no one has ever been this deep into the Clan Akkaba,” Havok said. “That should be a win.”
“But, then again, being related to Apocalypse does not automatically mean they are destined to become him, right?” Iceman asked. “I’m just spitballing, here. I mean, Alex isn’t suddenly feeling tyrannical, is he?”
“Let’s not forget this virus will kill me, Scott, Nate, and probably my human relatives, including any other unsuspecting descendants of Apocalypse,” Havok warned. He paused for a minute, “How is it possible to have a mutant ancestor but so many of my relatives are human?”
“The x-gene and the various alleles can revert to a recessive gene over time, especially when interbreeding with humans—but that’s a discussion for another time,” Beast informed.
“He did say the X-Men weren’t his targets, so that might mean he has a vaccine cooked up,” Rogue said.
“How much time do we have left?” Logan wondered.
“Another hour here is about a half-second back in our bodies,” Jean said. “The beauty of doing this astrally means we won’t waste time.”
“Hankinator?” Iceman asked as he turned to his friend. “You’re too quiet, man.”
Beast somberly looked up, hunched over the table, “I…don’t know. If Adam was telling the truth, he said he respects life, because he can physically feel it all around him. I can only assume he would stop this madness after committing genocide.”
“Why would you say that?” Jean asked.
Beast removed his glasses, “Before he exited, he left me the instructions to replicate a vaccine and a list of names, families, and locations.”
“Son of a bitch…,” Logan grumbled. “We have to clean up while he does the deed. If we’re too busy tryin’ to stop him, we’ll let hundreds or even thousands die.”
“What about Scott?” Jean wondered. “Is he…?”
Beast shook his head, “That was one name that had a note by it. It just read ‘I've handled it already’.”
“Then it looks like we’ve got some house-calls to make, X-Men,” Phoenix said. “Suit up, get the jets prepped. Rogue, can you get some long-distance teleporting in?”
Rogue nodded as she mentally sifted through her catalog of abilities, “Absolutely. Gateway’s got it covered, Ah think.”
“Hank, get cracking on that vaccine. I’ll mentally upload the info directly to everyone as it comes and I’ll keep everyone linked telepathically, so we’ve got to act quickly,” Jean said as she directed her focus to Hank. “Dismissed.”
Beast nodded, “I may require your assistance if you’d like a crash-course in genetics. I just need an extra set of hands.”
Jean inhaled slowly and nodded, “I think I’ll manage. Just concentrate on what you need me to learn.” She sifted through Beast’s mind and copied the relevant information into her own. Her closed eyelids twitched as the experiences, lectures, everything Dr. Henry McCoy ever learned—perhaps even memories and tidbits from former professors he wouldn’t have remembered.
“Can I be Dr. Grey if I manage to retain this knowledge?” she wondered.
“It’s got a nice ring to it…” Beast concurred.
# # # # # # # # # #
Omaha.
Team Sinister Headquarters.
Secret-ish.
“I didn’t realize I was trainin’ you in the art of super-villainy,” Sabretooth sighed as he strapped an army knife to his calf. “I’m proud and a little unnerved at the same time.”
“I mean, I’m not a huge fan of the X-Men, but it’s just cold,” Threnody concurred as she loaded a handgun and handed it to Sabretooth. The mere act of clicking the clip into place caused her necroplasmic energies to spark.
“I always needed a way out if my cover was blown,” Adam said as he sheathed a medieval sword into its leather casing, strapped to his back. “The X-Men deal with moral dilemmas every day. They would choose the wiser option and save innocents while we do the dirty work. Saves me the hassle of sparing the lives that I’ve so graciously decided to make exceptions to. The virus works, that’s what matters.”
“And just how well does it work, oh gracious one?” Ava Slade justifiably wondered.
Adam smiled smugly, “Not so great on you. I’ve already inoculated you.”
Ava arched her pierced eyebrow alarmingly, “When?!”
“That vitamin water I gave you had a little something extra in it,” Adam said. “Figured it would be easier that way.”
Ava shook her head in disbelief, “Fine. Rapist.”
As she stormed off, Threnody rolled her eyes while giving Adam a stern look, “I’ll go get her…”
“You’re welcome! And let’s not forget who the bad guy is, yeah?” Adam exclaimed toward them both. He glanced at Sabretooth for some male camaraderie and support.
Victor simply shook his head.
Adam sighed and sat in a chair made from bio-mechanical green genetic material. He pressed a button and hundreds of holographic headshots appeared around the lab in a spherical configuration. Each and every Clan Akkaba and other unassociated descendants of Apocalypse. Every one Adam systematically killed had an appropriate red X over them, slightly dimmed out compared to the others. The various exceptions to his father’s posthumous wrath faded out completely. The ones that were un-exed seemed to hover forward.
“Is this what my father did before he condemned the Morlocks to slaughter—because he recognized his work had been copied?”* Adam asked as he literally stared his victims in the face. “I’ll have six-hundred and thirty-three souls on my conscience for the rest of my life.”
* (Allegedly, the Dark Beast from the Age of Apocalypse reality used methods learned from his mentor, Adam’s father from the same reality, to experiment and mutate the original Morlocks — Brad)
Even at the mention of his involvement in the Morlock Massacre, Sabretooth said unflinchingly, “You’ll save billions, so keep them on yer conscience instead.”
“Even if they don’t all deserve it?” Adam asked as tears welled up in his eyes. Sabretooth never saw Adam break down. There was still humanity in him, even with all of the genetic pre-programmed drive to kill the Clan Akkaba.
Victor wondered, “Sometimes even a domesticated animal might show its teeth. Nature always wins.” Sabretooth placed an assuring hand on his shoulder, “You can walk away from this life, y’know. Stop the obsession, searching for the next drag-out brawl adrenaline. Afterwards, I mean.”
“It’s more fun than I thought,” Adam said with a slight smile. “Getting my hands dirty.”
“That is my final lesson. Take a step back, then figure out the rest of your life,” Victor said.
Adam pinched his chin as he pondered his mentor’s request, “Afterwards.”
# # # # # # # # # #
The Domicilium.
A scimitar belonging to the maroon-hooded zealot of Apocalypse sliced through the air, and connected with Frederick’s hand, which had shapeshifted into a superdense metallic blade.
“Your services are no longer required,” Frederick said as his opaque emerald eyes disassembled the space between the zealot’s molecules, causing him to dissolve. He took his bladed hand and offensively swiped while defending with his opposite hand, driving the blade into a portal. The exit portals opened strategically as Frederick sliced the throat of a second, then a third, and fourth in quick succession.
“You see, William,” Frederick said with a wide grin, his face stained with blood, “you may be next in line, but you are not Fittest. Your American sense of entitlement will not be tolerated here.”
The other zealots seemed to hesitate—as if questioning their loyalty before lunging back into battle against the leader of the Clan. Frederick’s smile faded as he defended himself against more zealots, some with powers, some without.
An inhuman screech from outside caused some of the hooded zealots to pause, but then Enyalius crashed through the edifice of the century’s old mansion. The large draconian First Horseman had arrived.
Frederick smugly stood up straight as he decapitated another attacker. He scoffed, “My friend.”
Enyalius’s yellow eyes glowed, “I am no friend of the family of Apocalypse…”
Frederick exhaled swiftly, “Regardless, I do regret that the imbecile who chose to go to war with the Clan Akkaba got you caught up in this.”
“The imbecile you speak of is just a boy with unspeakable rage. I bested him in combat, but then he endangered my…family…,” Enyalius explained.
Frederick laughed heartily, “Adam Essex, son of Nathanial Essex. Working with Victor Creed and Melody Jacobs—now, my own daughter, Ava. Yes, I know. I am Fittest…I have eyes and ears everywhere.”
“He is my priority. I will wait for him here,” Enyalius growled. “I sniffed the electromagnetic lay lines…trust me when I say he is coming.”
Frederick laughed again, “You ancient mutants and your abilities. Sometimes I wonder if nature intended you to have so many. Save some for the rest of us, heh!”
The two suddenly realized they were completely surrounded by hooded zealots. One of the zealots cleared his throat, “Uh…so, are we fighting or what?”
“Stand down. Your leader is bellowing like a baby. Like I said, I am Fittest,” Frederick said as he gestured towards the hulking man-child in the glowing crystal armor. “Of course, none of you will be punished for taking up the sword against your master. I quite enjoy a good romp every now and again. Good show, gentlemen and ladies.”
Each breath Genocide took seemed to ignite his body, causing his armor to illuminate the room with a soft glow. He knelt down next to his dying mother. Apocalypse’s enhancements were the only thing keeping her alive this long. He sighed, “You are such an asshole. Give me this armor…then…do THIS to my mom…you want a FIGHT, I’ll give you one!”
Enyalius arched his brow.
*BLINK*
A pink portal opened within the crowd of zealots—the displacement immediately vaporizing or otherwise dismembering those that were in the portal’s way.
Adam, his broadsword still strapped to his back, coughed as Sabretooth, Threnody, and Ava stood behind him. He glanced at Ava, “What the hell?”
Ava shrugged, “I don’t know. I wasn’t playing for safety.”
Sabretooth sighed and muttered, amidst the dozens upon dozens of hooded guards, Enyalius, Frederick Slade, and Genocide. All in close quarters. War was often messy.
“Finally, a proper bloodbath…”
To Be Concluded.
Adam Essex battled Ava Slade in London, gaining the attention of her hooded bodyguards. Adam unleashed a shockwave, expanding his psionic dead zone outward and rendering every mutant in the area powerless. Fed up with his father being the puppet master from beyond the grave, Adam decides not to kill Ava and teleports away. Frederick Slade (Ava’s father), meanwhile, gave William Rolfson his signature crystalline armor, transforming him into Genocide, much to the dismay of his mother, the former Horseman of Famine as well as Ava herself, horrified by the ease in which Genocide murdered one of her elder family members. Rethinking his mission, Adam discovers an anomaly in his blood which can be used to create an airborne agent to kill anyone related to Apocalypse. It was then where Ava teleported into Adam’s secret lair, offering her talents to bring the machinations of her father and Genocide to a stop once and for all. Sabretooth almost killed her outright if not for her resemblance to Blink.
Salem Center.
Science Wing.
“What is a virus?”
Adam shrugged as he tapped his pen against his notebook, “Leftover RNA from evolution over billions of years?”
He had been tutored by Dr. Henry McCoy for months since enrolling at the Xavier Institute of Higher Learning. Although Adam forged his way in, he could have easily aced the SATs, ACT, and any other college placement test. He also had his father’s array of genetics knowledge at his disposal, but he learned a lot of it intuitively.
Beast smiled, “It’s a popular theory, so you’re not wrong.”
A holographic image appeared in front of the teacher and student, as Dr. Moira MacTaggart appeared, “Hello, Henry.” She nodded in Adam’s general direction, “Mr. Simmons.”
“Dr. MacTaggart, good morning. I trust the weather is rainy on Muir Island?” Beast inquired.
Adam’s eyebrows arched out of genuine shock, “I didn’t know we’d be having a guest lecturer.” He turned to Moira’s holographic projection, “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Beast smirked, “Keeping you on your toes.”
“Let’s look at the Legacy Virus, Adam. Your father unknowingly released it upon the world, helping the time traveling mutant terrorist known as Stryfe. Nathan Summers was eventually the key to providing a vaccine. This virus targeted those with the x-gene specifically, attacking their immune system whenever the victim used their abilities, so it was dangerous to mutants,” Moira explained. She paused for a second, “I was the first human diagnosed with the virus due to my close proximity to mutants for decades.”
# # # # # # # # # #
“There’s somethin’ he ain’t tellin’ us,” Wolverine said as he leaned up against a bookshelf on the west wall of the headmaster office. Once it was where Charles Xavier sat as headmaster and Scott Summers after him. Now, it was Jean Grey—the X-Man known as Phoenix—that sat behind the desk.
Admissions forms, tax documents, and utility bills floated around her telekinetically as she signed them whilst transferring bank funds on her floating tablet and typing up budgets on her laptop.
“Adam Simmons,” Jean said without blinking. “I thought he was cleared. He’s a mutant. There’s no way he can be Sinister.”
Logan shook his head, “It ain’t that. During his Danger Room training. He put a move on me that I didn’t teach him. Only one other person knew how to do it. Sabretooth. I think Creed may have been training him. He’s good at holding back, because he knows he can take the punishment. The kid is playin’ us.”
Jean stopped typing as the paperwork stacked itself into a neat pile before being placed and locked in a filing cabinet. She sighed and folded her hands, “Enlighten me.”
“Dark Beast, Onslaught, and Apollyon were right under our noses,” Wolverine said. “Right here in our home. I don’t wanna have it happen again with Adam. I ain’t doin’ it. Not while we’ve got kids here, human and mutant.”
“I’ll tell Cerebro to track Sabretooth’s movements, if we can find him,” Jean said. “His mind is difficult to track ever since you impaled his brain.” She paused, “Are you positive Adam is in league with him somehow?”
“I don’t know why, but yeah…his mind can’t be read, he doesn’t have a scent, his heartbeat doesn’t fluctuate at all, so I have to rely on what I can observe…his actions, his body language,” Wolverine said. “Weapon X programmed me to slide in and slide out—but even before that, I was well-versed in espionage.”
Jean sighed, “And Hank is too wrapped up with having a student that can challenge him intellectually, so he’s not going to be looking for the possibility that Adam isn’t being completely honest. And Bobby—clinging to dear life onto what little youth he has left—got duped into letting Adam see the Cerebro chamber a few weeks ago*. One of the records was edited, but it was somewhere in Northwestern Europe.”
*(Last issue—Brad)
“Goddamnit,” Logan huffed, “I can’t believe anyone related to Sinister would even be allowed near a chemistry set…”
“Alright,” Jean said calmly, trying to maintain her composure. “You can investigate, but you need to do it quietly. If we’re wrong, we could face a lot of backlash. I’ll link us telepathically so you can report back to me.”
Logan nodded, coughing as he exited the office.
# # # # # # # # # #
“Thank you for listening—good luck with your tests, Adam,” Moira said before her holographic image faded out.
Beast smiled and folded his arms, “So?”
Adam mirrored the smile, “I think I’ve got all I need. For the test, I mean.”
Beast walked over with his simian gait, and plopped down a thick stack of papers neatly stapled together, “Ninety minutes.”
“I’m taking the test now?” Adam wondered aloud.
Beast shrugged, “Is it too much of a challenge?”
Adam scoffed, “‘Course not. Just didn’t expect it.”
Beast nodded, “Just making your degree more official. I realize a lot of this is intuitive for you. I envy you—but I had to get where I am the hard way and so shall you.”
Adam nodded, “Not a problem. Ninety minutes? I’ll do it in twenty.”
“I’ll leave you to it, then,” Beast said as he exited the lab, leaving Adam with some privacy to take his test.
Adam took out his pen and emptied the ink well into a beaker. It was a diluted mixture of his retrovirus derived from his own blood. The ink kept it from outwardly affecting anyone on the mansion grounds.
He then picked up the beaker and raised it to eye level. He then reached into his breast pocket and emptied a small vile of hair follicles onto the table. Using his shape-shifted fingers as a pair of tweezers, he picked up a solitary blonde hair and dropped it into the beaker. The follicle immediately sizzled as it hit the liquid.
The hair follicle belonged to Alex Summers, proving that even an extreme-distant relative of Apocalypse would be affected by the retrovirus.
“Test complete,” Adam said with a smile as he swilled the steamy beaker around like a glass of wine.
“And what kinda test would that be?” Logan asked from the opposite corner. “It don’t look like the essay test Professor McCoy gave yah.”
“Side project,” Adam said calmly, despite his alarm. “Independent study.”
“That same independent study that had you wandering around our sub-basement?” Logan inquired. “And now you’re dissolving Havok’s hair into a beaker…someone related to Sinister messin’ around with a Summers? Now, stop fucking lyin’ to me, boy…”
*SNIKT*
*SNIKT*
“…or I’ll make an honest man outta yah,” Wolverine warned as he held his extended adamantium claws in front of him in an offensive position.
“Honestly,” Adam said, dropping his American accent, “it is not what you think.”
*SHLUCK*
Logan nursed his raw knuckles, the wound from his claws still fresh. Blood flowed casually out of his fists.
“I know you’re in telepathic cahoots with Ms. Grey,” Adam said as he pointed to his temple, “but obviously, when you’re around me, telepathy doesn’t work. I’m also canceling out your powers—something I only recently learned how to do. If you don’t die of adamantium poisoning, your secret ailment will do the work for me.”
Logan’s brow furrowed, “You lyin’ sonofa…I’ll have yer head for this!”
“I’m not going to kill you,” Adam said. “Your son would be pretty upset he wouldn’t be able to do the deed himself.”
“So you are working with Creed?”
Adam reclined in his chair, “Well, he’s working for me, more specifically. You’re obviously investigating me, so I’ve already been made. Now, I’ve got to improvise to keep my cover here and continue my mission out there…”
“The X-Men ain’t your target?” Logan deduced.
“Of course not,” Adam said. “I’ve actually grown quite fond of the school. My mission is to wipe out Apocalypse’s bloodline. Permanently. Call it post-mortem revenge on behalf of my father.”
“Apocalypse is dead,” Logan said. “We destroyed every secret base of his we could find.”
“And yet, his descendants are still alive. They need to be weeded out. I’ve been killing them off slowly—that’s what I needed Victor for. His expertise. But now, I’ve found the key to wipe them out. A targeted retrovirus.”
“And you needed Alex’s hair to test it out…? Are you tellin’ me the Summers family is related to that maniac?” Logan deduced. He slowly sat down as blood continued to trickle out of his knuckles, “This is worse than I thought…you’re a goddamn serial killer. You’re worse than your father ever was.”
“No I’m…,” Adam paused, “every garden is full of weeds. The Clan Akkaba is an invasive weed that must be uprooted before it spreads. I’m a gardener, if anything.” He leaned forward in his chair, “I’m sorry for misleading you and the other X-Men, but I had to keep this secret.”
“So we wouldn’t stop you in yer tracks?”
“I’m a necessary evil,” Adam proclaimed.
“What then? After yer done, do you wipe out the rest of the Morlocks? Or just the bloodlines you see fit? Yer killin’ Apocalypse’s bloodline, but yer becoming just like him,” Wolverine spat.
Adam slowly nodded, “I know my father was methodical and cold, but I would never kill another being for having a so-called inferior bloodline. Life is beautiful. I know because I can read it, I can actually feel it. DNA is all around us, from the plants to insects, even the microorganisms in the air. I value life. But the Clan Akkaba are monstrous. Isn’t it the samurai code to face something like that?”
Logan arched an eyebrow, “Yer playin’ that card?”
Adam stood up passively, “Trying to justify genocide is difficult and not always pretty, but someone has to do it, especially if the victims in question keep trying to take over the world or resurrect Apocalypse.”
“How’s that test…coming?” Beast asked as he walked in. “Logan? Adam?”
“Doctor McCoy,” Adam said in his British accent, “I’m deeply sorry…and that’s the truth.” A diamond-shaped portal opened behind him and he exited the room quickly.
“Adam?” Beast called out as the portal closed. He exchanged a glance with Logan, who merely looked defeated, partially from the loss of blood, which was still on the floor.
“Would you like to tell me what’s going on?” he asked as he helped Logan stand upright.
Logan sighed, “You a whiskey-drinker, Hank?”
Beast winced, “No, but I have a feeling I will be…how much trouble are the X-Men in?”
Logan shook his head, “He’s not targeting us, an’ I don’t think there’s much we can do to prevent who he is targeting.”
“What?”
“He’s targeting Apocalypse’s last living descendants…Sinister’s final revenge,” Logan said with a slight chuckle. “He’s a genocidal maniac and I don’t even…blame him.”
Beast clenched his jaw, “I’ve been so…naive…we’ve never had a student that could challenge me intellectually. I felt a weight lifted—thought I could focus on other matters with the school itself or he could assist the X-Men in the field. Adam’s compromised everything we stand for…”
“Do you want to tell Jean, or should I?” Wolverine asked.
Beast nervously ran his hand through his hair, “I have a feeling she already knows.”
“Meeting,” Jean said from the doorway, arms crossed, impatiently tapping her foot. “Now.”
# # # # # # # # # #
The Domicilium.
England.
Frederick walked down the massive halls of the large mansion, passing many portraits of slain Clan Akkaba. Genocide noticed a strange amulet—a smooth jewel that seemed to be blue and yellow at the same time was adorned with cast gold. “What is that…?”
Frederick paused and took a deep breath, “Protection against ancient evils and demons. Your father amassed powerful enemies over the years. When it comes to dark magic, we had to resort to appropriate countermeasures. That amulet throws off the scent of our location by supposedly canceling out magic itself. Legend says our family ventured into distant lands, hidden dimensions and then battled a Sorcerer Supreme to obtain it.”
“Are these ancient evils something or someone I have to worry about?” Genocide wondered. “Why go through all that trouble? Wouldn’t my father object to such a cowardly piece of jewelry?”
“I wish I knew the answer to that question. It was a decision made long ago.” Frederick simply smiled, trying to hide his nervousness, “Thousands of years and there have been no incidents. It is a nice piece of decoration, if anything.”
The two continued their walk as they approached a darkened room.
“These are our eldest family members that have not been able to sustain themselves,” Frederick Slade said as he walked down the middle of an elongated room. On both walls were rows of hospital beds with various occupants being intravenously fed nutrients and trace amounts of blood from younger Akkaba.
Genocide walked into the hospice room, each step of his crystal armor shook the room with a thud. The orange glow from his body radiating its bio-microwave energy illuminated the dimly-lit corridor.
“Why keep them alive?” William asked. “Don’t we kill these ones?”
Frederick smiled as he ran a hand through his bright pink hair, “Knowledge. These men and women have seen monarchies rise and fall. Fought with barbarians, centurions, and knights. There is much our family can learn from them.”
“I don’t care, they need to go…I have all the knowledge from everyone healthy enough to walk,” Genocide muttered coldly.
Frederick stood with his arms crossed, shrugging, “Very well. You have my permission to dispose of these poor souls.”
“I don’t need your permission, either, I am Apocalypse’s son!” Genocide yelled. He aimed his left arm cannon at a decaying man, “I kill who I deem weak.”
Before the glow of his cannon could even ignite, the occupants suddenly all turned gray—their skin flaking off like dust. Soon, their blood and bones followed suit. The heart monitors blared together with an inhuman melody of death.
Standing in the opposite doorway was Autumn, the former Horseman of Famine.
“This isn’t what we signed up for!” she yelled as she focused her abilities on Frederick, forcing his body to feed on itself.
He howled in agony and fell to the marble floor, “William, is this what you want your own mother to do? Destroy your birthright?!”
“I won’t let you turn my son into a killer!” Autumn grimly uttered as she focused further on a Frederick’s body. He was more resilient than it seemed. His body had a fresh dose of a younger Apocalypse’s blood running through him. She turned her gaze towards her son, “William…you don’t want this, do you?”
“I…,” William spoke. He groaned and pointed his arm cannon at his mother, “I have to do this! Let him go!”
Frederick began to show signs of his true age as wrinkles formed on his face. His bright pink hair began to look paler. His emerald eyes, however, did not change pigment.
Autumn’s eyes widened, but she continued onwards to keep Frederick at bay, “You didn’t know your father like I did…come on, this is crazy! Your armor is stimulating the same parts of your brain that affects addicts! Do you really want to do this Biblical End of Days song and dance bullshit?”
William lowered his cannon, looking away with a sigh, “Damn it…”
Autumn sighed with relief, “Thank you…”
*BLINK*
“You’re welcome,” Frederick growled, his eyes glowing green. His once-pink hair was now silvery-white and he had liver spots speckled over his face, but physically, he was as strong as a man in his sixties.
Autumn felt her knees buckle as she fell flat on her back, her head hitting the floor hard, but she soon realized her knees were no longer below her. In fact, everything below her waist was teleported clean off. It was so clean, she could barely feel the pain.
“Mom!?! NO!” William shouted. His armor seemed to react to his anger and grief as spikes formed around his gauntlets and shoulders. Flames burned through his eye sockets as his entire body radiated light and energy. He was going nuclear.
Frederick shielded his eyes as he laughed, “There it is! The push you needed, my boy! You shall be Fittest in no time!”
Genocide lunged his cannon forward, firing off multiple blasts of concentrated force and energy, “This isn’t a game! I’ll fucking kill you!”
Frederick calmly opened multiple portals around him while still shielding his eyes to dispel the blasts harmlessly, “William…you need molding, just like any prince to the throne. But I won’t just hand it over to you—you will face me in combat…when the time comes!”
“Motherfucker, I’ll do it NOW!” Genocide screamed as he leapt upward with his fist drawn back, but he connected with the marble floor—as Frederick had teleported before he could crush him.
“William, William…tsk tsk,” Frederick taunted from the balcony above the former hospice. “That isn’t up to you to decide.”
Dozens of hooded guardsmen ran into the room, surrounding Genocide and the upper torso of his mother. William knelt down beside his mother as she struggled to breathe. He looked up at the hoods, “Kill him. Kill Frederick Slade.”
“But, young William, Lord Slade is Fittest,” one of the guards said.
“I am Apocalypse’s son, he is a distant relative. Screw formalities…if Apocalypse were here, who would have higher favor? A pureblood, or some fake dictator?” Genocide asked as he stood up. “Bow to your true lord and master and kill that son of a bitch imposter!”
Backing up slowly, Slade glanced upward at the skylight, noticing the draconian silhouette above. Enyalius, the First Horseman, had arrived to enact his vengeance…or perhaps reaffirm his true allegiance to the Clan Akkaba?
Frederick nodded at the prospect of this chaos, his forearms shapeshifting into long bladed weapons, “If you wish.”
# # # # # # # # # #
“Now, we vote?” Iceman asked with a shrug. Sitting around him were the other senior staff members of the Xavier Institute. An emergency telepathic meeting table constructed by Jean Grey herself. Being conscious within the astral plane was like lucid dreaming, it could be a whirlwind of chaos to the untrained mind, but even the non-telepathic X-Men were masters of keeping themselves centered.
“We can’t let him finish what he’s planning to do,” Wolverine said. “What’s to stop him from targeting another mutant bloodline? He’s in league with Sabretooth and at least one other.”
“If he’s his father’s son, we should look for Melody Jacobs—Threnody,” Rogue suggested.
Jean nodded, “I’ll leave that to you, Rogue.”
“We can’t tell Warren, either. He’d make a rash decision,” Logan said.
“Ah was a Horseman, too!” Rogue shouted as she stood up, unconsciously accessing psionic powers and transforming her astral form into Famine—pale white skin, elongated clawed fingers, pitch black eyes, tattered rags and leather covering her body. She shifted back, “Believe me, Ah’m not having a great time dealin’ with the moral implications of this.”
“I don’t like the idea of keeping that from Warren or his team,” Iceman declared. “We went through a lot, the original X-Factor team, dealing with Apocalypse. I’m sick of these separate X-Men factions, anyway. Isn’t it about time we just tell each other what’s happening?”
“I still can’t believe I’m related to Apocalypse,” Havok said with a deep sigh. “It’s sickening. Like finding out you’re related to Hitler or something.”
“Can’t be any worse than realizing you’re related to Cyclops,” Logan said with a wry smirk.
With an eye roll, Jean purposefully cleared her throat, “Gentlemen!”
“One thing that is good is that no one has ever been this deep into the Clan Akkaba,” Havok said. “That should be a win.”
“But, then again, being related to Apocalypse does not automatically mean they are destined to become him, right?” Iceman asked. “I’m just spitballing, here. I mean, Alex isn’t suddenly feeling tyrannical, is he?”
“Let’s not forget this virus will kill me, Scott, Nate, and probably my human relatives, including any other unsuspecting descendants of Apocalypse,” Havok warned. He paused for a minute, “How is it possible to have a mutant ancestor but so many of my relatives are human?”
“The x-gene and the various alleles can revert to a recessive gene over time, especially when interbreeding with humans—but that’s a discussion for another time,” Beast informed.
“He did say the X-Men weren’t his targets, so that might mean he has a vaccine cooked up,” Rogue said.
“How much time do we have left?” Logan wondered.
“Another hour here is about a half-second back in our bodies,” Jean said. “The beauty of doing this astrally means we won’t waste time.”
“Hankinator?” Iceman asked as he turned to his friend. “You’re too quiet, man.”
Beast somberly looked up, hunched over the table, “I…don’t know. If Adam was telling the truth, he said he respects life, because he can physically feel it all around him. I can only assume he would stop this madness after committing genocide.”
“Why would you say that?” Jean asked.
Beast removed his glasses, “Before he exited, he left me the instructions to replicate a vaccine and a list of names, families, and locations.”
“Son of a bitch…,” Logan grumbled. “We have to clean up while he does the deed. If we’re too busy tryin’ to stop him, we’ll let hundreds or even thousands die.”
“What about Scott?” Jean wondered. “Is he…?”
Beast shook his head, “That was one name that had a note by it. It just read ‘I've handled it already’.”
“Then it looks like we’ve got some house-calls to make, X-Men,” Phoenix said. “Suit up, get the jets prepped. Rogue, can you get some long-distance teleporting in?”
Rogue nodded as she mentally sifted through her catalog of abilities, “Absolutely. Gateway’s got it covered, Ah think.”
“Hank, get cracking on that vaccine. I’ll mentally upload the info directly to everyone as it comes and I’ll keep everyone linked telepathically, so we’ve got to act quickly,” Jean said as she directed her focus to Hank. “Dismissed.”
Beast nodded, “I may require your assistance if you’d like a crash-course in genetics. I just need an extra set of hands.”
Jean inhaled slowly and nodded, “I think I’ll manage. Just concentrate on what you need me to learn.” She sifted through Beast’s mind and copied the relevant information into her own. Her closed eyelids twitched as the experiences, lectures, everything Dr. Henry McCoy ever learned—perhaps even memories and tidbits from former professors he wouldn’t have remembered.
“Can I be Dr. Grey if I manage to retain this knowledge?” she wondered.
“It’s got a nice ring to it…” Beast concurred.
# # # # # # # # # #
Omaha.
Team Sinister Headquarters.
Secret-ish.
“I didn’t realize I was trainin’ you in the art of super-villainy,” Sabretooth sighed as he strapped an army knife to his calf. “I’m proud and a little unnerved at the same time.”
“I mean, I’m not a huge fan of the X-Men, but it’s just cold,” Threnody concurred as she loaded a handgun and handed it to Sabretooth. The mere act of clicking the clip into place caused her necroplasmic energies to spark.
“I always needed a way out if my cover was blown,” Adam said as he sheathed a medieval sword into its leather casing, strapped to his back. “The X-Men deal with moral dilemmas every day. They would choose the wiser option and save innocents while we do the dirty work. Saves me the hassle of sparing the lives that I’ve so graciously decided to make exceptions to. The virus works, that’s what matters.”
“And just how well does it work, oh gracious one?” Ava Slade justifiably wondered.
Adam smiled smugly, “Not so great on you. I’ve already inoculated you.”
Ava arched her pierced eyebrow alarmingly, “When?!”
“That vitamin water I gave you had a little something extra in it,” Adam said. “Figured it would be easier that way.”
Ava shook her head in disbelief, “Fine. Rapist.”
As she stormed off, Threnody rolled her eyes while giving Adam a stern look, “I’ll go get her…”
“You’re welcome! And let’s not forget who the bad guy is, yeah?” Adam exclaimed toward them both. He glanced at Sabretooth for some male camaraderie and support.
Victor simply shook his head.
Adam sighed and sat in a chair made from bio-mechanical green genetic material. He pressed a button and hundreds of holographic headshots appeared around the lab in a spherical configuration. Each and every Clan Akkaba and other unassociated descendants of Apocalypse. Every one Adam systematically killed had an appropriate red X over them, slightly dimmed out compared to the others. The various exceptions to his father’s posthumous wrath faded out completely. The ones that were un-exed seemed to hover forward.
“Is this what my father did before he condemned the Morlocks to slaughter—because he recognized his work had been copied?”* Adam asked as he literally stared his victims in the face. “I’ll have six-hundred and thirty-three souls on my conscience for the rest of my life.”
* (Allegedly, the Dark Beast from the Age of Apocalypse reality used methods learned from his mentor, Adam’s father from the same reality, to experiment and mutate the original Morlocks — Brad)
Even at the mention of his involvement in the Morlock Massacre, Sabretooth said unflinchingly, “You’ll save billions, so keep them on yer conscience instead.”
“Even if they don’t all deserve it?” Adam asked as tears welled up in his eyes. Sabretooth never saw Adam break down. There was still humanity in him, even with all of the genetic pre-programmed drive to kill the Clan Akkaba.
Victor wondered, “Sometimes even a domesticated animal might show its teeth. Nature always wins.” Sabretooth placed an assuring hand on his shoulder, “You can walk away from this life, y’know. Stop the obsession, searching for the next drag-out brawl adrenaline. Afterwards, I mean.”
“It’s more fun than I thought,” Adam said with a slight smile. “Getting my hands dirty.”
“That is my final lesson. Take a step back, then figure out the rest of your life,” Victor said.
Adam pinched his chin as he pondered his mentor’s request, “Afterwards.”
# # # # # # # # # #
The Domicilium.
A scimitar belonging to the maroon-hooded zealot of Apocalypse sliced through the air, and connected with Frederick’s hand, which had shapeshifted into a superdense metallic blade.
“Your services are no longer required,” Frederick said as his opaque emerald eyes disassembled the space between the zealot’s molecules, causing him to dissolve. He took his bladed hand and offensively swiped while defending with his opposite hand, driving the blade into a portal. The exit portals opened strategically as Frederick sliced the throat of a second, then a third, and fourth in quick succession.
“You see, William,” Frederick said with a wide grin, his face stained with blood, “you may be next in line, but you are not Fittest. Your American sense of entitlement will not be tolerated here.”
The other zealots seemed to hesitate—as if questioning their loyalty before lunging back into battle against the leader of the Clan. Frederick’s smile faded as he defended himself against more zealots, some with powers, some without.
An inhuman screech from outside caused some of the hooded zealots to pause, but then Enyalius crashed through the edifice of the century’s old mansion. The large draconian First Horseman had arrived.
Frederick smugly stood up straight as he decapitated another attacker. He scoffed, “My friend.”
Enyalius’s yellow eyes glowed, “I am no friend of the family of Apocalypse…”
Frederick exhaled swiftly, “Regardless, I do regret that the imbecile who chose to go to war with the Clan Akkaba got you caught up in this.”
“The imbecile you speak of is just a boy with unspeakable rage. I bested him in combat, but then he endangered my…family…,” Enyalius explained.
Frederick laughed heartily, “Adam Essex, son of Nathanial Essex. Working with Victor Creed and Melody Jacobs—now, my own daughter, Ava. Yes, I know. I am Fittest…I have eyes and ears everywhere.”
“He is my priority. I will wait for him here,” Enyalius growled. “I sniffed the electromagnetic lay lines…trust me when I say he is coming.”
Frederick laughed again, “You ancient mutants and your abilities. Sometimes I wonder if nature intended you to have so many. Save some for the rest of us, heh!”
The two suddenly realized they were completely surrounded by hooded zealots. One of the zealots cleared his throat, “Uh…so, are we fighting or what?”
“Stand down. Your leader is bellowing like a baby. Like I said, I am Fittest,” Frederick said as he gestured towards the hulking man-child in the glowing crystal armor. “Of course, none of you will be punished for taking up the sword against your master. I quite enjoy a good romp every now and again. Good show, gentlemen and ladies.”
Each breath Genocide took seemed to ignite his body, causing his armor to illuminate the room with a soft glow. He knelt down next to his dying mother. Apocalypse’s enhancements were the only thing keeping her alive this long. He sighed, “You are such an asshole. Give me this armor…then…do THIS to my mom…you want a FIGHT, I’ll give you one!”
Enyalius arched his brow.
*BLINK*
A pink portal opened within the crowd of zealots—the displacement immediately vaporizing or otherwise dismembering those that were in the portal’s way.
Adam, his broadsword still strapped to his back, coughed as Sabretooth, Threnody, and Ava stood behind him. He glanced at Ava, “What the hell?”
Ava shrugged, “I don’t know. I wasn’t playing for safety.”
Sabretooth sighed and muttered, amidst the dozens upon dozens of hooded guards, Enyalius, Frederick Slade, and Genocide. All in close quarters. War was often messy.
“Finally, a proper bloodbath…”
To Be Concluded.