[A POSSIBLE FUTURE: Greymalkin Labs…]
“There’s too much radioactivity,” Kitty said, shaking her head. “You know I can’t allow a mission up there.”
“Not an official mission, Kate,” Cable replied, rounding the desk. “I’m just suggesting that I bodyslide in and see if there’s anything left that we can utilize in the study-”
“Avalon was obliterated in the blast, Lucas, you know that. The Apocalypse's attack overloaded the shields that Magneto had in place, collapsed inward and then inundated the entire Northern Hemisphere in some sort of arcane radiation. Chernobyl, 1986. Fukushima, 2011. Even Vermont Yankee, 2018. Avalon made those look like a brown out. Your eyes would pop after about twelve agonizing seconds.”
“The shields-”
“The shields are the only reason you’d survive that long. We’ve been over this. There is nothing on the surface of the planet that has survived. And there’s nothing we can learn by walking through an irradiated graveyard.”
Cable was silent for a long time. “I guess I just don’t understand the whole magic thing.”
Kitty nodded. “But we have something else. An artifact. A crystal sent back to us years ago from one of the colonies. It was putting out some bizarre interference that was messing with all the ship's systems. Time stamps on system check reports were out of synch, video surveillance was distorted. Then crewmembers started reporting increased incidents of deja vu. Things really started getting freaky when they reported disruptions in causality."
"Causality?"
"Doors opening a few seconds before anyone was close enough to trigger them, computer systems completing command lines split seconds before the users could finish entering them. One crew member heard a crash while in the mess hall, and turned to see what it was just in time to see a glass hit the floor and shatter... in dead silence."
"Whoa," Cable gasped. "The interference..."
"Tachyons," Kitty continued. "We believe the artifact is a piece of a larger construction that once completed... will allow a user to travel through time."
Cable stared in disbelief. "So- wait, you're saying..."
"We're sending someone back," Kitty smiled. "You're going back to meet the X-Men."
“There’s too much radioactivity,” Kitty said, shaking her head. “You know I can’t allow a mission up there.”
“Not an official mission, Kate,” Cable replied, rounding the desk. “I’m just suggesting that I bodyslide in and see if there’s anything left that we can utilize in the study-”
“Avalon was obliterated in the blast, Lucas, you know that. The Apocalypse's attack overloaded the shields that Magneto had in place, collapsed inward and then inundated the entire Northern Hemisphere in some sort of arcane radiation. Chernobyl, 1986. Fukushima, 2011. Even Vermont Yankee, 2018. Avalon made those look like a brown out. Your eyes would pop after about twelve agonizing seconds.”
“The shields-”
“The shields are the only reason you’d survive that long. We’ve been over this. There is nothing on the surface of the planet that has survived. And there’s nothing we can learn by walking through an irradiated graveyard.”
Cable was silent for a long time. “I guess I just don’t understand the whole magic thing.”
Kitty nodded. “But we have something else. An artifact. A crystal sent back to us years ago from one of the colonies. It was putting out some bizarre interference that was messing with all the ship's systems. Time stamps on system check reports were out of synch, video surveillance was distorted. Then crewmembers started reporting increased incidents of deja vu. Things really started getting freaky when they reported disruptions in causality."
"Causality?"
"Doors opening a few seconds before anyone was close enough to trigger them, computer systems completing command lines split seconds before the users could finish entering them. One crew member heard a crash while in the mess hall, and turned to see what it was just in time to see a glass hit the floor and shatter... in dead silence."
"Whoa," Cable gasped. "The interference..."
"Tachyons," Kitty continued. "We believe the artifact is a piece of a larger construction that once completed... will allow a user to travel through time."
Cable stared in disbelief. "So- wait, you're saying..."
"We're sending someone back," Kitty smiled. "You're going back to meet the X-Men."
“THE FIRE IN WHICH WE BURN”
[NOW: The Skies Above The Atlantic…]
"I feel like I am going insane," Piotr said. "Can these men both be what they claim, sons of Storm from another time?"
Logan nodded. "Their scents back that up. They're masked wildly by the different environments they were raised in, but there are cues they both share, in an olfactory sense. Ororo is definitely part of it, and I'm betting by what I'm picking up that their surname is Summers."
Scott looked up at Logan, and then glanced at Cable, who nodded silently. Bishop repeated the response. After a few seconds of silent contemplation, he looked at Shiro and said "And here you said I wouldn't be able to have kids."
Bobby snorted. "Holy shit, Cyclops does have a sense of humor."
"So far," Logan continued, "all my instincts say is that they carry yours and 'Ro's blood, and that they believe what they're saying."
"So tell me, sons," Scott tilted his head slightly to the side. "What happens here that both futures sent the great scions of Science and Magic to prevent?"
Cable responded first. "I was sent to track down the origins of an outbreak of uncontrolled mutation that occurred in Berlin, which is obviously what we just witnessed. They wanted me to send back samples to create a cure, so that we could prevent it."
"Prevent what happened at Vermicom?" Jean accused. "Because you're responsible for what happened at Vermicom."
"That was not my fault. Had the security guard stood down like I told her to, the cylinders would have been destroyed and no one would have been infected."
"It doesn't matter! Those people are still dead," Jean spat out angrily, "and their blood is on your hands."
"What about you?" Scott nodded at Bishop.
"I was sent back here to find the location of some books," Bishop stated. "They were lost in the war, and the information contained within them is invaluable."
"Books?" Kurt asked. "Wait, war? What war?"
"The Apocalypse War," Bishop said, staring out the window.
[A POSSIBLE FUTURE: Greymalkin Tower…]
Bishop stared out the observation window of Greymalkin Tower into the rippling blue energy below. Energy that would, from what he was told, sear the flesh from his bones in the blink of an eye, a leftover byproduct of the destruction wrought by the Apocalypse. The tower served as an anchor of sorts, one of the last remaining points of civilization still tethered to the ground below, but even Bishop, the X-Man most frequently sent on exploratory missions, hadn't ventured further down in his own home than this level.
"It's almost beautiful, isn't it?" Anna asked as she stepped down from the doorway. "It's almost beautiful enough to make you forget it could cook you from the inside out before you had a chance to register the pain."
Bishop nodded. "And somewhere down there, the remains of the world slowly crumble to dust. The world my mother and father tried to save."
"They did save it, several times," Anna said, "but there's always someone who seeks power no matter the cost."
“I have very vague memories of my mother,” he replied. “She was beautiful. I remember her voice in my head, and a feeling of safety and peace that permeated my entire being when I heard it. Many of my other memories are just images and associated feelings, like a slideshow. They lack the clarity of my memories of life here in Greymalkin.”
“You were very young when you were brought here. You survived a great disaster. It’s natural that your mind only gives you vague glimpses.” Anna said. “She was a strong leader, a powerful warrior. She cared for her people, and fought for them until her last breath.”
“I wish I could meet her.”
She stared at the eldritch storm beneath them, her brow furrowed with concern. “I need to show you something.”
She came forward, the light of the energy storm painting her pale flesh with a bright blue tint, making her green tattoos appear the color of the ocean after a storm. From within a small satchel slung over her shoulder she withdrew a small box. She opened the box, retrieved something from within, and turned to Bishop. In her hand was a crystal shard.
"What is it?" Bishop asked, his eyes transfixed. The crystal seemed to be on fire from within, flickering light splaying across its interior surfaces.
"It is a piece of a crystal that was discovered in one of the colonies. It has great power. Our best adepts have studied it for years and still haven't even unlocked one thousandth of the secrets it may contain."
Bishop examined the crystal with rapt interest. The largest of the facets glimmered brightly, too brightly for the dim light in the chamber, in fact; there had to be energy coursing within its structure. He looked closer and saw a brief flicker of an image, one that raised goose bumps in his flesh.
"Was that... was that her?"
"Yes, Lucas... this crystal allows us to glimpse into other times, other places. It opens up windows through the time stream that allow us to view events of the past. We believe, with the proper energy influx... it will open up a doorway. You can go back, find the X-Men... and find the books."
[NOW: Somewhere In The Sudan…]
“How’d you find us?” the mysterious merc said, assembling a rifle on the workbench within the hangar.
“I have my resources,” Dr. Leftwich replied. “In case you forgot, Weapon X has some pretty deep connections to the U.S. Government. I've done my homework.”
“We don’t work for the government any more. Not since they declared us K.I.A. Well, the second time, anyway.”
“Yes, I believe that was in Kosovo, if I’m not mistaken.”
“Nine years, Leftwich. We were slaves for nine years. Then they were done with us, so they sent us on a suicide mission. They should have finished the job. Is that why you’re here, Doctor? You’re here to clean up the mess, after all these years?”
“Not at all,” Leftwich smiled. “I’ve left Weapon X.”
“Smart man. Besides, Robbie has had you painted with a laser sight since you stepped into this hangar. So then if you aren’t here to kill us, why did you come out to this wasteland?”
“To finish what they started.” He dropped a thick ream of files on the desk.
The other man stopped assembling the weapon and appraised him carefully. “Our files.” He flipped through the folder on top, which was his own. “You really think you can give us powers, fix Duncan’s mistakes?”
“Yes,” Leftwich nodded. “For a price.”
“Of course," he laughed, "there’s always a price. What’s yours?”
Leftwich pulled out a small data drive and placed it on the table. “You need to help me fix my mistakes.”
"What's the job?" the mercenary asked, setting the file aside and looking at the data that appeared on his laptop.
"Eradication," Leftwich said curtly.
[A POSSIBLE FUTURE: Greymalkin Labs…]
"Eradication?" Cable asked. "Won't I be changing the timeline if I eradicate the remaining samples?"
Kitty smiled slightly as she finished an equation on the wall. "Vermicom goes under shortly after I infiltrated their lab due to a catastrophic loss of research. I know I didn't take enough to do the trick, so someone is going to obliterate their prototypes. Who's to say it wasn't you to begin with?"
Cable stared straight ahead trying to wrap his mind around the presented scenario. "I have a headache."
"Leave the logistics to me, Lucas. You just secure four samples, eradicate the rest... and everything will proceed as it is meant to. And while you're there, it would be of great benefit if you were to observe the X-Men. Study them. Learn about them. Learn from them."
"What do they know back then that you don't know now?"
Kitty turned away and scribbled something in her book. "It's not for me to learn. It's for you. You're as trained as we can get you, but the combined knowledge of the people you will be interacting with... it's staggering."
"Any questions you want me to ask Dr. McCoy while I am there?"
"Henry McCoy? No," Kitty said, staring out the portal at the caverns surrounding their subterranean fortress. "Nothing Hank McCoy has to say could be trusted."
[NOW: A Secluded Landing Field...]
"It was around this time that a man known as Wormwood gathered together what he referred to as his Horsemen," Bishop related. "War, Famine, Pestilence, and Death. Each being having been given abilities commensurate with their title. Collectively they were known as The Apocalypse."
Ororo nodded. "We have already encountered this War."
"And Colossus and I met during one of Wormwood's recruiting excursions," Kitty added.
"Wormwood claims he serves as the herald of the Apocalypse. He has taken it upon himself to begin a process known as the culling; identifying and testing those who are the strong, and preparing them to survive in a new age. Like a superhuman Charles Darwin. He specializes in manipulation."
"None of this is exactly news to us," Sean said. "Ye said ye had knowledge of our future."
"What I know, I only studied. I have no clear, concise memories of my life before I was taken to Greymalkin Tower, just hazy images."
"Greymalkin?" Cable interrupted.
"Yes, it is the citadel we live within," Bishop explained.
"Greymalkin was also the name of the base I operate out of," Cable replied.
"Perhaps the futures you come from are products of the same few people, merely tempered by different outcomes of future events?" Kitty posited. "It makes sense. You two are so alike, it stands to reason that the people around you may also be similar."
"What I was taught was that Wormwood and the Horsemen engaged in a massive global assault, triggering cataclysmic disasters around the globe; earthquakes, tsunamis, typhoons, eruptions." Bishop addressed them all solemnly. "Weapon X had already fallen apart by then; Magneto and the Brotherhood attempted to gather as many survivors as possible and offer refuge in Avalon. The Apocalypse launched a massive assault. The arcane protection spells that shielded Avalon were overwhelmed, corrupted, transfigured. The resultant explosion wiped out most of Eastern Europe, millions of lives lost. The fallout spread out along the equatorial regions, and took billions more."
"Mien Gott," Kurt whispered.
"The remainder of humanity, what precious few are left, live in airborne cities kept aloft by mystical energies, surfing the ocean of eldritch energy that has scourged and scoured the earth clean. Greymalkin Tower is one of the few anchors left that remain tethered to the ground. The surface is uninhabitable. Samples returned from our deepest subterranean survey probings show the ground itself has soaked in the energy and become lethally radioactive. We only run excursions to the surface on rare occasions now, and at great risk to even the most well protected traveler."
Scott turned to Cable. "How much of this adds up to what you know?"
"Some. I also don't have many clear memories of my time before Greymalkin base. I've studied the history and it's almost exactly as Bishop has related. Except in my world, the vestiges of humanity were chased underground by the fallout, which turned the air into noxious poison." Cable appraised his doppleganger carefully. "Any probes we have sent out to the surface have returned the same reports about the air that Bishop's have about the earth; poisoned beyond reclamation. Greymalkin base is one of the few remaining access points to the surface."
"Two worlds," Shiro said sadly, "one where the world below has been destroyed thoroughly; one where the world below is all that is left."
"And between them," Bobby added, his voice deep and gravelly, "Stand the X-Men! Dum-dum-DUM!"
"Yes," Kitty nodded. "Dumb is a good word for you to be uttering repeatedly."
"Why not leave?" Piotr asked. "Even in this day and age the technology is nearly within our grasp to colonize other worlds." He drew in another breath as if to speak, and then fell silent.
"The colonies that were launched before The Apocalypse Attack did end up succeeding, but not nearly enough to sustain the massive evacuation that was needed. And the means to travel to them is now beyond our scope," Cable replied.
"For us, it's resources," Bishop interjected. "Our magicks can keep our cities afloat, but they cannot fuel space craft, or traverse the space between worlds. Yet."
Cable nodded. "The effects of the explosion have created a permanent sort of E.M.P. zone in the sky. It's like a ceiling around the world. For years we heard nothing from the colonies. Then, one of them sent back a ship with an artifact. One that, after years of study, allowed the construction of a time portal."
"The shard," Bishop said.
"You too, eh?" Cable chuckled. "I guess some things are absolute in all timelines."
"We need to discuss this further, but we're due back at Weapon X," Scott said. "And bringing in a pair of refugees from the future would only create more questions than it would answer."
"We should also return to Avalon," Ororo added. "Magneto knows we went to Munich, but not why. He too may be wary of our visitors."
"I'll take 'em to the mansion," Logan said. "Everyone at Weapon X knows I come and go as I please, I won't be missed if I don't show up at a debrief."
"The mansion?" Kurt asked. "We're actually calling it 'the mansion'?"
"It's big enough," Bobby nodded. "My boy Warren hooked us up!"
Scott shot him an annoyed look, and then nodded. "O.K., Logan, we'll swing through there on our way North."
Ororo, Kurt, Piotr and Shiro walked away from the jet and gathered in a small circle. Without prompting or warning, a rift in the air appeared, forming a doorway into Gateway's sacred chamber. Ororo lingered for a moment, turning back to Scott as the rest of the Weapon X personnel returned to the craft.
"Cyclops," she said. "Can they be trusted?"
"We're two of the greatest tactical leaders of our generation, Storm. If they truly are our children, can you imagine a better genetic makeup to lead humanity through a war?"
"It depends on who they were raised by," Ororo countered. "Even the most beautiful child can be tainted by a corrupt guardian."
[A POSSIBLE FUTURE: Greymalkin Tower…]
"My step-mother was part of both worlds," Anna spoke softly to Bishop as she prepared the necessary elements for the protection spells she would cast on him before his travels. "First as an operative of Weapon X, then as a member of Magneto's Brotherhood of Men. You couldn't have come up with a more sexist name for a group as enlightened as they were if you tried, by the way. Anyway, she saw that elements of both worlds could be combined to create something far more powerful than each of it's constituents. Lightning is a powerful phenomenon born of nature, but when combined with science, it gives us electricity."
"Why wasn't Mystique a part of the X-Men?" Bishop said, consulting historical star charts. "Seems like their unification of spiritual and scientific would have been right up her alley."
Anna turned and frowned. "She went her own way. She turned on Weapon X to join Magneto. Her loyalty brought her into conflict with the X-Men too many times for them to ever accept her, even after she realized that Magneto's hatred of Xavier was blinding him to the potential of hybridization."
Bishop nodded. "I'm sorry, I know you don't like to talk about her."
"It's okay," Anna said. "No one's seen Mystique since the War, but that doesn't mean anything."
"You think she's still alive?"
"Raven Darkhölme was a survivor. She was smart and resourceful. It wouldn't surprise me to find out she came out of it alive."
"Do you think she knows where the books are?"
"No. Raven never knew where they ended up. Even those closest to her didn't trust her in the end."
[NOW: Somewhere in the Sudan...]
"In the end, I trusted this would work out. But Xavier wasn't going to be kept in the dark for long. He suspected what what I was doing with Madrox, and I knew Duncan would roll over like a puppy. So I had to abandon my position, and with that, my easy access to these subjects. But this nest of abominations is the last vestige of a failed chapter in the book of scientific progress. We've learned all we could from them, and it's time to put them out of their misery."
"Seems pretty harsh, Doc, considering we were once in their shoes."
"So you aren't willing to take the job?" Leftwich said, a sour look perched on his face.
"I didn't say that," he replied, toggling through the various dossiers. "But I do have a question. Why'd you leave?"
"Let's just say that Weapon X has a certain-"
"Oh, I'm not talking about Weapon X," the merc said. "Why did you leave Vermicom? See, we have our connections too, Doctor Dexter Leftwich, which, might I add, is the silliest alias I've heard in all my many years."
Leftwich's smile disappeared and his gaze locked on the merc's eyes. "Alias?"
"Yes. Dexter; from the Latin, meaning right-handed. You mean to tell me your parents consciously named you Righty Leftwich? Makes no difference to me, but I am wondering why a man who made earth-shattering, world-changing breakthroughs in genetic modification doesn't want his work published under his real name? Maybe because his real name is mud in the scientific world? There's something about that scenario that makes me think of the Latin word for left-handed; sinister. They had a scientist that disappeared years ago, after an investigation into allegations of illegal human experimentation. A man by the name of Nathaniel Essex."
Leftwich's eyes narrowed. "What's your point?"
"Oh, no point. Just curious as to what vile doings got you in such hot water that you had to abandon your illustrious career and cushy job."
"Let's just say," Leftwich said, "that Sinister might be an apt nickname. So... do we have a deal?"
"Perhaps," the merc said, closing the laptop and picking up the clip from the rifle he had been cleaning. "But there is one in there that might present a problem. Callisto."
[ELEVEN YEARS AGO: A Classified Location...]
Tricia MacNaughton landed on the ground with a cat-like grace and immediately surveyed her surroundings. The walls of this corner of the facility were coated with grime and putrescence, with a thin layer of dank standing water covering the floors, ripples from her delicate touchdown spreading like tiny waves into the distance. Blood decorated the tiles in random intervals, mingling with festering piles of rotting excrement and detritus. The caged overhead lights were devoid of life, and what little light reached the chamber was pale and flickering. The smell of decay and rot filled her nostrils, her brain making immediate connections to the refugee camps she had visited in the past. The ones that were more prison than sanctuary. But this was no prison, it was a glorified sewer. How could Weapon X have allowed this to decay so badly?
She crept towards the door and peeked around the corner. The larger tunnel she looked out on was better lit and slightly cleaner than her infiltration point, but not by much. The light source was a metallic waste barrel riddled with holes and filled with smoldering debris, casting a dim fiery light across the surroundings. Layers of graffiti overlapped forming a pastiche of colors and shapes that somehow added no vibrancy to the tomb-like structure.
Down at the end of the corridor, she saw movement. A figure ran across the junction, followed by another, both moving extremely fast. She crouched as she moved quickly to the end, moving through the plentiful shadows within the tunnel. Just shy of the end of the tunnel, she ducked into a trash strewn doorway ensconced in blackness and pressed her back to where the door appeared to be. Instead, she felt a warm mass press up against her, smelled the stench of an unwashed organism, and her heart skipped a beat.
"Hey, baby, I like aggressive women, but this is ridiculous!"
Tricia tried to spin, but found herself stuck in place.
"Oh, no, baby, you're stuck with me. You and me gonna have some fun! You can call me Tar, baby." The person behind her began walking her forward into the junction, where she saw a figure standing in a sodden red cloak.
"Tar! Stop!" The cloak hung limply, its fringes tattered and soiled, as the interloper rose his hand. The fingers at the end were gnarled, mangled.
Tricia felt the man behind her come to a sudden stop. "Hey, Boss, I was gonna bring her right to ya! I was just kidding with her, baby!"
"Let her go."
Tricia heard a wet slopping sound as her body was released from the adhesive grip of her attacker. She turned and saw that even in the brighter light of the corridor, she could barely make out the features of the man, only that he had several bits of trash stuck to him.
"Tricia," the cloaked man rasped. "You shouldn't have come here."
"Jack," Tricia gasped, "is it you? Jack..."
"Jack MacNaughton is dead," he snarled. "I have been reborn in his ashes. My name is now Masque. And you aren't wanted here. Go while you still can."
"I've come here to find you," Tricia replied. "And I'm not leaving without you. I've come to take you home."
"Home?" Masque chuckled. "I am home. Weapon X left us here to rot. To die. They only come three times a year now, to leave us what meager provisions they think we can survive on, and occasionally to take one of us for further testing. Occasionally one of us even makes it out, for a little while. The ones who make it back alive are grateful to be returning to this... this toilet. No, Tricia, this is my home now. These are my people. I was the first one relegated to the Alley, and these people look to me for guidance. I may not be the best leader, but I am what they have, and I won't abandon them."
"Then I'll stay. Teach them how to fight. How to survive."
"Life down here is constant pain. Why would you want that for yourself, when you can just go home?"
"My home is with you, Jack. I've been dead since they took you from me. Drifting from place to place. Taking lives at their command. Maybe it's time for me to give up my own and be reborn as well."
Beneath the shadows of his cloak's hood, Masque smiled. "You always were stubborn, Tricia."
"Tricia MacNaughton is dead," she smiled. "Call me Callisto."
[NOW: Somewhere in the Sudan...]
"Callisto served with us, both in Weapon X and after."
"Loyalty?" Leftwich said, his eyebrows rising. "Curious trait for a mercenary."
"No loyalty involved. She chose her side when she left us to go skulk with her hubby in the toilet. But she knows our tactics. She knows our personalities. She's a soldier."
"Ah, but a soldier needs an army. All Callisto has on her side are these failed experiments, these sewer dwellers, these... Morlocks. They aren't soldiers. They are refuse. You will have the element of surprise on multiple levels. One, they won't know you are coming. Two, even if they did, they won't know who you are. Three, even once she recognizes you, she won't know your augmentation has been completed. Four, they are in a prison, they have nowhere to run. Their extermination should not prove too challenging for your team, Mr. Greycrow."
"Okay, Leftwich. We have a deal. You give us powers, and the Marauders will take care of Callisto and her Morlocks!"
[A POSSIBLE FUTURE: Location Unknown...]
There is a chamber that only one set of human eyes has ever seen. Even though there are no visible light sources within the cubical chamber, there is a faint glow in the thick stone walls as if they were nothing but paper, suggesting an incomprehensibly bright light outside this sealed sanctuary. The walls are thirteen feet by thirteen feet, and though visibly of stone composition, they are polished to a near mirror shine.
The space is seemingly filled with an anti-sound, an absence of any noise so complete that the human ear cannot comprehend it; were anyone to listen to the room, their brain would begin to create noises to fill in the profound engulfing silence just to maintain their sanity.
Within this perfectly silent, symmetrical space, only one object exists. Sitting in the exact center is a perfect cube within the cube, measuring five feet per edge, rotated along each axis a perfect forty-five degrees, supported from the ceiling and the floor by two identically sized columns; one from above of organic looking tubes and growths, one from below of pistons and conduits. It's surface is a black so dark that nearly no light is reflected, and no contours or angles are visible. It appears to simply be a cube shaped void in space; yet were anyone present to touch the cube, it would feel quite solid. Although the room itself is cold, the cube is deceptively warm to the touch.
And though the room is sterile and inhospitable to life, within the cube... something lives.
To Be Continued!
"I feel like I am going insane," Piotr said. "Can these men both be what they claim, sons of Storm from another time?"
Logan nodded. "Their scents back that up. They're masked wildly by the different environments they were raised in, but there are cues they both share, in an olfactory sense. Ororo is definitely part of it, and I'm betting by what I'm picking up that their surname is Summers."
Scott looked up at Logan, and then glanced at Cable, who nodded silently. Bishop repeated the response. After a few seconds of silent contemplation, he looked at Shiro and said "And here you said I wouldn't be able to have kids."
Bobby snorted. "Holy shit, Cyclops does have a sense of humor."
"So far," Logan continued, "all my instincts say is that they carry yours and 'Ro's blood, and that they believe what they're saying."
"So tell me, sons," Scott tilted his head slightly to the side. "What happens here that both futures sent the great scions of Science and Magic to prevent?"
Cable responded first. "I was sent to track down the origins of an outbreak of uncontrolled mutation that occurred in Berlin, which is obviously what we just witnessed. They wanted me to send back samples to create a cure, so that we could prevent it."
"Prevent what happened at Vermicom?" Jean accused. "Because you're responsible for what happened at Vermicom."
"That was not my fault. Had the security guard stood down like I told her to, the cylinders would have been destroyed and no one would have been infected."
"It doesn't matter! Those people are still dead," Jean spat out angrily, "and their blood is on your hands."
"What about you?" Scott nodded at Bishop.
"I was sent back here to find the location of some books," Bishop stated. "They were lost in the war, and the information contained within them is invaluable."
"Books?" Kurt asked. "Wait, war? What war?"
"The Apocalypse War," Bishop said, staring out the window.
[A POSSIBLE FUTURE: Greymalkin Tower…]
Bishop stared out the observation window of Greymalkin Tower into the rippling blue energy below. Energy that would, from what he was told, sear the flesh from his bones in the blink of an eye, a leftover byproduct of the destruction wrought by the Apocalypse. The tower served as an anchor of sorts, one of the last remaining points of civilization still tethered to the ground below, but even Bishop, the X-Man most frequently sent on exploratory missions, hadn't ventured further down in his own home than this level.
"It's almost beautiful, isn't it?" Anna asked as she stepped down from the doorway. "It's almost beautiful enough to make you forget it could cook you from the inside out before you had a chance to register the pain."
Bishop nodded. "And somewhere down there, the remains of the world slowly crumble to dust. The world my mother and father tried to save."
"They did save it, several times," Anna said, "but there's always someone who seeks power no matter the cost."
“I have very vague memories of my mother,” he replied. “She was beautiful. I remember her voice in my head, and a feeling of safety and peace that permeated my entire being when I heard it. Many of my other memories are just images and associated feelings, like a slideshow. They lack the clarity of my memories of life here in Greymalkin.”
“You were very young when you were brought here. You survived a great disaster. It’s natural that your mind only gives you vague glimpses.” Anna said. “She was a strong leader, a powerful warrior. She cared for her people, and fought for them until her last breath.”
“I wish I could meet her.”
She stared at the eldritch storm beneath them, her brow furrowed with concern. “I need to show you something.”
She came forward, the light of the energy storm painting her pale flesh with a bright blue tint, making her green tattoos appear the color of the ocean after a storm. From within a small satchel slung over her shoulder she withdrew a small box. She opened the box, retrieved something from within, and turned to Bishop. In her hand was a crystal shard.
"What is it?" Bishop asked, his eyes transfixed. The crystal seemed to be on fire from within, flickering light splaying across its interior surfaces.
"It is a piece of a crystal that was discovered in one of the colonies. It has great power. Our best adepts have studied it for years and still haven't even unlocked one thousandth of the secrets it may contain."
Bishop examined the crystal with rapt interest. The largest of the facets glimmered brightly, too brightly for the dim light in the chamber, in fact; there had to be energy coursing within its structure. He looked closer and saw a brief flicker of an image, one that raised goose bumps in his flesh.
"Was that... was that her?"
"Yes, Lucas... this crystal allows us to glimpse into other times, other places. It opens up windows through the time stream that allow us to view events of the past. We believe, with the proper energy influx... it will open up a doorway. You can go back, find the X-Men... and find the books."
[NOW: Somewhere In The Sudan…]
“How’d you find us?” the mysterious merc said, assembling a rifle on the workbench within the hangar.
“I have my resources,” Dr. Leftwich replied. “In case you forgot, Weapon X has some pretty deep connections to the U.S. Government. I've done my homework.”
“We don’t work for the government any more. Not since they declared us K.I.A. Well, the second time, anyway.”
“Yes, I believe that was in Kosovo, if I’m not mistaken.”
“Nine years, Leftwich. We were slaves for nine years. Then they were done with us, so they sent us on a suicide mission. They should have finished the job. Is that why you’re here, Doctor? You’re here to clean up the mess, after all these years?”
“Not at all,” Leftwich smiled. “I’ve left Weapon X.”
“Smart man. Besides, Robbie has had you painted with a laser sight since you stepped into this hangar. So then if you aren’t here to kill us, why did you come out to this wasteland?”
“To finish what they started.” He dropped a thick ream of files on the desk.
The other man stopped assembling the weapon and appraised him carefully. “Our files.” He flipped through the folder on top, which was his own. “You really think you can give us powers, fix Duncan’s mistakes?”
“Yes,” Leftwich nodded. “For a price.”
“Of course," he laughed, "there’s always a price. What’s yours?”
Leftwich pulled out a small data drive and placed it on the table. “You need to help me fix my mistakes.”
"What's the job?" the mercenary asked, setting the file aside and looking at the data that appeared on his laptop.
"Eradication," Leftwich said curtly.
[A POSSIBLE FUTURE: Greymalkin Labs…]
"Eradication?" Cable asked. "Won't I be changing the timeline if I eradicate the remaining samples?"
Kitty smiled slightly as she finished an equation on the wall. "Vermicom goes under shortly after I infiltrated their lab due to a catastrophic loss of research. I know I didn't take enough to do the trick, so someone is going to obliterate their prototypes. Who's to say it wasn't you to begin with?"
Cable stared straight ahead trying to wrap his mind around the presented scenario. "I have a headache."
"Leave the logistics to me, Lucas. You just secure four samples, eradicate the rest... and everything will proceed as it is meant to. And while you're there, it would be of great benefit if you were to observe the X-Men. Study them. Learn about them. Learn from them."
"What do they know back then that you don't know now?"
Kitty turned away and scribbled something in her book. "It's not for me to learn. It's for you. You're as trained as we can get you, but the combined knowledge of the people you will be interacting with... it's staggering."
"Any questions you want me to ask Dr. McCoy while I am there?"
"Henry McCoy? No," Kitty said, staring out the portal at the caverns surrounding their subterranean fortress. "Nothing Hank McCoy has to say could be trusted."
[NOW: A Secluded Landing Field...]
"It was around this time that a man known as Wormwood gathered together what he referred to as his Horsemen," Bishop related. "War, Famine, Pestilence, and Death. Each being having been given abilities commensurate with their title. Collectively they were known as The Apocalypse."
Ororo nodded. "We have already encountered this War."
"And Colossus and I met during one of Wormwood's recruiting excursions," Kitty added.
"Wormwood claims he serves as the herald of the Apocalypse. He has taken it upon himself to begin a process known as the culling; identifying and testing those who are the strong, and preparing them to survive in a new age. Like a superhuman Charles Darwin. He specializes in manipulation."
"None of this is exactly news to us," Sean said. "Ye said ye had knowledge of our future."
"What I know, I only studied. I have no clear, concise memories of my life before I was taken to Greymalkin Tower, just hazy images."
"Greymalkin?" Cable interrupted.
"Yes, it is the citadel we live within," Bishop explained.
"Greymalkin was also the name of the base I operate out of," Cable replied.
"Perhaps the futures you come from are products of the same few people, merely tempered by different outcomes of future events?" Kitty posited. "It makes sense. You two are so alike, it stands to reason that the people around you may also be similar."
"What I was taught was that Wormwood and the Horsemen engaged in a massive global assault, triggering cataclysmic disasters around the globe; earthquakes, tsunamis, typhoons, eruptions." Bishop addressed them all solemnly. "Weapon X had already fallen apart by then; Magneto and the Brotherhood attempted to gather as many survivors as possible and offer refuge in Avalon. The Apocalypse launched a massive assault. The arcane protection spells that shielded Avalon were overwhelmed, corrupted, transfigured. The resultant explosion wiped out most of Eastern Europe, millions of lives lost. The fallout spread out along the equatorial regions, and took billions more."
"Mien Gott," Kurt whispered.
"The remainder of humanity, what precious few are left, live in airborne cities kept aloft by mystical energies, surfing the ocean of eldritch energy that has scourged and scoured the earth clean. Greymalkin Tower is one of the few anchors left that remain tethered to the ground. The surface is uninhabitable. Samples returned from our deepest subterranean survey probings show the ground itself has soaked in the energy and become lethally radioactive. We only run excursions to the surface on rare occasions now, and at great risk to even the most well protected traveler."
Scott turned to Cable. "How much of this adds up to what you know?"
"Some. I also don't have many clear memories of my time before Greymalkin base. I've studied the history and it's almost exactly as Bishop has related. Except in my world, the vestiges of humanity were chased underground by the fallout, which turned the air into noxious poison." Cable appraised his doppleganger carefully. "Any probes we have sent out to the surface have returned the same reports about the air that Bishop's have about the earth; poisoned beyond reclamation. Greymalkin base is one of the few remaining access points to the surface."
"Two worlds," Shiro said sadly, "one where the world below has been destroyed thoroughly; one where the world below is all that is left."
"And between them," Bobby added, his voice deep and gravelly, "Stand the X-Men! Dum-dum-DUM!"
"Yes," Kitty nodded. "Dumb is a good word for you to be uttering repeatedly."
"Why not leave?" Piotr asked. "Even in this day and age the technology is nearly within our grasp to colonize other worlds." He drew in another breath as if to speak, and then fell silent.
"The colonies that were launched before The Apocalypse Attack did end up succeeding, but not nearly enough to sustain the massive evacuation that was needed. And the means to travel to them is now beyond our scope," Cable replied.
"For us, it's resources," Bishop interjected. "Our magicks can keep our cities afloat, but they cannot fuel space craft, or traverse the space between worlds. Yet."
Cable nodded. "The effects of the explosion have created a permanent sort of E.M.P. zone in the sky. It's like a ceiling around the world. For years we heard nothing from the colonies. Then, one of them sent back a ship with an artifact. One that, after years of study, allowed the construction of a time portal."
"The shard," Bishop said.
"You too, eh?" Cable chuckled. "I guess some things are absolute in all timelines."
"We need to discuss this further, but we're due back at Weapon X," Scott said. "And bringing in a pair of refugees from the future would only create more questions than it would answer."
"We should also return to Avalon," Ororo added. "Magneto knows we went to Munich, but not why. He too may be wary of our visitors."
"I'll take 'em to the mansion," Logan said. "Everyone at Weapon X knows I come and go as I please, I won't be missed if I don't show up at a debrief."
"The mansion?" Kurt asked. "We're actually calling it 'the mansion'?"
"It's big enough," Bobby nodded. "My boy Warren hooked us up!"
Scott shot him an annoyed look, and then nodded. "O.K., Logan, we'll swing through there on our way North."
Ororo, Kurt, Piotr and Shiro walked away from the jet and gathered in a small circle. Without prompting or warning, a rift in the air appeared, forming a doorway into Gateway's sacred chamber. Ororo lingered for a moment, turning back to Scott as the rest of the Weapon X personnel returned to the craft.
"Cyclops," she said. "Can they be trusted?"
"We're two of the greatest tactical leaders of our generation, Storm. If they truly are our children, can you imagine a better genetic makeup to lead humanity through a war?"
"It depends on who they were raised by," Ororo countered. "Even the most beautiful child can be tainted by a corrupt guardian."
[A POSSIBLE FUTURE: Greymalkin Tower…]
"My step-mother was part of both worlds," Anna spoke softly to Bishop as she prepared the necessary elements for the protection spells she would cast on him before his travels. "First as an operative of Weapon X, then as a member of Magneto's Brotherhood of Men. You couldn't have come up with a more sexist name for a group as enlightened as they were if you tried, by the way. Anyway, she saw that elements of both worlds could be combined to create something far more powerful than each of it's constituents. Lightning is a powerful phenomenon born of nature, but when combined with science, it gives us electricity."
"Why wasn't Mystique a part of the X-Men?" Bishop said, consulting historical star charts. "Seems like their unification of spiritual and scientific would have been right up her alley."
Anna turned and frowned. "She went her own way. She turned on Weapon X to join Magneto. Her loyalty brought her into conflict with the X-Men too many times for them to ever accept her, even after she realized that Magneto's hatred of Xavier was blinding him to the potential of hybridization."
Bishop nodded. "I'm sorry, I know you don't like to talk about her."
"It's okay," Anna said. "No one's seen Mystique since the War, but that doesn't mean anything."
"You think she's still alive?"
"Raven Darkhölme was a survivor. She was smart and resourceful. It wouldn't surprise me to find out she came out of it alive."
"Do you think she knows where the books are?"
"No. Raven never knew where they ended up. Even those closest to her didn't trust her in the end."
[NOW: Somewhere in the Sudan...]
"In the end, I trusted this would work out. But Xavier wasn't going to be kept in the dark for long. He suspected what what I was doing with Madrox, and I knew Duncan would roll over like a puppy. So I had to abandon my position, and with that, my easy access to these subjects. But this nest of abominations is the last vestige of a failed chapter in the book of scientific progress. We've learned all we could from them, and it's time to put them out of their misery."
"Seems pretty harsh, Doc, considering we were once in their shoes."
"So you aren't willing to take the job?" Leftwich said, a sour look perched on his face.
"I didn't say that," he replied, toggling through the various dossiers. "But I do have a question. Why'd you leave?"
"Let's just say that Weapon X has a certain-"
"Oh, I'm not talking about Weapon X," the merc said. "Why did you leave Vermicom? See, we have our connections too, Doctor Dexter Leftwich, which, might I add, is the silliest alias I've heard in all my many years."
Leftwich's smile disappeared and his gaze locked on the merc's eyes. "Alias?"
"Yes. Dexter; from the Latin, meaning right-handed. You mean to tell me your parents consciously named you Righty Leftwich? Makes no difference to me, but I am wondering why a man who made earth-shattering, world-changing breakthroughs in genetic modification doesn't want his work published under his real name? Maybe because his real name is mud in the scientific world? There's something about that scenario that makes me think of the Latin word for left-handed; sinister. They had a scientist that disappeared years ago, after an investigation into allegations of illegal human experimentation. A man by the name of Nathaniel Essex."
Leftwich's eyes narrowed. "What's your point?"
"Oh, no point. Just curious as to what vile doings got you in such hot water that you had to abandon your illustrious career and cushy job."
"Let's just say," Leftwich said, "that Sinister might be an apt nickname. So... do we have a deal?"
"Perhaps," the merc said, closing the laptop and picking up the clip from the rifle he had been cleaning. "But there is one in there that might present a problem. Callisto."
[ELEVEN YEARS AGO: A Classified Location...]
Tricia MacNaughton landed on the ground with a cat-like grace and immediately surveyed her surroundings. The walls of this corner of the facility were coated with grime and putrescence, with a thin layer of dank standing water covering the floors, ripples from her delicate touchdown spreading like tiny waves into the distance. Blood decorated the tiles in random intervals, mingling with festering piles of rotting excrement and detritus. The caged overhead lights were devoid of life, and what little light reached the chamber was pale and flickering. The smell of decay and rot filled her nostrils, her brain making immediate connections to the refugee camps she had visited in the past. The ones that were more prison than sanctuary. But this was no prison, it was a glorified sewer. How could Weapon X have allowed this to decay so badly?
She crept towards the door and peeked around the corner. The larger tunnel she looked out on was better lit and slightly cleaner than her infiltration point, but not by much. The light source was a metallic waste barrel riddled with holes and filled with smoldering debris, casting a dim fiery light across the surroundings. Layers of graffiti overlapped forming a pastiche of colors and shapes that somehow added no vibrancy to the tomb-like structure.
Down at the end of the corridor, she saw movement. A figure ran across the junction, followed by another, both moving extremely fast. She crouched as she moved quickly to the end, moving through the plentiful shadows within the tunnel. Just shy of the end of the tunnel, she ducked into a trash strewn doorway ensconced in blackness and pressed her back to where the door appeared to be. Instead, she felt a warm mass press up against her, smelled the stench of an unwashed organism, and her heart skipped a beat.
"Hey, baby, I like aggressive women, but this is ridiculous!"
Tricia tried to spin, but found herself stuck in place.
"Oh, no, baby, you're stuck with me. You and me gonna have some fun! You can call me Tar, baby." The person behind her began walking her forward into the junction, where she saw a figure standing in a sodden red cloak.
"Tar! Stop!" The cloak hung limply, its fringes tattered and soiled, as the interloper rose his hand. The fingers at the end were gnarled, mangled.
Tricia felt the man behind her come to a sudden stop. "Hey, Boss, I was gonna bring her right to ya! I was just kidding with her, baby!"
"Let her go."
Tricia heard a wet slopping sound as her body was released from the adhesive grip of her attacker. She turned and saw that even in the brighter light of the corridor, she could barely make out the features of the man, only that he had several bits of trash stuck to him.
"Tricia," the cloaked man rasped. "You shouldn't have come here."
"Jack," Tricia gasped, "is it you? Jack..."
"Jack MacNaughton is dead," he snarled. "I have been reborn in his ashes. My name is now Masque. And you aren't wanted here. Go while you still can."
"I've come here to find you," Tricia replied. "And I'm not leaving without you. I've come to take you home."
"Home?" Masque chuckled. "I am home. Weapon X left us here to rot. To die. They only come three times a year now, to leave us what meager provisions they think we can survive on, and occasionally to take one of us for further testing. Occasionally one of us even makes it out, for a little while. The ones who make it back alive are grateful to be returning to this... this toilet. No, Tricia, this is my home now. These are my people. I was the first one relegated to the Alley, and these people look to me for guidance. I may not be the best leader, but I am what they have, and I won't abandon them."
"Then I'll stay. Teach them how to fight. How to survive."
"Life down here is constant pain. Why would you want that for yourself, when you can just go home?"
"My home is with you, Jack. I've been dead since they took you from me. Drifting from place to place. Taking lives at their command. Maybe it's time for me to give up my own and be reborn as well."
Beneath the shadows of his cloak's hood, Masque smiled. "You always were stubborn, Tricia."
"Tricia MacNaughton is dead," she smiled. "Call me Callisto."
[NOW: Somewhere in the Sudan...]
"Callisto served with us, both in Weapon X and after."
"Loyalty?" Leftwich said, his eyebrows rising. "Curious trait for a mercenary."
"No loyalty involved. She chose her side when she left us to go skulk with her hubby in the toilet. But she knows our tactics. She knows our personalities. She's a soldier."
"Ah, but a soldier needs an army. All Callisto has on her side are these failed experiments, these sewer dwellers, these... Morlocks. They aren't soldiers. They are refuse. You will have the element of surprise on multiple levels. One, they won't know you are coming. Two, even if they did, they won't know who you are. Three, even once she recognizes you, she won't know your augmentation has been completed. Four, they are in a prison, they have nowhere to run. Their extermination should not prove too challenging for your team, Mr. Greycrow."
"Okay, Leftwich. We have a deal. You give us powers, and the Marauders will take care of Callisto and her Morlocks!"
[A POSSIBLE FUTURE: Location Unknown...]
There is a chamber that only one set of human eyes has ever seen. Even though there are no visible light sources within the cubical chamber, there is a faint glow in the thick stone walls as if they were nothing but paper, suggesting an incomprehensibly bright light outside this sealed sanctuary. The walls are thirteen feet by thirteen feet, and though visibly of stone composition, they are polished to a near mirror shine.
The space is seemingly filled with an anti-sound, an absence of any noise so complete that the human ear cannot comprehend it; were anyone to listen to the room, their brain would begin to create noises to fill in the profound engulfing silence just to maintain their sanity.
Within this perfectly silent, symmetrical space, only one object exists. Sitting in the exact center is a perfect cube within the cube, measuring five feet per edge, rotated along each axis a perfect forty-five degrees, supported from the ceiling and the floor by two identically sized columns; one from above of organic looking tubes and growths, one from below of pistons and conduits. It's surface is a black so dark that nearly no light is reflected, and no contours or angles are visible. It appears to simply be a cube shaped void in space; yet were anyone present to touch the cube, it would feel quite solid. Although the room itself is cold, the cube is deceptively warm to the touch.
And though the room is sterile and inhospitable to life, within the cube... something lives.
To Be Continued!