[NOW: Stonehenge...]
The thick and misty air seemed to ripple momentarily as a bolt of crackling purple energy arced from one stone to another, leaping almost playfully between the ancient tablets. The grass swayed more and more violently with each second, bowing frenetically before a non-existent wind. As others of its ilk joined the purple bolt, the grass seemingly vibrated, until every blade suddenly stood erect, straining as if to fly, and the purple lightning converged in the center of the monument, exploding in a silent burst of force.
In the smoking convergence, a lone figure stood, dressed in a blue tunic adorned with gold trim. His trousers were similarly lined with gold, his feet clad in sturdy dark brown boots that matched the color of his skin. His neck was wrapped with a cloth the color of blood, and from beneath the edge small sigils peeked out. The dark skin of his forearms was covered with intricate markings and runes, ranging in size from a baseball to the head of a match. The largest of his visible markings was an ornate M over his right eye.
He looked at the sky, letting his vision sort out the atmospheric clutter. Judging by the alignment of the stars, it was just a few weeks before the Summer Equinox of 2009. There was plenty of time to accomplish his mission. Somewhere out there, a visitor was approaching, and it was up to him to make sure it was given a proper reception.
"Mother Goddess, guide me," Bishop said, disappearing in a swirling fog of eldritch energy.
The thick and misty air seemed to ripple momentarily as a bolt of crackling purple energy arced from one stone to another, leaping almost playfully between the ancient tablets. The grass swayed more and more violently with each second, bowing frenetically before a non-existent wind. As others of its ilk joined the purple bolt, the grass seemingly vibrated, until every blade suddenly stood erect, straining as if to fly, and the purple lightning converged in the center of the monument, exploding in a silent burst of force.
In the smoking convergence, a lone figure stood, dressed in a blue tunic adorned with gold trim. His trousers were similarly lined with gold, his feet clad in sturdy dark brown boots that matched the color of his skin. His neck was wrapped with a cloth the color of blood, and from beneath the edge small sigils peeked out. The dark skin of his forearms was covered with intricate markings and runes, ranging in size from a baseball to the head of a match. The largest of his visible markings was an ornate M over his right eye.
He looked at the sky, letting his vision sort out the atmospheric clutter. Judging by the alignment of the stars, it was just a few weeks before the Summer Equinox of 2009. There was plenty of time to accomplish his mission. Somewhere out there, a visitor was approaching, and it was up to him to make sure it was given a proper reception.
"Mother Goddess, guide me," Bishop said, disappearing in a swirling fog of eldritch energy.
“ULTIMATE GENESIS – PART TWO”
[SIXTEEN MONTHS AGO: The Ust Ordinsky Collective, Siberia...]
"Illyana!" Piotr yelled running full tilt towards the tractor as it beared down on his sister.
The young girl turned and her eyes flew wide, a scream freezing in her throat. "Piotr!"
Piotr threw himself at her, hoping to shield her or knock her out of the way, knowing full well that he would be killed. At the fateful moment, he heard the shriek of metal being rent, drowning out the sounds of his sister's screams and the thundering beat of his own heart.
He looked up and saw the tractor smashed, warped into a twisted wreck around them. Looking around in astonishment, he saw a man standing in the wheat, holding his hand out at them.
"I am sorry, my boy, I reacted as quickly as I could. Had I not been startled, I probably could have saved the tractor, as well."
"You apologize for destroying a tractor that would have otherwise killed my sister. I am in your debt, stranger." Piotr replied.
"You owe me nothing, Mr. Rasputin."
"How do you know my name?"
"I know a great many things about a great many people," the stranger said. "Especially those who are destined for great things."
"Destined for great things?" Piotr laughed, "You must be thinking of my brother Mikhail. He is a cosmonaut, who has served-"
"No, I am very much interested in speaking to you, Piotr." The stranger extended his hand in friendship. "My name is Erik Lensherr."
[NOW: Munich...]
Piotr shook his head, which rang like the pipes of a church organ being struck with a wrench. He had never been hit that hard. Had the blow connected with him in his flesh form, he was guessing it would have done the job that the tractor had been unable to. The man who had identified himself as Wormwood had passed him by as if Piotr were beneath his notice, and now stood in front of the café.
“Bozshe Moi,” he whispered. “I have never seen such strength.”
He slowly staggered to his feet, scanning the area to see if Kitty had gotten the young boy Japheth to safety. His heart sank when he saw Kitty standing her ground in the door of the café, with Japheth cowering back behind an overturned table.
The ringing in his ears drowned out the words that emerged from Kitty’s lips, but he could sense her courage and defiance. His lips twitched against his will into a slight grin as Wormwood’s fist passed through her. Wormwood smiled, however, and his form glowed slightly. He was able to grab her by the throat and lift her off of her feet. Rearing his hand back, he threw her down at the street as hard as he could. She instinctively tunneled, disappearing into the pavement.
Piotr marched at him and slammed the middle of his back with his fist. He looked down in amazement as Wormwood’s skin cracked, shifted, and reformed.
“Foolish pup,” Wormwood said, “you may one day be counted among the mighty, if you live to gain some wisdom.” He grabbed Piotr by the arm and hurled him into the air, sending him careening towards the Isar River.
Wormwood turned and saw Japheth trembling in the corner of the café. “Please,” he begged, “don’t hurt me.”
“No, child,” Wormwood smiled, “Mankind has already done enough damage to you. They have driven you to weakness. But I can make you strong, Japheth Munroe,” he said, holding out his hand.
He watched the boy’s eyes. They had spent half of her life filled with fear, and the other half staring at the floor. But now he saw something else that even the boy himself would not have recognized. He saw desire. He saw a flicker of spiteful glee. And at that moment, he knew he had him. He would shape him, mold him, and empower him to take his revenge upon the world that had abused him so. He would become strong.
He took Wormwood’s hand, and they disappeared in a burst of smoke and light.
[THREE MONTHS AGO: Weapon X Labs…]
“You should not even be aware of any sense of movement,” Hank said, checking the monitors. “You should simply appear on the other side of the wall. Go ahead, and give it a try.”
Kitty took a deep breath and closer her eyes, stepping forward and clearing her mind. The first thing she felt was tightness in her whole body, as if she had been dipped in concrete. She could not move, even to open her eyes, even to expel the breath that began to burn in her lungs. Time seemed to crawl to a stop. She was a fly trapped in amber drifting through seemingly never ending blackness.
She began to panic. What if she never made it out? What if she lost momentum, slowed to a stop, and she was still within the solid surface? Would she solidify and be melted into the wall? Would her dead body eventually pass through, leaving a lifeless corpse on the other side? Or even more horrific a thought, what if she never died? What if she was trapped in the wall like a ghost forever?
After what seemed a lifetime, she burst forth into the open air again, suddenly able to move, the air exploding from her lungs. She dropped to her knees and her stomach emptied itself violently onto the floor beneath her gasping face. She collapsed to the ground, sobbing uncontrollably as she lay in her own sick.
There was an explosion of activity around her as her vision clouded over, the blood rushing to her head. There was the sound of chaos as the computer systems all seemed to be shutting down at once.
“Katherine!” Hank said, “Can you hear me?”
Kitty mumbled incoherently. Her flesh was both chilled and feverish, as if she were sweating ice water. She felt millions of tiny pinches like ants biting her, and the world fell off into a gray, soft silence as the hiss of her blood refilling her veins overwhelmed her.
[NOW: Munich…]
Kitty lay in the damp muck of the floor of the sewer tunnel, coughing violently to expel the fetid water that she had inhaled when she landed. She simultaneously praised and cursed the filthy sewage, disgusted to have ingested the horrid waste, grateful that she was solid enough again to do so.
If she hadn’t tunneled, Wormwood throwing her into the pavement would have liquefied her. But she could not change direction when she tunneled. Below this sewer, who knows how far she would have had to travel to find open air? She had enough problems passing through a two-foot wall. She wondered how deep into the Earth she would have gotten before she suffocated, and if her lifeless body would have passed through and come out the other side even after she died.
She rose shakily to her feet. As loathe as she was to tunnel again, she didn’t know if she had time to find her way out of the subterranean maze she was in. She leapt up, and as her feet left the ground, she tunneled straight up.
She solidified about six inches off the ground, landing softly on her feet. The café was destroyed. There was no sign of Wormwood. There was no sign of Japheth. There was no sign of Piotr. With no other recourse, and having drawn a bit of attention from her sudden reappearance, Kitty sprinted down the alleyway.
[FOURTEEN MONTHS AGO: Location Unknown…]
“Truly, my boy, you are a Colossus,” Erik said, placing a hand on Piotr’s shoulder.
“This is truly amazing, Erik.” Piotr stared down at his body. His skin was solid metal, resembling brushed steel, with millions of tiny grooves. His muscles creaked as he moved, like straining steel cables. “But I feel a strange sensation. Almost like a vibration. And everything sounds different.”
“This transformation is not just skin deep. Your entire body, down to the skeleton, has been transformed into metal. Certain frequencies of sound may resonate with your form, causing vibrations. But they will do you no harm. The protection sigils we tattooed on your arm will channel any errant vibrations you pick up.”
“It all seems so impossible. I never believed in magic. My parents told me that magic was the work of the devil.”
“Magic comes in many forms,” a voice said from above. Piotr looked up and Erik smiled as Kurt Wagner dropped from the ceiling, landing gracefully on his feet. His skin and hair were coal black, the only visible color being the yellow irises of his eyes. A pointed tail shifted around of its own accord, weaving like a cobra as Kurt gestured with his two fingered hands. “When Jesus cured the leper, was it magic, or divinity? When he walked on water, was he an elemental, or just spiritually attuned? Did he transmute water to wine, or was it a true miracle? His resurrection was the greatest example of the power of the divine spirit, but some could call it magic.”
“I suppose,” Piotr replied. “I have not thought of it like that.”
“Not many do,” Kurt answered. “Nor am I saying that that is definitely the reason why we have our abilities. Is it all magic, is it all divine empowerment, or is it somewhere in between? Can one truly know the answer? I merely choose to believe that my faith has given me my wondrous abilities, and that God is directing me to use them to help mankind.”
“Not all of us believe our powers come from the Christian God,” Ororo said, striding majestically into the room. “The Mother Goddess has given me the ability to defend the natural world from the scourge of the technocracy. It is her divine will that allows me to command the elements.”
“Some of us are far less devout,” another voice said. Wanda walked into the room, her slender form framed by a cloak of radiant scarlet. “Not all magic is the work of the Devil. My abilities are certainly not derived from any spiritual faith.”
“But my sister,” Pietro said, striding regally beside her, “The arcane power you wield is far more complex than what can be defined as good or evil.”
“Yes, Pietro,” Erik smiled, “but Wanda is not the average example. Piotr, this is my daughter Wanda and my son Pietro. This gentleman is Kurt Wagner, one of my most trusted advisors. And this is Ororo Munroe, the field leader of the Brotherhood’s response team. This is Piotr Rasputin.”
“I am pleased to meet you,” Piotr said, trying not to stare at Wanda. “So, Erik, which is it for you? What has given you your amazing control over metal; prayer or sorcery?”
“Neither,” Erik said, all traces of humor gone from his face. He bared his left forearm, which was emblazoned with a tattoo of a bar code. “These abilities are the by-product of hate and fear and ignorance.”
“My father was one of the first to carry the so-called ‘X-factor,’ ” Pietro explained, nearly spitting his anger through clenched teeth, “and when it was discovered, he was experimented on against his will by the very people he had trusted most. His own friend did this to him. Did this to many people in his illegal and immoral experiments.”
Erik’s face grew ever more somber. “As a boy my father was forced to watch his entire family led away to the gas chambers in Dachau,” he said, “and there was nothing he could do about it. Likewise I was forced to watch people dragged into medical theatres and experimented on against their will, watching as men died screaming for their mothers, as their flesh boiled away into steam, their eyes fell from their heads, and their bodies transformed into shambling mockeries of God’s work. I prayed a great deal during that time. And when I was the first of the subjects to survive the treatment, I knew that God had listened. He had a divine purpose for me. I was to avenge this second holocaust.”
“Who are these butchers? Who would rip someone from their life and experiment on them? Who would do this to their own friend?”
Erik’s eyes narrowed, and he looked at Piotr with grave sincerity. “Let me tell you about a man named Charles Xavier.”
[NOW: Munich…]
Scott had not been happy about Kitty staying another night, especially in light of the recent attack, but really, there was nothing that could be done. The documents she had procured were on their way to the states, and until they arrived safely, she needed to be ready to go back into Vermicom.
It seemed unnecessarily complicated. But her ability to Quantum Tunnel did not mesh well with electronics. Any recording device she brought in with her would have been fried. So instead she had to make copies of all the documents within the building itself, and bring copies out with her. It made espionage a little less convenient a job, but then again she didn’t have to worry about losing her keys ever again. Her documents were handed off to Sean Cassidy, who then transported them back to base as quickly as possible.
She looked down at the computer and brought Skype to the forefront. She added Piotr’s number, and then sent him a text message.
Shad0kat: Its Kitty. RU OK?
After a few minutes, there was a chirp as the reply appeared on the screen.
Koloccvc: I am okay. Are you?
Shad0kat: OK can I call you?
Before she could hit the send key, her computer rang, and a small message window appeared. Piotr was calling her.
“Hello, Piotr,” she said, toweling off her hair.
“Hello, Katya,” he said. “How are you feeling?”
“Glad to be showered after swimming through the sewers of Berlin. What happened to the boy?”
“Taken by Wormwood, I assume. After he threw you through the ground, I attacked, and he threw me clear to the Isar. By the time I got back to the scene, there was no sign of anyone but the police and some astonished onlookers.”
“So does your… organization know anything about him?” There was a long silence, and Kitty shook her head. “Forget I asked, Piotr. I can’t really tell you anything about my job either. So what happens now? Are we not supposed to talk to each other? When I get back to the states, I’m sure they’re going to expect me to tell them all about what happened. Then they’re going to be more concerned about you than they will about the boy.”
“They will likely ask you to keep in contact with me. Find out any information about the Brotherhood that you can get from me.”
“You think so?”
“Absolutely. It is what my advisors have asked of me.”
Kitty was taken aback. “So are you using me for information?”
“No. They want me to report if you tell me anything about Weapon X, but they have not asked me to ask any questions. Nor will I. But if you tell me anything important, I will be forced to share it. So just do not tell me anything important. Likewise, I hope you understand if I do not share any sensitive information.”
Kitty smiled. “So are you still in Munich?”
“Sadly, no. I am on my way back home. I must report directly to my advisors.”
“Oh,” Kitty replied, disappointed. “Well, then, maybe-”
“I would like to see you, though. So we can have that dinner we discussed. I will be in New York in twenty days. Perhaps we can meet up then?”
“That sounds great. Why don’t you call me the day before you get there, and we’ll arrange where we’re going to meet?” Kitty said.
“I certainly will. Have a safe trip back, Katya.” Piotr said, hanging up his cell phone.
Piotr turned towards the door. “I have a meeting set up in three weeks, Ororo.”
“Excellent,” Ororo smiled, looking out at the night sky. “A job well done, Piotr. Let’s keep this between ourselves for the time being.”
“Harasho,” Piotr nodded, walking towards his room.
Ororo turned and walked towards the large window looking out over the night. She smiled as the cool breeze kissed the nape of her neck. It was a beautiful night, one that would be best spent outdoors. She looked up at the stars and sighed.
[THIRTEEN YEARS AGO: Somalia…]
Ororo looked up at the stars and sighed. There were no clouds in the sky at all, and the moon was new, meaning that there were more stars out tonight than there would be any other night for a month. She imagined that one day she would be out among them, floating through the night, a traveler to worlds never visited before. She wondered what wondrous beings she would meet, what sights she would see in her travels.
“Ororo,” her mother called, “come away from there, child.”
“I wanted to wait for father,” she called back.
“He’s going to be home late,” her mother replied. “Come away from the window.”
Below, she saw a beat up white car stop across the street from the front of her building. Her father sat in the back seat of the taxi, handing the driver some money before opening the door. Looking up, he saw Ororo looking down at him and smiled.
He raised his hand to waive at her and suddenly he flew back into the taxi, blood spraying from his chest.
“Father!” Ororo cried, her heart seizing in her chest. The taxi driver dropped down onto the seat of his car as it was riddled with gunfire from an automatic weapon.
Soldiers of the self-proclaimed President Aidid emerged from the shadows, firing repeatedly at the car.
“This is what happens when you assist rebels, Dr. Munroe!” one soldier cried out. He grabbed Ororo’s father by the shirt and dragged him from the cab. Another soldier leveled a rocket launcher at the building. “Watch as your family dies before you!”
“No!” he cried weakly. “There’s a child in there! Ororo!”
The RPG hissed to life, birthing its ordinance with a puff of smoke and fire. The projectile slammed into the side of the building, which disappeared almost instantly in a shower of brick and clay. The building rumbled, sagging towards the street, and Ororo dropped to her knees. Above the calamitous rumble of the collapsing building, she could still hear her father’s screams of horror.
The only light she could see was the flickering of the fire than consumed the wooden furniture buried near her. In that dim light, she caught sight of her mother, lying beneath the rubble, her eyes glassy and bloodsoaked. She heard the sharp report of more gunfire, and her father’s screams were finally mercifully silenced. There was the sound of an engine driving off, and then there was nothing but the silence of the tomb.
“Mother,” Ororo muttered weakly, “please, wake up!”
Her mother merely mumbled incoherently. Ororo cried, trying to pull her legs free from the rubble that trapped them. Looking to make sure her mother was still moving. All around her the brick and mortar crushed down, suffocating her. She managed to free her legs, and dragged herself to her mother’s side.
“Mother, I am free,” she said, recoiling at the severity of her mother’s injury.
“May the Mother Goddess protect you,” her mother said, and her eyes stopped moving.
“Mother!” she cried. “Mother!”
With a harsh rumble the concrete walls began to rise, the metal rebar flexing upwards as if tugged by an unseen force. Her legs free, Ororo scrambled out of the rubble, looking back to where her mother lay dead.
“She is gone,” Erik said, “but you are still alive. Come, my child. Let us leave before they return to finish the job.”
“They killed my family!”
“God hears your cries, and will transform your pain into strength. And then,” Erik said solemnly, “we will make them pay together.”
[NOW: Elsewhere…]
“It hurts,” Japheth gasped, taking ragged breaths as he fought against the restraints. “It hurts so much!”
“There is no turning back, child,” Wormwood smiled wickedly. “You will endure this agony. You will come to embrace the pain as the fire in which the new you will be forged. You will be a herald to the most important epoch in the history of the planet. You will be a warrior, harder and stronger than you could have ever imagined. You will reshape this world.”
Japheth stifled a scream and looked frantically at Wormwood. “I don’t think I can take it! Please, make it stop!”
Wormwood merely turned away, looking at the readout on the screen. Next to him, a thin woman stepped forward, and Japheth gasped. This was one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen. Her features were gorgeous, her skin fair and absent of blemishes of any kind. Her eyes were a shade of blue he had only seen in the cloudless summer skies. Her hair seemingly shimmered, even in the low light of the darkened room.
“Don’t let it take you, Japheth,” she said. “For so long, the world has regarded you as weak. It has beaten you, whipped you like a cur, driven you to your knees. This fire that has been ignited cannot be extinguished. You can surrender, and let it consume you, crush you completely as the world has been trying to do for so long. Or, you can endure it, let the fire reshape you, let it transform your frail body into a weapon that matches the warrior spirit within you. Join us.”
“Who are you?” he whispered, overwhelmed by the woman’s striking beauty. “You are like an angel.”
“Not an angel,” she smiled, “but a herald of times to come. And we need you, Japheth. We need the strength that you possess within.”
He took a deep breath, and nodded. He would survive this pain. He would become strong. Strong enough to deserve to stand beside this woman through whatever fires lie ahead.
“Thank you, miss,” he whispered, smiling despite the agony that coursed through his body.
“Please,” she answered, smiling softly, “call me Moira.”
[NEXT: Transformations!]
"Illyana!" Piotr yelled running full tilt towards the tractor as it beared down on his sister.
The young girl turned and her eyes flew wide, a scream freezing in her throat. "Piotr!"
Piotr threw himself at her, hoping to shield her or knock her out of the way, knowing full well that he would be killed. At the fateful moment, he heard the shriek of metal being rent, drowning out the sounds of his sister's screams and the thundering beat of his own heart.
He looked up and saw the tractor smashed, warped into a twisted wreck around them. Looking around in astonishment, he saw a man standing in the wheat, holding his hand out at them.
"I am sorry, my boy, I reacted as quickly as I could. Had I not been startled, I probably could have saved the tractor, as well."
"You apologize for destroying a tractor that would have otherwise killed my sister. I am in your debt, stranger." Piotr replied.
"You owe me nothing, Mr. Rasputin."
"How do you know my name?"
"I know a great many things about a great many people," the stranger said. "Especially those who are destined for great things."
"Destined for great things?" Piotr laughed, "You must be thinking of my brother Mikhail. He is a cosmonaut, who has served-"
"No, I am very much interested in speaking to you, Piotr." The stranger extended his hand in friendship. "My name is Erik Lensherr."
[NOW: Munich...]
Piotr shook his head, which rang like the pipes of a church organ being struck with a wrench. He had never been hit that hard. Had the blow connected with him in his flesh form, he was guessing it would have done the job that the tractor had been unable to. The man who had identified himself as Wormwood had passed him by as if Piotr were beneath his notice, and now stood in front of the café.
“Bozshe Moi,” he whispered. “I have never seen such strength.”
He slowly staggered to his feet, scanning the area to see if Kitty had gotten the young boy Japheth to safety. His heart sank when he saw Kitty standing her ground in the door of the café, with Japheth cowering back behind an overturned table.
The ringing in his ears drowned out the words that emerged from Kitty’s lips, but he could sense her courage and defiance. His lips twitched against his will into a slight grin as Wormwood’s fist passed through her. Wormwood smiled, however, and his form glowed slightly. He was able to grab her by the throat and lift her off of her feet. Rearing his hand back, he threw her down at the street as hard as he could. She instinctively tunneled, disappearing into the pavement.
Piotr marched at him and slammed the middle of his back with his fist. He looked down in amazement as Wormwood’s skin cracked, shifted, and reformed.
“Foolish pup,” Wormwood said, “you may one day be counted among the mighty, if you live to gain some wisdom.” He grabbed Piotr by the arm and hurled him into the air, sending him careening towards the Isar River.
Wormwood turned and saw Japheth trembling in the corner of the café. “Please,” he begged, “don’t hurt me.”
“No, child,” Wormwood smiled, “Mankind has already done enough damage to you. They have driven you to weakness. But I can make you strong, Japheth Munroe,” he said, holding out his hand.
He watched the boy’s eyes. They had spent half of her life filled with fear, and the other half staring at the floor. But now he saw something else that even the boy himself would not have recognized. He saw desire. He saw a flicker of spiteful glee. And at that moment, he knew he had him. He would shape him, mold him, and empower him to take his revenge upon the world that had abused him so. He would become strong.
He took Wormwood’s hand, and they disappeared in a burst of smoke and light.
[THREE MONTHS AGO: Weapon X Labs…]
“You should not even be aware of any sense of movement,” Hank said, checking the monitors. “You should simply appear on the other side of the wall. Go ahead, and give it a try.”
Kitty took a deep breath and closer her eyes, stepping forward and clearing her mind. The first thing she felt was tightness in her whole body, as if she had been dipped in concrete. She could not move, even to open her eyes, even to expel the breath that began to burn in her lungs. Time seemed to crawl to a stop. She was a fly trapped in amber drifting through seemingly never ending blackness.
She began to panic. What if she never made it out? What if she lost momentum, slowed to a stop, and she was still within the solid surface? Would she solidify and be melted into the wall? Would her dead body eventually pass through, leaving a lifeless corpse on the other side? Or even more horrific a thought, what if she never died? What if she was trapped in the wall like a ghost forever?
After what seemed a lifetime, she burst forth into the open air again, suddenly able to move, the air exploding from her lungs. She dropped to her knees and her stomach emptied itself violently onto the floor beneath her gasping face. She collapsed to the ground, sobbing uncontrollably as she lay in her own sick.
There was an explosion of activity around her as her vision clouded over, the blood rushing to her head. There was the sound of chaos as the computer systems all seemed to be shutting down at once.
“Katherine!” Hank said, “Can you hear me?”
Kitty mumbled incoherently. Her flesh was both chilled and feverish, as if she were sweating ice water. She felt millions of tiny pinches like ants biting her, and the world fell off into a gray, soft silence as the hiss of her blood refilling her veins overwhelmed her.
[NOW: Munich…]
Kitty lay in the damp muck of the floor of the sewer tunnel, coughing violently to expel the fetid water that she had inhaled when she landed. She simultaneously praised and cursed the filthy sewage, disgusted to have ingested the horrid waste, grateful that she was solid enough again to do so.
If she hadn’t tunneled, Wormwood throwing her into the pavement would have liquefied her. But she could not change direction when she tunneled. Below this sewer, who knows how far she would have had to travel to find open air? She had enough problems passing through a two-foot wall. She wondered how deep into the Earth she would have gotten before she suffocated, and if her lifeless body would have passed through and come out the other side even after she died.
She rose shakily to her feet. As loathe as she was to tunnel again, she didn’t know if she had time to find her way out of the subterranean maze she was in. She leapt up, and as her feet left the ground, she tunneled straight up.
She solidified about six inches off the ground, landing softly on her feet. The café was destroyed. There was no sign of Wormwood. There was no sign of Japheth. There was no sign of Piotr. With no other recourse, and having drawn a bit of attention from her sudden reappearance, Kitty sprinted down the alleyway.
[FOURTEEN MONTHS AGO: Location Unknown…]
“Truly, my boy, you are a Colossus,” Erik said, placing a hand on Piotr’s shoulder.
“This is truly amazing, Erik.” Piotr stared down at his body. His skin was solid metal, resembling brushed steel, with millions of tiny grooves. His muscles creaked as he moved, like straining steel cables. “But I feel a strange sensation. Almost like a vibration. And everything sounds different.”
“This transformation is not just skin deep. Your entire body, down to the skeleton, has been transformed into metal. Certain frequencies of sound may resonate with your form, causing vibrations. But they will do you no harm. The protection sigils we tattooed on your arm will channel any errant vibrations you pick up.”
“It all seems so impossible. I never believed in magic. My parents told me that magic was the work of the devil.”
“Magic comes in many forms,” a voice said from above. Piotr looked up and Erik smiled as Kurt Wagner dropped from the ceiling, landing gracefully on his feet. His skin and hair were coal black, the only visible color being the yellow irises of his eyes. A pointed tail shifted around of its own accord, weaving like a cobra as Kurt gestured with his two fingered hands. “When Jesus cured the leper, was it magic, or divinity? When he walked on water, was he an elemental, or just spiritually attuned? Did he transmute water to wine, or was it a true miracle? His resurrection was the greatest example of the power of the divine spirit, but some could call it magic.”
“I suppose,” Piotr replied. “I have not thought of it like that.”
“Not many do,” Kurt answered. “Nor am I saying that that is definitely the reason why we have our abilities. Is it all magic, is it all divine empowerment, or is it somewhere in between? Can one truly know the answer? I merely choose to believe that my faith has given me my wondrous abilities, and that God is directing me to use them to help mankind.”
“Not all of us believe our powers come from the Christian God,” Ororo said, striding majestically into the room. “The Mother Goddess has given me the ability to defend the natural world from the scourge of the technocracy. It is her divine will that allows me to command the elements.”
“Some of us are far less devout,” another voice said. Wanda walked into the room, her slender form framed by a cloak of radiant scarlet. “Not all magic is the work of the Devil. My abilities are certainly not derived from any spiritual faith.”
“But my sister,” Pietro said, striding regally beside her, “The arcane power you wield is far more complex than what can be defined as good or evil.”
“Yes, Pietro,” Erik smiled, “but Wanda is not the average example. Piotr, this is my daughter Wanda and my son Pietro. This gentleman is Kurt Wagner, one of my most trusted advisors. And this is Ororo Munroe, the field leader of the Brotherhood’s response team. This is Piotr Rasputin.”
“I am pleased to meet you,” Piotr said, trying not to stare at Wanda. “So, Erik, which is it for you? What has given you your amazing control over metal; prayer or sorcery?”
“Neither,” Erik said, all traces of humor gone from his face. He bared his left forearm, which was emblazoned with a tattoo of a bar code. “These abilities are the by-product of hate and fear and ignorance.”
“My father was one of the first to carry the so-called ‘X-factor,’ ” Pietro explained, nearly spitting his anger through clenched teeth, “and when it was discovered, he was experimented on against his will by the very people he had trusted most. His own friend did this to him. Did this to many people in his illegal and immoral experiments.”
Erik’s face grew ever more somber. “As a boy my father was forced to watch his entire family led away to the gas chambers in Dachau,” he said, “and there was nothing he could do about it. Likewise I was forced to watch people dragged into medical theatres and experimented on against their will, watching as men died screaming for their mothers, as their flesh boiled away into steam, their eyes fell from their heads, and their bodies transformed into shambling mockeries of God’s work. I prayed a great deal during that time. And when I was the first of the subjects to survive the treatment, I knew that God had listened. He had a divine purpose for me. I was to avenge this second holocaust.”
“Who are these butchers? Who would rip someone from their life and experiment on them? Who would do this to their own friend?”
Erik’s eyes narrowed, and he looked at Piotr with grave sincerity. “Let me tell you about a man named Charles Xavier.”
[NOW: Munich…]
Scott had not been happy about Kitty staying another night, especially in light of the recent attack, but really, there was nothing that could be done. The documents she had procured were on their way to the states, and until they arrived safely, she needed to be ready to go back into Vermicom.
It seemed unnecessarily complicated. But her ability to Quantum Tunnel did not mesh well with electronics. Any recording device she brought in with her would have been fried. So instead she had to make copies of all the documents within the building itself, and bring copies out with her. It made espionage a little less convenient a job, but then again she didn’t have to worry about losing her keys ever again. Her documents were handed off to Sean Cassidy, who then transported them back to base as quickly as possible.
She looked down at the computer and brought Skype to the forefront. She added Piotr’s number, and then sent him a text message.
Shad0kat: Its Kitty. RU OK?
After a few minutes, there was a chirp as the reply appeared on the screen.
Koloccvc: I am okay. Are you?
Shad0kat: OK can I call you?
Before she could hit the send key, her computer rang, and a small message window appeared. Piotr was calling her.
“Hello, Piotr,” she said, toweling off her hair.
“Hello, Katya,” he said. “How are you feeling?”
“Glad to be showered after swimming through the sewers of Berlin. What happened to the boy?”
“Taken by Wormwood, I assume. After he threw you through the ground, I attacked, and he threw me clear to the Isar. By the time I got back to the scene, there was no sign of anyone but the police and some astonished onlookers.”
“So does your… organization know anything about him?” There was a long silence, and Kitty shook her head. “Forget I asked, Piotr. I can’t really tell you anything about my job either. So what happens now? Are we not supposed to talk to each other? When I get back to the states, I’m sure they’re going to expect me to tell them all about what happened. Then they’re going to be more concerned about you than they will about the boy.”
“They will likely ask you to keep in contact with me. Find out any information about the Brotherhood that you can get from me.”
“You think so?”
“Absolutely. It is what my advisors have asked of me.”
Kitty was taken aback. “So are you using me for information?”
“No. They want me to report if you tell me anything about Weapon X, but they have not asked me to ask any questions. Nor will I. But if you tell me anything important, I will be forced to share it. So just do not tell me anything important. Likewise, I hope you understand if I do not share any sensitive information.”
Kitty smiled. “So are you still in Munich?”
“Sadly, no. I am on my way back home. I must report directly to my advisors.”
“Oh,” Kitty replied, disappointed. “Well, then, maybe-”
“I would like to see you, though. So we can have that dinner we discussed. I will be in New York in twenty days. Perhaps we can meet up then?”
“That sounds great. Why don’t you call me the day before you get there, and we’ll arrange where we’re going to meet?” Kitty said.
“I certainly will. Have a safe trip back, Katya.” Piotr said, hanging up his cell phone.
Piotr turned towards the door. “I have a meeting set up in three weeks, Ororo.”
“Excellent,” Ororo smiled, looking out at the night sky. “A job well done, Piotr. Let’s keep this between ourselves for the time being.”
“Harasho,” Piotr nodded, walking towards his room.
Ororo turned and walked towards the large window looking out over the night. She smiled as the cool breeze kissed the nape of her neck. It was a beautiful night, one that would be best spent outdoors. She looked up at the stars and sighed.
[THIRTEEN YEARS AGO: Somalia…]
Ororo looked up at the stars and sighed. There were no clouds in the sky at all, and the moon was new, meaning that there were more stars out tonight than there would be any other night for a month. She imagined that one day she would be out among them, floating through the night, a traveler to worlds never visited before. She wondered what wondrous beings she would meet, what sights she would see in her travels.
“Ororo,” her mother called, “come away from there, child.”
“I wanted to wait for father,” she called back.
“He’s going to be home late,” her mother replied. “Come away from the window.”
Below, she saw a beat up white car stop across the street from the front of her building. Her father sat in the back seat of the taxi, handing the driver some money before opening the door. Looking up, he saw Ororo looking down at him and smiled.
He raised his hand to waive at her and suddenly he flew back into the taxi, blood spraying from his chest.
“Father!” Ororo cried, her heart seizing in her chest. The taxi driver dropped down onto the seat of his car as it was riddled with gunfire from an automatic weapon.
Soldiers of the self-proclaimed President Aidid emerged from the shadows, firing repeatedly at the car.
“This is what happens when you assist rebels, Dr. Munroe!” one soldier cried out. He grabbed Ororo’s father by the shirt and dragged him from the cab. Another soldier leveled a rocket launcher at the building. “Watch as your family dies before you!”
“No!” he cried weakly. “There’s a child in there! Ororo!”
The RPG hissed to life, birthing its ordinance with a puff of smoke and fire. The projectile slammed into the side of the building, which disappeared almost instantly in a shower of brick and clay. The building rumbled, sagging towards the street, and Ororo dropped to her knees. Above the calamitous rumble of the collapsing building, she could still hear her father’s screams of horror.
The only light she could see was the flickering of the fire than consumed the wooden furniture buried near her. In that dim light, she caught sight of her mother, lying beneath the rubble, her eyes glassy and bloodsoaked. She heard the sharp report of more gunfire, and her father’s screams were finally mercifully silenced. There was the sound of an engine driving off, and then there was nothing but the silence of the tomb.
“Mother,” Ororo muttered weakly, “please, wake up!”
Her mother merely mumbled incoherently. Ororo cried, trying to pull her legs free from the rubble that trapped them. Looking to make sure her mother was still moving. All around her the brick and mortar crushed down, suffocating her. She managed to free her legs, and dragged herself to her mother’s side.
“Mother, I am free,” she said, recoiling at the severity of her mother’s injury.
“May the Mother Goddess protect you,” her mother said, and her eyes stopped moving.
“Mother!” she cried. “Mother!”
With a harsh rumble the concrete walls began to rise, the metal rebar flexing upwards as if tugged by an unseen force. Her legs free, Ororo scrambled out of the rubble, looking back to where her mother lay dead.
“She is gone,” Erik said, “but you are still alive. Come, my child. Let us leave before they return to finish the job.”
“They killed my family!”
“God hears your cries, and will transform your pain into strength. And then,” Erik said solemnly, “we will make them pay together.”
[NOW: Elsewhere…]
“It hurts,” Japheth gasped, taking ragged breaths as he fought against the restraints. “It hurts so much!”
“There is no turning back, child,” Wormwood smiled wickedly. “You will endure this agony. You will come to embrace the pain as the fire in which the new you will be forged. You will be a herald to the most important epoch in the history of the planet. You will be a warrior, harder and stronger than you could have ever imagined. You will reshape this world.”
Japheth stifled a scream and looked frantically at Wormwood. “I don’t think I can take it! Please, make it stop!”
Wormwood merely turned away, looking at the readout on the screen. Next to him, a thin woman stepped forward, and Japheth gasped. This was one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen. Her features were gorgeous, her skin fair and absent of blemishes of any kind. Her eyes were a shade of blue he had only seen in the cloudless summer skies. Her hair seemingly shimmered, even in the low light of the darkened room.
“Don’t let it take you, Japheth,” she said. “For so long, the world has regarded you as weak. It has beaten you, whipped you like a cur, driven you to your knees. This fire that has been ignited cannot be extinguished. You can surrender, and let it consume you, crush you completely as the world has been trying to do for so long. Or, you can endure it, let the fire reshape you, let it transform your frail body into a weapon that matches the warrior spirit within you. Join us.”
“Who are you?” he whispered, overwhelmed by the woman’s striking beauty. “You are like an angel.”
“Not an angel,” she smiled, “but a herald of times to come. And we need you, Japheth. We need the strength that you possess within.”
He took a deep breath, and nodded. He would survive this pain. He would become strong. Strong enough to deserve to stand beside this woman through whatever fires lie ahead.
“Thank you, miss,” he whispered, smiling despite the agony that coursed through his body.
“Please,” she answered, smiling softly, “call me Moira.”
[NEXT: Transformations!]