[FIFTEEN YEARS AGO: Weapon X Training Room…]
“Hey, Slim,” Warren Worthington said, stopping next to Scott Summers and looking through the window into the Training Room.
“Shouldn’t we be calling you Slim, what with your hollow bones?” Scott countered. He and Warren had become very good friends since he came to the Weapon X facility. It had become a tradition for subjects in the same trial to watch each other’s initial tests, which always took place in this enclosed chamber which was loaded to the brim with safety features. The subjects had taken to calling it the Danger Room.
“Takes some getting used to, I’ll admit,” Warren replied. “Hey, there he is,” he said, pointing at Jamie Madrox as he entered the Danger Room. “Have they told you what Jamie’s gonna be doing?”
“Nope.”
“Whatever it is, it can’t be cool as flying.”
“I dunno, Warren, being able to punch a hole through a cinderblock just by looking at it is pretty cool.”
“Not as cool as flying, though.”
“I can take off a mosquito’s wings at two hundred yards. You can reach the high shelf in the pantry.”
“At least I don’t have to wear headgear to keep my powers from ripping my head off, like you.”
“You’re the one who should be wearing headgear, Crash.”
“Who knew I’d be so good at flying on the first shot?”
“I don’t know if I’d call slamming headfirst into the ceiling at twenty miles per hour good. You’re lucky it didn’t crack your skull open.”
“At least it wasn’t forty,” Warren chuckled.
There were three members of the science team surrounding Jamie, leading him to his place in the Danger Room. Hank McCoy stepped in front of him and began speaking, though neither boy could hear what he was saying through the glass. After a few moments, Hank stepped back, as did the other two technicians. Jamie concentrated for a moment, closing his eyes tight and holding his breath.
Nothing happened.
“What?” Warren said aloud. “What happened?”
Scott remained silent, studying the situation.
“Did it fail?” Warren asked. “I thought the process was perfected. They haven’t had a failure since before Professor X!”
“Watch,” Scott said.
Jamie looked around, the scientists whispering rapidly to one another, taking notes. He tried again, squeezing his eyes tight, clenching his fists. When nothing happened again, the boy looked visibly deflated.
Hank and the other doctors talked to Jamie, who shook his head. He closed his eyes and concentrated with all of his effort. Shaking his head, Hank put a hand on the boy’s shoulder. Jamie, visibly angry and not willing to give up, slapped Hank’s hand away.
None in the room could easily define what they saw next. Scott and one of the doctors saw Jamie twist after striking Hank, as if rebounding off the super strong scientist. Warren and the other doctor saw Jamie close in on Hank, as if trying to get up in his face. Hank himself shook his head, having seen both, like a living double exposure. When the motion stopped, each party saw the Jamie they had seen standing next to his exact duplicate.
“Holy crap,” Warren said, his jaw falling open.
Scott smiled. “Now that’s cool.”
“Hey, Slim,” Warren Worthington said, stopping next to Scott Summers and looking through the window into the Training Room.
“Shouldn’t we be calling you Slim, what with your hollow bones?” Scott countered. He and Warren had become very good friends since he came to the Weapon X facility. It had become a tradition for subjects in the same trial to watch each other’s initial tests, which always took place in this enclosed chamber which was loaded to the brim with safety features. The subjects had taken to calling it the Danger Room.
“Takes some getting used to, I’ll admit,” Warren replied. “Hey, there he is,” he said, pointing at Jamie Madrox as he entered the Danger Room. “Have they told you what Jamie’s gonna be doing?”
“Nope.”
“Whatever it is, it can’t be cool as flying.”
“I dunno, Warren, being able to punch a hole through a cinderblock just by looking at it is pretty cool.”
“Not as cool as flying, though.”
“I can take off a mosquito’s wings at two hundred yards. You can reach the high shelf in the pantry.”
“At least I don’t have to wear headgear to keep my powers from ripping my head off, like you.”
“You’re the one who should be wearing headgear, Crash.”
“Who knew I’d be so good at flying on the first shot?”
“I don’t know if I’d call slamming headfirst into the ceiling at twenty miles per hour good. You’re lucky it didn’t crack your skull open.”
“At least it wasn’t forty,” Warren chuckled.
There were three members of the science team surrounding Jamie, leading him to his place in the Danger Room. Hank McCoy stepped in front of him and began speaking, though neither boy could hear what he was saying through the glass. After a few moments, Hank stepped back, as did the other two technicians. Jamie concentrated for a moment, closing his eyes tight and holding his breath.
Nothing happened.
“What?” Warren said aloud. “What happened?”
Scott remained silent, studying the situation.
“Did it fail?” Warren asked. “I thought the process was perfected. They haven’t had a failure since before Professor X!”
“Watch,” Scott said.
Jamie looked around, the scientists whispering rapidly to one another, taking notes. He tried again, squeezing his eyes tight, clenching his fists. When nothing happened again, the boy looked visibly deflated.
Hank and the other doctors talked to Jamie, who shook his head. He closed his eyes and concentrated with all of his effort. Shaking his head, Hank put a hand on the boy’s shoulder. Jamie, visibly angry and not willing to give up, slapped Hank’s hand away.
None in the room could easily define what they saw next. Scott and one of the doctors saw Jamie twist after striking Hank, as if rebounding off the super strong scientist. Warren and the other doctor saw Jamie close in on Hank, as if trying to get up in his face. Hank himself shook his head, having seen both, like a living double exposure. When the motion stopped, each party saw the Jamie they had seen standing next to his exact duplicate.
“Holy crap,” Warren said, his jaw falling open.
Scott smiled. “Now that’s cool.”
“BROTHERHOOD – PART FOUR”
[NOW: Weapon X’s Transport…]
“Be cool,” the fourth Jamie said, his hands up defensively. “We can talk this out.”
“It all makes sense now,” Logan sneered. “That’s why you had Jamie dupe out before we even got on the transport.”
“What?” One of the other Jamies said. “Scott told me to be there in numbers, ready to fight.”
“And besides, there have been other times that-”
“Shut it! Elect one of you to speak, tell the rest of you to shut the hell up, and then shut yourself up!”
He turned back to the fourth Jamie. “It wasn’t Scott. And you knew that having four of Jamie and his cheap ass cologne in the transport would drown my senses to the point where I wouldn’t notice that Sean wasn’t really there in the transport either.”
The fourth Jamie smiled sheepishly.
“How many of them were involved, Kevin?”
“Kevin?” one of the Jamies said.
The fourth Jamie’s features seemed to melt, skin swirling and reshaping, hair growing, eyes becoming more sunken and dark. The real Jamies watched as their fourth dupe transformed into Kevin Sidney, who chuckled and began to speak to Logan. “You have no idea how tough it was to not say Changeling when you did roll call-”
Logan slammed him into the wall of the transport. “You think this is a joke?!?” Logan bellowed. He spun and flung Kevin into the cargo hold. Looking back at Jamie, he snarled “get us back to base.”
Two of the Jamies stood and settled into the flight deck. Logan turned, cracked his neck, and entered the cargo hold to get his answers.
[FIFTEEN YEARS AGO: Weapon X Lab…]
Jamie stared at his reflection, who stared back at him with equal fascination. He was an exact duplicate, down to the slightest minute detail. So thorough was the duplication process that Jamie wondered for a brief moment if he was, in fact, the clone, and this boy in front of him was the real Jamie Madrox. The thought hurt his brain, so he tried to shove it down into the recesses of his mind.
“Okay, Jamie,” Hank said, making a final note on the clipboard, “that’s the last of the tests we need to run. Now, I want you each to focus on the other and put your right hand on his left shoulder.”
Each of the Jamies looked at the other, laying hands on each other’s shoulders as instructed.
“Focus,” Hank said, “and each of you envision drawing the other into you, absorbing them, letting them become one with you, a complete synthesis of two halves.”
Both Jamies’ brows furrowed simultaneously, each sharing the same doubt instantaneously. “But,” they said at once, pausing. “Which one of us is the real Jamie?” one of them said.
“What if he is the clone and he absorbs the real me?” the other one asked.
Hank nodded, understanding their hesitation. “I know this is an abstract concept to comprehend, but you are both, on a quantum level, fundamentally identical. There is no ‘real’ Jamie, nor is there a ‘fake.’ There are simply two halves of the same vessel, waiting to be reunited.”
One Jamie closed his eyes, appearing to concentrate, so the other followed suit.
Nothing happened.
“Nothing’s happening,” Jamie said.
Hank noted such on his clipboard, looking over the top of his glasses. “Do you need to slap me again?” he smiled.
One Jamie did not laugh, while the other chuckled only slightly. “Seriously, Dr. McCoy, how do I know which one of us should be left?”
Hank set the clipboard down, and nodded. “I know you’re scared, Jamie. You needn’t be, though. There is a phenomenon called ‘reflexive physionometry.’ It’s ‘body memory.’ Your cells each contain the blueprint of what your entire body is supposed to look like. When you get cut, your skin remembers what shape it is supposed to take, it won’t just continue to grow uncontrollably. Your body will know which one of the two shells should be absorbed into the other.”
“But,” Jamie paused, obviously deep in the throes of a moral dilemma, “which one of us has a soul?”
[NOW: Avalon…]
Shiro Yoshida strode purposefully towards the central chamber where Erik was holding counsel with his lieutenants. Never one to anger quickly, Shiro was nonetheless working very hard to keep his emotions in check, his mind racing with possibilities. He prided himself on his logic and reason, but there were few scenarios he could envision which would explain why the Brotherhood of Men had taken four people prisoner.
As he opened the doors, he was greeted by a sight that perplexed him greatly. The prisoners stood around the table, shoulder to shoulder with Erik’s most trusted lieutenants. Erik looked up at Shiro as the doors closed behind him, smiling. “Ah, Shiro-san, please, join us.”
All at the table save for Pietro glanced up and smiled at him, the lanky mutant instead focusing entirely on the plans scattered on the table. Taking a second look, Shiro noticed that one of the prisoners, the multiplier, was not among them.
“Erik-san, I… I am confused.”
“Yes, dear boy,” Erik nodded, “I imagine you would be. I apologize for the duplicity, but there were elements of your mission that were of a delicate nature, and had to be kept from everyone but my son.” He stepped around the group and placed a hand on Shiro’s shoulder, leading him towards the table. “Allow me to introduce Fred Dukes, Raven Darkhölm, and St. John Allerdyce, formerly of Weapon X. They have requested asylum here within the Brotherhood of Men.”
Shiro nodded to them, and returned his gaze to Erik. “There was a fourth prisoner, the one who creates clones. Has he requested asylum as well?”
“Ah, yes, Jamie Madrox,” Erik said, resuming his place at the head of the planning table, “we received communications through a back alley channel indicating his willingness to defect to the Brotherhood. We believe that the originator of this message was the true Jamie Madrox. We also believe that the true Jamie Madrox may have been murdered by people of authority within the Weapon X project. We are attempting to determine if brother Madrox indeed wishes to join us, and if he is being held against his will, or if he has been killed.”
Shiro nodded. “And how will this be determined?”
Erik looked at his son, who glanced up at him and rolled his eyes. “It’s… complicated. Rest assured, however, that whatever choice brother Madrox makes will be of his own free will.”
Shiro nodded, looking at the rest of the group. Wanda, Pietro, and the former prisoners were all looking down at the table once again. Only Ororo kept her gaze on Shiro for a moment longer. Then she looked back down at the table, and he was forgotten. He turned and walked out of the war room, his questions still unanswered.
[FIFTEEN YEARS AGO: Weapon X Lab…]
Dexter Leftwich walked into the lab and saw Hank sitting at his desk, staring at the data spread across its unforgiving hardwood surface. ‘For someone endowed with superhuman strength and endurance,’ Dexter thought to himself, ‘he sure looks exhausted.’
“Hank,” he said, “you’re still up?”
“Yes, Dexter, I’m trying to figure out this whole Madrox equation.”
“There is no equation to figure out, Hank. His bodies won’t merge because his mind is clinging onto the fact that he may lose his soul. He has no faith that his body will know what to do.”
“Maybe he can’t merge because the process doesn’t allow for it? What if we made a mistake?”
“We didn’t.”
“What if we miscalculated?”
We didn’t,” he repeated.
“What if we didn’t account for-”
“Hank,” Dexter said, “we didn’t. We went over the numbers. We went through the simulations. We examined every permutation. We’ve been at this for a month, without a change. This is a crisis of faith, not science. So what do we do to counter that? How do we convince the boy that it’s safe?”
Hank rubbed the bridge of his nose, exhausted. “We could lock one of them in a closet and tell the other one he absorbed him in his sleep.”
Dexter was completely silent.
“Kidding,” Hank said, catching the man’s ashen look. “I am kidding, of course.”
Dexter smiled. “No, you may have something. His body will know what to do, even on an unconscious level, right?”
“You mean knocking him out?” Hank queried. “No, that won’t work. The field disruption that allows his molecules to homogenize has to be triggered consciously.”
“Why?” Dexter asked, leaning forward. “It’s only because we programmed him that way. We wrote the rules that way because we wanted him to be able to interact with his clones without accidentally reabsorbing them. What if we can trick his intrinsic field into thinking he wants to merge?”
“Override the signal from his cortex?”
Dexter rose from the desk. “I’m going to work on something,” he said, “I have a process already brewing up in my noggin.”
“Yes, but the variables in the first operator-”
“I’ll worry about that, Hank,” he said, smiling, “you just get some sleep. You have the Sidney case upcoming next month; we need you fresh for that.”
Hank watched him leave, and then went back to looking at the file.
[NOW: Vermicom Biotech, Munich…]
The darkened corridor was lit by a tiny spark which hung in mid-air as if trapped in amber, humming and snapping as it flickered. After a few moments, the spark was extinguished by the sudden appearance of a tall figure dressed in black. His metallic left arm reflected the sparse light of the labs night lighting onto the wall in glistening bands.
Cable silently keyed his wrist computer and watched as the system produced a tiny holographic map. A larger red dot was encircled by tinier purple dots scattered across locations on the map.
He followed the map until he was standing in front of the outer wall. The wrist computer scanned the surface, isolating an energy signature that seemed to be attached to its molecular structure. “There you are, Kitty-kitty,” he said, smiling.
He turned and followed the map to the door of the lab. According to the history books, the scientists at Vermicom had been on the verge of becoming one of the leaders in biological refitting in the early 21st Century. Their work, however, had been interrupted by a disastrous setback, and it ended up bankrupting them. It was later revealed that their research contained several key flaws, and had they been allowed to continue unabated, it could have sparked a global catastrophe. One of Cable’s missions was to ensure that that disastrous setback occurred at exactly the right time.
He overrode the lab’s door controls, striding into the darkened work space. Standing in the center of the room were two stout towers, refrigeration units with several dozen vials of their latest work, a serum designed for what they deemed biological realignment. He placed a small pod atop each of the towers, and keyed a switch on his wrist computer. Each of the towers’ interior light systems went dark instantly.
Cocking his head to the side, Cable pressed a spot on his shoulder. A small panel in the metallic skin of his arm slid aside, revealing a small storage space.
He carefully lifted the lid of one of the towers and pulled out four sample tubes, sliding them into cavity in his limb.
Resealing the lid, Cable then twisted the top of the pod on each tower, and the interior lighting systems flickered back to life. He toggled the pulse transmitters, beginning the countdown to the burst of radiation that would render the serum inert.
“Freeze!” a frightened voice bellowed out from the doorway in German.
Cable turned slowly, his arms out to the side. “At ease, girl,” he replied fluently.
“I said freeze!” the young security guard yelled, leveling her pistol at Cable’s chest.
“Okay, young lady,” Cable said, his voice gravelly as he changed his accent slightly. “I’m freezing. But you can’t fire that pistol in here. Behind me is a top secret weapon, designated Biological Realignment Extract: Weapon Delta. They call it the Brew.” Cable pointed at the back wall where the words were stenciled in in acronym form. “If you fire that weapon, you may hit the containment towers, releasing one of the most virulent biological weapons in the history of mankind on the unsuspecting world. You and I wouldn’t make it to the ground, we’d be dead before we hit. All of Munich would be infected within hours. It’s the fourth iteration of the serum, and by far the deadliest. Weapon Alpha caused slight headaches. Bravo caused prolonged sexual stimulation in all but three of the test subjects, like ecstasy on steroids. Charlie has had, to date, no effect. But Delta… Delta, my love,” he smiled slightly, “let’s just say you don’t want to fire that weapon.”
“Shut your mouth!” the guard said, fumbling with her radio.
Cable’s left eye lit up. “You don’t want to do that either,” he said, his voice taking on a bit of a hollow echo.
The guard put her radio back in her belt pouch and continued to point her weapon at him. Behind Cable, the pod beeped a double beep, and he dove for the security guard, who reflexively fired a shot at Cable. It hit a fire extinguisher, which exploded, sending pieces of shrapnel into the air. Cable grabbed the guard and shielded her with a hazy shimmering translucent field as the radiation pods baked the remaining brew into useless soup.
“Idiot,” Cable said, knocking the security guard out with his metallic left hand. “I should have let the radiation fry you. The Brew is eradicated, all that’s left are the four samples in my arm. So you get to live another day.”
He set her unconscious form down on the floor by the door and stepped back. “Brew D secure,” he whispered into his wrist computer. “Bodyslide by one.”
In the blink of an eye, Cable disappeared.
[FIFTEEN YEARS AGO: Weapon X Lab…]
A small contingent of recent subjects stood in the hallway, watching the young Kevin Sidney being led into the test chamber. For the most part they seemed to cluster down at one end of the viewing space.
Kevin gave a weak thumbs-up to St. John, who nodded confidently and reassuringly at him. Scott and Warren watched with mild interest, curious to see what would happen in the first test since the Madrox incident.
The two Jamies stood at the other end of the observation window. They looked tired, distracted. It had been a little less than two months since their initial separation, and clearly the experience had not afforded him much in the way of sleep.
“Hello, Jamie,” Dexter said, stepping up to the side of one of them. “I need to see you down in the med lab.”
Jamie sighed. He had grown accustomed to the endless poking and prodding over the course of the past two months. “Can it at least wait until I get to see Kevin’s first test?”
Dexter’s eyes grew slightly narrower, and his brow furrowed a little. “Sorry, kiddo, this needs to be addressed ASAP.”
Jamie nodded and walked down into the corridor with Dexter.
After a few minutes of walking, they arrived in the secondary med lab. It was isolated from the rest of the complex by thick shielding, designed to contain the subjects should anything go wrong.
“I have some good news,” Dexter said, keying his access code into the door panel. “I’ve figured out how to reverse your separation.” They stepped intot he lab as the lights flickered and illuminated the lab.
“Really?” Jamie nearly wept. “Dr. Leftwich, are you serious?”
“Yes, Jamie, I’m serious. The problem here was your intrinsic field would not allow for reintegration because your body couldn’t keep your spiritual essence correctly categorized. Basically, your body would not merge because it couldn’t decide where your soul was.”
Jamie looked at him with rapt fascination. “So what do I have to do?”
Dexter smiled. “Just step into those,” he said, motioning towards a large pair of obelisks that stood in the center of the chamber’s south wall, “and have faith.”
[NOW: Weapon X Detention Level…]
Logan stood in front of Kevin, staring down at him with glowering intensity. His hands were clenched, the muscles in his forearms bulging. “How many of them were involved?”
“Logan, come on, I don’t know anything about their plan. You think they tell me anything?” he said, smiling nervously. “You know me, I’m not the type to be in on the planning stages.”
“How many?” Logan repeated.
“I’m more of a lackey type. I always have been. Even when I first got here. I followed St. John around this place like he was my own personal Jesus, and he’s a year younger than me, for Christ’s sake.”
“I want to know how many of them were involved, Kevin. And I want you to tell me now.”
Kevin’s face went from guarded fear to open defiance. “Shit. Looks like you caught me. But you know what?” His mouth turned up in a confident smile. “I’m not scared of you, Logan. You have nothing to threaten me with, Bub.”
“We know the frequency your modification works at,” Logan said, “your powers are shut down. You can’t squirm your way out of this one.”
“I’m not worried,” Kevin said, leaning back.
“You should be,” Logan smirked. “My powers are still up and running.”
“You think death scares me?” Kevin shot back. “I’ve been dead for a long, long time.”
Logan stared at the man for a few moments longer, and then turned and marched out of the cell.
[FIFTEEN YEARS AGO: Weapon X Lab…]
“You… cured Jamie Madrox?” Hank asked. “How?”
“Integration closets,” Dexter smiled, kicking his feet up onto Hank’s work table. “They break down his intrinsic field and unify it within a single chamber. His body knows what to do. We just needed to trigger it.”
Hank stared incredulously at the man. “How dare you enact a protocol without consulting with the rest of the staff? You could have killed the boy!”
“But I didn’t,” Dexter said, bored. “You’re getting a little too cautious in your old age, Hank. He doesn’t show any ill side effects. He was sedated at the time, which will be a necessity for future mergers, so all that he knows is he went to sleep, and when he woke up, he was whole.”
“But the process hasn’t been-”
“Henry,” Dexter said, “what’s done is done. I got the okay from Fred Duncan, and I solved the problem. He will be deployed from my laboratory from here on in. Executive orders, my friend. From now on, Jamie Madrox is under my jurisdiction.”
Jamie Madrox stepped into the lab, smiling brightly. “Hello Hank! I’m whole again! Dr. Leftwich did it!”
Dexter smiled and patted the boy on the back before he turned and left the lab.
“That’s wonderful, Jamie,” Hank said, motioning for him to have a seat. “Have you felt any kind of ill effects from the procedure?”
“I’m a little weak, but Dr. Leftwich says that’s a normal effect of the trauma that I’ve been through. And while I was out, I had a real bad nightmare, which he said was also normal.”
“What was the nightmare about?”
Jamie’s one thousand watt smile suddenly faded a bit. “Scary stuff. Pain. Being restrained. Fire in the Sky kinda stuff. But when I woke up, I felt great. Like a fog had been lifted from my brain.”
Hank nodded, studying the boy’s face. “I’m glad to hear that, Jamie,” he said, faking the most sincere smile he could muster. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to solve the dilemma sooner.”
“It’s okay, Hank,” Jamie said, “the important thing is I am in one piece again.”
[NOW: Avalon…]
“My name is Jamie Madrox,” Jamie said, “code name: Multiple Man. Serial number four dash oh-eight dash oh-nine-one-nine-nine-five.”
“Brother Madrox,” Erik said, smiling as he circled Jamie’s chair, “this is not an interrogation. I am not asking you for information. I do not want you to tell me anything. Instead, I have something to tell you.” He leaned in close, his mouth scant inches from Jamie’s ear. “Congregation.”
Jamie’s eyes snapped shut, and then opened again. He blinked quickly, as if waking from a deep sleep. He looked around in confusion. Eventually his glance fell on Erik’s face, and his eyes got wider. “Mr. Lensherr?”
Erik smiled. “Yes, Jamie.”
“Did it work?”
“It did indeed, my boy,” Erik replied.
Jamie stood, extended a hand out to Erik, and looked him in the eye. “My name is Jamie Madrox, the Multiple Man, requesting asylum based on the grounds of crimes perpetrated against me in violation of my spiritual beliefs.”
“We hereby do grant you asylum, Jamie Madrox. Welcome to the Brotherhood of Men.”
[EPILOGUE ONE: Klinikum München Hopsital…]
The doors of the emergency room swung open with tremendous urgency, the lone gurney escorted by three frantic paramedics, the patient strapped in with thick white buckles.
“Incoming!” the head paramedic screamed in German. “Female, aged twenty eight, multiple chemical burns!”
“What do we have?” a tall, lanky doctor with graying hair asked, stepping into the procession and laying a stethoscope on her chest.
“Greta Strauss, a security guard over at Vermicom. There was a minor explosion. She was found unharmed, but has apparently absorbed an unknown chemical agent and is suffering from some sort of unexplained chemical burn.”
The doctor turned on a small recording device as they entered the emergency operating theatre. “Dr. Heinrich Fleugel, recording. Explosion at research company. Female patient, Greta Strauss, aged twenty eight, security guard. Pulse rate one-thirty five, vitals erratic. Face shows evidence of blunt force trauma, with deep lacerations across the left cheek. Dermis of the face and neck around the wound appears… calloused… discolored. There’s a large, symmetrical discoloration on the center of her forehead, like a… like a tribal tattoo.”
He tore down the middle of her uniform, buttons launching off into the corners of the room, and sliced her tee shirt open with a large pair of shears.
“My God… the skin of her chest appears to have been pulled tighter across her ribs. Some skin discoloration and callousing similar to that of the face. There appears to be rapid muscle deterioration in the upper arms. Whatever this chemical is, it looks like it’s eating her alive from the inside out.”
One of the nurses reached for Greta’s mouth to insert a breathing tube, and shrieked when she stuck her fingers between her lips. She pulled back her hand, spraying blood across the floor. One of the other nurses prodded Greta’s lower lip back with a wooden probe, revealing a dual row of needle sharp teeth.
“Doctor!” a third nurse gasped. “Her skin is still changing!”
They watched in horror as her skin grew grayish brown and began to form a scaly coating. Her arms grew thinner, her fingers elongating. Her irises seemed to swell, enveloping not only the pupils but the whites as well, transforming to a sickly greenish yellow.
The noise and the bustle of the emergency room immediately fell to nothing when Greta Strauss let loose a piercing, animalistic scream.
“My God,” Dr. Fleugel gsaped, “what in the name of God are you?”
[EPILOGUE TWO: Denver, Colorado, An Abandoned Warehouse…]
Cable hunkered down for the evening, huddling against the far corner. He slept lightly, snapping awake at the slightest sound, though, for the moment, all was quiet. The moon shone through the windows of his temporary shelter, sending a glimmering starburst of reflected light off his metallic arm onto the wall behind him. Were he awake, his eye would no doubt have picked up the tiniest variation in the reflection, the barest twinkle caused by a bead of liquid spilling from a tiny hairline crack in the containment unit of his arm. Inside, three vials of Brew D were awaiting analysis by the scientists of his era. The fourth, unbeknownst to all perhaps save Greta Strauss, had been damaged by the explosion caused when Greta hit the fire extinguisher with a bullet meant for him.
The man known as Cable, sent backwards in time to collect data and samples, and otherwise observe without interfering, lay sleeping, unaware that he was the epicenter of an historic event that would become known as the Invasion of the BrewD.
THE END
Author’s Note
This second arc of Ultimate X-Men is, admittedly, a departure from the focus of the first arc. When I first began these stories, I wanted to make sure that I established the origins and personalities of the mainstay characters, though to attempt to encapsulate them all into just four issues would have been folly of the highest order.
But we touched on them, put them in a common set of circumstances, and built them into the de-facto team that will be the focus of the series. But when the second arc began, I didn’t want to just show the team moving right on into the mansion and taking off on its own. After all, there were still many supporting characters to introduce, there was the entire dynamic of the Brotherhood to get into, and there were still a few mysteries to solve. So I decided to put the main characters of the story somewhat on the back burner, so to speak, while we got a glimpse of the world around them.
I realize that spending the second arc of a series in a team based story on anything and everything but the team is a risk, but I hope you’ll agree with me that the results were worth the risk. It would not be accurate to say that I have been working without a plan for these supporting characters, but neither would it be accurate to say I haven’t allowed some of these moments to write themselves as they happened. These characters have, at certain points within the story, taken on lives of their own, and I think it gives them a depth and breadth that makes them more believable. I am eager now to get back to the main cast, and see if a little improv helps get them to pop into genuine beings with depth and clarity, much like the supporting characters seem to have. Hopefully, you’ll stick around with me, as the fun is just beginning!
- Kenn Beck
“Be cool,” the fourth Jamie said, his hands up defensively. “We can talk this out.”
“It all makes sense now,” Logan sneered. “That’s why you had Jamie dupe out before we even got on the transport.”
“What?” One of the other Jamies said. “Scott told me to be there in numbers, ready to fight.”
“And besides, there have been other times that-”
“Shut it! Elect one of you to speak, tell the rest of you to shut the hell up, and then shut yourself up!”
He turned back to the fourth Jamie. “It wasn’t Scott. And you knew that having four of Jamie and his cheap ass cologne in the transport would drown my senses to the point where I wouldn’t notice that Sean wasn’t really there in the transport either.”
The fourth Jamie smiled sheepishly.
“How many of them were involved, Kevin?”
“Kevin?” one of the Jamies said.
The fourth Jamie’s features seemed to melt, skin swirling and reshaping, hair growing, eyes becoming more sunken and dark. The real Jamies watched as their fourth dupe transformed into Kevin Sidney, who chuckled and began to speak to Logan. “You have no idea how tough it was to not say Changeling when you did roll call-”
Logan slammed him into the wall of the transport. “You think this is a joke?!?” Logan bellowed. He spun and flung Kevin into the cargo hold. Looking back at Jamie, he snarled “get us back to base.”
Two of the Jamies stood and settled into the flight deck. Logan turned, cracked his neck, and entered the cargo hold to get his answers.
[FIFTEEN YEARS AGO: Weapon X Lab…]
Jamie stared at his reflection, who stared back at him with equal fascination. He was an exact duplicate, down to the slightest minute detail. So thorough was the duplication process that Jamie wondered for a brief moment if he was, in fact, the clone, and this boy in front of him was the real Jamie Madrox. The thought hurt his brain, so he tried to shove it down into the recesses of his mind.
“Okay, Jamie,” Hank said, making a final note on the clipboard, “that’s the last of the tests we need to run. Now, I want you each to focus on the other and put your right hand on his left shoulder.”
Each of the Jamies looked at the other, laying hands on each other’s shoulders as instructed.
“Focus,” Hank said, “and each of you envision drawing the other into you, absorbing them, letting them become one with you, a complete synthesis of two halves.”
Both Jamies’ brows furrowed simultaneously, each sharing the same doubt instantaneously. “But,” they said at once, pausing. “Which one of us is the real Jamie?” one of them said.
“What if he is the clone and he absorbs the real me?” the other one asked.
Hank nodded, understanding their hesitation. “I know this is an abstract concept to comprehend, but you are both, on a quantum level, fundamentally identical. There is no ‘real’ Jamie, nor is there a ‘fake.’ There are simply two halves of the same vessel, waiting to be reunited.”
One Jamie closed his eyes, appearing to concentrate, so the other followed suit.
Nothing happened.
“Nothing’s happening,” Jamie said.
Hank noted such on his clipboard, looking over the top of his glasses. “Do you need to slap me again?” he smiled.
One Jamie did not laugh, while the other chuckled only slightly. “Seriously, Dr. McCoy, how do I know which one of us should be left?”
Hank set the clipboard down, and nodded. “I know you’re scared, Jamie. You needn’t be, though. There is a phenomenon called ‘reflexive physionometry.’ It’s ‘body memory.’ Your cells each contain the blueprint of what your entire body is supposed to look like. When you get cut, your skin remembers what shape it is supposed to take, it won’t just continue to grow uncontrollably. Your body will know which one of the two shells should be absorbed into the other.”
“But,” Jamie paused, obviously deep in the throes of a moral dilemma, “which one of us has a soul?”
[NOW: Avalon…]
Shiro Yoshida strode purposefully towards the central chamber where Erik was holding counsel with his lieutenants. Never one to anger quickly, Shiro was nonetheless working very hard to keep his emotions in check, his mind racing with possibilities. He prided himself on his logic and reason, but there were few scenarios he could envision which would explain why the Brotherhood of Men had taken four people prisoner.
As he opened the doors, he was greeted by a sight that perplexed him greatly. The prisoners stood around the table, shoulder to shoulder with Erik’s most trusted lieutenants. Erik looked up at Shiro as the doors closed behind him, smiling. “Ah, Shiro-san, please, join us.”
All at the table save for Pietro glanced up and smiled at him, the lanky mutant instead focusing entirely on the plans scattered on the table. Taking a second look, Shiro noticed that one of the prisoners, the multiplier, was not among them.
“Erik-san, I… I am confused.”
“Yes, dear boy,” Erik nodded, “I imagine you would be. I apologize for the duplicity, but there were elements of your mission that were of a delicate nature, and had to be kept from everyone but my son.” He stepped around the group and placed a hand on Shiro’s shoulder, leading him towards the table. “Allow me to introduce Fred Dukes, Raven Darkhölm, and St. John Allerdyce, formerly of Weapon X. They have requested asylum here within the Brotherhood of Men.”
Shiro nodded to them, and returned his gaze to Erik. “There was a fourth prisoner, the one who creates clones. Has he requested asylum as well?”
“Ah, yes, Jamie Madrox,” Erik said, resuming his place at the head of the planning table, “we received communications through a back alley channel indicating his willingness to defect to the Brotherhood. We believe that the originator of this message was the true Jamie Madrox. We also believe that the true Jamie Madrox may have been murdered by people of authority within the Weapon X project. We are attempting to determine if brother Madrox indeed wishes to join us, and if he is being held against his will, or if he has been killed.”
Shiro nodded. “And how will this be determined?”
Erik looked at his son, who glanced up at him and rolled his eyes. “It’s… complicated. Rest assured, however, that whatever choice brother Madrox makes will be of his own free will.”
Shiro nodded, looking at the rest of the group. Wanda, Pietro, and the former prisoners were all looking down at the table once again. Only Ororo kept her gaze on Shiro for a moment longer. Then she looked back down at the table, and he was forgotten. He turned and walked out of the war room, his questions still unanswered.
[FIFTEEN YEARS AGO: Weapon X Lab…]
Dexter Leftwich walked into the lab and saw Hank sitting at his desk, staring at the data spread across its unforgiving hardwood surface. ‘For someone endowed with superhuman strength and endurance,’ Dexter thought to himself, ‘he sure looks exhausted.’
“Hank,” he said, “you’re still up?”
“Yes, Dexter, I’m trying to figure out this whole Madrox equation.”
“There is no equation to figure out, Hank. His bodies won’t merge because his mind is clinging onto the fact that he may lose his soul. He has no faith that his body will know what to do.”
“Maybe he can’t merge because the process doesn’t allow for it? What if we made a mistake?”
“We didn’t.”
“What if we miscalculated?”
We didn’t,” he repeated.
“What if we didn’t account for-”
“Hank,” Dexter said, “we didn’t. We went over the numbers. We went through the simulations. We examined every permutation. We’ve been at this for a month, without a change. This is a crisis of faith, not science. So what do we do to counter that? How do we convince the boy that it’s safe?”
Hank rubbed the bridge of his nose, exhausted. “We could lock one of them in a closet and tell the other one he absorbed him in his sleep.”
Dexter was completely silent.
“Kidding,” Hank said, catching the man’s ashen look. “I am kidding, of course.”
Dexter smiled. “No, you may have something. His body will know what to do, even on an unconscious level, right?”
“You mean knocking him out?” Hank queried. “No, that won’t work. The field disruption that allows his molecules to homogenize has to be triggered consciously.”
“Why?” Dexter asked, leaning forward. “It’s only because we programmed him that way. We wrote the rules that way because we wanted him to be able to interact with his clones without accidentally reabsorbing them. What if we can trick his intrinsic field into thinking he wants to merge?”
“Override the signal from his cortex?”
Dexter rose from the desk. “I’m going to work on something,” he said, “I have a process already brewing up in my noggin.”
“Yes, but the variables in the first operator-”
“I’ll worry about that, Hank,” he said, smiling, “you just get some sleep. You have the Sidney case upcoming next month; we need you fresh for that.”
Hank watched him leave, and then went back to looking at the file.
[NOW: Vermicom Biotech, Munich…]
The darkened corridor was lit by a tiny spark which hung in mid-air as if trapped in amber, humming and snapping as it flickered. After a few moments, the spark was extinguished by the sudden appearance of a tall figure dressed in black. His metallic left arm reflected the sparse light of the labs night lighting onto the wall in glistening bands.
Cable silently keyed his wrist computer and watched as the system produced a tiny holographic map. A larger red dot was encircled by tinier purple dots scattered across locations on the map.
He followed the map until he was standing in front of the outer wall. The wrist computer scanned the surface, isolating an energy signature that seemed to be attached to its molecular structure. “There you are, Kitty-kitty,” he said, smiling.
He turned and followed the map to the door of the lab. According to the history books, the scientists at Vermicom had been on the verge of becoming one of the leaders in biological refitting in the early 21st Century. Their work, however, had been interrupted by a disastrous setback, and it ended up bankrupting them. It was later revealed that their research contained several key flaws, and had they been allowed to continue unabated, it could have sparked a global catastrophe. One of Cable’s missions was to ensure that that disastrous setback occurred at exactly the right time.
He overrode the lab’s door controls, striding into the darkened work space. Standing in the center of the room were two stout towers, refrigeration units with several dozen vials of their latest work, a serum designed for what they deemed biological realignment. He placed a small pod atop each of the towers, and keyed a switch on his wrist computer. Each of the towers’ interior light systems went dark instantly.
Cocking his head to the side, Cable pressed a spot on his shoulder. A small panel in the metallic skin of his arm slid aside, revealing a small storage space.
He carefully lifted the lid of one of the towers and pulled out four sample tubes, sliding them into cavity in his limb.
Resealing the lid, Cable then twisted the top of the pod on each tower, and the interior lighting systems flickered back to life. He toggled the pulse transmitters, beginning the countdown to the burst of radiation that would render the serum inert.
“Freeze!” a frightened voice bellowed out from the doorway in German.
Cable turned slowly, his arms out to the side. “At ease, girl,” he replied fluently.
“I said freeze!” the young security guard yelled, leveling her pistol at Cable’s chest.
“Okay, young lady,” Cable said, his voice gravelly as he changed his accent slightly. “I’m freezing. But you can’t fire that pistol in here. Behind me is a top secret weapon, designated Biological Realignment Extract: Weapon Delta. They call it the Brew.” Cable pointed at the back wall where the words were stenciled in in acronym form. “If you fire that weapon, you may hit the containment towers, releasing one of the most virulent biological weapons in the history of mankind on the unsuspecting world. You and I wouldn’t make it to the ground, we’d be dead before we hit. All of Munich would be infected within hours. It’s the fourth iteration of the serum, and by far the deadliest. Weapon Alpha caused slight headaches. Bravo caused prolonged sexual stimulation in all but three of the test subjects, like ecstasy on steroids. Charlie has had, to date, no effect. But Delta… Delta, my love,” he smiled slightly, “let’s just say you don’t want to fire that weapon.”
“Shut your mouth!” the guard said, fumbling with her radio.
Cable’s left eye lit up. “You don’t want to do that either,” he said, his voice taking on a bit of a hollow echo.
The guard put her radio back in her belt pouch and continued to point her weapon at him. Behind Cable, the pod beeped a double beep, and he dove for the security guard, who reflexively fired a shot at Cable. It hit a fire extinguisher, which exploded, sending pieces of shrapnel into the air. Cable grabbed the guard and shielded her with a hazy shimmering translucent field as the radiation pods baked the remaining brew into useless soup.
“Idiot,” Cable said, knocking the security guard out with his metallic left hand. “I should have let the radiation fry you. The Brew is eradicated, all that’s left are the four samples in my arm. So you get to live another day.”
He set her unconscious form down on the floor by the door and stepped back. “Brew D secure,” he whispered into his wrist computer. “Bodyslide by one.”
In the blink of an eye, Cable disappeared.
[FIFTEEN YEARS AGO: Weapon X Lab…]
A small contingent of recent subjects stood in the hallway, watching the young Kevin Sidney being led into the test chamber. For the most part they seemed to cluster down at one end of the viewing space.
Kevin gave a weak thumbs-up to St. John, who nodded confidently and reassuringly at him. Scott and Warren watched with mild interest, curious to see what would happen in the first test since the Madrox incident.
The two Jamies stood at the other end of the observation window. They looked tired, distracted. It had been a little less than two months since their initial separation, and clearly the experience had not afforded him much in the way of sleep.
“Hello, Jamie,” Dexter said, stepping up to the side of one of them. “I need to see you down in the med lab.”
Jamie sighed. He had grown accustomed to the endless poking and prodding over the course of the past two months. “Can it at least wait until I get to see Kevin’s first test?”
Dexter’s eyes grew slightly narrower, and his brow furrowed a little. “Sorry, kiddo, this needs to be addressed ASAP.”
Jamie nodded and walked down into the corridor with Dexter.
After a few minutes of walking, they arrived in the secondary med lab. It was isolated from the rest of the complex by thick shielding, designed to contain the subjects should anything go wrong.
“I have some good news,” Dexter said, keying his access code into the door panel. “I’ve figured out how to reverse your separation.” They stepped intot he lab as the lights flickered and illuminated the lab.
“Really?” Jamie nearly wept. “Dr. Leftwich, are you serious?”
“Yes, Jamie, I’m serious. The problem here was your intrinsic field would not allow for reintegration because your body couldn’t keep your spiritual essence correctly categorized. Basically, your body would not merge because it couldn’t decide where your soul was.”
Jamie looked at him with rapt fascination. “So what do I have to do?”
Dexter smiled. “Just step into those,” he said, motioning towards a large pair of obelisks that stood in the center of the chamber’s south wall, “and have faith.”
[NOW: Weapon X Detention Level…]
Logan stood in front of Kevin, staring down at him with glowering intensity. His hands were clenched, the muscles in his forearms bulging. “How many of them were involved?”
“Logan, come on, I don’t know anything about their plan. You think they tell me anything?” he said, smiling nervously. “You know me, I’m not the type to be in on the planning stages.”
“How many?” Logan repeated.
“I’m more of a lackey type. I always have been. Even when I first got here. I followed St. John around this place like he was my own personal Jesus, and he’s a year younger than me, for Christ’s sake.”
“I want to know how many of them were involved, Kevin. And I want you to tell me now.”
Kevin’s face went from guarded fear to open defiance. “Shit. Looks like you caught me. But you know what?” His mouth turned up in a confident smile. “I’m not scared of you, Logan. You have nothing to threaten me with, Bub.”
“We know the frequency your modification works at,” Logan said, “your powers are shut down. You can’t squirm your way out of this one.”
“I’m not worried,” Kevin said, leaning back.
“You should be,” Logan smirked. “My powers are still up and running.”
“You think death scares me?” Kevin shot back. “I’ve been dead for a long, long time.”
Logan stared at the man for a few moments longer, and then turned and marched out of the cell.
[FIFTEEN YEARS AGO: Weapon X Lab…]
“You… cured Jamie Madrox?” Hank asked. “How?”
“Integration closets,” Dexter smiled, kicking his feet up onto Hank’s work table. “They break down his intrinsic field and unify it within a single chamber. His body knows what to do. We just needed to trigger it.”
Hank stared incredulously at the man. “How dare you enact a protocol without consulting with the rest of the staff? You could have killed the boy!”
“But I didn’t,” Dexter said, bored. “You’re getting a little too cautious in your old age, Hank. He doesn’t show any ill side effects. He was sedated at the time, which will be a necessity for future mergers, so all that he knows is he went to sleep, and when he woke up, he was whole.”
“But the process hasn’t been-”
“Henry,” Dexter said, “what’s done is done. I got the okay from Fred Duncan, and I solved the problem. He will be deployed from my laboratory from here on in. Executive orders, my friend. From now on, Jamie Madrox is under my jurisdiction.”
Jamie Madrox stepped into the lab, smiling brightly. “Hello Hank! I’m whole again! Dr. Leftwich did it!”
Dexter smiled and patted the boy on the back before he turned and left the lab.
“That’s wonderful, Jamie,” Hank said, motioning for him to have a seat. “Have you felt any kind of ill effects from the procedure?”
“I’m a little weak, but Dr. Leftwich says that’s a normal effect of the trauma that I’ve been through. And while I was out, I had a real bad nightmare, which he said was also normal.”
“What was the nightmare about?”
Jamie’s one thousand watt smile suddenly faded a bit. “Scary stuff. Pain. Being restrained. Fire in the Sky kinda stuff. But when I woke up, I felt great. Like a fog had been lifted from my brain.”
Hank nodded, studying the boy’s face. “I’m glad to hear that, Jamie,” he said, faking the most sincere smile he could muster. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to solve the dilemma sooner.”
“It’s okay, Hank,” Jamie said, “the important thing is I am in one piece again.”
[NOW: Avalon…]
“My name is Jamie Madrox,” Jamie said, “code name: Multiple Man. Serial number four dash oh-eight dash oh-nine-one-nine-nine-five.”
“Brother Madrox,” Erik said, smiling as he circled Jamie’s chair, “this is not an interrogation. I am not asking you for information. I do not want you to tell me anything. Instead, I have something to tell you.” He leaned in close, his mouth scant inches from Jamie’s ear. “Congregation.”
Jamie’s eyes snapped shut, and then opened again. He blinked quickly, as if waking from a deep sleep. He looked around in confusion. Eventually his glance fell on Erik’s face, and his eyes got wider. “Mr. Lensherr?”
Erik smiled. “Yes, Jamie.”
“Did it work?”
“It did indeed, my boy,” Erik replied.
Jamie stood, extended a hand out to Erik, and looked him in the eye. “My name is Jamie Madrox, the Multiple Man, requesting asylum based on the grounds of crimes perpetrated against me in violation of my spiritual beliefs.”
“We hereby do grant you asylum, Jamie Madrox. Welcome to the Brotherhood of Men.”
[EPILOGUE ONE: Klinikum München Hopsital…]
The doors of the emergency room swung open with tremendous urgency, the lone gurney escorted by three frantic paramedics, the patient strapped in with thick white buckles.
“Incoming!” the head paramedic screamed in German. “Female, aged twenty eight, multiple chemical burns!”
“What do we have?” a tall, lanky doctor with graying hair asked, stepping into the procession and laying a stethoscope on her chest.
“Greta Strauss, a security guard over at Vermicom. There was a minor explosion. She was found unharmed, but has apparently absorbed an unknown chemical agent and is suffering from some sort of unexplained chemical burn.”
The doctor turned on a small recording device as they entered the emergency operating theatre. “Dr. Heinrich Fleugel, recording. Explosion at research company. Female patient, Greta Strauss, aged twenty eight, security guard. Pulse rate one-thirty five, vitals erratic. Face shows evidence of blunt force trauma, with deep lacerations across the left cheek. Dermis of the face and neck around the wound appears… calloused… discolored. There’s a large, symmetrical discoloration on the center of her forehead, like a… like a tribal tattoo.”
He tore down the middle of her uniform, buttons launching off into the corners of the room, and sliced her tee shirt open with a large pair of shears.
“My God… the skin of her chest appears to have been pulled tighter across her ribs. Some skin discoloration and callousing similar to that of the face. There appears to be rapid muscle deterioration in the upper arms. Whatever this chemical is, it looks like it’s eating her alive from the inside out.”
One of the nurses reached for Greta’s mouth to insert a breathing tube, and shrieked when she stuck her fingers between her lips. She pulled back her hand, spraying blood across the floor. One of the other nurses prodded Greta’s lower lip back with a wooden probe, revealing a dual row of needle sharp teeth.
“Doctor!” a third nurse gasped. “Her skin is still changing!”
They watched in horror as her skin grew grayish brown and began to form a scaly coating. Her arms grew thinner, her fingers elongating. Her irises seemed to swell, enveloping not only the pupils but the whites as well, transforming to a sickly greenish yellow.
The noise and the bustle of the emergency room immediately fell to nothing when Greta Strauss let loose a piercing, animalistic scream.
“My God,” Dr. Fleugel gsaped, “what in the name of God are you?”
[EPILOGUE TWO: Denver, Colorado, An Abandoned Warehouse…]
Cable hunkered down for the evening, huddling against the far corner. He slept lightly, snapping awake at the slightest sound, though, for the moment, all was quiet. The moon shone through the windows of his temporary shelter, sending a glimmering starburst of reflected light off his metallic arm onto the wall behind him. Were he awake, his eye would no doubt have picked up the tiniest variation in the reflection, the barest twinkle caused by a bead of liquid spilling from a tiny hairline crack in the containment unit of his arm. Inside, three vials of Brew D were awaiting analysis by the scientists of his era. The fourth, unbeknownst to all perhaps save Greta Strauss, had been damaged by the explosion caused when Greta hit the fire extinguisher with a bullet meant for him.
The man known as Cable, sent backwards in time to collect data and samples, and otherwise observe without interfering, lay sleeping, unaware that he was the epicenter of an historic event that would become known as the Invasion of the BrewD.
THE END
Author’s Note
This second arc of Ultimate X-Men is, admittedly, a departure from the focus of the first arc. When I first began these stories, I wanted to make sure that I established the origins and personalities of the mainstay characters, though to attempt to encapsulate them all into just four issues would have been folly of the highest order.
But we touched on them, put them in a common set of circumstances, and built them into the de-facto team that will be the focus of the series. But when the second arc began, I didn’t want to just show the team moving right on into the mansion and taking off on its own. After all, there were still many supporting characters to introduce, there was the entire dynamic of the Brotherhood to get into, and there were still a few mysteries to solve. So I decided to put the main characters of the story somewhat on the back burner, so to speak, while we got a glimpse of the world around them.
I realize that spending the second arc of a series in a team based story on anything and everything but the team is a risk, but I hope you’ll agree with me that the results were worth the risk. It would not be accurate to say that I have been working without a plan for these supporting characters, but neither would it be accurate to say I haven’t allowed some of these moments to write themselves as they happened. These characters have, at certain points within the story, taken on lives of their own, and I think it gives them a depth and breadth that makes them more believable. I am eager now to get back to the main cast, and see if a little improv helps get them to pop into genuine beings with depth and clarity, much like the supporting characters seem to have. Hopefully, you’ll stick around with me, as the fun is just beginning!
- Kenn Beck