[EIGHTEEN MONTHS AGO: Dr. Leftwich’s Laboratory…]
Jamie Madrox stirred. He should not have been able to; the drugs they gave him prior to his reintegration were powerful sedatives, designed to keep him completely unconscious through the process. But nevertheless, as the steady hiss of the hydraulics sealed the reintegration chamber shut, Jamie’s eyes slipped open.
He saw one of his duplicates (or was it the real Jamie? He no longer knew the answer himself) in the tube across from him, one of three Jamies that would be in the chambers in the bowels of the Weapon X project. The third one would be directly to his left. He could feel their minds, almost like a person could feel the warmth of another human without actually touching them.
Why was he awake? He thought back on the events of the previous mission. He had been in Russia with Raven and Fred seeking out a young man that the Brotherhood was also looking into. Some farmer, brother of a dead Cosmonaut… Rafikov? Reznikov? He didn’t know, he let Raven deal with the details. He was only there in case things went south, which, of course, they did. One of the Brotherhood showed up right at the hotel before they could even head out for the collective where Rasputin- that was his name- lived.
An itch in the corner of his left eye reminded him that he was restrained. He cursed the thick buckles that held his hands at his sides as he squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to make the itch go away.
“Wait a minute,” Jamie thought to himself, “why would I need to be restrained?” He looked back at the other Jamie, still asleep in his chamber. The mindfield they shared was calm, meaning the other Jamies were sound asleep. But now his mind began to work faster. If he was supposed to be unconscious, why would he need restraints? He tried to speak, but his voice died in his throat with a dry click. He swallowed, but the dryness in his throat would not go away.
Above the other Jamie’s chambers, a screen came to life. There was a very rapidly scrolling cascade of data, abstract and hypnotic, flashing down the screen. There must be similar screens above his own chamber and that of the Jamie to his left. He tried to focus on the data, to try and read anything he could in the dizzying blur, but it was too fast.
An interesting thought entered his head; he would be able to see the integration first hand. For the first time in fourteen years, he’d be awake and able to witness his bodies re-merging. A curiosity squelched most of the fear that had been building up in him. His eyes suddenly were able to read the data on the other screen, but it took him a moment to realize that it was because the data had stopped scrolling. “Integration Initialized,” he read. Except that was wrong.
“Disintegration Initialized,” he corrected himself internally.
And with a flash, Jamie Madrox watched his other self burst into a cloud of ash. Before he could even begin to feel the heat of the incineration beam, before he could even begin to hear the sizzle of his own flesh, before he could even begin to see the bright light within his own chamber, before he could even begin to feel the fear response his brain was beginning to generate… Jamie Madrox was gone a microsecond after his dupe.
The Jamie on the left woke up screaming in his tube.
Jamie Madrox stirred. He should not have been able to; the drugs they gave him prior to his reintegration were powerful sedatives, designed to keep him completely unconscious through the process. But nevertheless, as the steady hiss of the hydraulics sealed the reintegration chamber shut, Jamie’s eyes slipped open.
He saw one of his duplicates (or was it the real Jamie? He no longer knew the answer himself) in the tube across from him, one of three Jamies that would be in the chambers in the bowels of the Weapon X project. The third one would be directly to his left. He could feel their minds, almost like a person could feel the warmth of another human without actually touching them.
Why was he awake? He thought back on the events of the previous mission. He had been in Russia with Raven and Fred seeking out a young man that the Brotherhood was also looking into. Some farmer, brother of a dead Cosmonaut… Rafikov? Reznikov? He didn’t know, he let Raven deal with the details. He was only there in case things went south, which, of course, they did. One of the Brotherhood showed up right at the hotel before they could even head out for the collective where Rasputin- that was his name- lived.
An itch in the corner of his left eye reminded him that he was restrained. He cursed the thick buckles that held his hands at his sides as he squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to make the itch go away.
“Wait a minute,” Jamie thought to himself, “why would I need to be restrained?” He looked back at the other Jamie, still asleep in his chamber. The mindfield they shared was calm, meaning the other Jamies were sound asleep. But now his mind began to work faster. If he was supposed to be unconscious, why would he need restraints? He tried to speak, but his voice died in his throat with a dry click. He swallowed, but the dryness in his throat would not go away.
Above the other Jamie’s chambers, a screen came to life. There was a very rapidly scrolling cascade of data, abstract and hypnotic, flashing down the screen. There must be similar screens above his own chamber and that of the Jamie to his left. He tried to focus on the data, to try and read anything he could in the dizzying blur, but it was too fast.
An interesting thought entered his head; he would be able to see the integration first hand. For the first time in fourteen years, he’d be awake and able to witness his bodies re-merging. A curiosity squelched most of the fear that had been building up in him. His eyes suddenly were able to read the data on the other screen, but it took him a moment to realize that it was because the data had stopped scrolling. “Integration Initialized,” he read. Except that was wrong.
“Disintegration Initialized,” he corrected himself internally.
And with a flash, Jamie Madrox watched his other self burst into a cloud of ash. Before he could even begin to feel the heat of the incineration beam, before he could even begin to hear the sizzle of his own flesh, before he could even begin to see the bright light within his own chamber, before he could even begin to feel the fear response his brain was beginning to generate… Jamie Madrox was gone a microsecond after his dupe.
The Jamie on the left woke up screaming in his tube.
“CONCESSIONS”
[NOW: Weapon X…]
“What do you mean, captured?” Fred Duncan seethed.
“Just that, sir,” Scott stated flatly. “Dukes, Allerdyce, Darkhölme and one of Madrox’s duplicates with them. Sidney was a mole. He’s in the detention center, neutralized and chained.”
“Kevin Sidney orchestrated this?”
“Sidney couldn’t order his own lunch,” Scott replied. “He had help from the inside. I have theories I’d like to discuss with you and Charles.”
“I’ll be there within three minutes. Get Logan to meet me there.”
“Done,” Scott replied, snapping off the screen.
“Looks like your buddy has started taking prisoners,” Fred said to Charles.
“Erik Lensherr doesn’t take prisoners,” Charles replied. “He’ll offer them sanctuary, and if they refuse, he’ll let them go. If they stay, it’s not against their will.” Charles stepped in front of Fred. “Let me speak to Jamie.”
“You are going with me to pry the lid off of Kevin Sidney’s head and dig out who else helped him take out four of our best operatives. We’ll deal with what’s happening to Madrox later.”
[EIGHTEEN MONTHS AGO: Charles Xavier’s Office…]
“Can you describe the nightmare to me, Jamie?” Charles said.
Jamie Madrox stood staring out the window as the freezing rain traced streaks down the pane. His mind flashed with the image of watching himself explode into a cloud of ash, and despite the fire roaring in Charles’ fireplace, he felt his skin cover over in goose bumps.
“I wake up in the integration tubes. I can’t move, I can’t speak. I see myself in one of the other tubes. A light goes on, and… and I watch myself get vaporized. I’ve never woken up in the chamber before. It was such a powerful nightmare that it took me right out of the drug-induced coma they put me in. How is that possible?”
“The human mind, like the rest of the body, can do amazing things when under considerable stress. You’ve been worried for fifteen years that something was wrong with the process of integration, for fifteen years you’ve been afraid of losing your soul somewhere in the process. You’ve had nightmares like this before-”
“Never like this,” Jamie interrupted. “This was the most vivid, horrific experience I’ve ever had.” He turned to Charles, his eyes welling up. “I don’t know if it was a dream, Professor.”
“You’re saying that it was a mindfield experience?” Charles asked, his eyes scanning the younger man’s face. After a moment, he nodded. “Tell me what happened yesterday in Irkutsk, Jamie,” Charles said.
“Irkutsk,” he thought. “Yeah, that was about when things started to get funny.” He turned and nodded to Charles. “We were looking into the Rasputin case. Raven, Fred Dukes and I were coming out of the Hotel Sayern when a member of the Brotherhood just stepped out of the garage and pointed at us. Suddenly, all Hell broke loose. People on the streets turned and started to pelt us with whatever objects they had in their possession. A woman… a woman threw her poodle, Charles. She just chucked the thing right at me. The thing is, even as the poodle was coming through the air at me, I could see hatred in its eyes. Like it had gone feral, instantly. Needless to say, Fred stood his ground, and Raven instantly went into combat mode. She took out three of them with tranq darts before I could even focus on putting that freaking dog down. They all scattered when the street rippled, though.”
“Avalanche.”
“Yep, apparently the Brotherhood came packing. They knew we were looking to recruit Rasputin, so they figured they’d head us off at the pass. Avalanche yanked the street like a rug, but Fred just stomped down and let the wave break over him like it was water. Suddenly, the guy who threw the crowd into a panic was right up in my face, without me even knowing he was near me. His eyes were crazy. Not just crazy like insane, but crazy weird too. One was green, one blue.”
Charles looked up suddenly, and his own face became grim. “Jason Wyngarde.”
“This guy hits me, so I dupe out, and grab him from behind while my dupe tries to incapacitate him. But suddenly, my dupe is punching me in the throat. I dupe again, and two of my dupes are going at it while I am attempting to take this guy out. Finally, he just seems to grin, and I pop him in the face, and bam! My dupes aren’t fighting any more. I look over to see if Raven or Fred need help, but Fred is helping Raven to her feet, with no sign of Avalanche or any of the people attacking us, and I look back down, and this Wyngarde fellow is gone!”
“Jason Wyngarde is a master of placing illusions in people’s brains. It is likely that some, if not all, of your conflict was in your brain. I’d like to take a look at your memories. If there is a thought in your head that wasn’t genuinely created there, I should be able to identify it.”
“Okay,” Jamie said.
Charles’ eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. After a few moments, he shook his head and frowned. “Nothing.”
“No? He didn’t place anything in there?”
“Oh, no,” Charles said. “When I say nothing, I mean that none of what you described actually happened. When Wyngarde pointed at you, he planted that entire conflict into your brain as an illusion. The woman throwing her poodle. The crowd pelting you. Avalanche. None of it actually happened. He must have placed the suggestion in all three of your brains. And there was one more thing he placed in yours, Jamie. He placed a post hypnotic suggestion that triggered your adrenal gland to go into overdrive when it received the right stimuli. That’s what snapped you out of the drugged state and woke you up.”
“And did he put that nightmare in my head?”
“No,” Charles said, looking out the window. He was obviously troubled by elements of the story. “I’m recommending you be temporarily suspended from active duty so that you can get some rest. I’m going to speak to Fred, and then take a good look at Drs. Leftwich and McCoy’s notes.” He stepped over to Jamie and placed a hand on his shoulder. “We’ll get to the bottom of this, Jamie.”
Jamie nodded. “Thank you, Professor.”
“You’re welcome, Jamie,” Charles reassured him. “Our operatives’ safety is our priority here.”
[NOW: Weapon X Detention Center…]
“Oh, hey, it’s chrome dome,” Kevin chuckled as Charles entered his cell.
“Hello, Kevin,” Charles replied calmly.
“Look, it’s like I told Logan. There’s nothing you can threaten me with. I’ve been dead for so long, that killing me now would only be doing me a favor.”
“Who said anything about killing you?” Charles said, his brow furrowed. “I wouldn’t allow that. Besides, even if I were the type of man to sanction that, we’ve already spent so much money on you that killing you would be fiscally irresponsible, and Fred Duncan wouldn’t allow that. But there are worse things than death, obviously.”
“Yeah, sure, Logan alarm bunt plover… mint dover… mutt? Hair pinning?”
“You’re having a stroke,” Charles said calmly. “Or, at least, your brain is currently suffering from the symptoms of a stroke. Slurred speech, headache, partial paralysis… if you were allowed to stand up and walk, you’d just fall over. You aren’t in physical danger, mind you… your brain is still receiving the normal blood flow it normally gets. But psychologically,” Charles said, sitting down in the chair next to him, “psychologically, I’d say you were in the worst position in your life. Imagine having to live the rest of your life as a vegetable, paralyzed from the neck down, unable to even feed yourself… but aware. Aware that it wasn’t a car accident, or a bullet, or even an injury in the line of duty… it is your own body telling itself that it can’t move. The best part is that, unlike a standard spinal cord injury, I could selectively allow your lungs to continue to function. You wouldn’t need an iron lung. You’d just lay there, existing, until we needed to run some more tests. We could even reactivate your powers, and the pathways that allow you to morph into other shapes would simply not function. Maybe we’ll do that; reactivate your powers, and make them tell your body that its natural state is as a puddle of protoplasm with no rigid shape. We’ll keep you in a bottle on a shelf in Dr. McCoy’s lab. That’s the neat thing about your powers, Kevin. Seems like you can even keep the aging process from happening now. You may be immortal. And when we are all dead and gone, you’ll be sitting in a jar on a shelf in an abandoned lab complex that’s been shielded from incursion and would likely remain undiscovered until the tectonic plates shifted enough to dig it up.”
Kevin’s eyes twitched frantically back and forth. He couldn’t move, he could do nothing except breath and feel fear.
“Pie zone chew jump bake clout wahoo meat?” He whimpered.
“I won’t ‘just take out what I need’ because you need to show me that you want to help atone for what you’ve done. You need to show me that you understand, and are willing to make it right. And because I want you to understand that even though you may have been promised something by Magneto, or someone else… I am the man you should really be afraid of, Kevin.”
“Fleas,” Kevin pleaded, “fleas take shit crop. Pile stalk.”
“Yes,” Charles smiled. “I know you will.”
[EIGHTEEN MONTHS AGO: St. Patrick’s Cathedral, New York City...]
“Forgive me father, for I have sinned,” Jamie whispered. “It has been... too long since my last confession.”
“But it is never too late, my son,” the priest replied from behind his partition. “What troubles you?”
Jamie took a deep breath and let it out. “It’s my job, father.”
“What about your job weighs so heavily upon you?”
“The things I have to do... I am sometimes called to visit violence upon people.”
“Sometimes, the weak cannot defend themselves, and the righteous must take up in their defense. Do you believe that what you are doing is for the greater good of mankind?”
“I used to,” Jamie replied. “But I no longer trust the organization I work for. The things I’ve seen... what they’ve done to others... to me... I have lost my soul.”
“A soul cannot be lost, son. The soul is what we are, not this mortal clay.”
“But what if the body is copied? Would each copy have a soul?”
The priest shifted within his vestibule. “Are we discussing cloning?"
“Yes,” Jamie replied. “Would each clone have a copy of the soul?”
“Only God can create a soul,” he said. “Mortals may be able to replicate everything else, but only the Holy Father can breathe the divine spark into a being.”
“So the clones would have no soul,” Jamie said, his voice wavering. “They would be unholy abominations.”
“In the eyes of the Catholic church, certainly. The clone, lacking a soul, would have no compassion, no humanity.”
Jamie began to sob softly.
“Have you been cloned, my son?”
“No, father,” he replied through his tears, “I am a clone.”
Silence. Jamie was about to apologize and leave when the priest finally spoke up again. “There are some who maintain that the soul is energy, and that energy can neither be created nor destroyed. If your original body has been destroyed, it is possible that the soul has migrated to this form. It is possible that each form has a portion of your soul imbued within them, and that the energy is reunited when your duplicates are destroyed.”
“Is that what you think?”
“What I think is that the organization that you work for has little concern for this type of dilemma. If they did, they would have never done what they have done to you without being able to answer these questions.”
“What has happened to my soul, father?”
“It has been attacked. It has been tested.”
“But is it intact?”
“That is something I would like to know myself. Will you leave this organization?”
“I don’t know how. They’ve invested quite a bit of money in me. I don’t know if I’m even allowed to leave. How would I even begin?”
“There are those who could help you,” the priest said. “I know of an organization that would be willing to help you find religious sanctuary.”
“I don’t know… I work for powerful people. They won’t let me go without a fight.”
“God has powerful agents of his own.”
“And they work out of St. Patrick’s Cathedral?”
“They work wherever the need exists.”
“Father, forgive me,” Jamie said, “I’m not actually Catholic.”
“That’s okay, I’m not actually a priest,” he replied. “I’m a rabbi.”
“A rabbi?” Jamie asked. “Since when do rabbis take confession at a Catholic church?”
“They don’t.”
Jamie lowered his head. “Rabbi,” he said.
“Yes, my son?”
“How did you know that there were multiple duplicates of me? You said duplicates, plural. I never said there was more than one clone.”
“Because we have met before, Jamie.”
“That’s what I thought.” He was silent for a long time. Finally, he nodded. “Will you really help me, Magneto?”
The partition slid back, revealing Erik Lensherr’s placid face. “Have faith, dear boy. Your deliverance is at hand.”
[NOW: Weapon X Detention Center…]
“Are you telling me that they went willingly?” Fred Duncan asked Charles.
“That’s what Kevin told us. They’ve defected. The plan had been in place for months. Everything happened according to Magneto’s plan.”
“Then why did Multiple Man come back? If he wanted to defect, why not just have all of them go?”
“Because he didn’t know that he wanted to leave. Eighteen months ago, someone placed a post-hypnotic suggestion in his mind to clear any thoughts of leaving Weapon X until the code word was spoken. Once that word was activated, Jamie remembered what made him want to leave in the first place.”
Duncan looked at Xavier with curiosity. “And that was?”
“What Dr. Dexter Leftwich has done to him,” Charles replied.
Duncan smiled a humorless smile. “And what has he done to him?”
“I think you already know, Fred. The integration process. Dr. Leftwich has been murdering Jamies’ dupes. He couldn’t figure out how to make them re-merge, so he killed them.”
Duncan’s face dropped. “He did what?”
“Spare me the incredulity,” Charles said. “I had Henry go over the notes. Jamie operated out of Leftwich’s lab at your say so. You knew all along what he was doing.”
Fred Duncan furrowed his brow and his hand slowly dropped to his belt. His thumb gingerly sought the button that would trigger the dampener field that would shield him from Charles’ telepathic powers.
“Don’t bother,” Charles said. “You handed the dampener over to me when I walked in the door, you just don’t remember it.”
Duncan looked down. It was gone.
“What you don’t understand, Agent Duncan, is that you’ve crossed the wrong man. I was willing to tolerate your leadership here at the facility because you had clearance that was needed to access certain personnel and technology. But now that I know you have been signing off on the murder of test subjects, agents I vowed to protect… your usefulness to me is at an end.”
Duncan eyed the blinking light on the shelf.
“Ah, yes, the recorder,” Charles said. “Don’t worry, it is right now recording me giving you a full debriefing on the defection of three of our best agents, and recording your response to let them leave without reprisals, and your decision to allow Multiple Man to depart if he so desires. Your voice sounds a little stiff, but they’ll just attribute that to your impending health problems. You see, this conversation is taking place entirely within your mind. In the outside world, I’m now asking you if you feel okay, because you look a trifle pale.”
Fred tried to move, but he found it impossible.
“Just so you know, Leftwich is gone. He left yesterday, it turns out, and took a bunch of files with him; data on all of the original Weapon X subjects. I’ll see to it that he’s dealt with, rest assured.”
“Smile bet blue, Shaver,” Duncan muttered as he twitched spasmodically in his chair.
“No, Agent Duncan,” Charles said, fury in his eyes. “You won’t get me. The only thing you’ll be getting is ‘round tthe clock medical care for the rest of your short, miserable life. As for Weapon X... there are going to be some changes.”
[EIGHTEEN MONTHS AGO: Charles Xavier’s Office…]
“How do you feel, Jamie?”
“I feel great,” he replied. “Very well rested. Hypnosis really work miracles, eh?”
Charles smiled. “It sometimes helps. Any more nightmares?”
“No sir! Slept like a log last night! Dr. Leftwich said I can be cleared for active duty within the week.”
The smile left Charles’ face. “Are you sure that’s what you want? I have a meeting scheduled with Dr. McCoy to go over your charts, we could wait until we examine the procedure to clear you.”
“No need,” Jamie said. “The hypnotherapist I found said if I begin to have problems like this again, to come see her. She is such a nice lady. Beautiful, too!”
“Well, then, I owe this therapist a debt of gratitude. Let me know if you need me to speak to her.”
“Thanks, Professor,” Jamie smiled, “I think Dr. Frost and I have things under control.”
[NOW: Weapon X Detention Center...]
Kevin sat with his chin on his knees, the picture of misery. He felt foolish, letting Xavier intimidate him like that. After all, Charles Xavier was too much of a shepherd and didn’t have the stones to actually follow through on his threat. Now, Magneto’s advantage was lost, and Kevin would never be accepted into the Brotherhood. Xavier had snowballed him right and proper.
The door to his cell hissed open and Hank McCoy and Sean Cassidy walked in with a set of cuffs.
“What’s happening?” he stammered.
“You’re being taken to my lab,” Hank replied, “where your enhancements are being permanently deactivated. Then, you’re having your memories wiped.”
“Wiped?”
“Lamentably, yes,” Hank nodded. “We cannot allow a former asset to walk out with classified knowledge. Unless you’d like to stay in the detention area for the remainder of your natural life.”
“Duncan is letting me go?”
“Ye haven’t heard,” Sean nodded. “Agent Duncan has had a medical emergency, and is no longer in charge of the facility. Charles said it was a terrible thing to witness. One moment, perfectly fine, the next, BAM! Stroke, completely incapacitated.”
Kevin’s blood went cold. Apparently, the shepherd was indeed a wolf. He nodded. “Well then, I guess I’m out of a job.”
“Aye, fuck-stick,” Sean smiled, “but we’ll be watching ye. Ye won’t remember us, but ye will remember that ye should watch yer back!”
[LATER THAT DAY: An Area Hospital...]
“He has no memory at all?” the nurse asked.
“Some, it’s not complete amnesia,” the other nurse replied. “He knows his name, he knows what year it is. But he has no recollection of where he lives, or what he has been doing for the past fifteen years. Blank slate.”
“Poor man. I wonder what happened to him?”
“It could always be worse,” the nurse replied. “We had another man come in with a stroke an hour before. He’s probably never going to move or even speak again.”
Kevin Sidney heard the entire exchange. And somehow, in the back of his mind, he knew it was true. He didn’t know what he had been doing for fifteeen years, or where he had been, or why he felt deja vu when the nurse mentioned the stroke victim, but he was alive. For now.
And it could always be worse.
[NEXT: The Attack of the BrewD!]
“What do you mean, captured?” Fred Duncan seethed.
“Just that, sir,” Scott stated flatly. “Dukes, Allerdyce, Darkhölme and one of Madrox’s duplicates with them. Sidney was a mole. He’s in the detention center, neutralized and chained.”
“Kevin Sidney orchestrated this?”
“Sidney couldn’t order his own lunch,” Scott replied. “He had help from the inside. I have theories I’d like to discuss with you and Charles.”
“I’ll be there within three minutes. Get Logan to meet me there.”
“Done,” Scott replied, snapping off the screen.
“Looks like your buddy has started taking prisoners,” Fred said to Charles.
“Erik Lensherr doesn’t take prisoners,” Charles replied. “He’ll offer them sanctuary, and if they refuse, he’ll let them go. If they stay, it’s not against their will.” Charles stepped in front of Fred. “Let me speak to Jamie.”
“You are going with me to pry the lid off of Kevin Sidney’s head and dig out who else helped him take out four of our best operatives. We’ll deal with what’s happening to Madrox later.”
[EIGHTEEN MONTHS AGO: Charles Xavier’s Office…]
“Can you describe the nightmare to me, Jamie?” Charles said.
Jamie Madrox stood staring out the window as the freezing rain traced streaks down the pane. His mind flashed with the image of watching himself explode into a cloud of ash, and despite the fire roaring in Charles’ fireplace, he felt his skin cover over in goose bumps.
“I wake up in the integration tubes. I can’t move, I can’t speak. I see myself in one of the other tubes. A light goes on, and… and I watch myself get vaporized. I’ve never woken up in the chamber before. It was such a powerful nightmare that it took me right out of the drug-induced coma they put me in. How is that possible?”
“The human mind, like the rest of the body, can do amazing things when under considerable stress. You’ve been worried for fifteen years that something was wrong with the process of integration, for fifteen years you’ve been afraid of losing your soul somewhere in the process. You’ve had nightmares like this before-”
“Never like this,” Jamie interrupted. “This was the most vivid, horrific experience I’ve ever had.” He turned to Charles, his eyes welling up. “I don’t know if it was a dream, Professor.”
“You’re saying that it was a mindfield experience?” Charles asked, his eyes scanning the younger man’s face. After a moment, he nodded. “Tell me what happened yesterday in Irkutsk, Jamie,” Charles said.
“Irkutsk,” he thought. “Yeah, that was about when things started to get funny.” He turned and nodded to Charles. “We were looking into the Rasputin case. Raven, Fred Dukes and I were coming out of the Hotel Sayern when a member of the Brotherhood just stepped out of the garage and pointed at us. Suddenly, all Hell broke loose. People on the streets turned and started to pelt us with whatever objects they had in their possession. A woman… a woman threw her poodle, Charles. She just chucked the thing right at me. The thing is, even as the poodle was coming through the air at me, I could see hatred in its eyes. Like it had gone feral, instantly. Needless to say, Fred stood his ground, and Raven instantly went into combat mode. She took out three of them with tranq darts before I could even focus on putting that freaking dog down. They all scattered when the street rippled, though.”
“Avalanche.”
“Yep, apparently the Brotherhood came packing. They knew we were looking to recruit Rasputin, so they figured they’d head us off at the pass. Avalanche yanked the street like a rug, but Fred just stomped down and let the wave break over him like it was water. Suddenly, the guy who threw the crowd into a panic was right up in my face, without me even knowing he was near me. His eyes were crazy. Not just crazy like insane, but crazy weird too. One was green, one blue.”
Charles looked up suddenly, and his own face became grim. “Jason Wyngarde.”
“This guy hits me, so I dupe out, and grab him from behind while my dupe tries to incapacitate him. But suddenly, my dupe is punching me in the throat. I dupe again, and two of my dupes are going at it while I am attempting to take this guy out. Finally, he just seems to grin, and I pop him in the face, and bam! My dupes aren’t fighting any more. I look over to see if Raven or Fred need help, but Fred is helping Raven to her feet, with no sign of Avalanche or any of the people attacking us, and I look back down, and this Wyngarde fellow is gone!”
“Jason Wyngarde is a master of placing illusions in people’s brains. It is likely that some, if not all, of your conflict was in your brain. I’d like to take a look at your memories. If there is a thought in your head that wasn’t genuinely created there, I should be able to identify it.”
“Okay,” Jamie said.
Charles’ eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. After a few moments, he shook his head and frowned. “Nothing.”
“No? He didn’t place anything in there?”
“Oh, no,” Charles said. “When I say nothing, I mean that none of what you described actually happened. When Wyngarde pointed at you, he planted that entire conflict into your brain as an illusion. The woman throwing her poodle. The crowd pelting you. Avalanche. None of it actually happened. He must have placed the suggestion in all three of your brains. And there was one more thing he placed in yours, Jamie. He placed a post hypnotic suggestion that triggered your adrenal gland to go into overdrive when it received the right stimuli. That’s what snapped you out of the drugged state and woke you up.”
“And did he put that nightmare in my head?”
“No,” Charles said, looking out the window. He was obviously troubled by elements of the story. “I’m recommending you be temporarily suspended from active duty so that you can get some rest. I’m going to speak to Fred, and then take a good look at Drs. Leftwich and McCoy’s notes.” He stepped over to Jamie and placed a hand on his shoulder. “We’ll get to the bottom of this, Jamie.”
Jamie nodded. “Thank you, Professor.”
“You’re welcome, Jamie,” Charles reassured him. “Our operatives’ safety is our priority here.”
[NOW: Weapon X Detention Center…]
“Oh, hey, it’s chrome dome,” Kevin chuckled as Charles entered his cell.
“Hello, Kevin,” Charles replied calmly.
“Look, it’s like I told Logan. There’s nothing you can threaten me with. I’ve been dead for so long, that killing me now would only be doing me a favor.”
“Who said anything about killing you?” Charles said, his brow furrowed. “I wouldn’t allow that. Besides, even if I were the type of man to sanction that, we’ve already spent so much money on you that killing you would be fiscally irresponsible, and Fred Duncan wouldn’t allow that. But there are worse things than death, obviously.”
“Yeah, sure, Logan alarm bunt plover… mint dover… mutt? Hair pinning?”
“You’re having a stroke,” Charles said calmly. “Or, at least, your brain is currently suffering from the symptoms of a stroke. Slurred speech, headache, partial paralysis… if you were allowed to stand up and walk, you’d just fall over. You aren’t in physical danger, mind you… your brain is still receiving the normal blood flow it normally gets. But psychologically,” Charles said, sitting down in the chair next to him, “psychologically, I’d say you were in the worst position in your life. Imagine having to live the rest of your life as a vegetable, paralyzed from the neck down, unable to even feed yourself… but aware. Aware that it wasn’t a car accident, or a bullet, or even an injury in the line of duty… it is your own body telling itself that it can’t move. The best part is that, unlike a standard spinal cord injury, I could selectively allow your lungs to continue to function. You wouldn’t need an iron lung. You’d just lay there, existing, until we needed to run some more tests. We could even reactivate your powers, and the pathways that allow you to morph into other shapes would simply not function. Maybe we’ll do that; reactivate your powers, and make them tell your body that its natural state is as a puddle of protoplasm with no rigid shape. We’ll keep you in a bottle on a shelf in Dr. McCoy’s lab. That’s the neat thing about your powers, Kevin. Seems like you can even keep the aging process from happening now. You may be immortal. And when we are all dead and gone, you’ll be sitting in a jar on a shelf in an abandoned lab complex that’s been shielded from incursion and would likely remain undiscovered until the tectonic plates shifted enough to dig it up.”
Kevin’s eyes twitched frantically back and forth. He couldn’t move, he could do nothing except breath and feel fear.
“Pie zone chew jump bake clout wahoo meat?” He whimpered.
“I won’t ‘just take out what I need’ because you need to show me that you want to help atone for what you’ve done. You need to show me that you understand, and are willing to make it right. And because I want you to understand that even though you may have been promised something by Magneto, or someone else… I am the man you should really be afraid of, Kevin.”
“Fleas,” Kevin pleaded, “fleas take shit crop. Pile stalk.”
“Yes,” Charles smiled. “I know you will.”
[EIGHTEEN MONTHS AGO: St. Patrick’s Cathedral, New York City...]
“Forgive me father, for I have sinned,” Jamie whispered. “It has been... too long since my last confession.”
“But it is never too late, my son,” the priest replied from behind his partition. “What troubles you?”
Jamie took a deep breath and let it out. “It’s my job, father.”
“What about your job weighs so heavily upon you?”
“The things I have to do... I am sometimes called to visit violence upon people.”
“Sometimes, the weak cannot defend themselves, and the righteous must take up in their defense. Do you believe that what you are doing is for the greater good of mankind?”
“I used to,” Jamie replied. “But I no longer trust the organization I work for. The things I’ve seen... what they’ve done to others... to me... I have lost my soul.”
“A soul cannot be lost, son. The soul is what we are, not this mortal clay.”
“But what if the body is copied? Would each copy have a soul?”
The priest shifted within his vestibule. “Are we discussing cloning?"
“Yes,” Jamie replied. “Would each clone have a copy of the soul?”
“Only God can create a soul,” he said. “Mortals may be able to replicate everything else, but only the Holy Father can breathe the divine spark into a being.”
“So the clones would have no soul,” Jamie said, his voice wavering. “They would be unholy abominations.”
“In the eyes of the Catholic church, certainly. The clone, lacking a soul, would have no compassion, no humanity.”
Jamie began to sob softly.
“Have you been cloned, my son?”
“No, father,” he replied through his tears, “I am a clone.”
Silence. Jamie was about to apologize and leave when the priest finally spoke up again. “There are some who maintain that the soul is energy, and that energy can neither be created nor destroyed. If your original body has been destroyed, it is possible that the soul has migrated to this form. It is possible that each form has a portion of your soul imbued within them, and that the energy is reunited when your duplicates are destroyed.”
“Is that what you think?”
“What I think is that the organization that you work for has little concern for this type of dilemma. If they did, they would have never done what they have done to you without being able to answer these questions.”
“What has happened to my soul, father?”
“It has been attacked. It has been tested.”
“But is it intact?”
“That is something I would like to know myself. Will you leave this organization?”
“I don’t know how. They’ve invested quite a bit of money in me. I don’t know if I’m even allowed to leave. How would I even begin?”
“There are those who could help you,” the priest said. “I know of an organization that would be willing to help you find religious sanctuary.”
“I don’t know… I work for powerful people. They won’t let me go without a fight.”
“God has powerful agents of his own.”
“And they work out of St. Patrick’s Cathedral?”
“They work wherever the need exists.”
“Father, forgive me,” Jamie said, “I’m not actually Catholic.”
“That’s okay, I’m not actually a priest,” he replied. “I’m a rabbi.”
“A rabbi?” Jamie asked. “Since when do rabbis take confession at a Catholic church?”
“They don’t.”
Jamie lowered his head. “Rabbi,” he said.
“Yes, my son?”
“How did you know that there were multiple duplicates of me? You said duplicates, plural. I never said there was more than one clone.”
“Because we have met before, Jamie.”
“That’s what I thought.” He was silent for a long time. Finally, he nodded. “Will you really help me, Magneto?”
The partition slid back, revealing Erik Lensherr’s placid face. “Have faith, dear boy. Your deliverance is at hand.”
[NOW: Weapon X Detention Center…]
“Are you telling me that they went willingly?” Fred Duncan asked Charles.
“That’s what Kevin told us. They’ve defected. The plan had been in place for months. Everything happened according to Magneto’s plan.”
“Then why did Multiple Man come back? If he wanted to defect, why not just have all of them go?”
“Because he didn’t know that he wanted to leave. Eighteen months ago, someone placed a post-hypnotic suggestion in his mind to clear any thoughts of leaving Weapon X until the code word was spoken. Once that word was activated, Jamie remembered what made him want to leave in the first place.”
Duncan looked at Xavier with curiosity. “And that was?”
“What Dr. Dexter Leftwich has done to him,” Charles replied.
Duncan smiled a humorless smile. “And what has he done to him?”
“I think you already know, Fred. The integration process. Dr. Leftwich has been murdering Jamies’ dupes. He couldn’t figure out how to make them re-merge, so he killed them.”
Duncan’s face dropped. “He did what?”
“Spare me the incredulity,” Charles said. “I had Henry go over the notes. Jamie operated out of Leftwich’s lab at your say so. You knew all along what he was doing.”
Fred Duncan furrowed his brow and his hand slowly dropped to his belt. His thumb gingerly sought the button that would trigger the dampener field that would shield him from Charles’ telepathic powers.
“Don’t bother,” Charles said. “You handed the dampener over to me when I walked in the door, you just don’t remember it.”
Duncan looked down. It was gone.
“What you don’t understand, Agent Duncan, is that you’ve crossed the wrong man. I was willing to tolerate your leadership here at the facility because you had clearance that was needed to access certain personnel and technology. But now that I know you have been signing off on the murder of test subjects, agents I vowed to protect… your usefulness to me is at an end.”
Duncan eyed the blinking light on the shelf.
“Ah, yes, the recorder,” Charles said. “Don’t worry, it is right now recording me giving you a full debriefing on the defection of three of our best agents, and recording your response to let them leave without reprisals, and your decision to allow Multiple Man to depart if he so desires. Your voice sounds a little stiff, but they’ll just attribute that to your impending health problems. You see, this conversation is taking place entirely within your mind. In the outside world, I’m now asking you if you feel okay, because you look a trifle pale.”
Fred tried to move, but he found it impossible.
“Just so you know, Leftwich is gone. He left yesterday, it turns out, and took a bunch of files with him; data on all of the original Weapon X subjects. I’ll see to it that he’s dealt with, rest assured.”
“Smile bet blue, Shaver,” Duncan muttered as he twitched spasmodically in his chair.
“No, Agent Duncan,” Charles said, fury in his eyes. “You won’t get me. The only thing you’ll be getting is ‘round tthe clock medical care for the rest of your short, miserable life. As for Weapon X... there are going to be some changes.”
[EIGHTEEN MONTHS AGO: Charles Xavier’s Office…]
“How do you feel, Jamie?”
“I feel great,” he replied. “Very well rested. Hypnosis really work miracles, eh?”
Charles smiled. “It sometimes helps. Any more nightmares?”
“No sir! Slept like a log last night! Dr. Leftwich said I can be cleared for active duty within the week.”
The smile left Charles’ face. “Are you sure that’s what you want? I have a meeting scheduled with Dr. McCoy to go over your charts, we could wait until we examine the procedure to clear you.”
“No need,” Jamie said. “The hypnotherapist I found said if I begin to have problems like this again, to come see her. She is such a nice lady. Beautiful, too!”
“Well, then, I owe this therapist a debt of gratitude. Let me know if you need me to speak to her.”
“Thanks, Professor,” Jamie smiled, “I think Dr. Frost and I have things under control.”
[NOW: Weapon X Detention Center...]
Kevin sat with his chin on his knees, the picture of misery. He felt foolish, letting Xavier intimidate him like that. After all, Charles Xavier was too much of a shepherd and didn’t have the stones to actually follow through on his threat. Now, Magneto’s advantage was lost, and Kevin would never be accepted into the Brotherhood. Xavier had snowballed him right and proper.
The door to his cell hissed open and Hank McCoy and Sean Cassidy walked in with a set of cuffs.
“What’s happening?” he stammered.
“You’re being taken to my lab,” Hank replied, “where your enhancements are being permanently deactivated. Then, you’re having your memories wiped.”
“Wiped?”
“Lamentably, yes,” Hank nodded. “We cannot allow a former asset to walk out with classified knowledge. Unless you’d like to stay in the detention area for the remainder of your natural life.”
“Duncan is letting me go?”
“Ye haven’t heard,” Sean nodded. “Agent Duncan has had a medical emergency, and is no longer in charge of the facility. Charles said it was a terrible thing to witness. One moment, perfectly fine, the next, BAM! Stroke, completely incapacitated.”
Kevin’s blood went cold. Apparently, the shepherd was indeed a wolf. He nodded. “Well then, I guess I’m out of a job.”
“Aye, fuck-stick,” Sean smiled, “but we’ll be watching ye. Ye won’t remember us, but ye will remember that ye should watch yer back!”
[LATER THAT DAY: An Area Hospital...]
“He has no memory at all?” the nurse asked.
“Some, it’s not complete amnesia,” the other nurse replied. “He knows his name, he knows what year it is. But he has no recollection of where he lives, or what he has been doing for the past fifteen years. Blank slate.”
“Poor man. I wonder what happened to him?”
“It could always be worse,” the nurse replied. “We had another man come in with a stroke an hour before. He’s probably never going to move or even speak again.”
Kevin Sidney heard the entire exchange. And somehow, in the back of his mind, he knew it was true. He didn’t know what he had been doing for fifteeen years, or where he had been, or why he felt deja vu when the nurse mentioned the stroke victim, but he was alive. For now.
And it could always be worse.
[NEXT: The Attack of the BrewD!]