Back to Gatefold#3 by D. Golightly
May 2016 |
"Long Live the Queen - Part 1 of 2"
TransGenics, LLC
A privately-held genetic research corporation
“Two mutants walk into a bar…”
Daken scowled from where he lay on the rooftop across the street. In prone position, with the tip of his silenced rifled barely pushed over the lip of the stucco that lined the top of the building, he was forced to listen to his teammate prattle on. Had he been running this op there was no way that he would ever have drafted this current roster together.
“…one of them orders a margarita,” Morph continued over their communications link. “The other one just stares at the shelves behind the bar. He doesn’t order anything. Just sits there, staring off like a zombie.”
“Cut the chatter,” Cypher said over the link. Daken felt himself release a held breath. “This line isn’t for you to practice your stand-up routine, Morph.”
Mixed emotions ran rampant through Daken’s head at the thought of Cypher. The man obviously didn’t have the stomach for Daken’s particular skillset, as evident by the way he had handled Memsero in the sewers beneath New York City.* However, that didn’t necessarily mean that he wasn’t capable. The way he had handled himself back at the Archive when they first met proved that he was a potential adversary.
*(Daken killed Mesmero in the last issue)
The intensity of their mission wasn’t what bothered him. He could handle a rogue genetic research company that they had caught lying about the kinds of experiments they were running. He could manage keeping the front entrance covered while their shape-changing agent infiltrated their security team. He could even cope with Cypher’s orders to only maim and not kill any interlopers.
What he couldn’t handle was Morph’s lame attempts to lighten the mood.
“The bartender comes over,” Morph said. “The place is pretty packed, right, so he says to the mutant that won’t order anything, ‘Hey, pal, if you aren’t drinking you need to make room for other customers.’”
Through the second floor window facing the front parking lot, Daken could see the silhouette of a security guard walking through the corridor. The leisurely stroll was on point with how most rent-a-cops acted; semi-conscious of their surroundings and basically phoning it in when it came to patrolling properties.
Cypher had briefed them that morning about TransGenics, a company that claimed to be developing a cure to mutant diseases, and had even garnered support from Warren Worthington’s corporation. After digging through their books, which had been supplied by Alex Summers no doubt, it turned out that TransGenics wasn’t splicing together medical miracles; they were just splicing up mutants.
After investigating a genetic waste disposal service provider, and learning that the inert tissue that TransGenics was dumping had been severely tampered with, additional subtle inquiries had commenced. Those investigations had brought them here tonight, to collect hard evidence that TransGenics was illegally experimenting on live mutants.
Daken didn’t care one way or the other. He was only on this team because of what Alex Summers had promised him last year. If some company wanted to cut up mutants, so what? As he understood it, many other companies had committed this supposedly heinous act before, and more would continue after they were down burning TransGenics to the ground with their own paperwork.
He was here to pull the trigger and nothing else, even if Cypher would only let him shoot someone in the knee.
“The mutant just sits there, staring off, not speaking, not drinking, not doing anything,” Morph said. “So, the bartender turns around, annoyed. That’s when he notices all the bottles on the shelf. They’re empty! Every single one.”
“Wrap it up,” Cypher said. “Get it out of your system so we can focus on the task at hand.”
“‘What the hell?’ the bartender says. The silent mutant smiles, stands up, slaps a stack of cash on the bar, and walks away. Baffled, the bartender just stares at the money, totally confused until the other mutant says, ‘What? He’s a hydroporter.’”
Before Daken could release a cold snarl over their shared link, his peripheral vision picked up movement inside the building. He shifted his scope to the right slightly, just enough to retain the guard on the second floor in his field of vision.
On the far side of the same corridor that the guard was walking through, another guard appeared. This one had a lively swagger and looked like he was whistling. He looked both ways and then turned toward the first guard, smiling as he began to approach.
The newly arrived guard waved, saying, “Nice evening!” The voice came through Morph’s link flawlessly.
The guard nodded absentmindedly, but then stopped and did a double-take. A shocked expression overtook his features and he staggered back. At the sight of the second guard, the first dropped his hand to his holster and raised the other up as if to ward away the newly arrived guard.
“Who are you?” the first guard demanded. “How are you going that?”
The second guard raised both hands innocently and smiled. “What’s the matter?” he asked. “Seeing double?”
Daken zoomed in with his scope and saw why the guard was suddenly so frightened. “Damn it, Morph,” Daken muttered into the shared link. “Did you not even pay attention during the briefing?”
“What is it?” Cypher asked.
“This idiot just bumped into the same guard he’s posing as.”
The second guard turned to the window, looking directly at where he knew Daken to be, even if he couldn’t see him through the glass’ reflection and the outside darkness. He winked, smiled, and turned back to the first guard.
“Kevin!” the second guard, Morph, said urgently. He clutched at his chest. “It’s me! I mean, I’m you! From the future. I came back in time to prevent you from making a horrible mistake.”
“Oh, my God…” Daken said under his breath.
Morph, as the guard, staggered forward. For each step he took, the guard, Kevin, took one back. He was visibly shaking.
“Mom was right, Kevin!” Morph lowered his head and began breathing heavily. “When you go home tonight to watch Game of Thrones, you absolutely, cannot, under any circumstances touch yourself during the best scenes.”
“Wh-what?” the startled guard said.
Morph looked up from where he was now kneeling on the floor as if some kind of pain was coursing through his body. He opened looked up to reveal milky white eyes sans pupils. “Kevin, you’ll go blind!”
Kevin yelped in fright and fell over backward. He stuttered out an incomprehensible response as the blood drained from his face.
“And you’ll get hairy palms!” Morph quickly added. He held up his hands to reveal a thick, course coat of hair growing inch by inch from his palms, steadily pushing out from between his fingers.
“Ahh!” Kevin yelped. The guard fumbled to his feet and ran back down the corridor, away from Morph. He tore open a metal door and bolted through it, heading for the building’s exit.
From his perch, Daken saw the guard burst out of the building and run straight for a side parking lot where his vehicle sat waiting. As Kevin desperately tried to pull his keys out of his pocket and finish his escape from his own destiny, Morph couldn’t contain his laughter any longer.
Morph stood up and allowed his body to bend and twist back to its blank slate; a chalky white face and a toned body covered by his X-Men uniform.
“You are the most unprofessional person I’ve ever encountered,” Daken said. “You are unbelievably sloppy and your image could be captured, revealing our presence at this location.”
From between the bouts of laughter, a feminine voice came over the communications link. It was Xorn, or more precisely, a woman wearing the helmet of Xorn. Her exact identity had remained secret to the team. Her mastery over the electromagnetic spectrum was a key component of their infiltration plan.
She said, “Unlikely. I neutralized the security cameras prior to Morph gaining access. A pinpoint pulse froze the camera circuitry. His subterfuge as the guard was only in case he physically came across someone while inside. However, I can’t help but think that his bumping into Kevin McMasters was on purpose.”
“Guys, you’re all way too serious,” Morph said as he reached the end of the corridor and casually walked to the exit. “They’ll know we were here as soon as they discover the worm I planted in their system, which pings all new data research entries and fires it off to your boys in Washington to analyze. Why not have some fun in the process?”
“Because you’re on a team now,” Cypher said. “Not running blind ops on your own. You aren’t Xavier’s cloak and dagger man anymore. What you do in the field affects your teammates.”
“…says the guy in a van three blocks away,” Morph muttered.
Xorn descended from the clouds to hover a few dozen feet above Morph. “Tactically, that’s his best position,” she said. “The local authorities have a response time of four minutes in this area, and they would have to come from the West. Cypher’s location allows him to cut them off and give you more exit time if needed.”
Morph waved in Daken’s general direction. “And Junior Wolverine up there keeps any worker bees off my back. I know, I know. Guys, I’ve been doing this solo for years. I could have handled this on my own.”
Daken allowed the passing reference to Logan slide. His exact relationship to the famous mutant was only known to Alex Summers, and the team didn’t need to know. It was part of the agreement he had made with Summers when signing up for this Mutant Response Team project.
This Morph joker was a liability. For all of his incredible power, it was wasted on puns and wisecracks. The shape-changing mutant seemed more interested in delivering a punchline than completely an operation successfully.
“Cypher,” Daken said as he broke down his rifle. “You didn’t tell him?”
“Tell me what?” Morph responded. He paused as he walked across the parking lot, raising his hand to his ear.
“I’m not up here to shoot any stray guards or research assistants burning the midnight oil. I’m up here to shoot you, just in case.”
“Daken,” Cypher said.
“What?” Morph exclaimed. “Dude! Are you for real? You’d hit me with a tranq?”
“The tranquilizer rounds are for the employees. The hollow-points are for you. I figure that even a shape-changer would be put down by an exploding bullet, at least for a little while.”
“But why?”
Morph had stopped completely with his jaw open, and Xorn was hovering just above him, shaking her head. Daken smiled as he quickly slid the rifle components into a case, which he would sling over his back when he left for the rendezvous point.
“In case you tell any more bad jokes,” he said with a sneer.
# # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # #
The Archive
A government repository of all mutant files
Operating headquarters of the Mutant Response Team
“We’re barely functioning as a team.”
“I realize that, Doug,” Alex Summers replied. “It’s your job as field leader to get some cohesion in your unit. I’m not stepping in. That would only strip away whatever authoritative respect you’ve managed to pull so far.”
Cypher pinched the bridge of his nose. He wasn’t sure he was cut out for this, and was beginning to regret the conversation he and Alex had when this all began.* Alex was supposed to be helping him figure out his own resurrection and the changes in his powers, but so far he had been thrust into this mutant spy business and saddled with a team that barely even made sense in the first place.
*(X Unlimited #50)
They stood in the conference room, which was really just a makeshift workspace. The Archive hadn’t been designed as a secret paramilitary base for mutants. It was supposed to be an actual storehouse for huge quantities of information. The facility was a bit lacking as far as room to stretch their legs was concerned.
“It would help if you filled me in on your reasons for selecting us,” Cypher said. “Maybe if I understood why you want each of us here, I could actually get us to cooperate.”
Alex shook his head. “I can’t break everyone’s confidence like that. X-Men aren’t like that. I’m sorry, but you’ll have to figure this out without their background info.”
Cypher’s abilities had somehow been augmented and he could actually ‘see’ the language flowing out of Havok. So far, he was telling the truth. Cypher had also noticed that since their initial conversation that Havok had become much more careful about what kinds of idioms, inflection, and other verbal cues he laced his language with. It was like his rhetoric was on edge.
Before he could counter the point, the door opened and the rest of the team entered. Cypher’s new insight into proxemics flagged their movements and positioning. It was another aspect of his powers that he was quickly trying to learn.
Daken, sans a shirt for some reason, slid into the seat at the far end of the table like he belonged there. Cypher could tell from his body language that the killer held little respect for his presence and had purposely picked that position to subconsciously seem more in control of the room. The absence of a shirt, showing off his physique and perfect musculature, was likely another nonverbal attempt to dominate the room.
Morph followed, smiling at Cypher and shooting him with finger-guns as he plopped down into a side chair. His positioning and body language showed him to be cavalier, but also uneasy at the same time. He was overcompensating for something, such as feelings of inadequacy or nervousness. Cypher caught Morph shooting Daken a quick side glance, as if checking on him, and determined that it was the latter.
Finally, Xorn, with arms across her chest, entered and stood to one side. Cypher had trouble reading her occasionally, but he wasn’t sure if that was because of her helmet or something to do with her powers. Right now she looked uncomfortable to be in the same room with not just them, but anyone.
“No craft services table?” Morph inquired as he faux-searched the room by looking back and forth. “An actor of my caliber deserves—”
“Shut up,” Daken said. “This is a debriefing, not an open mic.”
“You’re just jelly.”
“I don’t even know what the means, you little—”
“Enough,” Cypher said. “We have real work to do here. Work that could save lives. TransGenics was already on a government watch list, but the intel that we pulled last night could yield some important results. They are hip-deep in some seriously bad science, so if the two of you are done swinging your little bits at each other, maybe we can actually talk about something a little more important than your egos.”
“He started it,” Morph said.
“I swear that—” Daken began to say.
“Stop.” Cypher paused and was about to continue, but he noticed that something had changed in the room. Subtle invisible pressures had encapsulated both Daken and Morph. He couldn’t so much see them as detect their presence.
He was getting the same sense within that came on when he was reading body language, proxemics, verbal and nonverbal cues, or deciphering text. This force that had stopped the exchange of language…had he done that?
Alex spoke up first. “Through my federal contacts, we’ve determined that the shipping lines for TransGenics’ are skipping important safety procedures, both coming from and going to the facility you infiltrated last night. The worm that Morph installed has already provided us some research data to analyze. While some science buddies of mine figure out what TransGenics is working on, you guys will find out exactly what they’re shipping.”
Cypher, thankful that Alex had given him a moment to collect himself, reshuffled his thoughts. He said, “They move their materials via van line and then via rail. While the truck would be a much easier target, it would also be detected instantly. So, we’re going to hit the train.”
“Yes!” Morph said. The pressure around both him and Daken had apparently vanished. “This is going to be just like Under Siege 2: Dark Territory!”
“More like Murder on the Orient Express,” Daken said.
Cypher clicked a button on a small remote and a holographic display in the center of the table flicked on. A blue stencil image of a train yard shimmered to life; a complete three-dimensional representation of their target area for the upcoming mission.
“What I mean is that security at the depot is very lackluster,” Cypher said. “Hitting the truck in transit will alert anyone paying attention. Accessing the shipping container once it’s mounted on a chassis for the rail will be as simple as picking a lock.”
Cypher clicked another button and the hologram expanded, zooming in on a particular set of train cars and containers. “The freight forwarder they contract with keeps their cargo in this section of the depot. All we have to do is avoid a few cameras and guard dogs. They only keep a single two-man security detail posted at the front gate. This will be even easier than getting into TransGenics was for you.”
The hologram suddenly fizzled out. Cypher looked at the remote and hit it a few times to try and get the unit back online, but to no avail. Alex’s brow furrowed. It wasn’t until Cypher looked up and saw that Xorn’s stance had shifted from a meek to defensive that he became concerned.
“What’s wrong?” he asked her.
“I…feel something,” she said. “Buried in the electromagnetic spectrum. There’s an increase in static discharge in the room. It feels familiar somehow.”
She raised her hand cautiously in front of her, as if fluttering her gloved fingers through a haze of smoke. Without warning, she yanked her hand back and the eye sockets in her helmet flared a deep indigo as power welled up from within her.
“Everyone out!” she commanded. “I’ll try and jam whoever it is!”
“Jam who?” Morph blurted out as he nearly fell over in his chair. “What? What’s happening?”
“No time!” Xorn quickly erected an electromagnetic shield around herself, which pushed her a few inches up into the air. “We’re about to be—”
Twin bars of orange light, which looked as solid as anything else, appeared over each one of them. In turn, the bars descended, seemingly wiping them out of existence as they feel, like an eraser rubbing out a mistake.
Cypher saw the bars repelled by Xorn, but even she ultimately succumbed to them as her power buckled. The orange light encompassed his field of vision and when he could see again a few seconds later he nearly stumbled over from the shock of what he saw.
A room full of equipment, with thick cables running along the floor, ceiling and walls; a man in a red uniform at the controls, who was looking at them with more than a little irritation; and a window.
A window that had nothing but stars outside it as far as he could see.
“Alex!” the man in red shouted. “What…what are you…who are these people with you?”
“Dad?” Havok mumbled. Like Cypher, Havok also seemed very disoriented. “Dad, what did you just do?” He looked through the same viewport that had disturbed Cypher. “Oh, no. Tell me you didn’t. Dad, tell me you did not do what I think you just did.”
“What just happened?” Morph said.
Cypher looked around the jam-packed area and saw the rest of his team there, all in relatively the same positions they had been in back at the Archive. Daken was flexing his fingers, seemingly ready to pop his claws at a moment’s notice. Xorn looked weakened, but she was doing well enough.
“What I did was bring the X-Men to help me fight a war,” the man in red replied. “Only you weren’t with the X-Men, were you, Alex? Who the hell are these people? They look like a circus act.”
“Watch who you’re calling people,” Morph shot back.
“You…you can’t just teleport people across the universe, dad!” Havok shouted.
“I homed-in on your unique mutant signature using the Cerebro tech you shared with me the last time I visited,” the man explained. “Since you were surrounded by other mutant signatures I just assumed you were with the X-Men. Who are they?”
“Alex,” Cypher said. “What is going on here? Who is this man?”
Alex sighed. “This,” he said, gesturing to the man in red, “is my father, Christopher Summers.”
“Call me Corsair,” he said with a smile that was just this side of devilish. “Welcome aboard the Starjammer.”
“You teleported us here,” Xorn said. “You’re insane. You cannot just abduct people because you feel like it.”
Corsair flashed a look of anger. “This isn’t…damn it, I’m fighting a war and I need help.”
“Where’s the rest of the crew, dad?” Alex asked. “Where’s Korvus and Raza? Ch’od?”
“Captured. They…” Corsair trailed off as his attention was pulled to the console. Alarms began to fill the cramped room. “Incoming! Brace yourselves!”
The ship rocked as something suddenly slammed into the side, breaching the exterior hull. Rending metal rattled their very bones and the lights went dim. Several sables broke away from the connecting equipment, splashing the floor with sparks.
“Breach!” Corsair called out.
A heavy clanging sound reverberated from the other side of the hull, just a few feet over from the viewport. Through the transparent window Cypher could see the back end of what had struck the Starjammer; it looked like a small ship, complete with booster rockets on the back.
The sickening noise of metal plates being wrenched apart deafened them. Within seconds the collective watched in mixed awe and horror as the ship was opened up from the outside. Instead of the vacuum of space greeting them, however, it was something much more deadly.
A brown protrusion pilfered the hull’s skin and sliced into the room. Then another and another. Several of the insect-like appendages were tearing away metal, making the opening larger and larger, big enough for one of them to fit through.
“Teleport us out of here!” Morph said.
“Can’t!” Corsair responded. “Teleporter is off-line! Get ready to fight!”
The opening finally became wide enough for the first of many intruders to enter. Slithering on a set of jagged and pointed legs was a beast that had to have been born within a nightmare. It’s long tail wrapped up over its head like a scorpion, but the similarities ended there. Complete with an elongated head, fangs, and clamping claws the creature spilled into the chamber.
Cypher saw Havok’s fists begin to glow white, his mutant power beginning to charge up and boil to the surface. The look on his face was a mix of shock and terror.
“Team!” Havok said. “Hit them with everything you’ve got or we’re all dead!”
Daken began to say, “Who—”
“It’s the Brood! We’ve been teleported across the universe to fight off a Brood invasion!”
Next issue: An intergalactic war deciding the fate of an entire planet!
A privately-held genetic research corporation
“Two mutants walk into a bar…”
Daken scowled from where he lay on the rooftop across the street. In prone position, with the tip of his silenced rifled barely pushed over the lip of the stucco that lined the top of the building, he was forced to listen to his teammate prattle on. Had he been running this op there was no way that he would ever have drafted this current roster together.
“…one of them orders a margarita,” Morph continued over their communications link. “The other one just stares at the shelves behind the bar. He doesn’t order anything. Just sits there, staring off like a zombie.”
“Cut the chatter,” Cypher said over the link. Daken felt himself release a held breath. “This line isn’t for you to practice your stand-up routine, Morph.”
Mixed emotions ran rampant through Daken’s head at the thought of Cypher. The man obviously didn’t have the stomach for Daken’s particular skillset, as evident by the way he had handled Memsero in the sewers beneath New York City.* However, that didn’t necessarily mean that he wasn’t capable. The way he had handled himself back at the Archive when they first met proved that he was a potential adversary.
*(Daken killed Mesmero in the last issue)
The intensity of their mission wasn’t what bothered him. He could handle a rogue genetic research company that they had caught lying about the kinds of experiments they were running. He could manage keeping the front entrance covered while their shape-changing agent infiltrated their security team. He could even cope with Cypher’s orders to only maim and not kill any interlopers.
What he couldn’t handle was Morph’s lame attempts to lighten the mood.
“The bartender comes over,” Morph said. “The place is pretty packed, right, so he says to the mutant that won’t order anything, ‘Hey, pal, if you aren’t drinking you need to make room for other customers.’”
Through the second floor window facing the front parking lot, Daken could see the silhouette of a security guard walking through the corridor. The leisurely stroll was on point with how most rent-a-cops acted; semi-conscious of their surroundings and basically phoning it in when it came to patrolling properties.
Cypher had briefed them that morning about TransGenics, a company that claimed to be developing a cure to mutant diseases, and had even garnered support from Warren Worthington’s corporation. After digging through their books, which had been supplied by Alex Summers no doubt, it turned out that TransGenics wasn’t splicing together medical miracles; they were just splicing up mutants.
After investigating a genetic waste disposal service provider, and learning that the inert tissue that TransGenics was dumping had been severely tampered with, additional subtle inquiries had commenced. Those investigations had brought them here tonight, to collect hard evidence that TransGenics was illegally experimenting on live mutants.
Daken didn’t care one way or the other. He was only on this team because of what Alex Summers had promised him last year. If some company wanted to cut up mutants, so what? As he understood it, many other companies had committed this supposedly heinous act before, and more would continue after they were down burning TransGenics to the ground with their own paperwork.
He was here to pull the trigger and nothing else, even if Cypher would only let him shoot someone in the knee.
“The mutant just sits there, staring off, not speaking, not drinking, not doing anything,” Morph said. “So, the bartender turns around, annoyed. That’s when he notices all the bottles on the shelf. They’re empty! Every single one.”
“Wrap it up,” Cypher said. “Get it out of your system so we can focus on the task at hand.”
“‘What the hell?’ the bartender says. The silent mutant smiles, stands up, slaps a stack of cash on the bar, and walks away. Baffled, the bartender just stares at the money, totally confused until the other mutant says, ‘What? He’s a hydroporter.’”
Before Daken could release a cold snarl over their shared link, his peripheral vision picked up movement inside the building. He shifted his scope to the right slightly, just enough to retain the guard on the second floor in his field of vision.
On the far side of the same corridor that the guard was walking through, another guard appeared. This one had a lively swagger and looked like he was whistling. He looked both ways and then turned toward the first guard, smiling as he began to approach.
The newly arrived guard waved, saying, “Nice evening!” The voice came through Morph’s link flawlessly.
The guard nodded absentmindedly, but then stopped and did a double-take. A shocked expression overtook his features and he staggered back. At the sight of the second guard, the first dropped his hand to his holster and raised the other up as if to ward away the newly arrived guard.
“Who are you?” the first guard demanded. “How are you going that?”
The second guard raised both hands innocently and smiled. “What’s the matter?” he asked. “Seeing double?”
Daken zoomed in with his scope and saw why the guard was suddenly so frightened. “Damn it, Morph,” Daken muttered into the shared link. “Did you not even pay attention during the briefing?”
“What is it?” Cypher asked.
“This idiot just bumped into the same guard he’s posing as.”
The second guard turned to the window, looking directly at where he knew Daken to be, even if he couldn’t see him through the glass’ reflection and the outside darkness. He winked, smiled, and turned back to the first guard.
“Kevin!” the second guard, Morph, said urgently. He clutched at his chest. “It’s me! I mean, I’m you! From the future. I came back in time to prevent you from making a horrible mistake.”
“Oh, my God…” Daken said under his breath.
Morph, as the guard, staggered forward. For each step he took, the guard, Kevin, took one back. He was visibly shaking.
“Mom was right, Kevin!” Morph lowered his head and began breathing heavily. “When you go home tonight to watch Game of Thrones, you absolutely, cannot, under any circumstances touch yourself during the best scenes.”
“Wh-what?” the startled guard said.
Morph looked up from where he was now kneeling on the floor as if some kind of pain was coursing through his body. He opened looked up to reveal milky white eyes sans pupils. “Kevin, you’ll go blind!”
Kevin yelped in fright and fell over backward. He stuttered out an incomprehensible response as the blood drained from his face.
“And you’ll get hairy palms!” Morph quickly added. He held up his hands to reveal a thick, course coat of hair growing inch by inch from his palms, steadily pushing out from between his fingers.
“Ahh!” Kevin yelped. The guard fumbled to his feet and ran back down the corridor, away from Morph. He tore open a metal door and bolted through it, heading for the building’s exit.
From his perch, Daken saw the guard burst out of the building and run straight for a side parking lot where his vehicle sat waiting. As Kevin desperately tried to pull his keys out of his pocket and finish his escape from his own destiny, Morph couldn’t contain his laughter any longer.
Morph stood up and allowed his body to bend and twist back to its blank slate; a chalky white face and a toned body covered by his X-Men uniform.
“You are the most unprofessional person I’ve ever encountered,” Daken said. “You are unbelievably sloppy and your image could be captured, revealing our presence at this location.”
From between the bouts of laughter, a feminine voice came over the communications link. It was Xorn, or more precisely, a woman wearing the helmet of Xorn. Her exact identity had remained secret to the team. Her mastery over the electromagnetic spectrum was a key component of their infiltration plan.
She said, “Unlikely. I neutralized the security cameras prior to Morph gaining access. A pinpoint pulse froze the camera circuitry. His subterfuge as the guard was only in case he physically came across someone while inside. However, I can’t help but think that his bumping into Kevin McMasters was on purpose.”
“Guys, you’re all way too serious,” Morph said as he reached the end of the corridor and casually walked to the exit. “They’ll know we were here as soon as they discover the worm I planted in their system, which pings all new data research entries and fires it off to your boys in Washington to analyze. Why not have some fun in the process?”
“Because you’re on a team now,” Cypher said. “Not running blind ops on your own. You aren’t Xavier’s cloak and dagger man anymore. What you do in the field affects your teammates.”
“…says the guy in a van three blocks away,” Morph muttered.
Xorn descended from the clouds to hover a few dozen feet above Morph. “Tactically, that’s his best position,” she said. “The local authorities have a response time of four minutes in this area, and they would have to come from the West. Cypher’s location allows him to cut them off and give you more exit time if needed.”
Morph waved in Daken’s general direction. “And Junior Wolverine up there keeps any worker bees off my back. I know, I know. Guys, I’ve been doing this solo for years. I could have handled this on my own.”
Daken allowed the passing reference to Logan slide. His exact relationship to the famous mutant was only known to Alex Summers, and the team didn’t need to know. It was part of the agreement he had made with Summers when signing up for this Mutant Response Team project.
This Morph joker was a liability. For all of his incredible power, it was wasted on puns and wisecracks. The shape-changing mutant seemed more interested in delivering a punchline than completely an operation successfully.
“Cypher,” Daken said as he broke down his rifle. “You didn’t tell him?”
“Tell me what?” Morph responded. He paused as he walked across the parking lot, raising his hand to his ear.
“I’m not up here to shoot any stray guards or research assistants burning the midnight oil. I’m up here to shoot you, just in case.”
“Daken,” Cypher said.
“What?” Morph exclaimed. “Dude! Are you for real? You’d hit me with a tranq?”
“The tranquilizer rounds are for the employees. The hollow-points are for you. I figure that even a shape-changer would be put down by an exploding bullet, at least for a little while.”
“But why?”
Morph had stopped completely with his jaw open, and Xorn was hovering just above him, shaking her head. Daken smiled as he quickly slid the rifle components into a case, which he would sling over his back when he left for the rendezvous point.
“In case you tell any more bad jokes,” he said with a sneer.
# # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # #
The Archive
A government repository of all mutant files
Operating headquarters of the Mutant Response Team
“We’re barely functioning as a team.”
“I realize that, Doug,” Alex Summers replied. “It’s your job as field leader to get some cohesion in your unit. I’m not stepping in. That would only strip away whatever authoritative respect you’ve managed to pull so far.”
Cypher pinched the bridge of his nose. He wasn’t sure he was cut out for this, and was beginning to regret the conversation he and Alex had when this all began.* Alex was supposed to be helping him figure out his own resurrection and the changes in his powers, but so far he had been thrust into this mutant spy business and saddled with a team that barely even made sense in the first place.
*(X Unlimited #50)
They stood in the conference room, which was really just a makeshift workspace. The Archive hadn’t been designed as a secret paramilitary base for mutants. It was supposed to be an actual storehouse for huge quantities of information. The facility was a bit lacking as far as room to stretch their legs was concerned.
“It would help if you filled me in on your reasons for selecting us,” Cypher said. “Maybe if I understood why you want each of us here, I could actually get us to cooperate.”
Alex shook his head. “I can’t break everyone’s confidence like that. X-Men aren’t like that. I’m sorry, but you’ll have to figure this out without their background info.”
Cypher’s abilities had somehow been augmented and he could actually ‘see’ the language flowing out of Havok. So far, he was telling the truth. Cypher had also noticed that since their initial conversation that Havok had become much more careful about what kinds of idioms, inflection, and other verbal cues he laced his language with. It was like his rhetoric was on edge.
Before he could counter the point, the door opened and the rest of the team entered. Cypher’s new insight into proxemics flagged their movements and positioning. It was another aspect of his powers that he was quickly trying to learn.
Daken, sans a shirt for some reason, slid into the seat at the far end of the table like he belonged there. Cypher could tell from his body language that the killer held little respect for his presence and had purposely picked that position to subconsciously seem more in control of the room. The absence of a shirt, showing off his physique and perfect musculature, was likely another nonverbal attempt to dominate the room.
Morph followed, smiling at Cypher and shooting him with finger-guns as he plopped down into a side chair. His positioning and body language showed him to be cavalier, but also uneasy at the same time. He was overcompensating for something, such as feelings of inadequacy or nervousness. Cypher caught Morph shooting Daken a quick side glance, as if checking on him, and determined that it was the latter.
Finally, Xorn, with arms across her chest, entered and stood to one side. Cypher had trouble reading her occasionally, but he wasn’t sure if that was because of her helmet or something to do with her powers. Right now she looked uncomfortable to be in the same room with not just them, but anyone.
“No craft services table?” Morph inquired as he faux-searched the room by looking back and forth. “An actor of my caliber deserves—”
“Shut up,” Daken said. “This is a debriefing, not an open mic.”
“You’re just jelly.”
“I don’t even know what the means, you little—”
“Enough,” Cypher said. “We have real work to do here. Work that could save lives. TransGenics was already on a government watch list, but the intel that we pulled last night could yield some important results. They are hip-deep in some seriously bad science, so if the two of you are done swinging your little bits at each other, maybe we can actually talk about something a little more important than your egos.”
“He started it,” Morph said.
“I swear that—” Daken began to say.
“Stop.” Cypher paused and was about to continue, but he noticed that something had changed in the room. Subtle invisible pressures had encapsulated both Daken and Morph. He couldn’t so much see them as detect their presence.
He was getting the same sense within that came on when he was reading body language, proxemics, verbal and nonverbal cues, or deciphering text. This force that had stopped the exchange of language…had he done that?
Alex spoke up first. “Through my federal contacts, we’ve determined that the shipping lines for TransGenics’ are skipping important safety procedures, both coming from and going to the facility you infiltrated last night. The worm that Morph installed has already provided us some research data to analyze. While some science buddies of mine figure out what TransGenics is working on, you guys will find out exactly what they’re shipping.”
Cypher, thankful that Alex had given him a moment to collect himself, reshuffled his thoughts. He said, “They move their materials via van line and then via rail. While the truck would be a much easier target, it would also be detected instantly. So, we’re going to hit the train.”
“Yes!” Morph said. The pressure around both him and Daken had apparently vanished. “This is going to be just like Under Siege 2: Dark Territory!”
“More like Murder on the Orient Express,” Daken said.
Cypher clicked a button on a small remote and a holographic display in the center of the table flicked on. A blue stencil image of a train yard shimmered to life; a complete three-dimensional representation of their target area for the upcoming mission.
“What I mean is that security at the depot is very lackluster,” Cypher said. “Hitting the truck in transit will alert anyone paying attention. Accessing the shipping container once it’s mounted on a chassis for the rail will be as simple as picking a lock.”
Cypher clicked another button and the hologram expanded, zooming in on a particular set of train cars and containers. “The freight forwarder they contract with keeps their cargo in this section of the depot. All we have to do is avoid a few cameras and guard dogs. They only keep a single two-man security detail posted at the front gate. This will be even easier than getting into TransGenics was for you.”
The hologram suddenly fizzled out. Cypher looked at the remote and hit it a few times to try and get the unit back online, but to no avail. Alex’s brow furrowed. It wasn’t until Cypher looked up and saw that Xorn’s stance had shifted from a meek to defensive that he became concerned.
“What’s wrong?” he asked her.
“I…feel something,” she said. “Buried in the electromagnetic spectrum. There’s an increase in static discharge in the room. It feels familiar somehow.”
She raised her hand cautiously in front of her, as if fluttering her gloved fingers through a haze of smoke. Without warning, she yanked her hand back and the eye sockets in her helmet flared a deep indigo as power welled up from within her.
“Everyone out!” she commanded. “I’ll try and jam whoever it is!”
“Jam who?” Morph blurted out as he nearly fell over in his chair. “What? What’s happening?”
“No time!” Xorn quickly erected an electromagnetic shield around herself, which pushed her a few inches up into the air. “We’re about to be—”
Twin bars of orange light, which looked as solid as anything else, appeared over each one of them. In turn, the bars descended, seemingly wiping them out of existence as they feel, like an eraser rubbing out a mistake.
Cypher saw the bars repelled by Xorn, but even she ultimately succumbed to them as her power buckled. The orange light encompassed his field of vision and when he could see again a few seconds later he nearly stumbled over from the shock of what he saw.
A room full of equipment, with thick cables running along the floor, ceiling and walls; a man in a red uniform at the controls, who was looking at them with more than a little irritation; and a window.
A window that had nothing but stars outside it as far as he could see.
“Alex!” the man in red shouted. “What…what are you…who are these people with you?”
“Dad?” Havok mumbled. Like Cypher, Havok also seemed very disoriented. “Dad, what did you just do?” He looked through the same viewport that had disturbed Cypher. “Oh, no. Tell me you didn’t. Dad, tell me you did not do what I think you just did.”
“What just happened?” Morph said.
Cypher looked around the jam-packed area and saw the rest of his team there, all in relatively the same positions they had been in back at the Archive. Daken was flexing his fingers, seemingly ready to pop his claws at a moment’s notice. Xorn looked weakened, but she was doing well enough.
“What I did was bring the X-Men to help me fight a war,” the man in red replied. “Only you weren’t with the X-Men, were you, Alex? Who the hell are these people? They look like a circus act.”
“Watch who you’re calling people,” Morph shot back.
“You…you can’t just teleport people across the universe, dad!” Havok shouted.
“I homed-in on your unique mutant signature using the Cerebro tech you shared with me the last time I visited,” the man explained. “Since you were surrounded by other mutant signatures I just assumed you were with the X-Men. Who are they?”
“Alex,” Cypher said. “What is going on here? Who is this man?”
Alex sighed. “This,” he said, gesturing to the man in red, “is my father, Christopher Summers.”
“Call me Corsair,” he said with a smile that was just this side of devilish. “Welcome aboard the Starjammer.”
“You teleported us here,” Xorn said. “You’re insane. You cannot just abduct people because you feel like it.”
Corsair flashed a look of anger. “This isn’t…damn it, I’m fighting a war and I need help.”
“Where’s the rest of the crew, dad?” Alex asked. “Where’s Korvus and Raza? Ch’od?”
“Captured. They…” Corsair trailed off as his attention was pulled to the console. Alarms began to fill the cramped room. “Incoming! Brace yourselves!”
The ship rocked as something suddenly slammed into the side, breaching the exterior hull. Rending metal rattled their very bones and the lights went dim. Several sables broke away from the connecting equipment, splashing the floor with sparks.
“Breach!” Corsair called out.
A heavy clanging sound reverberated from the other side of the hull, just a few feet over from the viewport. Through the transparent window Cypher could see the back end of what had struck the Starjammer; it looked like a small ship, complete with booster rockets on the back.
The sickening noise of metal plates being wrenched apart deafened them. Within seconds the collective watched in mixed awe and horror as the ship was opened up from the outside. Instead of the vacuum of space greeting them, however, it was something much more deadly.
A brown protrusion pilfered the hull’s skin and sliced into the room. Then another and another. Several of the insect-like appendages were tearing away metal, making the opening larger and larger, big enough for one of them to fit through.
“Teleport us out of here!” Morph said.
“Can’t!” Corsair responded. “Teleporter is off-line! Get ready to fight!”
The opening finally became wide enough for the first of many intruders to enter. Slithering on a set of jagged and pointed legs was a beast that had to have been born within a nightmare. It’s long tail wrapped up over its head like a scorpion, but the similarities ended there. Complete with an elongated head, fangs, and clamping claws the creature spilled into the chamber.
Cypher saw Havok’s fists begin to glow white, his mutant power beginning to charge up and boil to the surface. The look on his face was a mix of shock and terror.
“Team!” Havok said. “Hit them with everything you’ve got or we’re all dead!”
Daken began to say, “Who—”
“It’s the Brood! We’ve been teleported across the universe to fight off a Brood invasion!”
Next issue: An intergalactic war deciding the fate of an entire planet!