Mutants. They are the next step in humanity’s evolution; the inheritors of the earth. For this reason, they are feared and hated by their human brethren, a species that has known dominance for too long. The transition of power is inevitable, yet thus far the road has been paved with blood. One man dreams of peace, and has gathered mutant champions to stop the bloodshed. They are the children of the atom, mutants sworn to protect a world that hates and fears them. To humans, they are outlaws. To mutants, they are traitors. In their hearts, they are heroes. They are....

#89

January, Year 5

"Silent Debate"

Brought to you by Stephen Crosby and Will Short

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Through the infinite depths of space, it had traveled. A smoldering, fiery ball, it streaked through the cold abyss. For years it had been going, barreling past solar system after solar system. Always searching for one system in particular.

But wait, this was a fiery ball of gas and molten rock. An unliving, unthinking thing. How could it possibly...search?

Whatever the reason, it was clear that this object made its own path amidst the stars. Somehow, this massive meteorite or comet or whatever it might have been was capable of resisting the gravity of other star systems, even turning around several when necessary.

Then, after an eternity and billions of light years, this fiery sphere passed the star known as Alpha Centuri. There, the streaking object took a long left turn, moving towards the closest star. A star that is known to most of the universe as Solar, but commonly named by its systems inhabitants as the sun.

Among the planets of this star’s system, only one is inhabited. It is known as Earth.

As this smoldering ball of flame sped towards the planet Earth, another unusual thing about it could have been observed. On the face of this great flaming sphere, there existed the faint outline of....a smile.

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In a small, relatively cramped trailer, eight men and woman are gathered around the television.

The leader, Cyclops, Scott Summers, stood directly in the middle, in front of the television. As always, he was wearing his ruby-quartz visor, the only thing capable of containing his concussive optic blasts.

The Iceman, Robert Drake, so named because of his ability to reduce temperatures of nearly absolute cold, and ice as a direct result. He can even apply this to his own body, transforming himself into a man of organic ice, a form he currently holds.

Wolfsbane, Rahne Sinclaire, a young Scottish woman with the ability to morph into a wolf or human/wolf hybrid. At that moment, her features are certainly wolfen, with sharpened ears, a long snout-like nose, and a thin layer of coarse hair covering her face.

Dazzler, Alison Blaire, the mutant celebrity who had once been a famous singer and movie star. Ironically enough, hers is the power to absorb the sounds around her and convert them into brilliant light. A bright yellow starburst, her trademark, stood out brilliantly on her chest.

Dazzler’s lover, Longshot, an inter-dimensional alien with hollow bones and four fingers on each hand. His abilities were particularly bizarre. He has been able to read the past of objects, and alter probability fields in his favor.

Blockade, Barry Fitgurd, a large Irishman whose relatively unknown by the men and women around him. However, he is in a relationship with Moira MacTaggart, and he has proven himself of late.

Shadowcat, Katherine ‘Kitty’ Pryde, a young woman who’s life was changed forever when she learned that she could render her body insubstantial. Also a Jewish woman, she knows more than anyone what racial intolerance could inevitably lead to.

Rachel Summers, the daughter of Jean Grey and Cyclops in an alternate future timeline. She’d inherited her mother’s powers of telepathy and telekinesis, as well as her own ability to transverse time itself.

At that moment, those seven individuals made up the X-Men, mutants sworn to protect a world that hated and feared them. At that moment, however, they were focused entirely towards watching the news.

On the television screen was a blond, somewhat attractive reporter, Megan McLaren it said on the bottom of the screen. On either side of her were photos of two men. On the left, a bald man sitting in a wheelchair. On the right, a dark man with a friendly smile.

Professor Charles Francis Xavier and Uhaka Molfa. Independent candidates for the office of United States Senator for the state of New York. Because independent candidates are not allowed to take part to many political debates, those two had decided to call their own independent debate.

The image on the television screen shifted to a field outside of Plum Valley, a small New York town on Long Island. A small wooden stage had been constructed, with two speaker’s podiums and several chairs on it. A few hundred chairs were being placed in front of the stage, and several other camera crews were already set up.

Soon, those seats would be filled with reporters, political analysts, representatives of special interests groups, and local citizens. Questions would be asked about answered about national defense against terrorism, education, the death penalty, and other topics of national interest.

Of course, the issue of mutants would also be discussed, but it’s certainly not the biggest problem facing the United States. Not in the eyes of the voting majority, that is.

Cyclops shifted his eyes towards his ‘daughter’ Rachel, unnoticed behind his blood-red visor. Even after the Professor’s disastrous press conference a few months ago, Cyclops had not doubted a Senate victory. Not until Rachel reminded him that the Professor wasn’t a politician, but simply an expert on mutants. Not until he was reminded of another politician who’d recently gone down in disgrace after he’d revealed that he himself was a mutant.

Even then, however, Cyclops refused to believe that the American people wouldn’t realize what was best for them. That Professor Xavier is the one man capable of informing the rest of Washington about the true nature of mutants, and the only man able to make informed decisions concerning mutant legislation. After all, mutant need representation of their own, and no man is better suited to the task than the Professor.

With a frown, Cyclops brought his hand to his forehead. No, he shouldn’t have been thinking like that. However qualified the Professor was in the field of mutations, however Cyclops and the other X-Men felt about him, they must have understood that the Professor isn’t the sort to inspire blind trust in those who don’t truly know him. That like of charisma and leadership is that makes a politician, and the Professor didn’t have those gifts.

Then why was it that Cyclops couldn’t realize this? Despite Rachel’s logic, which so mirrored his own thoughts those many months ago, Cyclops still blindly supported Xavier’s latest venture.

However, as the slight question of doubt quickly sped out of Cyclops’ mind, Rachel looked at him with similar questions. Her father’s mind was closed, as were the minds of the other X-Men, and that made Rachel feel uneasy. What force on Earth could possibly block the powers of Rachel Summers, one of the most powerful telepaths in history? Rachel had an idea, though it terrified her to even think of it.

No matter how desperate Xavier may have become as a result of his powers fading, even he must have seen the futility of running for a national office. And yet, Rachel had yet to find more than the slightest evidence that any of her colleagues share the same concerns. She’d seen such single-minded stupidity before, and it scared her.

On the television, the two candidates had made it onto the stage. Virtually every seat had been filled. Sanctioned or not, everybody knew that this debate would be of national interest. Perhaps for the fact that it wasn’t sanctioned.

Iceman shot a questioning look towards Cyclops, and jerked his head towards the door. Cyclops nodded. Slowly, one-by-one, the X-Men exited the small trailer. Through the open doorway, the debate stage could be seen not too far away.

As Cyclops moved towards the door, he looked at Rachel, who hadn’t moved to leave. She was watching the television intently, and shook her head at Cyclops’ insistent stare. After a moment, she turned her head to give him a defiant look, and motioned that he should go.

Cyclops didn’t look happy, but with a sigh he left, closing the door behind her. Rachel Summers was left to watch the debate alone.

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Jean Grey-Summers was furious.

She was in a doctor’s office, sitting across from the leading pediatrician in Salem Center, New York. The doctored appeared to be surprised by Mrs. Summers’ reaction. He opened his mouth to say something, to try and calm her concerns.

Jean didn’t give him the chance to speak. With surprising speed for a woman in the condition she was in, Jean snatched her folder from the doctor’s hands and tore it in half. So ferocious was her action that several papers fluttered out.

One of these papers had the words Results of DNA Scan at the top. Jean grabbed at this paper and tore it to shreds, then threw the pieces at the doctor.

The doctor, shocked by this sudden display of hostility, rose from his seat, searching for the necessary words to calm Mrs. Summers down. However, she was already out of his office, having slammed the door behind her.

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The debate was going well. Questions were asked and answered. Through a call-in viewer’s poll, it seemed that both Xavier and Molfa had more-or-less equal approval among the voting population. With the debate nearly over, it was then that each candidate made their final push for victory.

A gracious smile on his face, Professor Xavier turned from his podium and motioned to Cyclops and the X-Men. The mutant heroes had been spread out around the stage, acting as a sort of security. After all, most public gatherings that involve the topic of mutants tend to get attacked by one radical or another.

However, at the Professor’s beckoning, the six men and women gathered onto the stage, behind their mentor. They were his team, a powerful group of mutants that would serve as government agents should he be elected. However, the X-Men had always been a team of heroes, always willing to sacrifice themselves for the greater good, so whether or not they were affiliated with the government shouldn’t have mattered to voters. Perhaps it was just that the public are more amenable towards government officers that they are towards vigilantes.

For whatever reason, the spectacle of the X-Men was met with a standing ovation and an instant jump in Xavier’s approval rating. However, despite this obvious turn against him, Uhaka Molfa appeared quiet and unconcerned.

But then, this policy of Professor Xavier’s had been publicly known for months, and his association with the X-Men had been suspected for years. Only an idiot wouldn’t have initiated a response to something known so far beforehand.

And, when a horizontal circle of light shimmered into existence behind Molfa, it became clear that he did have a response.

The circle appeared nearly seven feet above the stage, and swiftly dropped down to the wooden floor of the stage before blinking out of existence. When it had, five men and women stood in it’s place.

Colossus, Peter Rasputin, a Russian mutant with the ability to transmute his body into solid organic steel. Nightcrawler, Kurt Wagner, a German mutant with blue skin, a pointy tail, and the power to vanish and reappear amidst sulfurous smoke. Rogue, a Southern mutant with a white streak in her brown hair and the power to steal an individual’s abilities and memories with a mere touch.

With these three recently-resigned X-Men stood two others. Havok, Alex Summers, former leader of the once-government-sponsored X-Factor; himself a mutant with the ability to discharge powerful plasma blasts. And a young blonde-haired woman clad in silver armor, wearing a helmet adorned with long curling horns, and who held a shimmering sword in her hands.

She resembled a woman known as Magik, a mutant/sorceress whose primary ability was to created Stepping Discs that allowed access through space and time itself. The only problem was that the woman the X-Men knew as Magik had died long ago.

The polls were not moving, because nobody was calling in. There was no standing ovation, because everyone in attendance was motionless with shock. Just a few short months ago; Nightcrawler, Rogue, and Colossus had revealed their identities to the world as members of the X-Men, alongside Cyclops and Iceman.

It was at this press conference that Cyclops’ birth name was revealed to be Scott Summers. As a government agent and public hero, it had already been known that Havok’s real name was Alex Summers.

So, many of those watching knew what it was that they saw. Teammates, perhaps friends, on opposing sides. Indeed, it was family against family. And this was more than evident in the looks shared by the two teams.

The air was thick with tension, but nowhere was it thicker than on that very stage. While much of the audience had an idea of what the X-Men were feeling, it in fact came nowhere close.

Shadowcat stared long and hard and Colossus, faint tears forming in her eyes. A lifetime ago, Kitty and Peter had been lovers. Not in the physical sense (she was underage at the time), but emotionally and spiritually; in every way that counted, they had loved each other. And while their relationship had ended, they had continued to be friends, continued to love.

When Colossus left the team with Nightcrawler and Rogue, Shadowcat had been heartbroken. But she had understood his decisions at the time, and held out hope that he would return. To see him there, against the Professor, against her, was almost too much to bear.

Blinking the tears away, Shadowcat lowered her gaze, and glared at the woman wearing the armor that had belonged to Magik. Her name had been Illyana Rasputin, and she had been Kitty’s best friend. When she died, Kitty was there, holding her best friend in her arms as it happened. She had known then, deep down in her being, that Illyana wasn’t going to come back. Theirs was the real world, Illyana’s was a real death, and the supposed laws of masked death just didn’t apply.

The woman before her now was not Illyana. She wasn’t Magik. She was a pretender, a charlatan who was ruining the good name of Shadowcat’s friend. And from the way Colossus was standing over her in a protective manner, it was clear that he’d betrayed far more than Shadowcat realized.

Shadowcat’s feelings of betrayal and hostility were felt to all the X-Men. Wolfsbane had also known Illyana as a friend. Dazzler and Rogue had first met as enemies. While Blockade didn’t know any of them personally, he’d heard about the three most recent deserters, and immediately took a disliking to them. Iceman and Havok had once been rivals for a woman’s affections.

And, of course, there was Cyclops. He wasn’t surprised to see his brother standing against him; they had almost never agreed on anything. Once again ,in another feeble attempt to equal Cyclops, Havok was trying to lead a team.

Cyclops shifted his gaze slightly to take in Colossus, Nightcrawler, and Rogue. Those three had gone too far. First they deserted the team at a critical moment, a reckless act that resulted in Gambit’s death. Then, instead of coming to terms with what they’d done, they quit the team.

But among all that they had done, Cyclops knew that their appearance that day was the most disgraceful of all. They had left the X-Men, abandoned the Professor’s dream, and sided with a political enemy. They weren’t just deserters, they were traitors. And so were Havok and the woman pretending to be Magik.

Both teams glared at each other with open hostility, save for one member of one team. Longshot. He actually appeared puzzled by the hostility. Perhaps it’s because he knows most of the other team relatively well, and didn’t know Illyana Rasputin at all.

In fact, Longshot stepped towards the other team with a smile on his face and his hand outstretched. However, Cyclops grabbed Longshot by the shoulder and pulled him back. It was then Cyclops who stepped forward, Havok at the other end of the stage stepped forward to meet him.

The two brothers stopped with barely a foot between them. They stood face-to-face, nose-to-nose, eye-to-visor. No words were spoken between them. None were necessary. In the minds of both Cyclops and Havok, everything that could have been said had been spoken long ago.

Before either brother could do more than stare at one another, however, a streak of roaring brown fury had leapt over Cyclops. Some time ago, Wolfsbane had been brainwashed into an obsessive adoration of Havok, an ordeal that had almost torn her apart emotionally. It was then, as she straddled Havok with her teeth bared and her claws poised to strike, that Wolfsbane’s pent up rage erupted.

Fortunately for Havok, Nightcrawler reacted quickly to the attack. Before Wolfsbane could slash, she was kicked in the face by a three-toed foot, the impact of which hurled her off of Havok. The lithe wolfen mutant flipped to her feet in a low crouch, and snarled as Cyclops stepped between her and Havok.

Havok saw Cyclops bringing his hand to the ruby-quartz visor, and moved quickly. Bringing his own hands together, Havok released a burst of white-hot plasma at his older brother. The mutant brothers are immune to each other’s powers, but Havok’s objective was not to harm Cyclops. Merely to exploit his weakness.

The plasma burst caught Cyclops full in the face. While Cyclops’ mutant metabolism absorbed his brother’s energy, his ruby-quartz visor did not fare so well. The searing heat of the plasma vaporized the visor almost immediately up impact, leaving Cyclops with no way to control his powerful optic blasts.

Crying with pain, Cyclops tore what was left of the smoldering visor away and clenched his eyes shut. Until he could utilize his spare ruby-quartz glasses he would be all but useless. So the leader of the X-Men backed away, allowing his teammates to join in the battle.

With the two mutants teams locked in combat, the audience to the debate were in the scrambling to get away. Mutant was fighting mutant, releasing energies that were sure to reach far beyond the conflict. Those innocent humans were not willing to put themselves at risk. However, though even the reporters and cameramen had fled, the cameras and microphones remained on, carrying footage of the struggle nationwide. Millions watched as mutant fought mutant.

As X-Man fought X-Man.

As Havok recovered to his feet following Wolfsbane’s attack, Nightcrawler leapt forward, a sword clasped in each of his four-fingered hands. Longshot, with three throwing knives in each of his own four-fingered hands and a smile on his face, moved forward to meet Nightcrawler.

Longshot threw one of his blades, and Nightcrawler easily knocked it away with one of his swords. Unluckily for Nightcrawler, however, the blade of his sword snapped off just above the grip. With a snarl, Nightcrawler raised his remaining sword and vanished amidst a burst of smoke and the stench of sulfur.

Acting on instinct, Longshot kicked out to the side at what first appeared to be empty air. But amidst the burst of smoke and a stench of sulfur, Nightcrawler materialized just in time to receive a kick to his mid-section. He went down hard.

The newest X-Man, Blockade, didn’t turn out so lucky. He immediately went for the strongest opponent, Colossus. Blockade charged forward with a clumsy, slow punch. Unfortunately, Colossus is faster than he looks, and easily dodged the punch before delivering a haymaker of his own.

But much to the surprise of Colossus, the blow had no effect on Blockade. The large mutant had absorbed the kinetic energy of the punch. This would not prove to be much of an advantage against Colossus, however, for he had long-since learned that mere brawling was not always enough.

When Blockade threw another punch, Colossus simply grabbed his opponent's arm and hurled Blockade off into the Long Island Sound.

Some time ago, Rogue had inadvertently returned to Carol Danvers, Ms. Marvel, her stolen powers of super-human strength and flight. That had left Rogue back with only her original mutant "gift" of stealing another's physical and mental traits with a touch. Though uncontrollable when she'd had Ms. Marvel's mind and powers, Rogue was once again free to touch others with no ill effects.

Considering that Rogue's most current uniform left a lot of bare skin, and opposed to her previous "protective" coverings, it was clear that Rogue reveled in her freedom.

Unfortunately, Dazzler was dressed almost as provocatively. When Rogue had leapt for Dazzler, her response was not a laser or photon blast, but rather a blinding strobe light. Dazzler had fought Rogue many times, was used to fighting a woman who had great strength and could fly. Perhaps Dazzler had feared for hurting the no longer invulnerable Rogue, but the downplayed attack struck greatly at the woman’s Southern pride.

Rogue had been blinded before, something Dazzler really had no way of knowing. Thus, the attack did not have the desired effect of a helpless Rogue rolling on the stage floor. Though temporarily unable to see, Rogue managed to continue forward and grabbed Dazzler by her bare wrists. Rather than grapple for a moment and risk the chance of Dazzler delivering a greater light blast, Rogue absorbed the woman’s powers and memories.

What Rogue next experience was absolute horror. She knew that life in the Mojoverse was no picnic, but the memories that invaded her mind...were inhuman. Unlucky innocent people tortured for the amusement of millions, and Mojo taking the power to capture and torture more every day. And the X-Babies...that animal ate the X-Babies.

Even as Rogue dropped the unconscious Dazzler to the floor, she opened her mouth to scream. But no sound echoed forth, for even as it was created it was absorbed into Rogue. For that was Dazzler’s power, to absorb sound and transform it into light. So overwhelmed was Rogue by Dazzler’s memories that she was using the stolen powers automatically, absorbing all the sounds around her.

Havok had tackled his incapacitated older brother, and was clearly yelling as he pounded away at Cyclops. But the sound of his words were gone before they could be heard.

Shadowcat cried out in pain when Magik’s soulsword pierced her intangible body, but the sound had barely escaped her lips before it was gone, absorbed into Rogue.

Absorbed, and transformed into light. Light that was building up around Rogue, more brilliant than the sun itself. The pain that Rogue was experience, Dazzler’s pain, could not be heard, but it was most certainly seen.

Iceman, who would have been blinded by the light if he had been seeing in anything other than infrared, approached Rogue. When she finally released the light that was building up inside of her, the results would not be pretty. Unless he did something about it.

As he approached, Rogue turned to look at Iceman. Her mouth, eyes, nostrils, pores, everything about her was filled with incandescent light. As Iceman raised his hands out towards Rogue, she screamed.

Not sound, but light. A steady beam of focused, pulsating light that struck Iceman full on the chest. Iceman came to a halt, even took a step back, but otherwise the light had no effect on him. It was simply dispersed harmlessly within the icy, crystalline matrix that was the Iceman.

Meanwhile, Iceman’s hands were still outstretched towards Rogue. His eyes were still focused on her, and he was still concentrating, using his powers to lower temperatures. At that moment, it was Rogue’s personal body temperature. All she felt was a brief chill, and then she had collapsed onto the ground, the bad memories gone.

Iceman felt considerably more pain when the tip of Magik’s Soulsword appeared out of his chest. She’d suddenly materialized behind him, and had struck swiftly. Iceman collapsed to his knees, not quite unconscious, but his mind so addled that he was no longer able to maintain his ice form.

It was then, as the battle began to wind down, that the fires came. Flames engulfed the combatants, and burned them into submission. But those flames did not burn their bodies, no. Rather, those flames burned their minds, inflicting all the pain that comes with being burnt alive and then some. The psyches of those X-Men past and present were licked away at by psionic flames.

And hovering there, above the fires and above the defeated mutants, was Rachel Summers. She too was surrounded by the fires, but rather than harming her they were commanded by her. The flames were a part of Rachel, created by her as a manifestation of her awesome psionic abilities. It was the fires of her mind that moved objects and struck at the minds of those that Rachel chose to strike at.

In the past, the flames around Rachel Summers always resembled a fiery bird, a phoenix. Yet at that time, Rachel’s aura of psionic fire did not resemble that majestic creature of resurrection. It didn’t resemble anything. It simply surrounded Rachel’s body, a second skin that she did not wish to build upon.

Rachel Summers landed gently upon the stage, and as she did so the psionic flames that she had utilized faded away. Her friends and acquaintances were left unconscious. Just as Rachel had desired, the battle had ended.

Rachel paid little mind to Professor Xavier or his opponent Uhaka Molfa, each of whom were at an opposite end of the stage. She instead focused on the minds of the men and woman whom were laying around her. Something was not right with them, Rachel knew. She had felt the intense, unnatural hostility from the trailer.

But before Rachel could probe into their minds, a thunderous boom filled the air. Rachel lifted her eyes skyward, to the fiery meteor that had just broken through the planet’s atmosphere. Rachel then shifted her vision to the Long Island Sound, where the distant form of Blockade had just surfaced.

Rachel had no time to act before the meteor crashed into the Long Island Sound, directly on Blockade. All Rachel could do was stand witness to the vast, powerful tidal wave that had formed as a result of the impact. A tidal wave that was, at that moment, bearing down directly upon them.

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Jean Grey-Summers stormed into the mansion, slamming the door behind her. As a telepath, Jean often tries to control her emotions, for fear that she might inadvertently damage the minds of those around her. But what that physician did just infuriated her so much.

Running a test like that without her permission, let alone her knowledge. It made Jean feel violated in a way, something that she’s had more than enough of in her lifetime.

Still fuming, Jean began to storm upstairs when young Jenny Livenhill ran towards her from the living room. Even before Jenny could speak, Jean knew what she wanted to say, and rolled her eyes. She had neither the time nor the patience to deal with visitors.

Deciding that it’d be better to deal with the guest herself, Jean gave Jenny a telepathic nudge to go up to the nursery and check on the children. All of those children were genetically altered to exhibit powers, and had to be constantly monitored. Jenny’s mutant ability to mimic the traits of those around her made her the ideal choice to play nursemaid.

As Jenny rushed up the stairs towards the nursery, Jean made her way into the living room. Whoever it was had picked the wrong day to drop by, that was for sure.

When Jean Grey-Summers saw the man sitting in the easy chair, she felt nauseous. Not because of the baby growing inside of her, but because she knew the man, and immediately knew why he was there.

Dr. Nathaniel Essex rose to greet Jean, his red eyes glittering. "Good day, Mrs. Summers. As you can imagine, I was overjoyed to learn of your pregnancy. Perhaps when your husband arrives, we can discuss the possibly of my serving as your physician."

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