X-Men

#91

March, Year 5

"Kill or be Killed"

Brought to you by Stephen Crosby

_____________________________________________________________________________________

It was more a throne than a chair, so large was it. It’s color was an appropriate bone-white, considering the hundreds of pieces that it was composed of.

For you see, the throne was nothing more than a large pile of carefully placed bones. Placed by the...individual...who sat upon the throne. At first glance, he appeared to be a man. But there was nothing human in his features. Skin paler than the bones beneath his frame. Blood-red eyes that seemed to study and dissect anything they gazed upon. Perfectly straight teeth that were sparkling white and frighteningly pointed.

Perhaps his hair was the strangest thing about him. It was black, in dark contrast to his skin. But it were the hair on his face....it may not even have been hair, but rather a part of his skin. A diamond-shaped goatee on his chin and the...it wasn’t exactly an eyebrow. It was higher up on his forehead, and was shaped like a four-pointed star. Similar to those you see twinkling out in the sky.

Then there were his clothes. Body armor would be a more appropriate term. It was a dark, deep blue, made up a series of metallic bands, broken by a dark red belt. He had a high collar that went just above his head, black on one side and red on the other. Also extending out from the shoulders of the armor were numerous strips of cloth, appearing much like a cape that had been shredded.

And in the center of the man’s chest was a blood-red jewel, shaped like a larger version of the black star on his forehead.

It was at this jewel that Cyclops was staring at from his prone position on the floor. Cyclops had unleashed his devastating optic blast directly at his target’s chest, and the jewel had simply absorbed it. The energy was then reflected back at Cyclops, sending him to the floor in the excruciating pain he was currently in.

Which wasn’t possible, as far as Cyclops knew. He’d always been invulnerable to his mutant power.

Sitting over Cyclops, his hands gripping the small skulls that adorned the arms of the throne, the man leaned forward and smiled.

"Really Scott," he said. "I would be an idiot not to exploit your greatest weakness. Unlike my numerous doppelgangers, I carry a piece of ruby quartz."

Cyclops could not respond. He’d been struck full in the chest by his most powerful concussive force blast. His ribs were certainly broken, seemed to be moving with a life of their own. Every breath Cyclops took was accompanied by a bolt of pain and a burning in his lungs. His vision seemed to darken, which Cyclops took as preferable to the image before him.

The image of Mister Sinister, sitting on a throne made from the bones of children. The fifty mutated children rescued by the X-Men several months ago. With the skull of Adam as the headboard, with those eyes that stared at Cyclops with accusation.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

It was a situation that Archangel had been in once before. Slumped forward, his beautiful white wings pinned against the wall by a pair of glowing spears. The two Marauders Blockbuster and Harpoon standing before him, gloating.

"Flyboy got his wings clipped again!" Harpoon laughed.

Blockbuster laughed too. "You’d think he learned the last time. Hey blondy, yer a featherweight in a world full of heavyweights!"

Then, the pain had shocked Archangel into blissful unconsciousness. Now, Archangel was fighting to control the rage.

"Please....." Archangel whispered. Blood was dribbling out the corner of his mouth. "Just....kill me."

Laughing, Blockbuster shook his head. "I’m not letting you go that easy, pecker head." He brought his arm back, that giant fist clenched tight. "And it’ll be at least another few days before I do."

Archangel didn’t feel the impact of a fist nearly the size of his head struck his left shoulder. Archangel didn’t feel the excruciating snap of countless hollow bones, nor did he feel the tearing of virtually all the muscles and tendons in that general area.

The only thing Archangel felt was the rage.

His head snapped back up to stare at Blockbuster with narrowed eyes. The eyes of a predator. A snarl formed on Archangel’s face, all the more frightening by the blood frothing out of his mouth.

The only noise Archangel made was a deep growl that sent a large glob of blood into Blockbuster’s face.

The large Marauder acquired an angry snarl of his own. "You fucking little queer! I’ve gonna rip off yer wings and shove-"

Blockbuster never got to finish the threat. In a flash of dark steel, his head was sliced off. Before the massive body could fall, it was swatted aside. One spear fell to the ground, no longer glowing.

Flecks of Blockbuster’s blood were speckled over the now-frightened face of Harpoon. Staring at the man who had so recently been a victim, the mutant Eskimo took a step back.

Still growling, Archangel wrenched his second wing away from the wall. That spear also clattered to the ground. Archangel fixed his gaze on Harpoon, and flexed his wings out to a huge wingspan of nearly twenty feet. They weren’t flesh and blood anymore, with white feathers. No, Archangel’s wings had suddenly become black metal, with razor-sharp fletchettes.

Fletchettes that were now hurtling towards Harpoon by the dozens.

Archangel’s left arm was hanging limp at his side, useless without a working shoulder. He didn’t pay this any mind, however. Archangel stepped over the bloody corpse of Harpoon and made his way towards the door.

The rage had returned.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

Scott Summers could only watch in silent rage while Mister Sinister bent over the unconscious body of his wife, Jean Grey. The sight of the syringe, so menacing in Mister Sinister’s hand, filled Scott with fear and distress. He wanted all at once to unleash his optic blasts, to shout out in defiance, to look away from what he knew was coming.

But Scott could do none of these things. The circuitry in his visor were frozen, making it unable for him to slide the lens back. An injection earlier administered by Mister Sinister dulled the motor functions within Scott’s body, making it unable for him to speak or move. Scott was only held up on the ground by the large green hand that grasped his head. The hand of the mutated monstrosity that the X-Men had believed to be the She-Hulk.

Hovering over Jean Grey, Mister Sinister shifted his gaze to Scott and he smiled. "A fascinating specimen, isn’t she? But nonetheless, a failed experiment. Apparently there is no real way to control how gamma radiation affects human DNA, even when it’s cloned. I suspect that the psyche of the subject is a controlling factor, but unfortunately I am not as skilled in the ways of the mind."

Chuckling softly, Mister Sinister looked back down at Jean Grey. "Ah, but basic genetic manipulation, that is a science I know all too well. I was able to manipulate this young woman’s family for so many generations, after all. Even in her ancestors did I see the potential for great power. Though I admit, I did not suspect the mutant gene to manifast so soon. I suspected that a great mental trauma would activate the latent gene, of course, but I also knew the damage such trauma would create. And as I previously stated, I was untrained in dealing with such mental damage."

Mister Sinister looked back up at Scott. "Though I am well able to inflict the damage, aren’t I Scotty?"

Scott could only stare in silence as Mister Sinister lowered the syringe towards Jean’s somewhat prominent stomach.

"Ah, the plans I had for this young woman, if only Xavier had not stolen her from me," lamented Mister Sinister. "I still had access to you, so my plans would have remained the same. It would have been so simple to extract the needed items from both of you and create little Nathan in an artificial womb. But not all was lost. I knew, you see, that if cast out on your own that you would eventually be found by Xavier."

When the needle entered, Scott flinched slightly. The grip around his head tightened.

"Yes, now all my careful planning shall be realized to the fullest. Not like the colossal failure that Nathan turned out to be." Mister Sinister took his head sadly. "It was in his mother that the fault should be placed, of course. Because of the risks you stupid children took, I saw fit to create duplicates as a contingency. I see now what a mistake Madalyne was. Her cloned genetic structure was passed on in Nathan, and sadly that left a destabilizing impact. I discovered the impurity while he was in my care, so of course I had no further use of him. Otherwise Apocalypse would have never gotten to him."

Mister Sinister smiled again. "Though I admit it was fun, dancing about with Cable later on. And at any rate, he did prove useful in other ways."

Slowly, Mister Sinister drew back on the syringe, and the vial began to fill with fluid.

"But this child…this is whom I have worked so long for."

______________________________________________________________________________________

Never in all her life had Shadowcat ever been so scared. Not even when she and the other X-Men were infected by the Brood, placed in a situation were they were certainly going to die. In that event, they’d been out in space, where everything seemed so fantastic and unreal. But this....this was hard reality.

Just as it had been nearly five years ago.

Shadowcat can still remember the weakness in her legs, the queasiness in her stomach. A Morlock had arrived at the Xavier Estate, mortally wounded and screaming about death being in the Morlock Tunnels. The X-Men, Shadowcat included, went to investigate, and what they had found was far worse than anything they could have imagined.

Dead Morlocks....dead mutants. Dozens of them, all dead. Crushed by collapsed tunnels or bare hands, torn apart by blades or claws, impaled by spears or riddled with bullets. The methods were numerous, the end-result the same.

Death had indeed entered the Morlock Tunnels on that day. Though the X-Men had done what they could to beat back the murderers and care for the wounded, many more had died. And several X-Men had been gravely wounded, Shadowcat among them.

Now the murders had returned to the mansion, and all Shadowcat could do was watch. The young X-Men remained in an almost constant state of intangibility, returning to normal only to take short breaths. In this defensive state, Shadowcat walked the walls of the mansion, observing those who had invaded the only real home she had left.

In the main hall of the mansion was Scalphunter, perched up on the second floor landing with a rifle aimed at the door. Farther down the hall, hidden in shadows, Vertigo and Riptide waited. Striding up and down the monorail tunnel that connected the mansion to the hanger was Arclight, who was clenching and relaxing her fists with boredom. The mutant glass-man known as Prism was lounging on the roof, currently invisible to Shadowcat’s eyes. She couldn’t even say for sure if he was still on the roof.

And down in the medical lab was Scrambler, alone with the comatose Professor Xavier. The Marauder’s hand was constantly touching the Professor’s bald head, no doubt keeping the Professor’s telepathy negated, just in case he awoke.

The last Shadowcat saw of Blockbuster and Harpoon, they were in the Danger Room. Torturing poor Archangel. It broke Shadowcat’s heart to watch, but there was nothing that she could do. Even if she managed to take down Harpoon, her powers and martial skills were no match for Blockbuster’s strength. And freeing Archangel wouldn’t help at all, as he certainly wasn’t in any shape to fight. So Shadowcat moved on, and hoped that Blockbuster and Riptide would be too busy to join in the ambush.

For that was what the Marauders were prepared for, an ambush. The other X-Men had yet to return from Long Island, and Shadowcat was determined to warn them before it was too late.

Peeking in to make sure that Scalphunter and the others were still in the main hall, Shadowcat turned and prepared to phase down into the War Room. She’d check the sensors for any sign of the X-Men approaching. If so, she’d try and reach them off the estate, and give them what information-

"Aaaahhhh!" Impossibly, a bullet tore through Shadowcat from behind. Screaming, Shadowcat looked down at her chest, and saw blood seeping through the exit wound. It was suddenly difficult for Shadowcat to breathe; a lung must have been punctured, she thought.

Shocked back into tangibility, Shadowcat was lying on the ground, bleeding. Struggling to move, she lifted her head and saw Scalphunter standing behind her, his rifle lowering. The sadist was smiling.

"I made this right after our first encounter. Almost never had a chance to use it."

Trying not to moan, Shadowcat tried to crawl away, to phase. The floor was slick with her own blood, her hands and feet just kept sliding. As for phasing, as hard as Shadowcat tried she couldn’t do it. After she’d been struck by Harpoon’s spear in the Morlock Tunnels so long ago, intangibility had become Shadowcat’s natural state. All these years, she’d had to concentrate to remain solid; but when she needed it the most she couldn’t phase.

Scalphunter raised the rifle to his eye, and took aim. "Lights out, kid." Shadowcat closed her eyes in anticipation of the shot.

A crash was heard from below. The ferocious tearing of metal and wood, followed by indistinguishable shouts and screams. Rifle still in hand, Scalphunter turned around back towards the balcony. He was wondering if perhaps the X-Men had arrived, despite there being no signal. But no, the front door remained intact, as did the ceiling.

The target swooped up from below, metallic wings spread wide, and halted to hover just off the balcony. Scalphunter was surprised to see the head of Vertigo, held up by her green-and-white...and now red...streaked hair. The X-Men aren’t that vicious, he thought.

But then, Archangel was not an X-Man at the moment. Once again, he was Death. And one look at the winged mutant’s eyes told Scalphunter that he would be next.

Moving with a soldier’s speed and precision, Scalphunter took aim and fired. He hadn’t the time to recalibrate the rifle, the bullets were designed for intangible targets, but it should be just as effective against a tangible victim.

However, Archangel possessed the speed and precision of a bird of prey. Even as Scalphunter took aim, Archangel hurled the head of Vertigo at him. It took the shot, exploding from the impact. Blood and bone and grey matter showered both Archangel and Scalphunter, but it only hampered Scalphunter. Only for a split-second, but it was all that mattered in this life-and-death situation.

All that Archangel needed to hurl a single razor flechette. All that Scalphunter would have needed to dodge it. But Scalphunter had lost that time, and so was struck. The Marauder fell to the ground, a metal flechette imbedded in his forehead.

"Oh god..." Shadowcat moaned quietly. Slowly, she was making ground. Already the bleeding was slowing down; it must only be a flesh wound. The pool of blood beneath her was small, in rolling out of it Shadowcat was able to gain the traction to move. Seeing the body of Scalphunter lying less than a foot away from her, Shadowcat instinctively edged back. "Oh my god..." She looked up at Archangel, whom she hadn’t noticed until just that moment. "You....you killed him."

There was no emotion, no remorse, in Archangel’s eyes. "Death begets death," he intoned. The large wings of metal flicked slightly, and Archangel was moving down onto the balcony. Shadowcat saw that his left arm was hanging limp, the shoulder appeared to be caved in. "These....things, they are not even alive. They are clones...artificial constructs. To them....death is meaningless."

Upon touching down on the balcony, Archangel lurched forward. His right hand was pressed up against his mid-section. Shadowcat saw that blood was running through his fingers.

"No one...can escape...death," gasped Archangel. He fell to the ground, on top of the man he’d just killed.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

"Which isn’t to say that Rachel was not a pleasant surprise," Mister Sinister added. As he worked on Jean Grey, extracting fluids from her abdomon, he spoke calmly while Cyclops watched on in silent rage. "So much power, far more than her mother could have ever dreamed of. It makes sense, considering her father..."

Mister Sinister paused then, and glanced up at Scott with a smile. "But then, you didn't know she wasn't your daughter, did you? Hmm, I doubt even she knows the truth. I myself would have been none the wiser had not Dr. MacTaggart let the information slip. Eventually, dear Moira was so eager to give me what I wanted to know that she added little tidbits I never thought to ask about. She had occassion to study Rachel's DNA when they both resided at Muir Island. And in case your wondering, my dear boy, its not who you think.

"Sadly, it would appear that Rachel is every bit as unstable as Madalyne and Nathan. Her little episode on national television tells me that she could be as large a threat as Apocalypse. Must be all those jaunts through time. Too much information can be a bad thing." Mister Sinister smiled. "I can certainly attest to that."

______________________________________________________________________________________

Despite what many people may believe, moving through matter isn’t effortless. It isn’t even like moving through water. No, it’s actually more like sludging through thick drifts of snow. The molecules of your body sift in-between and around the molecules of the matter. The thicker the matter, the greater the effort.

Much of the Xavier Mansion was constructed with tempered steel, titanium, and even low-grade adamantium at certain levels. Levels such as the sub-basements, which had so often survived attacks that had destroyed the entire mansion. Furthermore, there were energy fields permeated through the levels, to block out various frequencies and telepathy.

At her best, Shadowcat was always able to make it through these precautions with only a modicum of difficulty. Many of the energy fields were designed with her in mind, and selected layers of metals are treated with unstable molecules to make for easier phasing.

But Shadowcat was wounded at that moment, and she was carrying a gravely wounded teammate. Passengers make intangibility more tiresome, and because time was of the essence Shadowcat had to phase straight through. She couldn’t take the time to move around through the more passable areas.

So, wounded as she was, Shadowcat was phasing through extremely dense materials with a wounded passenger in tow. The strain on her system was incredible, and she couldn’t help but wonder if Archangel could survive the strain on his system.

Phasing isn’t quite like moving through water, but it is similar to swimming. Similar in that, while phasing, Shadowcat is unable to breath. Over the years she’s trained herself to instinctively take a breath the instant before intangibility, and often she can go without oxygen for nearly twice the normal amount of time. So well-trained is she, that Shadowcat has been able to switch in and out of intangibility for a split-second to take a breath, even under combat conditions.

Dredging through dense metals and burning energy fields, carrying a passenger even more wounded that she was, Shadowcat ached for a breath of air. Her lungs, full of carbon dioxide, felt as though they were afire. Twice, Shadowcat opened her mouth to take a breath, more out of reflex than anything else. Nothing came in though. The oxygen just went through her intangible form.

It was dangerous, attempting to take a breath. Shadowcat knew that if she could do that almost without thinking about it, she could accidentally turn tangible. It was taking everything her weary, wounded, suffocating body had to remain intangible. Herself, and her dying passenger.

Then, just as Shadowcat was finally starting to weaken, she broke through. The dense matter parted, and Shadowcat found herself falling through the air. Utterly exhausted, Shadowcat’s next act was one of instinct. She and Archangel crashed nearly a foot to the floor, tangible.

"Hunh!" Gasping both for breath and because of pain, Shadowcat struggled to rise. Looking at Archangel, she knew he was in bad shape. His breathing was labored, and his blue skin was deathly pale. On his chest, the strip of cloth that Shadowcat had tied around him was soaking wet with blood. Archangel was bleeding like a stuck pig, and his broken shoulder had been made even worse by the fall. Add the fact that he’d been without oxygen for so long, and Shadowcat had no idea how she was going to keep him alive.

Especially considering that Shadowcat wasn’t doing much better. Though the bullet hadn’t hit anything vital, it had gone right through her. The bleeding wasn’t as bad as Archangel’s, but it was still bad. And Shadowcat’s grueling use of intangibility had exhausted her nearly to the point of collapse.

Taking in her surroundings, Shadowcat was glad that she’d at least managed to get into the Med-Lab. The technology here was the only thing that could save Archangel’s life, and her own. Though not medically trained, Shadowcat had taken the mandatory training for all students in the Xavier Institute. That included basic knowledge on handling the equipment in the Med-Lab. Shadowcat hoped it would at least be enough to stop the bleeding.

Rising to her feet, Shadowcat glanced around the room desperately. Yes, she could make use of some of those supplies. Taking some cotton and strips of gauze, she did what she could to stop Archangel from bleeding out. Nothing could be done about removing the bullet, fixing the shoulder, or stopping the internal bleeding. Not until she could get to the equipment she needed.

The Med-Lab was large, made up of several rooms. What Shadowcat had phased into, that was the supply room. The equipment she needed, that was in the trauma room. Where Professor X was lying in a coma. Where Scrambler was standing guard.

Breathing hard in preparation, Shadowcat held the cotton gauze and phased. Once the pieces of gauze were in place, Shadowcat solidified. She had to bite her lip to keep from crying out in pain, her molecules mixing together with the molecules of the cotton. It was painful, but it was the best thing Shadowcat could do to stop the bleeding. She may have done it with Archangel, if she thought he’d be able to survive the shock. He needed real medical attention.

To get that, Shadowcat would have to deal with Scrambler. Taking several deep breaths, Shadowcat moved away from Archangel and into the wall dividing the medical supply room from the trauma room. But she didn’t go completely through the wall; only far enough so that her face and eyes were just sticking out. Though she could phase through matter, Shadowcat couldn’t phase through it.

Yes, Scrambler had his back to her. His attention was on the comatose Professor Xavier, his hand on the professor’s brow to prevent him from using his telepathy should her wake up.

Shadowcat’s heart was racing. She suddenly needed to take a breath very badly. But not yet. Not until she did what she had to do.

Stepping completely through the wall, Shadowcat moved silently towards Scrambler. In her hand was a scalpel, taken from the supply room. She’d been trained by killers, knew how to perform the deed swiftly and efficiently.

Acting in the space of instants, Shadowcat phased in the very moment she stabbed with the scalpel. It slid into Scrambler’s back, puncturing the lung. Scrambler crumbled to the ground without a sound, the scalpel in his back. There was no blood on Shadowcat’s hand.

Standing over the body of the man she’d just killed, Shadowcat began to hyperventilate. She had to sit down, had to compose herself, and so she sat down on the edge of the bed on which Professor Xavier lay.

What finally calmed Shadowcat down as was the feeling of a hand placed on her shoulder, along with a word spoken both aloud and within her mind.

"Kitty…"

Slowing her breathing, Kitty Pryde placed her hand over the professor’s and turned to look down at him.

"I’m here, Professor." And then she opened her mind so that he would see the whole story. Though it pained Kitty to do this, given all the professor had gone through, the X-Men were still in danger.

______________________________________________________________________________________

"Speaking of Apocalypse, I was rather surprised by his moment of altruism those months ago. Weren't you? No," Mister Sinister continued, "don't answer that." He grinned.

"Given some thought, however, his entire scheme became clear to me. Of course he would save mutants from the Legacy Virus. Diseases do not distinguish between the strong and the weak, and so when left uncheck it is anathema to his beliefs. But as a whole, humans are weak, so of course Apocalypse wouldn't care if disease wiped them all out.

"It was Apocalypse who created the Legacy Virus a thousand years from now, wasn't it, Scott? I don't need you to answer; your mind was always an open book to me. But he designed it to target humans, those who did not possess the X-Factor gene. It was Stryfe who later mutated the virus, but even then the original blueprint was still there, hidden and latent beneath the surface. Perhaps that's why the only human to contract it was Dr. MacTaggart, the mother of quite possibly the most powerful mutant ever. Perhaps, even in the womb, poor Kevin's ability to warp reality was active."

Mister Sinister shrugged. "Ah well, it doesn't matter now. However Dr. MacTaggart acquired the Legacy Virus, she appears to have been cured of it. Therefore, even if the Legacy Virus were to become widespread among the human population, it shouldn't be too much of a bother. Provided, of course, that the one who developed this cure was willing to share it."

______________________________________________________________________________________

Outside the Xavier estate, a van containing the remainder of the X-Men approached the entrance gates. Alex Summers, Havok, was behind the wheel; with Robert Drake, Iceman, in the passenger seat. The two rows of backseats were occupied by Kurt Wagner, Peter Rasputin, Rahne Sinclair, Alison Blaire, and Rogue. Otherwise known as Nightcrawler, Colossus, Wolfsbane, Dazzler, and, um, Rogue.

The mood inside the van was dark and somewhat depressing. For most of the trip, Dazzler had been crying over the loss of her lover, Longshot. Tentatively, Rogue had tried to comfort her former rival, with little success. In contrast, Colossus had displayed very little emotion, having barely spoken a word the entire trip. The only time he did speak, it was in Russian, and only the name Rachel Summers could be understood. By the tone in Colossus’ voice, Iceman did not need to speak Russian to understand the meaning.

Not that Iceman could blame him. Whomever Magik had been, Colossus had thought his baby sister Illyana had returned to him. When Magik had vanished during the X-Men’s encounter with Rachel Summers, Colossus had been devastated. And because the X-Men had discovered Rachel hovering over the comatose body of Professor Xavier and the mangled corpse of Xavier’s political rival, it was naturally assumed that Rachel had kidnapped Magik for some reason. Even Shadowcat, once Rachel’s best friend, couldn’t deny what she had witnessed.

Once during the trip, Iceman had tried to lighten the mood by commenting on how slow all the other drivers were in Westchester County. "If Kitty were driving," Iceman had joked, "we could have passed through everybody."

"And the highway would have been clogged with heart attack victims," Havok remarked humorlessly.

Well, that had shut Iceman up. He didn’t say anything else, not until the van had passed through the gate. Not until Iceman, able to see things according to their temperature, noticed an extreme concentration of heat atop the roof of the mansion. It was in the shape of a man.

Heat was an invisible form of energy. Thus, Havok had no idea what Iceman was doing when he grabbed the steering wheel and turned it sharply to the left.

"Ambush!" Iceman screamed.

A large section of the road beside the van exploded, sending bits of gravel up everywhere. His feet cold, Havok looked down to see the brake pedal, encased in ice, frozen against the floor. The van lurched to a halt, and Iceman threw his door open. He had transformed his body from flesh to ice.

"Sniper on the roof," Iceman hurridly cried out. He raised his hand palm out, and a wall of ice began to form between the van and the mansion. "Everybody out and scatter!"

The center of the ice wall exploded, raining ice fragments against the windshield. In no mood to argue, Havok pushed his door open and rushed out. A stench of sulfur marked Nightcrawler’s departure by teleportation. The others also fled, two on each side. Seconds after the X-Men had gotten clear, the van exploded.

Wolfsbane raced to Havok’s side. She had reverted to werewolf form. "There tis a body up there!" she hissed. "I cannae see ‘im, he is transparent. But the air, I ken see tis moving around him!"

Havok nodded, realized then what Iceman must have see. Heat. Quickly, the instincts of the former leader of X-Factor took over. A sniper on the room was a scenario every federal agent trained for.

"Everybody keep moving," Havok ordered. "And don’t take cover!" This sniper had just destroyed a van with one blast. Any stationary object was a target, and useless as cover. "Iceman, what can you tell us?"

Every X-Man was in motion except for Iceman, who obviously had the least to fear. He could see the sniper, after all, and his ability to create cold was directly counter to the blasts of heat. Maybe that was why he and Havok had never gotten along.

His hands raised towards the mansion roof, Iceman shook his head. "Seeing in terms of heat, everything looks about the same. But I can tell you where he is. Dead center on the peak, highest point of the mansion."

The next plan of action came to Havok’s mind immediately.

"Fastball Rogue," Havok yelled. "Contact with hard impact."

When the team had been based in Australia, Storm had trained the team mercilessly. Various combo maneuvers had been invented for virtually every situation, all identifiable by a short command. Havok hoped that he got the words right, and that Colossus and Rogue remembered the training.

They had. It was like a ballet, the way the two X-Men acted in concert. Rogue rushed towards Colossus, the ground behind him exploding from a series of blasts. She leaped at Colossus, who caught her easily, her weight nothing to the strength of his steel body. For a short moment, Rogue’s bare hand brushed against Colossus’ cheek.

With a mighty heave, and what may have been the last of his strength, Colossus hurled Rogue high towards the mansion. The effort was great, leaving Colossus physically drained. His steel formed faded to flesh. His power and been stolen.

Hurtling through the air, her body curled up into a ball, Rogue felt as though she was flying again. And as her body shifted from flesh to organic steel, Rogue felt strong again. She had missed these sensations, and relished them when they returned.

Soaring through the air, Rogue was a cannonball of living steel. A blast of intense heat struck her then. It hurt, but otherwise Rogue was uninjured. Heat is without force, it could not halt her momentum. Rogue streaked up and just over the peak of the room, and it was then that she struck something that was not visible to her eyes.

To Iceman's eyes, the heat signature had simply blinked out as a result of the impact. Everybody else, however, was temporarily blinded by the explosion of light, made even more brilliant by reflection off of Rogue's metal skin. Everyone heard the shattering of glass, accompanied by a piercing scream. Only Iceman had heard those sounds before, when Jean Grey had hurled a killer against the wall of a sewer tunnel.

The light had flashed for only a moment. Rogue continued over the mansion, where she would make a crater in the backyard. As the only one who could see clearly, Iceman switched his perception back to light and approached Havok.

"That was Prism," Iceman told him. "Of the Marauders. A clone, obviously. He sounded just like that the last time he died."

"I figured as much," Havok muttered. He rubbed the spots out of his eyes. "Absorbing light and channeling it into heat. That's why I didn't fire at the son of a bitch."

Opening his eyes, Havok glanced up at the roof, then at the front door. "So Sinister faked his death again. Big surprise. The rest of the Marauders must be inside, ready to ambush us."

"Just like they must have ambushed Scott and the others," Iceman added. He didn't mention that Jean and Jenny were home when Sinister and his Marauders arrived. "They've got the advantage. Anywhere we try to get it, they can get at us."

Havok agreed. "Then a two-pronged, fast attack would be best. Nightcrawler, Rahne, circle around and find Rogue. Share your powers with her, and teleport inside. The attic if you can, work your way down." Havok turned to take in Iceman, Colossus and Dazzler. "The three of you are with me. We'll attack head on, try to overwhelm whoever we come up against."

"That's suicide!' Dazzler strongly protested. "We've fought the Marauders before, Havok. Going toe-to-toe with them, in our current state....we wouldn't have a chance! Maybe if we had help, or some luck...." Dazzler's words trailed off, choking up into sobs.

Colossus stepped forward. "If they have hurt Katya," he said quiety, "then they will be the ones in need of luck."

"I agree with Alison," Iceman cut in. "The Marauders are too well-trained to rush in against, and as it is we don't know all that much. Sinister could very well have cloned more than one of each Marauder. We need a strategy. At least something better than 'charge!'"

"That's exactly what they're expecting," Havok replied. "Sinister thinks logically. He won't contemplate an illogical action. And he wouldn't predict one."

"Our friends are in there," Nightcrawler added. "That changes everything. If we rush in, we risk them getting hurt. But while we stand here talking, Sinister could be experimenting on them."

Indecisive and divided, there was no telling how long the X-Men would have stood outside the mansion, arguing over a course of action. Had it been much longer, and Sinister only had the resources, it's likely that a planned attack would have been made by the Marauders. But that was not the case, and fortunately a unifying voice invaded the thoughts of the X-Men.

The Marauders have been neutralized, but at a great cost. Come to me, my X-Men.

______________________________________________________________________________________

"What do I care about humanity," Mister Sinister continued. "I had forsaken them long ago, choosing instead to focus on mutants. If anything, removing the obsolete competition would certainly allow for the eventual prosperity of mutantkind."

Mister Sinister paused, and considered. "However, this is what Apocalypse intended. With the weak gone, the strong would be free to inherit the Earth. It's even likely that he faked his death, hoping to reemerge and take control as the mightiest of mutants."

Holding up a vial of fluid taken from Jean Grey's fetus, Mister Sinister smiled knowingly. "But then, Apocalypse wasn't counting on another Summers offspring."

______________________________________________________________________________________

Rogue was standing in the center of the crater she'd created when she 'heard' the Professor's voice. Her skin was still metallic. She still had Colossus' power.

After recieving the same message as the X-Men outside the front door of the mansion, the Professor spoke directly to Rogue. In her mind, Rogue saw an image of the monrail tunnel beneath her feet, the one that ran between the mansion sub-levels and the hanger at the far end of the estate. Arclight was there, impatiently waiting for something.

She is the last, the Professor telepathiccally sent Rogue. You must deal with her, Rogue, while you still have the strength. There, she could collapse the mansion.

The next image Rogue saw was of the mansion collapsing in on itself, falling down around a shattered foundation. She didn't doubt that Arclight was capable. Back in the Morlock Tunnels, she'd collapsed entire sections with her seismic blows. Much of New York's subway system had been destroyed, Rogue had learned later on. Humans had died.

"Ah stop her, Professor," Rogue whispered. Kneeling down in the crater, Rogue raised her steel fist. When she'd crashed, Rogue had felt the hollow boom of the ground beneath her. She brought the fist down, and felt that boom again. The ground beneath her even gave a little. Rogue smashed her fist down again. Beneath the dirt, patches of metal were visible.

Smashing her fist down again, Rogue broke through her metal. It was only a small gash, but it was enough to get both hands through. Grunting with exersion, Rogue pulled at the metal ceiling of the hanger, widening the hole enough for her to fall down through.

That's what Rogue did. She dropped down into the tunnel, landing on her hands and knees. She raised her head, and saw Arclight standing against the wall a few feet down the tunnel. She was cracking her knuckles, grinning.

"It's about time," she remarked enthusiastically. "I was starting to getting antsy." Still grinning, Arclight started towards Rogue. "But now, I finally got someone to kill!"

Rogue started to rise. "Ya'll are welcome ta try, sugah. But ah ain't goin' do so easy!"

Arclight slammed her fist against the wall. The tunnel shook with the vibrations from the impact. Rogue couldn't keep her balance, and fell hard against the floor. Much to her surprise it hurt.

And then Rogue realized that she wasn't made of steel anymore. She'd lost Colossus' power. Seeing her horrified expression, Arclight continued forward with a big grin on her face.

"Aw shoot, looks like you are easy!" The sound of Arclight cracking her knuckles was like a drum beating in Rogue's ears. "I'd prefer some effort, but I'll take what I can get. Scream for me, you little southern-"

Arclight was cut off by the sound of energy crackling. Startled, Arclight looked down to see that her shiny metal armor was glowing. She recognized the effect, and turned around with a horrified expression on her face. "You! Bu-but you're too far away...."

And then Arclight's armor exploded, and her with it. But despite the sound of the explosion, Rogue still heard the response from Arclight's attacker.

"De hands, de not a requirement, cherie. Just a preference."

Opening her eyes, Rogue saw a figure at the far end of the tunnel. He was too far away to make up, but Rogue could see that he was wearing a trenchcoat.

And his eyes glowed a deep red.

______________________________________________________________________________________

Mister Sinister cocked his head to the side, as though listening for something. "Ah, and so it has ended, Scott. My Marauders and your X-Men, battling to the death like armies of old. You should thank Apocalypse for your victory, but it is a victory nevertheless."

Cyclops had no idea what Sinister was talking about. He'd known the Marauders were in the mansion, but given the present situation he hadn't thought about his teammates. And because so much of the mansion is sound-proof, the sounds of any battle couldn't carry through.

"I hadn't expected the last, of course. Xavier must have recovered sooner than I'd anticipated, with his full facilities intact," Mister Sinister continued. Despite his words, his tone was surprisingly calm and....accepting. "And so it ends, Scott. I have no regrets. I've done what I set out to do and more."

A look of sadness then passed over Mister Sinister's face. "Accept kill you. I've wanted to do that for years, but up to now you've been to vital to my designs." The sadness passed, and a sickening smile crossed Mister Sinister's lips. "Perhaps there is time to indulge myself."

The red jewel atop Mister Sinister's brow glowed a deep blood-red. It pulsated with energy, which at any moment would lance out at Cyclops in a deadly beam.

The floor between Cyclops and Mister Sinister exploded upward in a blast of searing heat. Almost immediately, Cyclops felt cold. The edges of the gaping hole in the floor were coating over with ice.

"Oh drat," Mister Sinister muttered. "I suppose it's for the best. You'll at least live with the torment I've caused you. Time to carry this through to the end."

Quickly turning around, his massive cape of tendrils fluttering behind him, Mister Sinister strode forward to his throne of skulls. Turning back to face Cyclops, Mister Sinister sat down and awaited the new arrivals.

Raising upward on a column of ice, Iceman and Havok appeared with the hands raised. Iceman looked at the She-Hulk clone, his iced body radiating waves of cold mist. Cyclops was no longer cold; he was freezing. The grip on his head loosened, then disappeared entirely. The She-Hulk clone had released him. Whimpering with cold and fear, the She-Hulk clone backed away from Iceman, it's joints creaking and green skin lightening to a bluish hue. Within seconds, the clone was frozen solid, the water in its body frozen to ice. But still Iceman lowered the temperature, further making the freeze-dried She-Hulk clone more and more brittle. Until only the slightest impact would-

The small shaft of ice flew from Iceman's hand and struck the She-Hulk clone between the eyes. It shattered into thousands of pieces.

Havok was facing Mister Sinister and the comatose Jean Grey, his hand also raised. The air around Havok rippled with heat. His expression was stern, utterly devoid of all emotions save one: hate.

There was no final exclamation. No parting words. Instead of speaking, Havok simply acted. The air between him and Mister Sinister exploded into plasma, the very substance of the sun itself. It streaked towards Mister Sinister, who did not move to avoid it.

Iceman was also pointed a hand in that direction, but for a much different purpose. Despite the heat, the air around Jean Grey remained cool, and safe for her and her unborn child.

Like Havok, Iceman was also silent for the entire exchange. The only individual who spoke was Cyclops!

"No! Alex, don't kill him!"

But his words came too late, and they fell on deaf ears. Oblivious to all but the man before him, the manipulative son-of-a-bitch who'd ruined his life and the lives of his loved ones, Havok had made his attack.

The burst of plasma struck Mister Sinister full in the chest. Within a matter of instants, the fiery energy had engulfed the ancient scientist, who sat motionless throughout. He did not even scream as his flesh was burnt away, not imperious against the very stuff from which the sun is made. Perhaps he did not have time. In less than a second, nothing was left. The plasma had burnt it all away.

Mister Sinister was dead.

______________________________________________________________________________________

There was nothing left to bury. When he incinerated Mister Sinister, Havok had also incinerated all of the skeletons. Instead, a monument was erected in the back of the estate. Jean Grey-Summers found her husband kneeling before it, his head down.

"Scott," she called. "The taxi is on the way. It's time to go."

Scott Summers raised his head, but did not look at his wife. He looked at the monument. "They were just like me, Jean. Sinister took them, used them, and ultimate disposed of them."

Walking towards her husband, Jean placed her hand on his shoulder. "Scott...we can't change what happened. But he's gone now. He can't hurt anymore children."

"But how many lives could he have saved?" Scott asked. "I know, maybe it was all just another lie. Maybe humans won't be affected; maybe Sinister didn't know how to cure them."

"Havok did what he did," Jean replied. "You tried to stop it. Whatever else happens, it'll be for the better without Sinister involved."

"You're right." Scott looked at the bulge of his wife's belly. "Did you get yourself checked out one last time?"

"Yes. The Professor said that no damage was done when Sinister...took samples from me. He also says that I'm safe to fly." After a moment's pause, Jean added, "I looked in on Jenny, too."

Jenny Livenhill. In all the excitement that had gone on that day, none of the X-Men had given the young mutant a single thought. It was Wolfsbane who found her, afterwards. Apparently, she'd tried to protect the children, but even her power to mirror the abilities of others wasn't enough against the Marauders. They'd overpowered her, and then they had their fun.

"She was already on the edge...from something that had happened when she was younger," Jean continued. "She's still in a coma. The Professor is...hesitate to try and help her. After what happened with the Shadow King, he doesn't trust his powers anymore. Soon, he'll be sending her to a hospital that specializes in...what she's been through."

Scott nodded. "It's for the best. They'll be able to help her."

Jean nodded also, but there were tears in her eyes. "If I could....if my powers weren't....I should be able to help her, Scott. Those places....it's no place to be."

Jean should know, Scott thought to himself. Before her parents called on Professor Xavier, Jean had been in and out of several such places, treated by numerous 'specialists' who'd been unable to help her.

"After the baby's born, and you've recovered," Scott said. "You'll be able to help her then."

Slowly, Scott rose to his feet, and embraced his wife. Releasing her, he looked into her eyes. "This has been long-past due. Fighting for our lives, wearing outlandish costumes with ridiculous names, that finally ends. From now on, we only have one person we need to be heroes for.

Tears running down her cheeks, Jean smiled. The flaws were there. She'd been training herself to avoid using her powers to hide the imperfections. To Scott, she never looked more beautiful.

"Let's go home," she said.

______________________________________________________________________________________

Watching from his study window, Professor Charles Xavier watched as Scott and Jean climbed into the taxi. Peter and Kitty were at the front door to see them off. Kurt was in the Med-Lab, checking Warren's vital signs. And Robert was also in the Professor's study, seated across from his desk.

"Of all the departures we'd had lately, this is the one I'm most happy about," Xavier mentioned to his youngest original student. "Still, I'm uneasy about there being so few of us here."

"They all had their reasons, Professor," Robert replied. "Alison has always wanted a normal life. With her husband gone, she felt it was time to try again. And Alex, he's been overwrought at what he did to Sinister. With everything that's happened to him lately, he decided that he needed to get away from everything. Personally, I agree with him. As for Rahne, well, Moira was the closest thing to a mother she ever had. Sinister didn't exactly tell Scott that Moira was dead, and for Rahne that's enough."

"I just wish she'd accepted our help," Xavier whispered. Moira had been his first love. "Well, she might yet. I'm most concerned about Rogue's departure. She just...disappeared, and her note wasn't exactly encouraging."

Robert Drake agreed. "I saw Gambit die, Professor. If Rogue did encounter him down in the tunnel, it could only have been another one of Sinister's clones. We have to find her, before...before she gets hurt again."

"I haven't been able to find her with Cerebro thus far," Xavier said. "I intend to keep trying, however." Xavier gestured to the television. "Robert, if you would. It's time for the news."

Robert did turn on the television. On the screen was a reporter, standing in a hospital cooridor.

"-cases are being reported in Paris, London, Hong Kong, Tokyo, Los Angelos, and here in New York. Patients all exhibit the same symptoms. High fever, wracking coughs, and a bright red rash throughout the body. These symptoms are similar to those of the so-called Legacy Virus, the mutant disease that was recently cured several months ago. It is feared that this disease may be a variant strain of...."

"Dear god," Professor Xavier breathed. "It's begun."

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Next Issue: Magneto, and the Brotherhood of Evil Mutants. Be here for the Atomic War!