Elysian Enterprises

The world's foremost research facility, nestled in the Velebit Mountains of Croatia, has become a second home of late to the woman known as Sekmeht Conoway. Sek has been an archaeological engineer for as long as she can remember, even if it has only been a few years since she took up this career of digging into the past.

This recent discovery, however, has been very difficult to delve into.* The language in the ancient book is made up of some strange cuneiform writing. The language itself is dead or simply not-existant; that much can be determined. Sek has been trying to compare the language in the book with other ancient texts, but with no such luck. There are similarities to Arabic and Latin dialects, but even those particular instances in the text are few.

(* Check Gambit #7 -- Brad)

Another mystery is the book itself. It has leather backing and papyrus pages, like books in modern times. Thing is, this 2,000 year old artifact is way ahead of its time. Back then, ancient civilizations like the Egyptians and Sumarians were still using scrolls.

It can't be possible, but radiocarbon dating has indeed determined the age of the book to be around two-thousand years old.

Sek lowers an adjustable magnifying glass down on the eighty-third page of the book, the only one with drawings. The drawings are of great detail, for being 2,000 years old. There are twelve circles each with twelve profiles inside of them.

"Is this some kind of addition to the Bible?" Sek mutters to herself. "The Apostles or something?" No, it couldn't be. There are clearly male and female profiles there. The question is - who are they?

De name is Gambit, Remy LeBeau. Mutant t'ief an' former X-Man. I took an assignment from someone I do not yet know. At least, I didn't look him in the face. I jus' gotta swipe a book from Elysian. Oh yeah, this should be fun. I've done this dance wit' them before.* Apparently charm ain't de only thing I got.

Dere's luck, too.

( *In Marvel's Gambit #1 - Dino )

I scale the roof pretty easily. Tryin' to get into here's gonna be tough. Dere must be thousands of ancient artifacts in dere. Trippin' off security is gonna be easier here than in the Pentagon.

Merde...cameras. A quick charge of the cards should take care o' them easy. I take aim and throw the charged cards at the cameras, usin' my own will to keep the 'splosion to a minimum.

I look around an' see a door towards the top of the complex. Don' matter if it's locked. Dat's my only way in that I can see. I hear the sounds of at least a hundred clicking noises and the buzzing of lasers targeting me.

"Don't move!" the lead guard shouts. The twenty other guards stand poised, ready to fire.

I'm facing impossible odds. Dere's little chance for survival. I'm caught. And strangely...all I can do is smile.

Egypt, deep within the desert.

Apocalypse, En Sabah Nur, the famed supposed first mutant steps into the light, pressing a button on his advanced computer of his own invention and genius. No longer wearing his blue armor, the ageless tyrant has adopted a more traditional Egyptian look. It was a look he had helped furnish all those five-thousand years ago.

Twelve images appear on the screen. Apocalypse waves his hand in the air, "Come, my Horsemen."

Four figures step out of the shadows and into the light. There were two women and two men. One had her face covered and had green armor that barely covered her perfectly sculpted body. Her hair flowed down to her feet, almost like a cape. Her skin was smooth, but white as ivory. She had two long blades on her gauntlets. She was Death, leader of the Horsemen.

The other woman's skin was pale gray and wore black. Her fingers were elongated into skinny claws. Her head was shaved on the sides. She was Famine.

One man was very muscular and carried a large sword. He had to carry it over his shoulder. The man wore a rust-colored armor and helmet suited for a knight. His skin was shaded with a blood-colored hue. His lips curled into a snarl. He was War.

The final Horseman was a man, or at least, seemed to be. The being was overly large, outsizing the other three Horsemen. Its form seemed to be unstable. Tentacles flailed from his body, as if it needed to spread and consume everything in its path, it was a walking virus. He was Pestilence.

"We are here, M'Lord," Death says. "We live and die to do your bidding."

Apocalypse smiles as he points to the computer screen, "These are the Twelve of Power. Many of them, you have probably already met in your former lives. I am assigning you each to three of the Twelve."

Apocalypse points to the computer. Suddenly, colors appear around the borders encircling the profiles of the Twelve on the computer screen.

"Death, you get the three highlighted in green. War, I want you to bring me the three in red. Pestilence, I want you to get the three in white. And Famine, I want you to face the three in violet. I want them all brought back here, dead or alive. They must be judged along with the rest of the world...or it would not be fair to the rest of the world," Apocalypse smiles.

"Aren't these dozen mutants a threat to you, M'Lord?" War asks. "I recall you mentioning them long ago."

Apocalypse laughs, "War, my boy, in this bold new world, I must test myself as well. We cannot have someone weak rule the world, now can we?"

Elysian

I raise my hands in the air. My bo staff is disassembled into its two halves under my trench coat. Dere's a pack of cards concealed on the back of my belt. The moment I reach back dere, I'll get a healthy dose of deadly lead. Which is why, o' course, ol' Remy has a couple aces up his sleeves. Literally.

Wit' a flick of my wrist, a single card is in each of my hands. I charge them up and send them flying towards the ground in front of the guards. The explosion knocks dem back. A few o' dem, anyway. The remaining guards open fire on me like it was mutant season.

I reach behind me to get the halves of my bo. I get 'em out and snap them together. I take a runnin' start and jab the staff into a crack in the roof, propellin' me in the air. I land my foot in a guard's nose, de other foot, I use to swipe across the jaw of his buddy.

Just as de only two left try and sucker punch me, I got a trick of my own as I twirl my bo behind me, knockin' dere guns outta dere hands. Then, wit' a little finesse, I use my skills as a thief and X-Man to outmaneuver the supposedly "trained" guards. You'd think they'd be blackbelts, but blackbelts dey ain't.

The last homme's chin hits the concrete, and I'm dartin' up to the entrance door. I get out the skeleton key card I stole, and swipe it through the slot. The little red button turns off and the green button comes on as a little click signals that de lock was deactivated. Strange...I don' even remember who I stole dis key card from. I'll jus' say it was a gift.

I take a breath. De hard part was over. Now, the really hard part...

Sek has been at it for hours. She's analyzed the twelve profiles with other twelve beings in mythology. At one point, she thought it was the twelve gods and goddesses that ruled on Mount Olympus. However, there was something else. The profiles were drawn in a way and connected with lines that made the entire shape look like an intricate diamond stone.

It didn't make sense. Was it a treasure map?

Sek gets out of her chair that was loosing its plushness. She sighs deeply, yawning as she walks into the lounge area to grab a cup of coffee.

Sek returns a few moments later blowing in a cup of coffee to cool it off. She slides her chair under her desk and drops the coffee mug on the floor, shattering glass everywhere.

The book was gone!

Apocalypse opens a door which leads into a darkened tomb. In reality, it was Apocalypse's private chamber. He walks down the stone walkway in sheer blackness as the door shuts before the Horsemen can see their master disappear.

The only thing visible is Nur's eyes glowing with the blood of the people he's slaughtered over the years. He walks, his heels clanking against the stone, producing a rhythmic echo.

Apocalypse finally reaches the bottom of the chamber, and lights fill the room, albeit dimly. He sits in an intricate pharaoh throne. A circular holograph projector hums to life as the murky, blue green light buzzes to form a head of a nemesis long forgotten by some.

{{"Who summons Belasco, Lord of Limbo?"}} the demonic-looking beast bellows.

"I believe you know who I am, Belasco," Apocalypse says as he rubs his chin. "I may have changed my look since we met last, but my voice is the same. A sound that haunts your dreams, if I'm not mistaken."

{{"En Sabah Nur,"}} Belasco laughs. {{"I do remember when we met, all those years ago on the bank of the Red Sea."}}

"You were human then. Mortal. Weak," Apocalypse recalls. "That aside, I am, no doubt, impressed with your new stature among the strong...even if it is not the same dimension."

Belasco's holographic head nods in approval with a sinister, toothless smile, {{"I see you enlisted my sweet little Darkchilde for your services--"}}

Apocalypse's light tone disappears, "That abomination was a FAILURE!! I am finished tinkering with the weak. I have chosen four new Horsemen. Stronger and better. They will NOT fail!"

Belasco becomes impatient, {{"Do you have something important to tell me? Or are you contacting me merely to insult--?"}}

Apocalypse thrusts his fist forward and sends a jolt of yellow energy into the hologram. Belasco actually screams. He felt the blast; it was impossible.

Apocalypse continues as he holds his still smoking fist in the air. He rests his chin on his other hand, "The time has come for me to make this world mine. In every way, shape, and form. I need to cull the weak from the strong. Every living organism on Earth has an internal desire and need to survive. Although, as of late, the homo genus, humans and mutants, have been warping that natural cycle with the Earth. I need you to help me remedy that, Belasco. I need your demon armies to roam across the four corners of the globe and rid the world of the weak."

Belasco, still reeling from the blast Apocalypse somehow inflicted him with, becomes interested, {{"What is in it for me?"}}

Apocalypse smiles as he stands up from his throne, walking up to face the holographic head of Belasco, "How would you like a permanent gateway between Earth and Limbo?"

Senj, Croatia

Gambit walks into a darkened alley. At the end is a man with a black beard and a dark gray suit. He had enough gold around his neck to feed a small country or buy one of John Travolta's lunches. Gambit approaches the man and hands him a pouch.

"Is the artifact damaged?" the man asks with a strong Eastern accent. He opens the pouch and takes out the book Sek Conoway realized she lost a few hours ago.

"Shouldn't be, mon ami," Gambit says with a smile.

Without opening the book, the man simply examines the book by holding it at different angles in front of his view. "Hm," the man interjects. He puts the book back in the pouch and reaches into his coat pocket, taking out a black leather billfold. Gambit notices the gold lining. "Hold out your hand," the man says.

Gambit holds out his hand, still looking at the gold, "Okay..."

The man neatly places bill after bill in Gambit's palm. It was real American currency. The man says, "Thirty-two, thirty-three. There. Thirty-three thousand dollars American."

Gambit smiles as he shoves the money into his trench coat pockets, "Dat's a pretty big pay load. What's in dat book, anyway? The fate of the world?"

"Eh...someting like that. It does not matter, my friend. Thank you," the Croatian dealer says.

Gambit smiles as he waves good-bye, walking out of the alley.

The Croatian man's brow furrows as he grips the book in his hands, too afraid to let go. He sighs, dropping the Croatian accent, adopting a more rugged, American tongue, "Prosh, bodyslide by one. Greymalkin bound."

An energy sphere forms around the man and he disappears.

The man reappears in a futuristic starship orbiting Earth unknown to its inhabitants below. The man was known as Cable, a soldier from the year 4099 AD who has come to the present in an attempt to prevent his hellish native timeline from ever happening. One solution he's tried to accomplish was to kill Apocalypse.

Cable is very frustrated these days. With nightly visions of a giant clock in his dreams, to recently discovering Apocalypse is still alive, and his future still exists, all of it can make any man feel like his efforts were worthless.

Cable presses a button, deactivating the image-induced image of a Croatian art dealer.

{{Is that it?}} Prosh asks.

"I don't know," Cable sighs, as he takes the book out of its pouch, placing it in a compartment for Prosh to analyze. "It's written in Canaanite, my native language. It doesn't even exist in this time yet. The cover's a little worn off, but I believe it says 'Prophecy of the Twelve' on it."

Prosh seems to idle, {{It's over two-thousand years old.}}

"That is strange," Cable declares. "Well, see what you can decipher. If Blaquesmith's dying words were true, the Twelve are the key to my destiny...presumably to defeat Apocalypse."

Prosh asks, {{Why didn't you go in and get the Prophecy of the Twelve yourself? Why did you hire Gambit to do it?}}

Cable smiles as he scratches the back of his head, "I have a tendency to blow things up or create too much ruckus and attention. I needed LeBeau's get-in, get-out style."

{{Very interesting,}} Prosh says.

"What? You've found something?" Cable asks.

{{Well, yes...and no,}} Prosh replies. {{See for yourself on the monitor.}}

Cable crosses his arms as he turns around ninety degrees to face the computer monitor, which activates through the viewing window of Greymalkin. A list, in English, appears on the screen, twelve separate lines of text:

I: Raw Enchantment
II: The Refugee
III: Light of the Fallen
IV: Frigid Confidence
V: Brother of the Sun
VI: Friend of Fate
VII: Seed of the Cosmos
VIII: The Mortal Immortal
IX: Best of the Three
X: Patriarch of Power
XI: Matriarch of Fire
XII: Offspring of Doom

{{There is still more to decipher, but it's mostly information we already know. This is all I could pull out on the Twelve. Nowhere in the Prophecy are the Twelve named specifically. They are only referred to by these descriptions,}} Prosh informs.

"Stab his eyes...," Cable grumbles. "Now I've got twelve riddles to solve."

NEXT: Raw Enchantment