#2 February 2007

The Kenyan breeze was a welcome friend as it vigorously blew through Storm’s long, white hair. Greeting her with splendidly dry heat, Ororo felt at home for the first time in a while. Her heart was with the X-Men, but her soul was here in Kenya. Paying frequent visits to the African country was hard when battling the likes of Dark Beast and Apocalypse. Regret filled Ororo with that thought. She was driving deep in the middle of the savanna breathing in the light of the majestic African sun. Moments like these needed to happen more than just a few times a year.

Honestly, that was all secondary to the real reason why she was here. There had been a member of her family that she had pushed aside, because of her duties with the X-Men, for far too long. He deserved better from the woman who was supposed to his mother in spirit. She hadn’t communicated with him at all in over a year and that hurt her deeply. Zeal for the work of Xavier and her time spent as a prisoner in Egypt had caused her to lose track of Mjnari.

“Goddess, do not let him be angry with me,” Storm whispered gently to herself, hoping that the prayer would be carried by the wind to Mjanri’s ears. If he was indeed angry, then he had absolutely every right to be. She had shown him no attention and became far too focused on her life as an X-Man. That’s why she had to leave the team. Xavier’s dream had been Ororo’s life for so long that the true Ororo had been drowned under the ocean of Xaver’s ideals.

As that depressing thought came to the surface, Storm pressed her boot on the gas a bit harder. Her village had been without her for far too long. It was time for a reunion of body and soul. Storm’s soul was in need of uplifting. While she wouldn’t resort to psychic means for healing her emotional state, she wasn’t above indulging herself in the beauty of nature. With every mile she grew more anxious and the surroundings became less apparent. Home was closer and closer.

Goddess, it feels so good being here. The Mansion just seems so confining now, Storm thought. She didn’t feet at place there anymore and it was a depressing musing. The X-Men had been part of whom she was for so long now. Ever since Egypt though, things had been different for her. Cyclops was growing a ruthless streak that seemed too uncharacteristic of him. Moments of uncompassionate ruthlessness had usually been Ororo’s style of operation and that was okay for her. Cyclops though was Xavier’s heir and if he champions with the dream with such tactics where will that lead the X-Men? She knew she was being a hypocrite, but no one was looking to her as the next Xavier. Scott had a legacy to uphold and Ororo knew that she needed to let Scott deal with it in whatever way he saw fit. If she continued to stay at The Mansion she would only serve as a nagging co-leader who would find fault in all that he did. She didn’t want to be that.

And then there was Ozymandias. He had been the most pivotal in her new path. It was because he had given her what she lacked. A choice. The choice to stay miserable with the X-Men or to move on to something different. She still wasn’t sure if she could entirely trust the man, but it was doubtful she ever would. His intentions seemed pure so far and that was enough for Ororo.

These intentions would never be enough justification for the X-Men though. Knowing who she was now in cahoots with would only further drive a wedge between her and Cyclops. Though the two weren’t the best of friends she didn’t want to put Jean, who was her best friend, in an unfair position. She was already under enough pressure. Ororo sometimes wished that Xavier had handed his legacy to Jean.

If Jean’s life could be summarized in one word it would be “struggle”. That woman had faced down more trials in her short life than anyone should ever have to in ten lifetimes. Yet, she remained a pillar of strength among the X-Men. She was a true example of what an heir to the X-Men legacy would be. Jean was strong as the Hoover Dam, calm as the tranquil lake, and more collected than an urbanite crowd. She was the glue that kept the X-Men together in many ways.

And I can only pray that she continues to keep them together, Storm thought. Her jeep pulled up into clear view of her village. Standing with a huge smile at the outermost edge of it was Mjnari. He had waited for her. Storm couldn’t send up enough thanks.

When she was finally able to wrap her arms around him she was able to see just how much her boy had grown. He still had that soft mocha skin and those gentle brown eyes. His smile was still white as ever and that same red bandana from childhood was still wrapped around his head. But, some things about him had changed. Mjnari had grown a few inches and he was more muscular. It looked like he finally decided to retire his tattered brown shorts for a new pair of beige cargo shorts.

“It is good to see you, mother,” Mjnari said as he squeezed Ororo tightly. He had not heard any word from her in over a year. He was beginning to think that she had died in some conflict and her allies had neglected to tell him as such.

“You as well, Mjnari. You have grown so much since I last looked upon you,” Storm smiled. She wanted to hug him forever, but he wasn’t a child anymore. He had crawled out of the murky waters of childhood into a grown man. Nothing could make a mother prouder.

“You’ve had a long journey, mother. Come and let me make dinner.”

Storm’s eyebrows rose. “You cook? I would have sooner expected Anais to spin a quilt of silk for me.”

“Times have changed. You’ve been gone a long time.”

Blue silence flowed between the two mutants. Finally Storm said, “I am truly sorry about not being here for you, Mjnari.”

“That’s in the past. You’re here now. That’s what counts…but you have no idea how much I’ve wanted to talk to you. I almost thought you were dead.”

Ororo laughed bitterly. “You weren’t the only one.”

 

“So you saw your own tombstone? Sounds eerie,” Mjnari said as he delivered a soup bowl to Storm. She cusped the hand made bowl gently and sipped from it. The hot liquid trickled down her throat like a river heading towards its delta.

Sitting down the bowl, Storm said, “Not as eerie as having your body ripped from you. The Fallen Angels saved you though. I guess I have something to be grateful to Magneto for.”

“I may sound hard to believe, but Magneto is doing a great deal of work throughout Africa. He’s built at least a dozen hospitals in this country alone.”

“I don’t doubt that Magneto is capable of doing good. Despite that, I am no fool and I know he’s working some angle,” Storm said as her son’s eyes narrowed in response.

A chill fell across the room as Mjnari replied harshly. “No worse than so many of the miserable humans out there. I didn’t see a single human lift a finger for Genosha.”

That tone shook Ororo because the anger in it sounded all too familiar. Maybe he had sponged more from the Fallen Angels than she had thought. She should have been there for Mjnari. It should have been her saving her son, not the lackeys of Magneto. Another part of her life that she had failed in. Her obsession with the work of Xavier may have scarred her son as result. That thought angered Ororo. It was directed at herself, at Xavier, at the X-Men. Her son deserved better treatment. Well, she was here now and she intended to make up for some of it.

“Do not yet lose faith in humanity, Mjnari. They are starting to change. My friends in X-Corp have pushed forward many progressive changes between mutants and humans.”

Mjnari reached across the table and laid his hands on top of his mothers. He looked Ororo in the eyes and it was obvious to Storm that he was full of that youthful idealism, but it was slightly marred by his experiences. That coldness in his voice wasn’t a good sign, but he had steadily grown warmer since she arrived.

“Mother I love you and I know your faith in humanity is strong. You have worked in their name for so many years. You have protected them for so long and believe me when I say that I could never be prouder. The villagers still call you the Windrider, you know that?”

Storm laughed. “Well, it’s not a name I’m unaccustomed to. I have foes and allies alike who call me that.”

“The return of the Windrider is an urban legend that keeps Rulke and his twisted soldiers in check at least,” Mjnari replied. His expression immediately turned grim. If she couldn’t feel the blood of his hands she would have sworn that he was frozen completely.

Then Storm snapped back from her seat and exclaimed, “Does this Rulke have a first name?”

“Yea. Adama.”

Storm’s face dropped and her mind seemed to fade away into another world. “I thought he was dead.”

“You know him?” Mjnari asked.

Memories swirled through her mind and she wasn’t shaken from them until Mjnari was yelling for her. “Mom! Mom are you alright?”

“Yes. I’m fine. His name was Adama Rulke. Back when I was a child pickpocket in Cairo he was one along with me. He was discovered trying to take something and was drug away. Farouk and the rest of us thought him dead. Appears we were sorely wrong.”

Mjnari stood up from the table and looked outside of his tiny house. He turned back to Ororo and said, “She isn’t coming home just yet. Don’t tell her, but I’ve been doing some digging up on Adama and his gang.”

“She” was Mjnari’s real mother. Whereas Ororo was a surrogate mother for the child, he still had a biological mother. Her name was Shuni and Ororo had saved her from near death in the desert and brought her to this village. It was here that she gave birth to Mjnari.

Shuni walked into the tiny house and her face lit up at the sight of Ororo. Storm had saved her from a horrible death in the Sahara after her bus exploded. She had been a pregnant teenager at the time and Storm took her to live with her tribe. Shuni owed her life to Storm and saw her as a godsend. Mjnari would not be here today if not for her.

“I was hoping Mjnari had the good sense to go out and meet you. The boy move so fast he tends to forget what his mother tells him,” Shuni said as she embraced Ororo tightly. She had to work to let go because she was afraid the beautiful woman would fly away and leave her again. It had been so long since Ororo last visited and she rarely saw her on the TV screens in the city. The people of this village had always been simple and the trips to the city were few.

“Can you blame the boy? He has a whole village putting him to work,” Ororo laughed vigorously.

“You always was his defender,” Shuni replied.

“I love how you speak of me as if I’m not here,” Mjnari said as he folded his arms across his chest and began tapping his foot. Whenever his mothers got together they were like little girls dressing each other in fancy clothes.

Shuni continued ignoring her son and asked, “So what made you finally decide to pay us a visit?”

“The X-Men kicked her out,” Mjnari interjected.

Ororo scowled at him and said, “Hush child. No such thing occurred. The boy just wants to give you a heart attack.”

“And he nearly did. I know how important the X-men are to you,” Shuni said. She gave her smiling a son a mean glare and added, “So why are you here?”

Storm didn’t want to give her an answer that might worry her. She could tell Mjnari of her ordeals and it wasn’t a problem. Shuni had always been a frail thing though and any little thing would make her worry excessively. Details about her captivity in Egypt and the revelations given to her by Ozymandias would not be appropriate.

Finally, she answered, “I decided I’ve done enough world saving to have earned myself a vacation.”

“I am glad you finally decided to take time for yourself. For a moment I thought you were here on X-Men business.”

“Before you walked in we were talking about Adama Rulke and his thugs,” Mjnari said.

“I will not have you dragging Ororo into this! The authorities will deal with Rulke and his criminal friends,” Shuni exclaimed as the tension in the room began to boil. Storm knew there was more going on than either one of them was saying. Rulke was a subject her son and friend took seriously. She still wasn’t entirely sure if it was the same Adama from her childhood. That tidbit of information would only inflame the current situation.

“Mom, that gangster is hurting people by pushing Abyssmal on the streets. He needs to be stopped! And besides this already involves Mom. She knows Rulke.”

“I think I may know him,” Storm corrected. “But I can’t be quite sure yet. What aren’t the two of you telling me? A simple thug wouldn’t get you so riled up normally. Mjnari has gotten himself into mischief before.”

Mjnari looked awkwardly at his mother and turned back to Ororo. He wouldn’t speak and it was the same of his mother. Storm eyes flashed lightning and she forcibly said, “Someone speak. Now!”

“The names of his gangsters. The name should strike a chord with you. Rulke and his allies call themselves The Disciples of the Shadow.”

It did indeed strike a chord with Storm. “Shadow? I know what you’re implying Mjnari. The Shadow King is dead.”

“Did you see him die?” Mjnari asked.

Storm shook her head. “No. The X-Men told me and some of them witnessed it occur.”

“Then maybe your friend has a mad on for Shadow King. Either way this involves you.”

Shuni walked up behind her son and slapped Mjnari on the back of the head. “Don’t you dare, Mjnari! Let the authorities handle this. I will not have those I care about putting themselves in harm’s way.”

“I know you don’t like it, but Mjnari is right. I need to at least investigate this. If this is the person who I think it is then I have something I need to atone for.”

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The air was still and charged with the dark intentions of Rulke. His prey had arrived and all on her own. Circumstances had played themselves to his favor. Now it was time for his Disciples to move.

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Next Issue: Storm and Mjnari combat The Disciples of the Shadow! And what does Shuni have to give Ororo?

  

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