Uncanny X-Men #1 - January 2009

PREVIOUSLY: Hear that? A dream is dying. Professor Charles Francis Xavier is dead. His institute is a haven for the elite and the privileged. Magneto is exiled to an island, occupied by politics. The Hellfire Club is crippled. Meanwhile, the mutant population of the world is growing exponentially. Fragmented and disenfranchised, mutants are growing restless for a voice to lead them. It seems inevitable that leaders will rise…and their leaders inevitably wear an X. Hear that? A dream is fighting to live.

“You must have had your eyes closed
Everyone but you saw this coming

Were you sleeping?

You were always dreaming

That was always the problem

When were you gonna wake up?”

-from “Awakening”

by Alison Blaire, Not By A Longshot [2007]

Years ago...

“You wanted to see me, Professor?”

“Ah.” He pushed back against the wheels of his chair, and then pushed himself out to Warren. In a gesture Warren was flattered to receive, the Professor shook his hand forcefully, before motioning to the leather couch. “Please.”

“No, thank you.” Angel preferred to stand. With his wings fully extended like this, it was hard to sit. He was in his uniform, very cool with the yellow boots and the baggy blue pants tucked in the sides. The cowl was loose over his face, but it didn’t bother him while he flew.

The Professor nodded, then folded his hands, the fingers crossing each other. Warren frowned. That was not good. That motion was never good.

“Warren,” the Professor was looking at his lap, “I’ve decided that Scott is going to lead the X-Men.”

Warren felt his stomach drop. “Oh. I see.”

“I’ve been watching the training,” the Professor continued, now looking at the boy, “and I’ve seen remarkable progress with you all. And, yes, you’ve developed into the most charismatic by far, Warren. Photographs of you will grace magazines all over the world, I understand that.”

“I don’t care about that, Professor.” Warren said, almost interrupting.

“Is that true?” the Professor asked, just as quickly.

It wasn’t true. Warren wanted this for fame, for the chance to show his parents that he wasn’t a freak. That the Worthington name and fortune could still be his. That he could still hang out with his friends in California, instead of spending all year in a class of five, in upstate New York.

Okay, it wasn’t all bad. The Professor had taught him to fly like an ace. Hank was cool, Jean was a babe, Bobby was young, but still alright…and Scott was kind of a tool.

Warren was going to take orders from him?

“You’ll be listening to Scott.” The Professor said sternly.

“May I ask why?” Warren flatly spat.

The Professor didn’t hesitate. “It’s a different world outside the Danger Room. When you wear that costume, it isn’t about image. There will be life and death on the line, Warren. I know you don’t understand yet, but Scott’s experiences in orphanages, and with his handicap…he’s persevered through so much. He’s a natural leader.”

Warren said nothing.

“Where do you see yourself in ten years, Warren?”

Warren still said nothing.

“Do you see yourself still at the school?”

Warren slowly shook his head. “I’d have graduated.”

“To do what, exactly?”

“I’m going to use my powers to help the world.”

“How?”

“I…don’t know…”

The Professor squinted. “Do you see yourself here? At the school? Maybe teaching, still with the X-Men, maybe?”

Warren again shook his head. But he was beginning to see the Professor’s point.

“You’ve already seen past this stage in your life, Warren. You’re thinking about being a heroic champion in southern California…” the Professor chuckled a little, “We both know you’re going to make a fine hero, son, in places far away from here. But the X-Men are something a bit different than that.”

Warren bit his lip, then asked, “Then what are the X-Men, Professor?”

The Professor only smiled at him.

Present Day.

“And what did he say?”

“Nothing. He didn’t answer.”

“Oh.”

Warren Worthington was staring at the ceiling. “I have no idea why I just told you that.”

His left arm cradled a woman quite a few years younger than him, her skin so smooth against his own. His left wing was covering her back, and he could feel her warmth through the feathers. In the high late afternoon sun, pouring through what little light the blinds would allow, her hair was stark red.

“You know the tabloids are going to have a field day with this.” Warren smiled, but kept looking at the ceiling.

Angelica Jones lifted her head from his chest. “I don’t care. I swear they don’t even bother me anymore.” She re-snuggled into his chest. Warren could tell she loved the wing draped over her. But every woman did.

Warren studied her full cheeks, and round face. He shook his head when he thought of the first time he saw Firestar: in pictures, as one of Emma Frost’s Hellions. How old was she? She definitely wasn’t going to be ordering herself a drink…

“What are you going to do now?” Warren asked, uncontrollably.

“Huh?” Angelica asked, “What are you talking about?”

“Now that the television show is over.” Warren laughed. “Now that everyone watched your break-up with Vance Astrovik on cable TV.”

Her pink face soured. “I told you I didn’t want to talk about that.” Angelica sat up. She reached for her shirt, down near the foot of the bed. “I never wanted to do that show in the first place.”

“Hey, hey.” Warren put his hands on her shoulders. “I’m sorry. You don’t have to go.”

But Angelica kept gathering her clothing. “I’m gonna.”

“I just meant to say that the Institute is always looking for extra—”

Angelica interrupted, “You said the name ‘Betsy’ twice while we were having sex.”

Warren’s jaw dropped, and so did his hands. “I…uh…”

She stood up, red hair whipping along her shoulders. Firestar was still naked when she put on her trademark red (overlarge) sunglasses.

“I’m not your wife, Warren. You don’t need to save me a spot at the X-mansion.” She stepped toward the bathroom of his SoHo apartment, kicking her black high heels along the way. “I’ve gonna go.”

Warren sat back. “Okay.”

Angelica stopped at the bathroom door. She raised her sunglasses to her hairline. After staring at him for a second—with Warren staring back curiously—she said, “College.”

“What?” Warren’s hearing was perfect. He’d heard what she said.

“I said ‘college’.” Angelica continued, “You asked what I was going to do now that I’m obviously single. I’m going back to college. I was never happy with being a dropout. Maybe I’ll pass the bar someday after that. I’ve still got my Avengers membership card, so I figure I’ll keep my costume around. But I don’t plan on wearing it that much. Maybe I’ll make something more out of my name than the last half of a TV show title.”

Warren nodded, but didn’t say anything.

“What about you?” Angelica’s voice was soft. “X-Corp is on the verge of folding since you left. And the Institute…just isn’t what it used to be.”

Warren still didn’t say anything. He just looked at the ceiling.

“I think Xavier was right, Warren.” Angelica said. “Some of us are meant to be idols. Some of us aren’t. I hope you don’t give up. And I know I’m not the only one.”

She disappeared into the bathroom then, closing the door behind her. Warren heard the shower turn on a few seconds later. Yawning, he turned onto his belly so he could fully stretch his wings. Then, he retracted them, feeling their warmth against his shoulders as he curled into the fetal position. Seconds later, he was asleep.

When he woke up, Angelica was gone. The bathroom was empty and dark, and still damp; he’d not been asleep long, only long enough for the girl to excuse herself. Warren wearily looked at the alarm clock at the side of the bed. Not very late.

Warren stood up then, again fully stretching his wings. He was invigorated. Firestar’s words still rang through his head: What was he going to do?

After opening his closet, Warren pulled his old X-Factor uniform, the red with the broad white ‘X’ over the chest. He smiled, put it on.

That’s all he needed. A good fly. That’s what he was going to do.

A few seconds later, Warren stepped off his wide penthouse balcony. In the first dip after the drop, the wind rushed through his feathers, and the pressure of a storm in the distance popped his ears (Hadn’t it been clear just minutes ago?). He could hear…music.

It was Alison Blaire…headliner of the Mutant Town Festival. That’s right! That festival was going on all weekend. The celebration everyone was calling ‘X-Fest’. Mutants liked to hate on the Institute, but they freely used the ‘X’ like it was some kind of mutant slang.

Warren shook his head. He’d heard Dazzler’s new album. He wasn’t a fan…but he never was a fan. The winds swept under his wings, bringing him closer and closer to the clouds, and Alison Blaire faded from his ears.

“How long could we dream?

How long did you make it seem?

Reaching so high

Turning a blind eye

Was so easy…

“What a rude awakening

We didn’t suspect a thing

What a mistake we made

Now we’re too afraid

To follow.”

Remy LeBeau had been stalking his prey for the last two hours. But it was so crowded, he couldn’t get an open shot to go in for the kill. So he kept his distance. It was easy to keep his eyes on the target. Even the midst of this crowd, huddling tighter in the souring weather, she stood out.

His long, brown trenchcoat shielded him from the rain, but his hair was already soaked. Inside his pocket, he absently played with a deck of cards. In his other pocket, he fiddled delicately with his tobacco pouch, gently putting together a cigarette. Quickly, so the tobacco didn’t get wet, he brought it to his lips to seal the edges.

He lit it. Okay, da’s enough. I might as well get dis over wit. Never taken so long on a job in my entire life…

There was a break in the crowd. This was it. He could slip up right beside her…

His feet didn’t make a sound in the damp grass. Cigarette hanging lamely in his mouth, he closed in on her. His pace slowed and his breathing picked up just a tick…

She turned around, facing him, just as Remy came to a stop. His mouth opened a bit, and she took the opportunity to grasp his cigarette between her thumb and forefinger. She pulled it from his lips, tossing it to the wet ground.

With a light step forward, putting herself right against him, Rogue crushed it.

“That was the tenth cigarette full of nasty New Orleans tobacco that ah’ve had to smell in the last two hours.” She said, rubbing her heel into the soil over the cigarette. “You nervous about something, LeBeau?”

Remy held back a smile, and licked his lips. He said, “Dat tobacco is from my first cousin’s farm in da Rhein valley. Smoke and cured in Naw’lins, it’d cost a man on the street fifty dollars for one ounce. And you crush it under your heel like so much other unimportant garbage.”

Rogue said simply, “Garbage can be stubborn sometimes.”

“Oooh.” Remy laughed cautiously, “It’s been ten seconds and already I don’ like where dis is goin’. Let’s start over.”

Rogue crossed her arms. “From where?”

Remy stuck out his hand. “Hello dere. I’m Remy LeBeau. You remind me of a girl I knew a long time ago.”

Rogue sucked her teeth, rolled her eyes, and turned around. She started to drudge through the crowd again. Remy was right behind her though. Soon, he pushed his way to her side.

“No, no! Really.” Remy said, his accent growing a bit too cocksure for Rogue’s tastes. “I knew dis girl.” His arms waved out from his side as he strode near her. “Now, she had a problem letting people get close to her, and nobody ever really tried ‘cause dey thought dey might get hurt. But fate brought me to her, so I did what I had to. Dere were plenty o’ t’ings about dat girl dat should’ve hurt me, but she couldn’t help it. I followed dat girl across the universe, I jumped dimensions for dat girl—”

“Remy, please.” Rogue adjusted the old, green cloak-and-hood she was wearing. Pulling the hood over her moist brown curls, then said, “Can’t ah just watch a show—”

Remy flicked Rogue’s hood back with his index finger. “But then!” Rogue gave him a cold stare, but he continued, “Then…I hurt her.”

Rogue stopped walking. She crossed her arms again, and just stood there, staring off into the grey clouds, like the lightning was more interesting than Remy LeBeau.

“I couldn’t believe it. I made mistakes in my life, but something like dat…all I could do was run from it. When I came back, it was too late. I lost her.”

“And what’s your point?” Rogue asked quickly. “Is there a moral to this story?”

“No.” Remy answered, “But it might have a happy endin’.”

Rogue frowned. “This ain’t gonna be so easy for you, boy.”

Thunder roared over their heads. The crowds didn’t waver. Regardless, nobody seemed to be paying attention to the two of them. That was the best thing about Mutant Town: Remy and Rogue were hardly ones to command attention.

Rogue put her face in her hands and said, “I didn’t come here for this.”

“I know.” Remy said. “I was wondr’in what you were still doin’ here at all. After what the Institute has turned into? I knew you wouldn’t want to be part o’dat. So, here I am.”

Rogue glared at him. “I am a part of that. The mansion is my home. It used to be yours too. But now where do you make your home? The thieves’ guild? Don’t you think they’ll come after you if you just up and leave? You’re their leader ain’t you?” She stopped talking, though at that point, she knew she’d said too much.

Remy’s eyes moved from hers to the ground. He said quietly, “I’ve just got one more t’ing to do, and I can leave dat behind too.”

Rogue frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?” She stopped walking, and put her hands up in surrender, “You know what? I don’t want to know. Just go back to New Orleans. Swamp rat like you, that’s where you belong.”

Remy stiffened. Wet brown hair framed his face. “I came here for somet’ing. But not insults.” His eyes narrowed. “If da’s all you have for me after I make like a damn hopeless romantic, den I guess I got better t’ings t’do!” He turned, coat billowing at his feet, and pushed his way through the people behind him. They parted easily, like a curtain.

Rogue’s mouth opened a little bit the few seconds she actually watched him go. But she turned as quick she could, pulling her hood up over her head again. She was not about to go after him. She actually started to chuckle—

—because she knew he’d be back.

Besides, by the sound of the music, it was almost time for the show to begin.

Katherine Pryde realized she was listening to the music, instead of the man in front of her. She hadn’t really planned on paying attention to him anyway. She had planned this lunch in order to make a statement.

But Daniel Toy was certainly charismatic.

“Miss Pryde, to put this all bluntly,” his smile was thin and sly, “we’d like your services at the Aladdin Agency. We’d like to further the mutant-rights agenda, and your past experiences show that you have exactly the integrity we like to see at Aladdin. Our sponsorship comes with a great benefits package—”

“I’m sorry but I’m going to have to decline that offer, Mister Toy.”

Toy’s smile didn’t go away. “Now, Miss Pryde, you haven’t heard what we’re willing—”

Again Kitty interrupted, “I think I’ve heard enough. I don’t do that kind of work.”

Toy’s smile faded now. “That was strong work you did with Excalibur, then SHIELD, then along with X-Force. You’re a certifiable genius, and you’ve been living on the sponsorship of one organization after another, starting with Xavier back in the day. You’re saying you don’t do that kind of work? That’s the only work you’ve ever done.”

Kitty scowled. “Agenda?”

Toy squinted. “Huh?”

“That’s where you lost me.” Kitty’s tone was somber. “At ‘mutant-rights agenda’. I risk my life for human rights, Agent Toy.” She paused for a moment, then continued, “And when I say ‘I don’t do that kind of work’, what I mean is…I don’t work for assholes anymore.”

The color drained from Daniel Toy’s face at that point. Slowly, he reached for his napkin, to dab at nothing on his mouth, then he pushed back from the table. Standing he said quickly, “I’m sorry you missed this opportunity, Miss Pryde.”

Kitty didn’t respond, instead letting Daniel Toy walk quickly out from the bistro where they had been eating lunch. Neither of them ate much. She watched Toy until he was out of sight, and smiled at the way he squirmed walking down the streets of Mutant Town.

That was part of the reason she requested their ‘business meeting’ take place here. Because she knew the atmosphere would be electric. ‘Mutant-rights agenda’? We’ll show you an agenda. This weekend was the Mutant Town Festival. Where anyone could see mutant culture at its zenith—or its nadir.

Already Kitty had seen more than that. Amongst the crowded streets (which were too cramped for cars) she had seen every kind of drug passed around: pot in all manners, kick inhalers, opium baggies, pipes full of god-knows-what. But most of all there was music. Mostly, it was Alison, but there was plenty of Lila Cheney, and Kitty had even heard some Sugar Kane, which she thought was weird. Random amateur musicians played on street corners—freaks of nature, in looks and talent.

But that was mutant culture. All the good, the bad and the ugly thrown into one place because humanity can’t stand any of it. Kitty was comfortable.

A fire-breathing chef was making fresh pizza without an oven, a seven-foot humanoid gorilla was juggling identical midgets, and there was even a dragon, speaking with a Bronx accent, who would give flights over Mutant Town if the couples had enough money.

And it made Kitty remember the last time she was here—she’d had a milk shake. The Professor had an earl grey tea, hot. It wasn’t long after she’d come to the Mansion, and the Professor was eager to teach her about her culture.

But they didn’t get much teaching in.

“You know, Kitty,” The Professor had said, “it’s been a long time since I was able to teach someone as young as you are. You remind me so much of my original class…”

“Really?” Kitty had said, in all her youthful exuberance, “Which one?” She was hoping he’d say Warren, since Warren was her favorite whenever she’d watch footage of the first class. Iceman was cool too though. Jean was so cute, but she was dead back in those days…and Cyclops was so intimidating…

“All of them.” The Professor shrugged. “You remind me of all of them. My X-Men have all grown so much older. Its time I remembered the future of our race lies in the youth. Kitty, you’re going to accomplish so much more than I ever could. You’ll see more than I’ll ever see. It makes me jealous sometimes.”

Kitty laughed, “Yeah right. You’re jealous of me?”

“A young Jewish girl from upper-state New York, who just so happens to be a computer genius?” the Professor looked her up and down. “And you’ve got a scholarship to one of the most prestigious private schools in America?” He smiled to himself as he said that, “The only one that could hold you back, Kitty Pryde, is you. You’ve got everything to be a great leader of your people.”

He sipped his tea then.

No pressure, Kitty laughed as she remembered. But oddly, back then, Kitty didn’t feel pressure, and the Professor probably knew that. She wanted to be leader of the X-Men.

Kitty remembered they didn’t really talk much more about the school after that. They ate their gyros, talked about politics (which Kitty loved even back then) and British rock and roll (which Kitty admired). The Professor then took her on a tour of Mutant Town, which included: being beaten at three-card-monty until Kitty realized herself it was rigged, listening to a six-armed street musician play piano, drums, harmonica and guitar all at the same time, and watching a baseball game between Mutant Baseball League rivals the Manhattan Grey Sox and the New Jersey Devil Dinosaurs.

And here I am again. Kitty poked her gyro with a fork, and some great leader of my people I turned out to be. Just a stooge for the government, or a stooge for the Shadow King…or a stooge for Pete goddamn Wisdom…

Kitty frowned and slurped her milk shake. The corners of her mouth eased a little. It tasted just as good as it did all those years ago. Relaxing her back and stretching her legs a little, Kitty gazed out from the bistro’s balcony.

There was no ‘agenda’ here. This was her culture. The only thing missing was…

…the X-Men.

Kitty had contemplated going back to the mansion but…not after the last time she was there...was she really into it anymore, anyway? The dream? The school? God knows both were hardly what they used to be. Was that all the X-Men were about? Kitty liked to think there was a bit more to it than that.

She was reminiscing too much. And it was definitely starting to rain. When she stood to leave, Kitty looked around, half-heartedly. The X-Men are everywhere. It’s inevitable I’m going to run into one of the old gang sometime—

That’s when she saw him.

Piotr Nikolaivich Rasputin buttoned his jacket. Perfect weather all day, and then when he finally decided to go to the market, it decided to turn on him. He’d have to make this quick.

“Hey, dad.”

Peter turned around and saw the spitting image of himself walking toward him. Longer hair (Peter had no idea why the kids these days wore it that way) and darker skin, which made him look like his mother at times, but he walked like Peter walked back then.

His son peered curiously at him. “Where’re you going?”

Peter smiled at his son. “Just down to the market.”

His son put on a face that was almost cartoonish. “Awww—you know X-Fest is tonight!”

Peter froze. “Is that what they’re calling it?”

“Yeah!” Peter, Jr. pointed out the window. It was true: the sights and smells were hypnotic. It was odd to see such life in the streets. It was odd to see such emotion out of his son. The smile got wider on his face when he said, “It’s just the most uncanny thing that’s gonna hit this town all year. I thought it was something you could appreciate.”

Peter could. He remembered his own childhood, and how important the town festivals were to—

Movement in the corner of his eye—and he saw his wife. Nareel leaned in the archway leading to the bedrooms, with only Peter’s overlarge New York Rangers sweater to keep her covered. Full, dark hair went down her back in two thick braids. Her tribal carvings were just visible on her neck, before disappearing under the sweater.

Peter cleared his throat. “Son, you’ll be able to hear the music all night, I’m sure.”

“Daaaad…” Junior moaned and he turned his back on his father, marching off to his room. Peter heard him mumble, “Knew he’d say that…”

Peter was almost laughing at his son, but he held back. For some reason, Peter thought of Illyana’s temper tantrums. His mind cleared when the familiar embrace of his wife wrapped around his rib cage. Her large, blue eyes hooked his own like a fishing rod.

“Be careful.” Nareel said softly. Her accent…was unlike any other. It made Peter melt.

“Of course.” Peter brought up both his arms to grasp her tight. When she kissed him, Peter realized that she was standing on her toes to reach his lips. This was a miracle.

Nine months ago, Nareel had been crippled. But that was nine long months ago. She still couldn’t run, she still couldn’t lift heavy objects (as though she ever needed to with her men in the house), and she was still taking medication…but she was a walking miracle. Peter hadn’t left her side after…what happened with X-Corp. But Peter had a new cause to fight for. The rehabilitation process had been long, hard, and expensive. (Hence this small apartment in Mutant Town) They spent hours together, with many physical therapists, working the muscles in her legs. Peter learned massage and acupuncture techniques. He’d even discovered more natural remedies out of his mother’s old journals. He was willing to try anything. And why not? Everything was working. A miracle was happening.

“I know something’s going to happen tonight, Peter.” Nareel felt so warm against him. “I can feel it. Such a…celebration is just asking for trouble. Who knows who’ll be there? Who knows who’ll recognize you? Please be careful.”

Peter nodded. “I understand. I won’t be gone long. I can’t be, if I want to beat the rain.”

Nareel wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling herself up to kiss him quickly on the lips. “Hurry.”

The four backward steps Peter took out the door were the hardest he’d taken that day.

He walked down three flights of stairs, and with his size, he made an enormous noise. Out on the street, things were louder. Music was everywhere. The streets were almost impossible to navigate. Luckily, Peter’s height worked to his advantage with that.

Quick long steps helped Peter bob and weave through the crowd. All manner of scents and chemicals were on the air, and on the people, but he didn’t mind. Along the sides of the streets there were vendors, with parlors pushing tightly against each other. They sold every manner of item: carpets woven from prehensile hair, natural perfume freshly squeezed from mutant pores…there was even a bulbously fat man who let children jump on his stomach—for a small fee, of course. A dragon with a Bronx accent sailed over his head, with a young couple on his back.

Nareel may have been worried, but Peter was comfortable here on these streets. It was true that, before he brought his family here, it had been years since he’d set foot in Mutant Town. Even during his days with the X-Men, Mutant Town was something to be admired from afar.

But those days felt so long ago…before Nareel admitted he had a son, before Exodus, before Avalon , before Illyana died, before…

…the Professor was murdered.

Peter stopped walking. He let the people brush against him as they passed. What turns my life has taken. He couldn’t help but think about them: the X-Men. The last time he’d seen everyone was…Xorn’s funeral. The reunion was tenuous at best. It had been so long since he had even stepped foot in the mansion, and he certainly wasn’t about to now. But Alison Blaire, a close teammate at one point, was playing a free show in a few minutes. Surely he would see at least one former X-Man—

That’s when he saw her.

“Peter?”

“Katja?”

“Why run from your fate

Or try to alienate

Your brothers and sisters

And cover your blisters

And faded scars

From murdered stars

You’ve come full circle

By running in circles…”

The music was loud in her ears, and she mouthed every word. But she could still hear—

“Uh, Ali?”

Alison put the finishing touches on her trademark blue eye make-up. She’d only been in this cramped trailer (which functioned as her dressing room) for about half an hour. Good to be fashionably late. Besides, it was still long enough for her to do her make-up. She was a pro at it by now. Whipping her chin a little, she saw her hair looked fabulous.

“Yes, Guido?”

Guido Carosella peeked his head in the trailer door. Alison doubted he could have gotten more of his massive frame into the trailer at all. She could see how wide his eyes were under the dark lenses of his sunglasses. “Uhh…we got a problem, Dazz.”

“We’re not canceling.” Alison spun around in her chair to face him.

“Uhhm…well…”

“Do not look at me like that! It’s just a bit of rain!” Alison stood up. She could feel the skintight white pants cling to her hot skin. Past her knees, the tights flared outward to make room for tall black boots.

Guido shook his head. “I ain’t talkin’ rain, babe.”

Dazzler frowned. “What’s happened? The Sapien League?”

Guido kept shaking his head. “Something’s…” His eyes darted around the trailer. “Ahh…something’s happened…to Lila.”

“What?”

Ten seconds later, Alison was out of her trailer, sprinting through the rain toward the other trailer on the far side of the cramped backstage. Really it was just half of the park, blocked off by portable chain link fence. She could feel damp soil under platform heels. The rain hit her face in random places. Just little drops now, but the thunder was rolling.

There were people standing outside Lila’s trailer. Alison recognized them: the first was Evangeline Whedon, who had pretty much organized the whole thing in the first place, then Ashley Crawford, the American modeling star who—in addition to doing huge publicity to this thing—had contributed the most money to the concert, and the third was Captain Shelley Conklin, the chief of the NYPD’s superhuman containment division: Code Blue. Shelley was here for security.

“The news is bad, Ali.” Evangeline said, her arms crossed. “This storm came out of nowhere and now…somebody might’ve kidnapped Lila.”

“Let’s not jump to conclusions.” Alison said. It was the only thing she could think of saying.

“No. Let’s.” Guido said angrily. “I was right outside the door while she chilled out before the show. I don’t know what happened, but I picked myself up off the pavement with a huge headache. I have no idea how long I was out. It takes a lot to knock me out at all, know what I’m saying? Somebody wanted Lila. Somebody took her.”

“You’ve got to cancel the show.” Conklin said, quickly, sternly. “I need to have this whole area looked over by my people. We gotta tell this crowd to go home.”

“Are you crazy?” Ashley looked elegant, considering this was a rock concert. The way she waved her hands betrayed the way she looked. “You want to tell those people that? They’ve been waiting for this for months! A crowd is one step away from a mob.”

Alison’s head was spinning but she knew enough to say, “We’re not canceling. This just means I’m going on a bit early.” She bit at her thumbnail.

Evangeline added, “She’s right. These people will riot if they don’t see something. We can’t risk something like…D.C.”

Conklin shook her head. “You knew,” she said it very slowly, “this whole thing was a powder keg from the beginning. All it was going to take was one spark.”

Nobody said anything. Conklin scoffed again, “Get on with the damn show, then.”

Alison looked at Guido. “Get me on the phone with Sugar Kane. She’s got a show at the Garden tomorrow night. I know she’s in town, and she still owes me a favor for that one time in Texas—”

“Oh yeah…” Guido nodded.

“—and I know you can get me on the phone with her. Thanks, dollface!” Alison jumped up and kissed Guido on the cheek. “This wasn’t your fault, big guy. We’ll get Sugar down here to take some of the slack off me, and we can still pull a good three or four hours out of this. Then we go to the X-Men.”

Guido didn’t look any happier. “Lila would want the show to go on.”

Dazzler nodded. “I know. Now, get going!”

Guido took off. She looked back at the three other women.

“Captain, if you want, you can start looking over the trailer any time. Vange, go tell the crew that everything is going as planned. I’m just going on early, and then we might have a special guest later on. Do not announce that Lila is not playing. That’s a big no-no. Ash, I need you make sure the ponchos and hot drinks are being passed around. Last thing we need are cold, wet, stoned, hungry mutants rushing the stage.”

The three girls looked a bit dazed after Dazzler was done speaking.

“What is everyone waiting for?” Alison raised her hands, “We can handle this. Let’s give the people what they want!”

The three of them scattered, leaving Alison alone at Lila Cheney’s vacant trailer. The rain had gotten harder. Quickly, she fiddled with the giant ring on the middle finger of her right hand. It flipped open. Inside was a thin, green powder. It was called ‘unity’ and Alison didn’t know what it was made of. But she dabbed her pinky and then licked it with her tongue.

She mumbled to herself, “Dazzle them, baby. It’s what you do.” Then, spinning on her heel, Dazzler went back to her trailer to assemble the last of her outfit.

The headline proclaimed: ‘X-FEST: WORTH THE HYPE?’

The magazine was called Freakworld. It was made on the cheapest paper, threatening to fall apart, in anyone’s hands. Everyone knew it was printed in Mutant Town, but no one knew where. Copies of it just seemed to turn up all over the place…bus stops, park benches, under windshield wipers…everyone had a copy. With the latest gossip, trendiest styles, and bluntest propaganda, everyone loved it.

“Layla? You are a strange one.”

Layla Miller ruffled her newspaper back together. “I get that a lot.” There was only the dimmest light in the sewer tunnel, but Layla saw Callisto clearly.

“I’ll bet you do.” Callisto spun her staff absently about her right arm, spinning it around her wrist, bouncing it off her forearm. “Mind if I sit here?” She waved at the damp concrete next to Layla.

“Be my guest. Want a taco?” Layla asked as Callisto sat down.

“Tacos? Where’d you get money for tacos, honey?” Callisto was weary of the answer.

Layla rolled her eyes. “I have my parents’ credit cards. I don’t think the card companies have caught on that they’re dead yet.”

Callisto laughed out loud, but she brought her hand fast up her mouth. “Oooh. Sorry.”

Layla shrugged. “Whatever. Hey! Doop!”

Out of the shadows, apparently there all along, came the floating anomaly, Doop. The graphitized ‘X’ on his abdomen was still a bright red in the dim firelight. There was a bag in his hand.

“Give the girl a taco.” Layla pointed a finger at Callisto.

“Thanks.” Callisto said when Doop floated in front of her. She grabbed the wrapped food from Doop’s spindly fingers. A couple seconds later, she bit the taco, chewed and swallowed. It wasn’t particularly bad. “I’m glad you’re down here, Layla. I haven’t had one of these things in years.”

“I’m glad you’re down here too, Callisto.” Layla said. “I don’t want you to be up there. Not tonight anyway.”

“What?” Callisto asked, slowly chewing her second bite, “Why?”

Layla was slow in answering. The girl looked once at Doop, and then just stared ahead in the darkness before answering. “Do you believe in fate, Callisto?”

Callisto was equally slow in answering. “I can believe in a lot.”

Layla’s eyes absorbed the darkness. “I don’t believe in fate. But…if you didn’t see this coming, you must have had your eyes closed.

“Life—and by that I mean the lives of human beings—creates situations with specific breaking points. There comes a time when enough is enough. When history begins a new age. When heroes rise. When walls fall. When through a fluke accident or an act of God, there is conflict and there is change.”

Callisto knew what Layla was implying. “You’re saying fate’s getting ready to kick us in the balls.”

Layla shook her head. “No…I told you I don’t believe in fate.”

Callisto stood up. “Then what are you talking about, Layla? How do you know something is going to happen tonight? Is the Sapien League up to something?”

Layla laughed. “The Sapien League? You think that’s the biggest thing going on tonight? Open your eyes! Can’t you see the patterns? Something is going to happen tonight because people want something to happen tonight!”

“What? What’s going to happen tonight?”

In the dim light, Callisto saw the girl couldn’t be conscious anymore. Layla’s pupils had swelled to size of quarters in her eyes.

“I’m glad you’re down here, Callisto. I don’t want you to get burned.”

Callisto felt her chest stiffen. Layla collapsed in a heap, a bit of taco bouncing from her tongue. Callisto leaned, saw Layla was breathing fine, just sleeping. Doop was balancing in air just above her shoulder. He was frowning.

Callisto eyed him. “Take good care of her, Doop. She’s something special.” If Doop had understood her, he didn’t make any notion of it.

Callisto took the first tunnel leading up.

Years Ago...

“Charles?”

“Hmm?” he pushed himself down the hallway, closer to her.

“Have they returned?”

As though Moira MacTaggert needed her question answered. There was a smile on Charles Xavier’s face a mile long. As they got closer together, sunlight pouring through wide windows to their side, his smile only became more and more illuminated.

But that wide smile pushed past her down the hallway.

“Um!” Moira held out her arms expectantly. “Are you not going to tell me all about it? What happened? Did they win?”

Charles actually looked back at her. “You could say that.”

“They performed well?”

Charles was racing down the hallway, pumping his arms across the frames of his wheels. “Beyond my wildest expectation. You should have seen them, Moira! Ha! You’ll hear about them on the news tomorrow, or on the radio, or read about them in the paper!”

Moira took a breath before taking off after Charles. He smoothly glided into the elevator, and turned around to press the button to take him to the Danger Room, and the strange device, Cerebro. Moira was barely into the car before the doors slid shut.

“And what,” Moira panted, “am I going to see on the news tonight?”

But it seemed Charles barely noticed her presence, mumbling just loud enough, “It was so…uncanny, the way the whole situation unfolded. It wasn’t monsters or aliens…these were people fighting people—terrorists and vigilantes. Nobody knew who to trust or even what to think until it was all over and the X-Men had won. People dressed like that, doing things like that, it was something they’ll never forget. I could hear the wonder in their minds…simply uncanny.”

Moira decided to air her impatience before the elevator trip ended. “Why do you have to be the one to do this, Charles?”

Charles lowered his chin, but still didn’t look at her. Then he sighed, like he was about to admit an embarrassing secret. “There are times when I think ‘well, if it wasn’t me, then it would have to be someone else someday’. Because this was inevitable. But then, if this was inevitable, wasn’t it also inevitable that I would be the one to do this?”

Moira didn’t look convinced. “So you’re saying it was…fate that made you do this?”

Charles didn’t sound like he wanted to convince her. “I certainly don’t think it was coincidence, if that’s what you mean, Moira.”

Moira still shook her head. “Remind me how five children are supposed to change the world?”

Charles now certainly looked up at her. “They already have! Today everything was set into motion. Homo superior are out there. They won’t have to feel so ashamed now. Perhaps they’ll feel less confusion. They’ll wonder what the X-Men are…what they stand for. They’ve seen a horrible tragedy averted in Cape Citadel. They’ll wonder what else they could do together! They know they can change the world!”

Moira laughed this time. “And you just expect it to catch on? Like some kind of underground movement?”

Charles raised his chin, looked straight at her. “Of course. Isn’t this how things like that get started?”

The elevator halted. There was a slight –ding!- and the elevator doors slid open. Charles wheeled himself out, but Moira didn’t follow. But she leaned on the doors to keep them from closing.

“But a new species of human, Charles?” Moira wasn’t aware of how loud her voice was. “The science on all this is still so new. You know I support you but…you’re bringing children into this, talking about some crazy sociological experiment—when we don’t even know exactly what this means for the human race—”

Charles spun around to face her. “We may not know why it’s happening, but it is happening! We need to prepare for prejudice, because there’s going to be prejudice. It goes beyond science and sociology! These are people that are going to be fighting for their very rights! That’s my focus now, because if it wasn’t me then…”

His voice had faded but Moira was still waiting for him to finish.

“…then someone else would have formed the X-Men.” He said it confidently, “I could die tomorrow and there would still be X-Men. Because something like that inevitably had to happen.” Then, he turned around and continued on toward the room housing the supercomputer Cerebro.

Moira leaned back into the elevator. “They’re just children, Charles…”

“Children grow up, Moira!” Charles didn’t stop moving as he spoke. “This is a fight for the future! They are the future! Trust the children!”

Layla opened her eyes. Doop was floating gently over her face.

“She gone?”

Doop made a light croaking noise.

“Awesome.” Layla sat up quickly. “We gotta work fast, Doopy-baby.” In the next instant, she had sprung to her feet.

Doop floated right over her shoulder. When she looked at him, Doop nodded sternly, and raised his tiny fingers in a salute.

“The people want to see those uncanny X-Men.” Layla said simply. “We gotta make sure the people get what they want.”

NEXT ISSUE: Disaster in Mutant Town! The death of an X-Man! Will the people get what they want?

"X = ?" Part One: Give The People What They Want Written by Bryan Locke

Present Day.

What a mistake we made

Years Ago...

"X = ?"
Part One: Give The People What They Want

Written by Bryan Locke