Uncanny X-Men #4 - January 2010

“No matter how I face it

I’ve been this way before

No matter how I retrace it

I know the score

So what do you got

That’s gonna keep me here

You haven’t been so hot

If I haven’t been sincere

I want something blue

I want something gold

I want something new

That reminds me of something old”

-from “Well-Traveled Road”

by Alison Blaire, Not By A Longshot [2007]

Vance wasn’t sure he could trust his eyes, or any of his senses. What was this thing? Was it human? It just hung there in the subtle expanse, flickering black while everything around it flickered orange. The noise was one crackling, cacophonous drone. His ears felt like they were full of water. His skin tingled, even as he writhed and scraped himself on gravelly pavement, trying in vain to stand. On his lips, he tasted blood.

Was any of that true? He was high on drugs, after all. Vance hadn’t really gotten past the alcohol gateway into drug experimentation, so he didn’t know what to think. Avengers training stressed that one could never trust oneself if he knew he’d been drugged. Violence was to be a final resort only. It was that last part Vance kept repeating in his mind.

He wasn’t completely lost, he knew. He could still feel the heat of the fire around him, and the pain in his head. So Vance had reason to believe he was not drugged to the point of belligerence. He could probably trust his eyes. Opening them again, Vance saw the blood dripping down his nose was not too dark, so the cut on his forehead was not too deep.

His breaths released in a stuttered shudder. This feeling was like no other…there was a part of Vance that just wanted to get lost in it, let the lovely numbness spread like this inferno to the very tips of his fingers and toes. Maybe when he woke up, he’d be back home in bed with Angelica…a feeling like this…it reminded him so much of her…

“Unity.” He said it bluntly.

“Vance…come on, boy. Stay with me.”

His stomach sank, and he felt like he wanted to vomit. These feelings weren’t real. This was all fake. But what he had with Angelica was real. Not like this…right? But if it was real then why did she leave? If it was fake then Vance wasted his life, didn’t he? She was his life; he had wasted every bit of her.

Anger swelled in chest. He focused on the figure in the distance. It shimmered and swayed, like the hallucination of an oasis to a desert madman. “You did this to me…” Vance murmured.

The voice in Vance’s mind persisted. “I needed to speak to you--I told you that. But, I admit…I didn’t think you’d take it this hard. Your heart rate is terribly high. Like you’ve seen a ghost or something.”

“Right.” Vance tried to speak more clearly, completely, hoping it would help him focus, “I’ve read about you…you’re the Executioner?”

“No. I am the X-Cutioner.” His head cocked. “There’s a difference.” The distorted voice felt different now, a bit more…real. As though Vance were actually hearing it for the first time.

“Ha!” Vance could help it. The laugh was more like a spit. “Sure there is.”

The X-Cutioner stepped closer. “I figured this would be your reaction. You X-Men are so predictable.”

“What do they have to do with me? I’m not an X-Man!” Vance shouted, and at the end of it, he found himself laughing again. He had to try really hard to stop.

“Not yet.” Light twisted and reflected around his cloak, making him hard to see, even now as he was almost right up to Vance’s face. His face was shrouded by a long cowl, but along the eye sockets, some kind of technology jutted out like goggles. Vance could see them focusing and analyzing every inch of his body. Vance tried to likewise: every bit of the X-Cutioner’s body seemed covered in some kind of oddly shaped armor, like the man had fashioned it himself, each piece from some larger construct. Slipping in and out of view, under the cloak, the X-Cutioner clutched a pike--which now was looking more like a harpoon…“I don’t have time to explain myself in detail, boy. But the future is depending on us!”

He knelt down aside Vance and brought a giant gauntleted hand to Vance’s chin. He made sure to see Vance’s bloodshot eyes.

“Our minds are connected through unity, so I know you can feel how serious I am right now. I know you understand that I am not screwing around. Listen to me, Vance, and listen well.” Even as Vance tried to pull away, the thumb and forefinger of the gauntlet held his chin and cheeks in place like a vice. “The X-Men are on their way to recruit you as we speak. I know because this is the only point in time where it possibly could have happened--sometime during the Fire.” His voice kept fading in and out like an AM radio. “There is a traitor in their midst. A traitor who knows the perfect time and place to betray them, ensuring the ruination of this world. I cannot let this happen.”

Smoothly, with the arc of his arm, from under his cloak, the X-Cutioner drove the harpoon deep into the pavement just adjacent to Vance’s head. Cracks and a thunderous echo spread through the street. Vance yelped, but it was drowned away, so he wasn’t even sure he did scream. But the X-Cutioner still gripped Vance’s face steady.

“I don’t know the traitor’s name, Vance, but if I have to kill each of the X-Men, one by one, in order to stop him, then I will do so. That is why I am the X-Cutioner.”

Finally the pressure along Vance’s cheekbones ceased. Immediately, Vance scrambled backward on his palms and feet, trying to get away from the man who’d drugged him. His voice wasn’t firm but Vance did say, “Y-y-you’re crazy…”

The X-Cutioner rose from his kneel, and collected his harpoon, ripping it from the street. “Boy, I know it doesn’t seem this way now,” and he opened his arms toward Vance, “but I’m a hero. Just like you. And I’m giving you the chance to be my man in the X-Men. What do you say?”

The word ‘No’ was about to leave Vance’s mouth quickly and easily but he was cut off by a flood of headlights and the roar of a car engine.

The X-Cutioner spun on his heel, his cloak flowing after him. “And here they come--the X-Men!” He said, before looking over his shoulder at Vance. “Remember what I told you, boy. We have to save the world and the only chance we have to do it is with each other. I’ll visit you again in the near future for your answer. I’ll visit you…after you become an X-Man.”

The headlights grew brighter, and with it, the X-Cutioner faded from sight. Wheels screeched, and the light suddenly flew sideways.

The limousine halted its approach and its noise, sliding parallel to where Vance lay. It was stark white, but reflected the orange and red and black of the fire and night around it. Vance panted, unsure whether the X-Cutioner was still there…or whether the X-Cutioner had really been there at all. He looked at where the X-Cutioner had driven his harpoon through the pavement--there was no sign of any damage…

The driver’s door to the limousine, on the side closest to Vance, opened. In long white boots, and a hulking white fur coat, a woman revealed herself. Her hair was so blonde, it almost matched her clothes.

Emma Frost said, “Vance Astrovik. What a coincidence it is to find you here.”

There it was. He could finally see it. Every wide, thunderous step took him closer to his home. It was ablaze. Colossus felt more adrenaline than ever, and pushed himself faster, crushing pavement under his heels, hurdling over abandoned cars, holding his breath through thick smoke.

Peter had been running in a straight line since he had left the side of his friends, the X-Men. Even now, when he thought it in his mind, Peter considered himself separate from them. But it was easy to fall back into the old spirit of things--who knew how long Peter had been helping Kitty, Alison and Rogue in their efforts to keep people from burning alive?

Had his family been burned alive? Rage boiled throughout his veins, and Colossus only ran harder, like an unstoppable force, like the fire itself.

But it was too late to save his home at this point. He saw each of the ten stories, engulfed in flame. Still he pressed on, ready to climb the blazing inferno all the way to the third story, and find what was left of his family. The heat poured over his body stronger and stronger, like row after row of invisible curtain, blurring the distance.

“Peter!”

When he stopped, it was like trying to brake a locomotive. Colossus skidded to a halt, leaving two parallel trails like railroad tracks in his wake. He stood as tall as he could, scanning across the panic and chaos. He saw people, dashing in and out of the smoke. He could the lights of emergency crews still trying to manage this block of Mutant Town, but it seemed as though they had given up on Peter’s own building. Looking closer toward the ambulances, he saw her.

“Nareel!” Peter felt himself shrink, the comfort of his metal skin disappeared, and the temperature felt a little bit more unbearable.

“Peter!” The smoke slowly dissipated from around her. Leaning on a crutch, she tried to get to him as fast as she could.

Finally Peter grasped her, lifted her into his arms and squeezed as tight as he could. “Oh thank God you’re safe! Oh thank--”

“No!” Nareel pushed him away, but when she did, her knees collapsed from under her. Peter caught her under her shoulders, and he could see fire reflected in the streams of water that soaked her thin cheeks. “Save him! Peter--your son! You have to save him!”

Peter’s stomach dropped. He brought the crutch back up to support his wife, and turned from her. He wanted to know why the emergency crews hadn’t rescued his son, and he wanted to know why there were so little emergency crews here at all. But he had no time. Colossus had already lost enough of that already. But if Colossus could withstand the fire destroying his home, then there was a possibility his son could too.

When he was close enough to the blazing apartment building, which had been simplistic in the urban design of its ten floors, Colossus merely had to jump to reach his bedroom window. He left his wife, on her knees, no longer able to hold on to the crutch, watching the flames, wondering if the fire was going to ever spit Colossus back out.

“Damn. Broke another one.”

Callisto merely had to reach out, and she felt another needle slip between her fingers. Without missing her rhythm, Callisto threaded the needle and continued to sew. “And keep that light steady.”

“Whoa. I’m surprised you can even see the wound with that much blood squirting out of it.”

Callisto rolled her eyes, and dabbed a towel--white but stained dark pink--against the wound with the hand not holding the needle. “Erg, stop talking. Every time you talk, you move your leg and more blood squirts out of it!”

“Sorry.” Erg held the flashlight with both hands. But it was no use. The beam of light still rattled over Callisto’s stitches. Still, he saw the gash ran down the length of his shin, serrated at those places where the blade had sliced. Flesh lay limply in a flap there, barely clinging to the leg it had been attached to. Now, it was simply held in place, like the jelly half of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Blood was dark when it would jet from between the stitches themselves. Erg smiled and said, “You should see the other guy.”

Callisto sighed. “You sure you don’t feel any of this, Erg?”

“Feel what?”

Of course he didn’t. Like most of these mutants, Erg was too high to have a clear understanding of what was going on at all. Not the fire, not his leg, not anything. Callisto focused on her work.

“Damn! Another needle. I’m not very good at this…” Reaching out again, this time she looked at her ‘nurse’ by her side.

Dead Girl smiled, and brought up the palms of her hands. Two dozen, tiny, stitching needles protruded from them both, like spikes on a cactus. Callisto couldn’t help but hesitate as she reached for one. Dead Girl beamed. She held up her hands, and the needles, like a waitress would hold up a cup of coffee.

Callisto smiled back. “Thank you.” She plucked one needle. Then, frowning, she said, “I think I’m going to need some more thread too…”

“No prob.” Dead Girl wrapped a finger around a couple loose strands of the hair still hanging from her scalp. She pulled. Then, she handed the thread to Callisto.

Smiling again, Callisto said, “That should do it.” She reached and cupped Dead Girl’s chin in her hand. “What would I do without you, darling?”

Dead Girl didn’t get a chance to respond before--

“Hey! Cali!”

The voice shocked Callisto a little, though she’d been expecting it for hours now . She frowned, and continued to bandage Erg, certainly not turning around. Dead Girl and Erg were both silent now , peering toward the voice’s origin. The sound of sneakers against damp concrete grew quickly closer and louder. Layla Miller’s footsteps were instantly recognizable.

“Look at all these people.” The girl called from behind her. “Where did they come from?”

Callisto didn’t want to, but she stood up, and gazed down the corridor, in direction she knew Layla had been. She gazed all the way to where she couldn’t even see, because the tunnel twisted too far. It was full--bursting, really, with people. They lay scattered everywhere. Some were talking. Many were crying. Many were moaning. Some were moving. Most were not. What few could move were tending those that couldn’t. Their clothes were scorched and torn, maybe blood-stained. They were all mutants. Hell, Callisto thought, some could be human. Why not?

“You saved all these people.” Layla said.

“They haven’t been saved from anything!” Callisto was surprised she yelled, and more surprised that she had whipped around to yell it right at Layla. But she backed down, unwilling to unleash any more the panic she’d betrayed just now. She took a deep breath, then addressed Layla again. “And I don’t know where they’re coming from. Most entrances to the Alley by now are inaccessible from Mutant Town and--”

Callisto stopped, peered over Layla’s shoulder. Instead of her usual companion--the grotesque Doop--there was someone much different accompanying Layla now.

“Longshot.” Callisto said. “I heard you died.”

He shrugged, smiled, and even in the soft light of the Alley, Callisto could understand his beauty. He said, “You know, that rumor’s been getting around.”

Callisto squinted at him, but then looked back at Layla. “I should’ve known you were up to something, girl, first time I ever saw you…”

The girl nodded. “I’ll tell you what I’m up to…”

Callisto frowned and sarcastically pressed her palms to her ears. “Don’t say it… ”

Layla smirked as she said, “Isn’t it about time you joined the X-Men?”

“I knew it!“ Callisto threw down her hands. “I knew you were going to say that! Somebody always mentions them no matter what!” Then, she laughed. “Are you serious?” She didn’t wait for an answer before turning to Longshot and saying, “She is, isn’t she?”

Longshot nodded. “Yes. She has quite a dramatic flair about it.”

Callisto looked back at the smiling girl. “The X-Men? Whose X-Men?”

Layla shrugged. “I didn’t know they ever belonged to anybody.”

Callisto laughed again, but the laughter didn’t come so easily this time. After a few seconds of silence, she asked, “What about Doop? Where’s he? You two break up? Why don’t you ask him to join?”

Suddenly, Layla looked flustered. She looked down at her sneakers to hide that she was nervously biting her lip. “I don’t know where he is.” But then she looked up. “Doop’s not who I’m here for anyway.”

Callisto sighed and turned from her. “Just go away, Layla.” Waving her arms down the Alley, she continued, “All these people--it would be mass chaos down here if not for me. Muggings. Kidnappings. Rapes. Might be too late to stop that from happening now anyway. There are so many down here…”

“They don’t want anything like that to happen, Callisto.” Layla said simply. “They want someone to show them they still have something to lose. They want the X-Men.”

“Why?” Callisto yelled, spinning on her heels, and articulating with her arms, “What the hell will that accomplish? What has that ever accomplished? The X-Men can’t stop this…just like they couldn’t stop the massacre either. But they had the brass to almost stop the Lazarus Contract! Can you believe that?”

“I’m not talking about those X-Men. I’m talking about the uncanny X-Men.” Layla said. “Do you see any other choice here, Callisto? We can grovel in self-pity, which is mostly what we’ve always done, along with resenting the X-Men for their pride. Or we can make sure tomorrow doesn’t feel like all those yesterdays. Come on, Cali! I’m not telling you anything you don’t already know.”

Callisto sighed. Her shoulders dropped. Still her gaze measured the masses lining the Alley. She said, “No. For the last time, Layla, no.”

Layla stamped her foot. “You can’t say no!”

Callisto smiled as she looked back at the girl now. “Didn’t think I’d be so stubborn, huh? I’ll tell you what…” And now Callisto started to arch her neck, and dart her eyes across the crowded Alley, like she was looking for someone in particular. She muttered, “How about I give you someone to replace me…”

“Huh?” Layla squinted.

“There he is.” Callisto said. She put her two index fingers into her mouth and proceeded to blow the loudest whistle Layla had ever heard.

Everything went silent. Everyone in that part of the Alley had suddenly gone quiet. And every face was looking toward them. Callisto cupped her mouth in the distant direction. “I see you! Skulkin’ around! C’mere!” She waved her arm at someone Layla couldn’t quite make out. “You knew we was gonna talk sometime anyway, Caliban!”

“Caliban?” Longshot murmured. “Sounds like a friendly guy.” Layla shot him an angry stare.

Slowly but surely, the crowd began to part. Soon, the thin, tall, intensely pale mutant was revealed in worn, baggy clothes. His eyes shown in the dimness. Uneasily realizing he couldn’t hide, Caliban cleared his throat, and straightened his back, like he wasn’t guilty. He said, “Yes, Callisto?”

“I don’t want Caliban!” Layla interrupted. “I told you who I want--” That’s when Layla noticed something hovering over her shoulder. Of course, it was Doop. Her eyes widened. “Where did…” Her voice faded.

Callisto said, “Caliban has a knack for causing trouble around here.” She looked Caliban up and down when he was close enough. “Don’t you?”

Caliban stiffened. “I don’t know what you mean, Callisto. You and Caliban talked about this, I thought, don’t you remember?”

Callisto pulled Caliban by the arm, so that she could whisper in his ear. “You’re lucky I don’t chop you off at the kneecaps for what you’ve done to some of the poor kids I see on a daily basis. You’re going to help this girl save as many people tonight as you can--got that?”

Callisto shoved Caliban away from her, and turned back to Layla. “You’ve got your second recruit.”

But Layla was still preoccupied with Doop. She said again lowly, as Callisto watched, “Where did you go?” Doop didn’t answer, but he never did. So Layla said, “You know I hate it when you do that.” Still, Doop stared blankly at her, floating as though he had never been gone in the first place.

Longshot nudged her. Layla seemed to spring to life, and looked back at Callisto, “I don’t want Caliban!”

Callisto crossed her arms. “Then leave with nothing.”

Layla stamped her foot again. She closed her eyes and bit her lip, before saying, “Fine.” She stared hard again for a few seconds at Doop.

Then, sighing, she judged Caliban. “You look nervous.” Caliban grimaced as Layla addressed him. “Relax, man. You’re about to be an idol to millions.” Motioning with her index finger for her three companions to follow her, Layla trotted into a run down a perpendicular hall. She didn’t even look back once at Callisto.

Longshot and Doop were close after her, but Caliban lingered for a second. He looked over his shoulder, and saw the cold stare waiting for him from Callisto. Wearily, he plodded after the other three.

Callisto put her hand to her mouth. “Godspeed, X-Men!” She laughed loud and heavy, and it felt good.

“Um! Excuse me!”

Callisto turned around. “Yes, Erg?”

“Could we please get back to business? My leg is hanging in two pieces, in case you don’t remember.”

“I remember like it was two minutes ago. Just hold that light steady…”

Years Ago

He clicked the flashlight off. The wheels of his chair were slightly off balance on the rugged concrete, but he pushed himself ahead a few more yards, with one arm against the damp wall to guide him. Stopping, Charles Xavier, with the smooth flick of his thumb, flashed the light three times before allowing darkness totality. Silence then joined it.

Seconds fell into minutes as sweat beads fell down Xavier’s forehead. It was so humid in this part of the Alley. He didn’t remember this part…but did he really know the Morlock tunnels well at all?

“Well, well.”

Xavier froze. There were echoes all around him; he didn’t know where the voice had originated. With but a thought, he found her. Looking over his shoulder, still unseeing, Xavier said, “Thank you again for meeting with me.”

Callisto’s jackbooted heels sounded like they were crushing the concrete as she took steps around Xavier’s wheelchair to face him. His eyes had adjusted to the darkness, but he could still barely make out her silhouette, even at this range. Her voice however was clear. “Don’t take it personally. I wanted to see how fast you’d make it down here on wheels. Last time I saw you, you had your feet under you.”

Xavier sighed. He said, slowly, “My spine was crushed.”

“Again?!” Callisto laughed. “How many people are lucky enough to have that happen to them twice in their life? At least you had all the necessary equipment, right?”

“Please, Callisto.” Xavier was still calm. “I’ve come down here to apologize.”

There was a harsh scratching noise, and suddenly darkness was no more. Callisto brought the fiery match to a long bundle of wiry wood, tied by thread at one end into a small handle. Soon, the torch illuminated most of the space around them. They saw each other for the first time in a long time. They were each a bit shocked at how youthful the other looked.

But Callisto scoffed. “Excuse me? Apologize? For what?”

“For…” and Xavier lowered his chin as he said it, “…not being here when it happened.”

Callisto grew silent, and her face froze into a frown. “You mean…”

“The massacre.”

Callisto said nothing.

“I could’ve stopped it with a thought but I was…I was…” Xavier looked like he choked on the words.

“What?” Callisto dug deeper. Xavier still didn’t respond. Callisto took a couple steps closer to him. “What? You were what?”

Xavier mouthed words but no sound erupted. Callisto did not have the patience. She dropped the torch at their feet, causing Xavier to finally look up. Reaching out with both hands, Callisto wrenched at the arm rests of his wheelchair, and pulled him until they were nose to nose.

“Say it!” Callisto screamed. “Say it! Tell me you were in outer space! Tell me you were walking around on the arm of an alien princess! Tell me you weren’t even thinking about what was happening to your species while you were gone! Tell me you didn’t give a damn! Tell me!”

Xavier’s stare was hooked in hers. Callisto’s eyes bulged with the pump of her heart, but Xavier’s remained relaxed, as though he knew something she didn’t. It’s how his eyes always looked to her. “I’m sorry.” His voice cracked. “That’s what I came here to tell you. I’m so, so sorry for what you lost.”

Callisto’s knees bent. Her elbows were taut as she still gripped the arm rests of Xavier’s chair, leaning into him. She gripped so tightly now, she was shaking the chair and Xavier in it. Tears dripped from her good eye, and soaked through the patch over the other one. “Sorry? Is that all you are? Sounds like its all you ever are. Sorry for yesterday. Sorry for tomorrow. Sorry we’re not livin’ the dream.” Finally, suddenly, she let go of the chair. She took a step back. Her face looked damp, reflective in the firelight.

“No.” Xavier’s face suddenly seemed full of life. “I’ve come to offer you more than that. Come stay in my mansion. Help me build homes on Muir Island for those Morlocks still recovering there. Since my…crippling by the Shadow King, I’ve looked over all that I have with the X-Men, and we’ve all made changes to ensure something like the massacre never happens again. My original students are back--there are enough X-Men now for two teams! Maybe with your help we can stay in touch with the underground--”

Sharp laughter cut him off. Callisto was shaking her head. “You self-righteous son of a bitch! I should’ve known! This was all about you from the beginning! Screw apologizing! I mean, obviously, I know how terrible my way of life is, now that my friends were murdered in front of my face, so I’m gonna come nicely and easily into the flock. I bet that’d make you feel a lot better about not even being on the planet when your race was massacred, wouldn’t it? Hell, your kids were even lucky to make it out alive! Am I supposed to feel safe with you? With the X-Men?”

Xavier looked like he was pleading, and his words matched his face. “Do you think you can keep hiding down here? You know now this is hardly a safe haven!”

“I think, one day, this is going to be the only safe haven left!” Callisto yelled, spreading her arms around, as though relishing the thought. “What are you going to do then, Xavier?” She got close to Xavier’s face then, almost jumping at him. “What are you going to say to me, when your X-Men run to the Alley for asylum?”

Xavier stayed still. He said, “I hope I never live to see that day.”

“Ha!” Callisto laughed again. She jumped back lithely, spinning around on her toes, before pointing her index finger at him. “Be careful what you wish for, Professor X! I promise, one day my world’s gonna look a lot brighter to you.”

Callisto began to step backward, until she was shrouded in darkness. Xavier didn’t stop her. Eventually, her steps faded, as did the torch still by Xavier’s feet. With his mind, he sent out, One day, you’ll join us, Callisto. Our worlds are one and the same.

But Xavier received no response. Again, with a thought, he reached out, but the Alley was vast, and Callisto was long gone. His mind retracted, and he was aware of how alone he suddenly was.

“Looks abandoned more than anything.”

David shook his head. “This has got to be the place.”

Smoke hung about it like skin on a shedding snake. Flames illuminated gargoyles, their mouths seeming to move with the fiery shadow. But the fires weren’t touching the church. It was surprisingly cool and calm outside the gothic-style cathedral.

Irina started to pull her half of the Angel toward the church. “Where else do you think he’d go? He’s talking to David. He’s in David’s head. David knows where to go.”

Vic was still standing there with his mouth agape. He was trying to judge David. “You don’t honestly believe that, man.”

David shrugged. “There’s someone inside the church. A friend. I know this.” Since he held the other half of the angel, he was already drudging alongside Irina, keeping to a narrow path through a fertile lawn. David wasn’t looking forward to the tall steps that led up to the doors.

Vic shook his head. “Man, I ain’t goin’ in there. We gotta get out of Mutant Town. Look around you! There’s no firemen, no ambulances! We’ve been left alone! This whole place is going to burn! I’m not hauling some dead mutant into a church!”

David grunted, “He’s not dead.”

He wasn’t, or at least David was sure of that. There were patches of hair on the scalp now. His bones had righted themselves. None seemed broken. His wings looked much more vast, and lush. But there were still hideous scars over his entire body, obscuring his face, and blood still flowed freely, making him slick in their grasp.

Irina wasn’t bothered. She seemed to have more energy than any of them. But David also felt surprisingly active, considering the smoke he’d inhaled, and how panicky he’d felt earlier. He didn’t know if adrenaline had calmed his brain or if…this angel’s blood had done something to him too.

“David!” Vic was quite far behind them now. “I’m not goin’ in there!”

David still didn’t look back, even when he heard Vic’s footsteps running in a direction far from the church. A part of David wished he’d convinced Vic to stay. Because there was absolutely no way David was going anywhere other than this church. Right now it was the only thing David could bear to think about.

Irina let her side loose, and ran to open the massive doors of the church. She held it open, while David struggled to get the entire body inside by himself. When they were fully inside, Irina closed the door with a hollow slam, sending an echo through the buttresses, off the thick stone walls, ringing across countless wooden pews. Darkness accompanied everything. After a few silent seconds their eyes adjusted to the candlelight—the candlelight in the far side, toward the stage. David saw shadows moving over there.

“Help us!” Irina had seen them as well.

BAMF~! What? There was a flash from the corner near the candles. A flashlight?

BAMF~! A flash illuminated it all. The instant later, David couldn’t see at all anymore. What little light had been snuffed out. His eyes stung. Some kind of smoke—

BAMF~! “Wie heisst du?” It was sharp, almost as loud as the explosions of smoke. His lungs burned. The smell was awful. It pressed against the back of David’s throat, and he could hardly breathe.

BAMF~! “Was ist das?” Words again. Was that…German? Irina screamed from somewhere over David’s shoulder. Something—some kind of shadow, some kind of figure—was jumping around, near the angel. David suddenly felt nauseous. He rubbed at his temples. He couldn’t keep his thoughts straight—

He knew he wasn’t gong to last much longer. His mind raced for something—anything that might help him keep consciousness. Nothing clever struck. So, he just muttered—

“Ein Engel habt auf den Himmel gefal--”

David fell forward, and—BAMF~!—something caught him. The haze was so thick, David wondered if was really seeing this: something that anyone would have described as a demon. A demon caught him. Eyes yellowed and teeth fanged and tongue forked and tail pointed. It smiled. “Oh! Why didn’t you say that in the first place?”

Letting David slump to his knees, it scampered to stand atop an adjacent pew. David found that the smoke dissipated quickly, and that he was catching his breath. He looked to his side, and saw Irina had already fainted. He looked back up at the demon.

It was looking from the pew, over Irina. Standing there, on bird-like feet, it almost looked human. But…it was a mutant, wasn’t it? He was a mutant. Just like David. So, David relaxed a bit. “Who are you?”

The demon stood straight up, still balancing on the pew, and put his palm to his chest. “Who am I?” He bowed. “Kurt Wagner, at your service!” With only the gentlest spring at the knees, he leapt from the pew, twisting twice fully in the air before his feet silently touched the ground right in front of David. “Formerly of the Bavarian circus, currently of the X-Men, but those who know me best call me Nightcrawler!” He stuck out his hand. “Und wie hiesst du?”

“Alleyne.” David answered. “Er, well, David Alleyne.” He slowly took Nightcrawler’s hand and shook it.

“Well, David Alleyne.” Yellow eyes blinked at him. “You know what questions I’ve got on my mind?”

David’s chin sank. “Where did we find him?” He waved an arm at the crumpled, winged body. “Is he really who you think he is?” His voice lowered farther than his chin. “In an alley. And yes, he is. I know he is.”

Nightcrawler’s face became stern for a second, but then the fanged, bright smile returned. With a forefinger, Nightcrawler poked David’s forehead. “That’s quite the brain you have, wunderkind.”

“Yeah,” David muttered, “it never tells me anything useful before the fact, only during and after.”

But Nightcrawler wasn’t listening to David anymore. Instead, he pored over the bloody body splayed in the narrow space between rows of pews. Nightcrawler arched his body and crawled over the angel, sure to keep his toes and fingers along the perimeter of the body, and the blood. He jumped from one end of the body to the other, sure to take in every detail. The way those eyes flashed, David knew that Nightcrawler was not having any problem seeing in the dimness.

“He’s alive…” Nightcrawler suddenly jumped back. “Alive! And healing, I’d say, by the looks of those scabs…but how could Warren have survived this?” His golden eyes darted to the stained glass portrait of Jesus Christ, high over the pulpit. Gazing at it, Nightcrawler smiled, and shrugged. “Ach, it was a stupid question, I’m sorry.”

Warren…? So that’s his name…David spied Irina, lying just near the body, not stirring. David rushed over to her, but Nightcrawler’s tail stopped him at his ribcage.

“Nein.” Nightcrawler was still looking at the angel. “Let the girl sleep. For now. Soon we’ll send her with the others.” David didn’t respond, so Nightcrawler looked up at him, and poked him with his tail. “Is that alright with you, David Alleyne?”

“Others?” David asked.

Nightcrawler nodded. “Of course. The others.”

David shuddered. “Who do you mean?”

Nightcrawler licked his lips with his pointed tongue and laughed. “Didn’t you hear me earlier? When I say the others…I mean the X-Men.”

Before David could question that, a loud creaking noise emanated from the doors at the front of the church. An orange sliver of light spilled through along with it. “Wer?!” Kurt’s yell was followed by the now familiar twin BAMFs. He reappeared just in time to widen the door.

David had already started running over there as soon as he had heard the first BAMF. So, David had a clear view out the wide church doors. “Whoa.”

Nightcrawler walked outside, on the massive stairs leading down to the courtyard. “Ah. Naturlich.”

Light, like ribbons, ebbed and flowed through the air--streams of green, blue, violet, white, gold--fusing, blazing into a trail that was inching, pushing itself through the threshold of the church. It was the exact opposite of the flames around it: gracefully slow, dancing along its way like wild auroras. It wound and pulsed for blocks, until neither David nor Kurt could see it any longer for the fire. But they could see the people, following it, getting closer.

There were dozens of them. They stumbled. They ran. They just walked. All of them were misshapen or disfigured in some way, ensuring their species. But they were following it, right to the cathedral.

David couldn’t steal himself away from it. “What is it? How do…how do they know to follow it here? How does it know where to lead them?”

Nightcrawler reached out with his three fingers, scooping at the light itself, even as it breathed past him. The light was tangled in his palm, like rubber tendrils, and Kurt brought it quickly to David’s ear before it completely dissipated. And David heard--

“Don’t pretend

You don’t know the way

You read all the signs right

I know what you like to see at night…”

It faded, garbled into nothing. David blinked. “What…? How…?” He mimicked what Nightcrawler had done seconds ago--

“This is the end

Of something you didn’t want anyway

You know there’s nothing quite

Like watching me at night…”

“Dazzler!” David said, and almost immediately his face brightened. “The X-Men! You really are one of them, aren’t you? Irina was right! She said it when we found him--she said that the angel would lead us out of this and…and I mean, I knew she was right--I could feel it, but I just didn’t think--”

Nightcrawler put his hand on David’s shoulder. “I’m sorry to break this to you, my boy. But you haven’t been led out of anything at all. You’ve been led straight into the fire more than you know.”

BAMF~!

“Follow the lights to real love, baby

Follow them to me

Bright lights and real love, baby

Burning up inside me--

Gambit watched it all happen, like it was in slow motion. In quick succession, everything he thought was going to happen, happened. The car--Gambit wasn’t sure what kind but it was old--had been flipped on its side, on the sidewalk. Judging by the smell, the gas tank had been punctured. Remy specifically told himself to walk on the other side of the street, just in case some kind of random spark just happened to fly far enough.

But he was crossing the street just as the kid was crossing it in his direction. Green scales, baggy clothing, maybe not as young as he looked. Gambit wanted to call to him, over the roar of the fire in the space between them, but he wasn’t sure if there was even time left. It was just a matter of seconds before the fire somehow reached the spillage of gasoline--

The car exploded. The kid was flung head-over-heels backward, and even Gambit wasn’t far enough away to keep his footing. But at least Rogue was there to catch the kid. She let Gambit fall on his ass.

Rogue made sure to set the boy gently back on the street, though he was shaking like a baby lamb. Rogue steadied him with one hand. She said, “Are you okay? Tell me your name.”

The boy said, “Vic. And I’m fine.” He said it like he was reassuring himself of it.

“You are fine, Vic.” Rogue said quickly. “But I need you to walk in the opposite direction you were running.” She closed her eyes briefly as she scanned his mind. Her telepathy still worked on this level, thankfully. “You need to go back to the church. It’s the only safe place for you right now.”

Vic clenched his jaw together. “Really?” It was all that was left of his will to argue.

Rogue shrugged. “Yeah. Who’d’ve thought? But you should run. Before something else explodes.”

Vic did as he was told. Rogue looked back at Gambit. “You should follow him. Make sure he doesn’t get blown up by any stray automobiles.”

Gambit smiled and nodded. “The church? Crawler’s church? The one with the hatch in the floor that leads to the Alley?”

Rogue’s sneer was sarcastic. “No, the other one.” Then, she slumped a bit, and before leaping the short distance to him.

Gambit was clearly puzzled when she was got so close to him, but he was hardly going to retreat. Rogue pushed her lips right up to his, and kissed him for a few seconds that could never have lasted long enough for Remy. When she was done, Gambit asked, “And what was that for?”

Rogue replied, “For tomorrow. When we look back on yesterday and remember the important things.” Then she was airborne again. Remy followed her with his eyes until the smoke and flame was too thick for him to see her anymore.

When he gazed toward the direction of the church, Gambit could see ribbons of light pulsing down that way, like swimmers sculpted from cigarette smoke. “Ali?” he whispered to himself.

“Remy LeBeau!”

Gambit turned around and saw him. The man had changed his outfit a little since they had last met, but there was no mistaking that cowl. Remy braced into a defensive position, his right hand at his inside coat pocket, ready to sling that first ace. He said, “X-Cutioner?”

“Patriarch of Thieves!” the X-Cutioner called. His cloak swayed in the wind, revealing the long harpoon grasped in his hand. “I always knew one day I would be forced to do this.”

Gambit frowned. “Do what?”

The X-Cutioner spun the harpoon along his palm. “Murder you for the good of humanity.”

Nareel didn’t know how long she had been lying there. Her eyes had been sealed shut by hot tears. The heat from the fires around her felt like a blanket slowly drawing in closer and closer, until it would finally suffocate her. But she didn’t want to move.

Nonetheless, hands, gloved in thick rubber, clinched her shoulders and started to pull her backward. The firemen were much bigger and stronger than her. Nareel wrenched away, full of life now, determined to wait, right there, in that same spot in the middle of the street, across from her burning home.

Her husband and her son were still in there and she was not going to move an inch until she saw that they came out alive. But she didn’t say this to the firemen. She could only wail, screaming words in a language these men had never heard in their lives. She clawed and kicked, but they kept control of her.

“Ma’am! You don’t understand!”

“Lady, that building was old before this fire--ain’t no way she’s gonna last--!”

Despite the smoke, Nareel’s eyes were wide, and focused on her home. Indeed, as the fireman had said, she knew her building was old. Even at that moment, Nareel could see it sway ever so slightly, like the elaborate bamboo huts in the jungles were she grew up.

Then, it started to fall. Nareel was hooked, and she could see every brick ripple out of place, every window shatter, as the dust plume spread upward, thicker than the smoke. The noise overtook the roar of the fire. Smoldering debris dropped to the street in bright chunks, skidding to a burnt halt on the street around her. Some pieces were so big they knocked out the windows of abandoned cars and buildings. The shockwave easily knocked out the legs of the firemen wrestling her to safety.

When Nareel hit the street, she hit right on the back of her head. Still, she was conscious, even as the warmth of the blood spread down her neck, and around the lobe of her left ear, pressed hard against pavement. She watched her home complete its fall, and then the dust consumed everything.

She knew she was never going to see them again. So when she let unconsciousness come, Nareel Rasputin didn’t care if she woke back up.

“And where do you think you’re going? You’ve got enough drugs in your system to knock out a Juggernaut.” Callisto grasped her arm.

Instead of trying to get free of Callisto, Bling instead pulled Callisto closer. She said, “I’m perfectly fine now, thank you. I was lost a little bit but now I’m okay.” Tugging a bit more at Callisto’s arm, Bling said, “Now you have to follow me.”

Callisto jerked away from her. “I’m not going anywhere, because you’re not going anywhere, Bling. Last time I saw you, I thought it was for the last time.* God knows how you managed to find your way back down here--”

“The church!” Bling tugged and tugged. “Don’t you see? All of these people were saved when they walked through the doors. The X-Men were waiting for us! The X-Men saved us! I mean, I had never seen one in person before--”

Callisto groaned. “The X-Men? Again with the X-Men? Bling, there’re no X-Men here to save us, no matter what the muties you know may want to tell--”

“You don’t get it!” Bling threw down Callisto’s arm. “You just don’t get it! You’re one of them, Callisto. I saw it. In my dreams. I wasn’t the only one either.”

Callisto scoffed. “Girl, you were having crazy whacked dreams thanks to all that unity you smoked. Don’t go believin’ everything you dream. We got enough idiots already livin’ like that.”

“You don’t get it!” Bling yelled. “I just…I had this dream…” She suddenly seemed exasperated, out of breath, pleading with Callisto. “You have to follow me. Please.”

Actually, Bling didn’t give Callisto a chance to respond. She simply darted through the darkness, away from Callisto. At first, Callisto didn’t chase. Callisto didn’t want to chase. The two of them were already a bit of a distance from the Alley, nothing too far but…and Callisto had already left Bling to her own once and the girl was fine, right? For some reason, Callisto eventually leapt off her heels into a run.

She couldn’t see Bling, but Callisto could hear the girl’s footsteps against the gravelly concrete. These passages went so far, so winding, and light was a wish. So Callisto followed the sound. Soon, the sound turned into light.

“I can take you some place new

I can take you some place better

And I had better be with you

Or else this really doesn’t matter.”

Each footstep sent an echo of light from under her heels, and Callisto could see Bling’s in the distance. The light was little more than just the absence of shadow, until slowly, phantasmal, it would rise like clouds of smoke, and then transform. Callisto had to peer closer--the light was turning to those things that could only be human faces.

She walked past a dozen of them--and saw as she walked deeper down the corridor, that the light would wrap around solid air, giving it three dimensions and solidifying it. She saw torsos, arms, legs…bodies. Light, like electric eels, wound around and through them until Callisto could see they connected into people. Or were they always people? Had they always been here?

The people were linked, each right hand holding another’s left hand. Callisto watched it all. Again, she burst off her heel to run past the human chain, down the corridor, feeling the light and sound flow past her, over her, until she finally reached the source of it all.

“Follow the lights to real love, baby

You said you wanted a rush!

Bright lights and real love baby

Lead you right to my touch.”

Alison Blaire was standing, aglow. Bling stood in front of her, with her hand linked in Alison’s. Light beamed through the diamonds on Bling’s hand, sending elegant splatters of seven different colors across the corridor. Callisto could see more phantom people, floating gently from the ceiling, to solidify in the tunnel with her. There had to be at least forty people down here now. Dazzler saw Callisto, and arched her chin.

“Hey! You!” An index finger sparkled in Callisto’s direction. Alison pulled the earphones of her mp3 player from around her earlobes. Still, she kept her other hand linked with Bling’s, so that the corridor stayed illuminated. Her blue eye make-up was running, and glistened with sweat. Callisto didn’t have to get any closer to see that Dazzler’s pupils were the same size as Bling’s. Dazzler shouted, “Don’t cross the shadowcat’s path!”

Another face suddenly dropped in front of Callisto, sending her back on her heel. But this face she recognized. Kitty Pryde touched the ground just in front of her, with a cat’s gracefulness . Kitty’s hands clutched the right hand of the girl who had just solidified in the corridor ahead of her. Callisto could see blood profusely pouring from Kitty’s nose.

When she was finally solid, Kitty let out a long, loud exhale. She shut her eyes and yelled down the long line of people that were linked together in front of her, “Check your buddy! I want everyone to look to their sides and check their buddies! Does everyone…” and her voice faded, “does everyone have a buddy?”

The light flashed over dozens of faces. Callisto knew they were all fine, even if Shadowcat wasn’t. Kitty fell to her knees. Blood was dripping off her chin, a dark shade of red shining in kaleidoscopic flashes. Callisto knelt to brace her.

“Is it okay to faint now?” Kitty chuckled and grasped Callisto tightly. She didn’t look at her.

Callisto replied, “I think so.”

“Oh thank you…” Kitty sighed, and slumped into Callisto’s arms. “Thank you…Professor.”

A chattering arose. It took Callisto a few seconds to register everything that was going on around her. The light started to flood the corridor more brightly now. The dozens of people Kitty Pryde had just saved were beginning to realize where they were. Callisto felt a small hand on her shoulder, and an even smaller voice say, “Hey. You.”

Callisto didn’t recognize the girl. But she recognized her enough to know that she was a mutant; her tattoos would move along her chocolate-tinted flesh. The girl’s eyes were trying to judge Shadowcat in some way.

“Who is she?”

Callisto couldn’t help but answer. “Her name is Kitty.”

“Is she an X-Man?”

“Yes.”

And Callisto knew what question she’d hear from the girl after that. She let it come. The girl said, “Are you an X-Man?”

The answer was easier than Callisto had expected. “Yeah.” She said. “I am.”

Callisto stood up, carrying Kitty Pryde in her arms. “Tell everyone you know, and tell everyone you meet tonight: the X-Men are here, and we’re going to find who put us through this.” She took a glace at Kitty’s bloody face. Then Callisto looked back to the tattooed girl. “Go. Tell them. Tell them to follow us.” And the girl did as she was told, whispering to the dazed people in front of them. She told them, but they already knew. They knew as soon as they had laid their eyes on the two of them. Callisto looked over her shoulder and met the eyes of Dazzler. Alison still weaved sound into light, and made no motion to move.

“Follow the lights to my love, baby

This time its gonna feel right

Bright lights and real love, baby

This is the time of your life.”

Bling had already joined Callisto’s side. She said, “It’s just like a dream, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.” Callisto said. “Reminds me a lot of a dream I heard a long time ago.” Then, she lead everyone back down the Alley toward warmth and others like them.

NEXT CHAPTER: Conclusion! The fate of Colossus & Son…Layla’s uncanny X-Men are completed…Gambit won’t fight the X-Cutioner alone…David meets his match…and the true culprit behind the Mutant Town Fire is revealed! Watch out for that doomsday clock in the sky!

"X = ?" Part Four: "Yesterday Feels A lot Like Tomorrow" Written by Bryan Locke

"X = ?"
Part Four: "Yesterday Feels
A lot Like Tomorrow"

Written by Bryan Locke