Archangel

Psylocke

Colossus

As night drapes over Hollywood, a white Ford Bronco races through the quiet streets. Sitting in the driver's seat is a young actor with short, dark hair and chiseled features (unfortunately, that's about the extent that he has going for him these days). In the passenger seat is a lanky black man who wears Blue Blocker sunglasses over his eyes. Sitting in the back seat is a man with short, spiked blonde hair and opaque yellow sunglasses.

"Y'know, this car looks stompin' familiar..." says the black man, called Maggott.

"You like it?" asks the driver.

"Where'd you get it from, Benjy?" asks Maggott.

"OJ Simpson's garage sale," replies Ben.

"FECK!!" exclaims the man in the backseat.

"Pyro? You cool?" asks Ben.

"Am I cool?" asks Pyro. "AM I FECKIN' COOL?! YOU LISTEN AND YOU LISTEN GOOD, Y' TALENTLESS PRETTY BOY!! THAT BLOODY FECKIN' BITCH OF A FECKIN' STRIPPER FECKIN' FRAMED XORN, A BLOKE I'VE BECOME QUITE FECKIN' FOND OF AN' SOMEONE I COUNT AMONG ME BEST FECKIN' MATES!! AN' NOW, HE'S ON THE LOOSE, IN FECKIN' HOLLYWOOD OF ALL FECKIN' PLACES, AND YOU HAVE THE FECKIN' NERVE TO ASK ME IF I'M FECKIN' COOL?!"

"Umm... well... yeah," replies Ben.

"THEN NO, I AM NOT FECKIN' COOL!! AN' IF WE DON'T FECKIN' FIND XORN, I WON'T BE FECKIN' COOL FOR A VERY LONG FECKIN' TIME!!"

"Wow..." says Maggott. "That's a lot of 'fecks,' maat."

"Sorry, I get on a short fuse sometimes..." says Pyro.

"No problem," says Ben. "But... it doesn't look like I'm picking anything up on the police scanner."

"Wait... this car has a police scanner?" asks Maggott.

"Well yeah, it did belong to OJ," replies Ben. "Hey Pyro, did you mean what you said about Xorn being one of your best mates?"

"Damn straight I meant it," says Pyro. "After the shite in Mojoworld and all the publicity me, Maggott, an' Xorn did on behalf of X-Corp, I've grown quite fond of the Chinaman."

"But why would a stripper say that Xorn raped her?" asks Ben.

"I'll tell you what I think it is... it's a blackmail stunt," says Pyro. "That little bitch is trying to get us t' throw money at her so she'll keep her mouth shut."

"Y'know... I have to ask you guys..." says Ben. "Why do you say feck? Is it so you can get around the censors?"

"...Hugh, remind me again why we put up with him?" asks Pyro.

"Because he's the driver and it's his car," replies Maggott.

"Bloody hell..." mutters Pyro. He reaches into his jacket and pulls out a cell phone. "Keep it quiet, lads."

*NANANANANANANANANA BATMAN! BATMAN!*

The old, nineteen-sixties theme song echoes throughout the small alleyway. Two men, one who's very tall and skinny, with long blonde hair and a beanie hat with the word "SNOOGANS" stitched into it. The shorter man by his side is also much larger. He has long brown hair and a full beard, with a Mooby baseball cap he wears backwards and a black trench coat. Both of the two men keep their eyes locked on the sight before them. The fat one looks at the skinny one and then elbows him.

"What, bitch?" asks the skinny one.

The fat one points to the skinny one's jacket and then places his thumb and finger by his ear and mouth to symbolize a phone.

"Oh right..." says the skinny one. He reaches into his jacket and pulls out the cellphone that the Batman theme song plays from. He flips it open. "HEY BABY, YOU READY TO TAKE A RIDE ON THE JAY-TRAIN?! ....oh, sorry didn't know it was you, my Aussie bunghole... yeah, snoochies, we're way ahead of you on that front, boyee, me an' tons of fun are lookin' at him right now."

He stops and looks around the area a bit, then turns his attention back to the phone.

"I dunno man... I'd say junkie central, yo. Like down West Elk and Vancouver... right, boochies."

He flips the cell phone closed and places it back in his jacket. He looks at his silent friend, who lights a cigarette and takes a drag on it. He yanks the cigarette and takes a drag on it himself. The silent one frowns and prepares to hit his smaller friend, but then stops and just shakes his head. Instead, he looks back at the sight in front of them.

Lying in the middle of the alley, amidst charred bodies, is a man whose head is concealed by a metal helmet that has a dent in it. Xorn's attack was so intense that it left shadows of his assailants imprinted on the wall. He slowly begins to come to, and the two observers hear him simply mutter the words, "...never again... I swear it..."

The large oak, double doors that lead to X-Corp’s boardroom suddenly fling open, slamming against the wall. Warren Worthington the Third storms inside and throws the case file which was just handed to him by Jennifer Walters on the table. He pauses and braces his hands on the table as he leans over it. Following him in are Colossus, Psylocke, Detective Charlotte Jones, his secretary Sandy, and Diode (holding a box of Chinese food).

"I DON'T BELIEVE THIS... THIS SHIT!!" exclaims Warren. He suddenly moves away from the table and kicks a small trashcan. He starts to kick the trashcan over and over again and begins to stomp on it. He then continues to kick it, over and over and over again, stomping it against the ground with all his strength.

"I think it's dead," suddenly proclaims Diode.

Warren picks up the trash can and with a loud cry of anger, hurls it into the boardroom's mini bar. Diode shrugs and returns to eating her Chinese food.

"WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?! THAT LITTLE SCUM SUCKING BASTARD IS TRYING TO SUE US?! AND THE DAMN SHE-HULK IS DEFENDING HIM?! HAS THE ENTIRE WORLD FLOWN OFF THE DAMN HANDLE?!? AM I THE ONLY ONE AROUND HERE WHO'S STILL GOT SOME DAMN SEMBLENCE OF SANITY LEFT?!"

"Warren, maybe you should..." begins Colossus.

"It's okay, tin man," says Diode as she sits down on the edge of the board room table and continues to eat her food. "Wings just needs to blow off some steam."

"AND THE MEDIA IS GOING AGAINST US, TOO?! WHY IS THE DAMN MEDIA AGAINST US?! WHAT HAVE WE EVER DONE TO DESERVE THIS?!? WHAT HAVE WE EVER DONE TO EARN SUCH... SUCH MISTRUST?!?"

"You mean aside from harboring known killers while some of our teammates end up going insane?" asks Diode. "Or what about invading foreign government installations?"

"You know what this is, don't you?" asks Warren. "This is all because of Williams and that whole fiasco with the Champions. Him claiming that I assaulted him, but then him just using it as a way to embarrass me..."

A news conference a little over three weeks ago…

Eric Williams, the former villain called the Grim Reaper, and now the head of LL Incorporated, sits in a chair with a swollen black eye, cuts across his face, and bruises all over his body.

"I suppose I could see why Warren Worthington and the rest of the 'old guard' of the Champions would attack me in my office," he says. "After all, I wasn't always an innocent man, and after the Thunderbolts fiasco, it's understandable to see why some people, such as Mr. Worthington, would believe that I had ulterior motives. And some people would resort to violence. It's an unfortunate misunderstanding, but I can see where he was coming from, and that's why I won't be pressing any charges."

"...and now this!" exclaims Warren. He sighs and relaxes for a few moments of silence as he rubs his forehead. "How is it we're being sued for suppressing first amendment rights? It's our funding, our ownership, and that makes it our choice as to what we publish. I don't see anyone trying to sue Rupert Murdoch...

"To top it all off, Gemas is aiding the media by testifying against me, and suing me for assault. And even worse than that is the damn She-Hulk is sticking her nose where it doesn't belong! You know... the Avengers are always pulling this crap. They're always trying to interfere in matters that don't concern them!"

"I agree!" says Diode. "They're like the Child Protection Services and the school board when an innocent Latin girl spray paints a giant, oh-so-graphic picture of a Prince Albert across the lockers in the cheerleaders’ locker room."

Everyone stops for a second to turn their attention to Diode.

"...what?" she asks. "Okay, maybe the art wasn't as good as Peter's, but it still had political significance, dammit!"

"I... I'm not even going to ask... I know I'll regret it later..." mutters Warren.

Diode begins to make chirping noises as she dangles some noodles over her head and drops them down into her mouth like a crane. She continues to make bird sounds as she eats it.

"Sandy, I want you to find out why She-Hulk is doing this, if she has an ulterior motive or agenda... something I can use, okay?" asks Warren.

"I'll get someone right on it," says Sandy. She turns to walk out of the room.

"And Sandy?"

"Yes?"

"Get me some aspirin..." says Warren. "Diode just turned my headache into a migraine."

"Oh, well excuse me for trying to lighten the mood," says Diode. "Sheesh..."

"Colossus, Diode, you two can go home," says Warren. "And Charlotte, I appreciate you trying to give us a head's up, even if it didn't give us enough of a chance to prepare for the news."

"Woot woot, night off!" exclaims Diode. "I call dibs on the food!!"

"Leave at least half of it," says Warren.

"Aww crapshoot..." she mutters. "Fine, be a dick. But all of you, don't forget to be at my first TRL show!"

Diode skips out of the room with Colossus and Charlotte following. Betsy closes the doors behind them, and looks towards Warren, who has since plopped down in a chair and reaches for a box of Chinese food.

"It just figures, doesn't it?"

"I'm sorry about all this, luv," replies Betsy as she saunters over and sits on the table, reaching for a box herself. "It's a tough time for us now. Losing Logan, the riots... all if it has been an endurance trial."

"Not only that, but Diode took all the noodles..." he mutters, looking inside the box. He places it back down on the table and sighs.

"Do you want me to run after her or order something else?" asks Betsy.

"Forget it, I'm not even that hungry," replies Warren.

"Are you su—"

"Listen Bets, do me a favor and spare me the sympathy," he says. "I don't want it, I'm too tired for it, and I'm sick of people thinking that I can't clean up my own messes. I may not be Scott or Hank, but I know what I'm doing. I'm a big boy and I can take care of myself."

He reaches inside his jacket and pulls out one of his golden handguns. He turns to face the trashcan sitting amidst the minibar.

"And if the media wants a war, the Archangel's going to give them one."

He pulls the trigger and shoots the hell out of the garbage can.

Outside the X-Corp offices, Bill Gemas sits in a limo across from the She-Hulk. He begins to feign agony and pain by uttering soft groans.

"I think it worked very well, Mr. Gemas," says She-Hulk. "My appearence more than got a reaction out of Worthington."

"Oh without a doubt," says Gemas. "Hey driver, think you could drop me off at my apartment?"

He stops and glances over at She-Hulk with a half-grin.

"That is... unless you felt like going out for a pre-emptive celebration of our soon-to-be-victory in court?"

She-Hulk lets out a loud laugh and stops herself, covering it up with a soft chuckle, trying to keep herself from bursting into laughter.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Gemas but I... I have other things to attend to."

"Another time then, perhaps?"

"Perhaps."

Gemas moves towards the mini-fridge in the limo and opens it up. He begins picking through it and pulls out a can of beer and relaxes in the seat, propping his feet up on the armrest.

"Mr. Gemas, I should remind you that the limo you're ruiding in is courtesy of the Fantastic Four, and not yours to lounge in," she says. "You, and the rest of the media I'm representing, are clients, and while you may have the potential to become a friend of mine, you shouldn't try and cross any lines."

"Okay okay okay..." says Gemas as he sits up and lifts up his hands in mock defeat. "But I do have a question that might cross those lines..."

She-Hulk raises her eyebrows in curiosity and looks at him.

"And what might that be?"

"Why?" he asks. "Why head up a case against X-Corp, a team of publicized superheroes much like yourself?"

She-Hulk clears her throat and sits back in her seat, trying to find the right words to phrase her response.

"Well... to put it simply..." she begins. "The thing is... you see, the way some of the publicized teams out there, like X-Corp and Force Works, and even the Avengers at times, the way these teams operate, the way they abuse their status as heroes isn't right. The incident with Eric Williams and Worthington is a prime example. Williams is a reformed man. He's paid his debt to society and he's trying to change. But because of Worthington's assumptions, it all turned to chaos. Then there's Worthington's abuse of employees such as yourself, and now trying to butcher the First Amendment by keeping negative press off their backs... that's a prime example of heroes abusing their power and status. It's not right and it has to stop, and I'm here to see that it is stopped."

"I see..." says Gemas, nodding his head slightly, almost as if he's impressed by her valor and integrity. "But I have one more question..."

"What's that?" asks She-Hulk. Gemas leans forward and she leans in closer to him.

"When you're running around in those skimpy, low-cut spandex outfits... how do you keep your uber-boobies from popping out?"

The limo pulls up to the curb and Bill Gemas goes flying out the door. He lands face-first on the pavement. His crutches come next, one landing on his back and the other striking him square in the back of his head. The door shuts and the limo drives off.

The sign outside reads “A Burning Sensation – The Pole Position Club.” It’s a… shall we say, gentlemen’s establishment owned and operated by John Allerdyce. Former terrorist, former X-Man, writer, and one of the seven board members of X-Corp. At his side is one of his co-workers, Hugh Japheth. The two of them stand in the back room. Standing with them are three of their latest contemporaries—two stoners and a talent-less actor. All five of them look down at the man lying before them on the leather couch.

Along with Pyro and Maggott, Shorn Dai-Chi, or Xorn as he is known, is also one of the board members of X-Corp. There is a huge dent in his large, iron mask.

“Is he dead?” asks the actor. Pyro and Maggott look at him as if he’s the biggest idiot in the world.

“He’s sleeping,” says Pyro.

“Oh… I knew that.”

“Hey bitch-flame!” says the smaller stoner. “We did what you asked, now where’s our finder’s fee, yo?”

His larger, silent companion begins nodding.

“Oh fer chrissakes…” mutters Pyro. He reaches into his jacket and pulls out a small ziploc bag of pot. He tosses it at the two. “Now piss off.”

“Hey, you can’t talk to us like that!” says the stoner.

“What?” asks Pyro.

“I said you can’t talk to us like that. You gotta start treatin’ us with some respect, hommes. We deserve our props! If it wasn’t for us, you’d never find this star-brained bitch with his dented-ass mask!”

“Oh, so you want your props, eh?” asks Pyro. He takes a drag on his cigarette and flicks the ash off. It explodes into a fireball that dissipates inches from the smart-mouthed stoner’s face, nearly singing his nose hairs and coming dangerously close to vaporizing his eyebrows.

“Whoa man… no need to trip…” says the stoner. “Look… I was just kiddin’, that’s all.” He elbows his compatriot and says, “c’mon tons of fun, let’s go smoke this.”

The silent man waves goodbye and then follows his friend out the door.

“Umm… y’know what… I just remembered something…” says the actor. “I’ve gotta go do my… umm… my laundry.”

“…you have a maid,” says Maggott.

“Oh… umm… she’s on vacation,” says the actor. He turns and runs off. “Hey guys, wait up!”

“Wankers…” mutters Pyro as soon as the door closes behind them. “I’m tellin’ ya, Hugh—I need to hire better help.”

“I wonder how much the Avengers pay that Jarvis guy,” says Maggott.

“Think we could steal him away?” asks Pyro.

“I think we could,” replies Maggott. “C’mon maat, we could totally pay him more than the Avengers do.”

“Hmm…” says Pyro. “That’s a good point.”

“Only problem is we can’t give him the same benefits,” says Maggott.

“Sure we can,” says Pyro. “Medical, dental, vacation, the whole nine yards.”

“Access to the Scarlet Witch’s panty drawer?” asks Maggott.

“Bollocks, you’re right…” replies Pyro. He takes a drag on his cigarette and looks down at Xorn before facing Maggott once more. “You get in touch with the media and police?”

“Yeah, already done,” says Maggott. “Bitch didn’t file a report or anything. I think you were right when y’ said she just wanted shaddup money and wasn’t gonna try and press charges. We probably won’t hear from her again.”

“Still…” says Pyro. “I got a bad feeling about this. We should get in touch with the PR department just in case and tell them to be on their toes. God knows we pay the buggers enough.”

Maggott’s cell phone begins to ring before their conversation can continue. He answers it and begins speaking in what seems like gibberish to Pyro. The voice on the other end is quite loud, and Pyro makes out the caller saying the words, “you’re a tweaker!” Maggott laughs, but then his face becomes somber. His whole demeanor changes.

“Yeah… yeah, I gotcha,” says Maggott. “We’ll be there as soon as we can.”

He turns off his phone and places it back in his pocket.

“What was that?” asks Pyro.

“Diode,” replies Maggott. “Something’s up in New York. Flyboy’s callin’ a meeting for us to discuss our next move.”

“Alright, for now we’ll keep this quiet,” says Pyro. “Help me get Xorn to the car, we need t’ get on a plane to New York.”

Present day…

Psylocke lifts the pitcher of water from the table in front of them and fills the empty glass. She hands the glass to Archangel, who still has his face buried in his hands. She begins to rub his shoulders, a slight grin on her face in a mix of pride, amusement, and sympathy.

“The next few weeks after that were hell,” she begins. “Gemas’ lawsuit was no problem, it was thrown out quite quickly once enough evidence was collected by the best attorney our money could buy. And now, Gemas is on trial for medical insurance fraud. But She-Hulk wasn’t willing to go down without a fight in the matter of X-Corp silencing the media about our affairs. The judge wasn’t convinced the case should be dismissed, either. In fact, it was even turned over to the Supreme Court who would hear the case on grounds for dismissal.”

Betsy runs a hand through her butchered, multi-colored purple and blonde hair.

“And yet, the most agitating part was yet to come…”

“Ugh… could those protestors kindly shut up for ten minutes?” asks Psylocke. “Ten minutes of peace and quiet, is that too much to ask?”

She sits in her office in the X-Corp building while protestors and news reporters parade around the building’s front entrance. Colossus stands behind her in his human form, aggressively washing her hair for what seems to be the umpteenth time.

“And what is with that judge?” asks Betsy. “Ordering me to dye my hair a more ‘respectable’ color… I tried to explain to him that due to my mutation and extenuating circumstances, I couldn’t change the color. But nooo… bloody prick stood by the order…”

“Betsy, I understand you’re upset,” replies Colossus. “But all this fidgeting, bitching, and moaning about having to dye your hair is making my job much more difficult!”

“I’m sorry, Peter… this just agitates me,” she says. “Couldn’t this be viewed as discrimination? Forcing a mutant to change their hair color when their mutation forbids such a thing? Wouldn’t that be the equivalent to a judge ordering a black man to dye his skin a more ‘respectable’ color? I’ve tried to dye my hair back to blonde before, but it just wouldn’t work!”

“I agree, it’s not fair at all for them to force this order,” says Colossus. “But no worries, I have some remedies that just may work…”

“Blasted justices and their telepathic dampeners…” mutters Betsy. “If only I could manipulate them into seeing me as a blonde or a brunette, but noooo!”

“Okay,” says Colossus as he lifts his hands from Betsy’s head. “Here comes the most important part. Roni!”

Diode’s head pops into the office with a, “yo ho” and she strolls inside up to Colossus’ side.

“What’s up, tin man?”

“I need you to frizz out Betsy’s hair and warm it at the same time for the solution I’m using to go through,” says Colossus. “Usually, we would just use a hair bulb, but we’re running short on time. This is basically a last resort.”

“Okay, I can do that, no problem,” says Diode as she gets behind Psylocke. She mockingly spits in each of her hands, then smacks them together and begins rubbing them. She pulls them apart and stretches out her fingers, positioning them around Betsy’s head. Diode begins rubbing Psylocke’s hair and starts to kick up an electromagnetic hair massage.

“Wait a minute!” says Psylocke. “Peter, is that solution you’re using flammab—“

*POOF*

“AHHHH!!”

“Holy shit, dude!” cries out Diode as Psylocke’s hair goes up in flames. Betsy jumps in shock and knocks over the rinsing bowl Colossus brought with. Colossus and Diode frantically grab a towel and try and smother the flames, but Psylocke in a panic flees.

“BLOODY CHRIST COVERED IN SHITE WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO ME?!” she cries out as she runs through the halls of X-Corp, with Colossus and Diode chasing after her. “PYRO!!! GET YOUR ARSE OUT HERE RIGHT NOW!! PYYYYYYYYYYYYYYRO!!!!”

Psylocke bursts into Pyro’s office, where he sits behind his desk, thumbing through his recent book.

“Betsy?!” he cries out.

“OUT OUT!!! PUT IT OUT RIGHT THIS BLOODY SECOND!!!”

Psylocke runs towards his desk, leaps on top of it, and throws her flaming head in his lap.

“NOW!!!”

“AHHHHH FECKING HELL!!!” exclaims Pyro in shock. He kills the oxygen molecules around her head, extinguishing the flames and Psylocke breathes a sigh of relief, her head still in his lap. Pyro looks up and sees Diode, Maggott, Colossus, and Archangel standing in the doorway. Diode and Maggott begin laughing hysterically to the point where they can barely breathe, Colossus’ face seems to turn a bright shade of red, and Archangel doesn’t look amused in the least.

“Heh… I always knew she was hot for me, eh Worthington?” quips Pyro.

Xorn sits outside of the X-Corp's science lab on a bench, watching the other X-Corp employees walk back and forth, including some of the doctors, scientists, and some of the assistants. His arm is in a sling, broken from the attack, and his ribs sore from a few of them getting broken in the ordeal.

He sighs to himself, and runs a hand over the dent in his iron helmet. The last couple of weeks continue to plague him, and though he hasn't talked with the rest of X-Corp about what transpired, he hasn't denied them any information upon request either. Xorn decides that he needs to come to terms with it himself before they can. It was just then a skinny, young woman with shoulder-length brown hair that was blessed with natural highlights walks out of the science lab and approached him, unnoticed.

"Mr. Xorn?" she asks politely in her Southern accent, though not without a touch of concern for his distant behavior. Xorn looks up to the woman in the white lab coat and stands to his feet.

“Yes, I’m sorry,” he says.

“Oh no, it’s me who should be apologizing,” she says. “After all, the science department wasn’t able to replicate the helmet you wear. Although it is iron and destructible, it has several unique properties that for some reason, we’re not able to duplicate just yet. Properties that keep you from… I dunno… I guess flash frying everything in sight. We’ve made some progress, but it could be months before we’re able to make a new helmet.”

Xorn nods his head in understanding and shakes the woman’s hand before walking off.

”I’m really sorry for everything that’s happened to you and X-Corp lately!” she calls out after him. “You should try to buck up, because you really are changing the world by doing the things you’ve been doing. Even the smallest things can have a big impact.”

Xorn stops dead in his tracks, a sense of irony overcoming him, and he turns around to stare at the young woman, before he nods in gratitude.

"Thank you, Ms. Burkle…" he says, then turns back around and walks away as the young woman watches on.

Outside the X-Corp building, a shadow falls over the crowd. The reporters and protestors look to the sky as Warren Worthington, dressed in a white business suit, lowers himself to the ground by the use of his large, feathered wings.

“Okay,” he says. “My name is Warren Worthington, as I’m sure you all know. And I know you’ve all been waiting for some answers. I’m here to give them to you. So, let’s get started… you over there.”

“Mr. Worthington, my name is Alison Cory with the Pittsburgh Post,” she says. “How do you feel about the lawsuit brought against you by your former employee, Bill Gemas?”

“Mr. Gemas’ lawsuit was fraudulent and the courts ruled it as such,” says Warren. “It shames me to say that such a man was once employed by X-Corp, but that’s in the past and I would like to put it behind us.”

“How do you feel about the comments from Eric Williams?” asks Alison once more.

“I was very insulted that a man like Mr. Williams, who claims to be above petty insults, says so at the same time as he’s hurling some petty remarks of his own,” replies Warren.

“And with the charges that you’re trying to suppress First Amendment rights?”

“X-Corp is not choosing to suppress anything,” says Warren. “You attack us, but how come no one’s said anything about Rupert Murdoch?”

“Did you beat up Eric Williams because he didn’t agree with your new world order for media?”

“What?!” exclaims Warren. “Now that’s just ridiculous.”

“Excuse me, Mr. Worthington,” says one reporter. Warren recognizes the woman with short black hair as Trish Tilby. “How do you believe your current case will end?”

“Well…” says Warren with a slight grin. “I do have an ace up my sleeve.”

There are several knocks on the door to the large hotel room. Jennifer Walters runs towards the door, opening it up.

“Oh god…” she mutters as she sees who her visitor is. “You can’t be serious.”

Pyro stands in the doorway, dressed in a very bad, very tacky pink and brown striped suit. He holds flowers in one hand and a bottle of champagne in the other. His trademark sunglasses are perched slightly below his eyes on his nose and a cigarette dangles from his lips. He has a large, flirtatious grin on his face.

“Hello Jennifer,” he says. “Mind if I come in so we can… chat? Y’know, just for a bit, luv?”

NEXT ISSUE: Cory Wiegel and Dino Pollard bring you the stunning conclusion to "MEDIATRICS" in the X-CORP 2004 ANNUAL! Will X-Corp ever be the same? Will Pyro and She-Hulk have "the sex"? And will Diode be a better host than Carson Daly on TRL????