Sen'ti-nel: Noun.

1. A soldier stationed as a guard.
2. A robot designed to exterminate x-gene positives.
3. A marine crab.

Years ago, the government funded a shadow program called Project: WIDEAWAKE. The purpose was to ensure that if the mutant population had ever gotten out of control, scores of Sentinels would be unleashed upon the unsuspecting freaks. Your tax dollars at work.

The Sentinels were stored in a top-secret government facility in Colorado. After awhile, however, the project was simply forgotten about, and Project: WIDEAWAKE became nothing more than a storage facility for antiquated Sentinels. Particularly when my Prime Sentinels were far superior to those older models. However, I no longer have access to the resources I once had. Operation: ZERO Tolerance has been eliminated. I have no choice but to rely on these older models.

It's child's play to bypass the computerized security codes present in the facility. Armed guards attempt to stop me. They are humans, it's them who I am supposed to protect. But they don't recognize me as their savior. They are trying to stop me from bringing them salvation.

I'm prepared to eliminate them. If I must sacrifice a few humans in order to achieve the greater good, then so be it. However, without warning, they lower their weapons and stand at attention. Something about this seems... odd.

I dismiss it and continue deeper into the installation.

I come to another door. I press my hand against a glowing green panel for handprint identification. My unique computer system overrides it with ease and the door opens to give me access.

I enter, and from the glass window overlooking, I can see them. Thousands of sixty foot tall robots. Like an army standing at attention, awaiting orders from their commander in chief. In this case, the commander in chief would be myself.

My name is Bastion.

And I have never seen anything so beautiful.

Joseph enters the room with his nose in the air and a pleasant look on his face. He sniffs the air as he enters.

"What smells so good?" he asks.

"Hey," replies the lavender-skinned girl behind the stove. "How'd the training session with Polaris go?"

"It was interesting," he says. "Do I smell bacon?"

"Yup," replies Clarice Ferguson.

"Good, I'm starving."

"Not for you," she says.

"Oh, let me guess," says Joseph. "You want the base wired with HBO, so you're sucking up to Pietro."

"Nope," she says with a grin.

He comes up behind her and kisses the back of her head.

"Trying to get Pyro to give you a sneak peak at his new book?"

"Uh-uh."

"Trying to get Warren to buy you a Corvette?"

"Nope."

"A Ferrari?"

"Try again."

"A 747?"

Blink laughs at his comment and turns to give her boyfriend a quick peck on the cheek. She then turns her attention back to the pork products, and he wraps his arms around her waist.

"No, this is for Mr. Creed."

"....oh," says Joseph. He removes his arms from her and walks over to the table and takes a seat.

"What's wrong?" she asks.

"Clarice... I think we need to talk about Sabretooth."

"I know what you're going to say, Joe. And I don't want to hear it. Bad enough I've gotta put up with Quicksilver making cracks like 'time for walkies.'"

"Look, I believe in redemption more than anyone else," says Joseph. "Pyro's living proof that people can change."

"Exactly my point," says Clarice. "See, I knew you'd understand."

"I didn't finish."

"Oh."

"The fact of the matter is this," begins Joseph. "Sometimes, people can't change. And no matter how much you try, nothing will ever work to get them to redeem themselves. Sabretooth is a perfect example of such a case. He's beyond redemption. You can see it in his eyes, he looks at all of us as if we were dinner."

Clarice empties the bacon in the frying pan onto a plate and slams the pan on the stove. This gets Joseph's attention, and almost makes him jump. He looks at her with shock.

"Drop it, okay?" she says. "You don't know him like I do. There's more to him than murder."

"Do I even have to bring up Japan?"

"If it wasn't for Mr. Creed, Tsung would've killed Pietro!" exclaims Blink.

"Maybe so," says Joseph. "But there was no reason for Sabretooth to perform an autopsy on the man while he was still alive."

"This conversation is over, understand?" says Blink. She grabs the plate of bacon and vanishes into a portal.

"Clarice, don't be like—"

But before Joseph can finish, Clarice is gone and the portal vanishes. He sighs and runs a hand through his long, silver hair. He hears the sound of humming and looks up to see Pyro fishing through the refrigerator. He comes out with a beer and looks at Joseph.

"What's got y' down, mate?" he asks.

"Women," says Joseph.

"Oh..." says Pyro with a knowing look. He opens the fridge back up, pulls out another beer, and walks over to the table. He places one bottle right in front of Joseph and sits next to him with the other in his hand.

"What's this?"

Pyro looks at him as he's taking a drink from his bottle. He places his bottle down and simply stares at Joseph with a look of sarcasm.

"It's called beer," he says. "You're supposed to drink it."

"Very funny," says Joseph. "You know what I mean."

"Well, if I heard you correctly, you're having a spot of difficulty with the female persuasion," replies Pyro. "C'mon, out with it."

"I don't know... it's complicated."

"It's always complicated, so start talking."

"We... we had an argument."

"Who was right?"

"Well... it's hard to say, it's just difference of opinion, I guess."

"Okay... let's try it this way," says Pyro. "What was the argument?"

"It was about Sabretooth."

Pyro suddenly becomes silent, and looks down. He takes a swig of his beer, then reaches into his jeans for a pack of cigarettes. He pulls one out and lights it.

"You tried to talk to Clarice about Sabretooth?" he asks.

"Yeah..."

"I don't care if you are Magneto's son, y' gotta have a death wish t' try and talk to Clarice Ferguson about her precious 'Mr. Creed.' Sorry mate, but you're in the doghouse."

"Thanks Pyro, that's very comforting."

"That's what I'm here for," he says as he takes a drag on his cigarette. He looks down at his watch. "Ah sod it all t' hell, I gotta run."

"For what?" asks Joseph as Pyro scrambles to get up.

"Meeting with my publisher," replies Pyro. "Bastard hates t' be kept waiting."

"I thought you hated your publisher."

"I do," says Pyro. "The meeting was scheduled for one o'clock."

Joseph looks at the clock on the oven, then back to Pyro.

"It's quarter after two."

Pyro simply grins.

"I know."

Despite the fact that this is nothing more than a storage facility, I would have hoped the security features would be a bit more... challenging. Wishful thinking, I suppose. The time grows near, however. Soon, I shall have the means I need to unleash my vengeance upon mutantkind.

<< Welcome Bastion. >>

I stop.

"Who dares?"

I look around the room, and I see yellow material of some sort leaking from the walls. It falls to the ground into a large puddle, almost resembling molasses (if molasses was yellow). The puddle begins to rise, and a large, humanoid shape becomes apparent. His entire body is yellow, and there seem to be several heads coming from his chest. His head is dark-skinned and bald, but with a beard.

<< We have been expecting you. >>

"Who are you?" I ask.

<< You may call me Harvest. >>

My eyes begin to crackle with energy.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill you."

<< Because we both want the same thing. The extermination of mutants. >>

The energy build-up in my eyes dies down.

"...I'm listening."

<< We are the Phalanx. Like you, we are commited to the extinction of the mutant race. We would like you to join us. >>

"And why should I do that?"

<< Those Sentinels are old models, they are not fully equipped to deal with the mutant threat. We can modify them. And, there is one other reason. >>

"Which is?"

<< We are already in control of the Sentinels. If you try to take them, we shall destroy you. That seems pointless since we are both commited to the same goal, however. >>

Harvest extends his hand towards me. I look at it for a moment and I consider what he has told me. He's right, these Sentinels won't provide much of a strike force. I need something stronger. And perhaps the Phalanx can provide me with the means I need.

"Deal," I say. I shake hands with Harvest, and I can hear the voices of thousands, if not millions of voices echoing through my head. Yet, all these voices are in perfect unison. And I hear them say, "we are the Phalanx."

And I am now a part of their Collective.

"Here you go," says Blink as she places the plate of food in front of Sabretooth. He eats slowly, having fed earlier on the dingo. The two of them are outside on a plateau overlooking the town. "Y'know, this isn't easy."

"Whaddaya mean?" he asks.

"I mean this whole deal," she says. "Me and Joe got into a fight earlier."

"'Bout what?"

"It's... it's not important," she says.

Creed smiles at her.

"It was about me, wasn't it?"

Blink solemnly nods.

"He's a good kid," says Creed. "Y'know, f'r one of Magneto's anyway."

"How do you do it, anyway?" she asks. "How can you put up with this life?"

"I've been better," he replies. "But I also been worse."

"Do you like being treated like an animal?"

"Who does?"

"So why don't you do something about it?" she asks. "Why don't you try to change?"

"Mebbe some things can't be changed, kiddo. Ever consider that?"

"Anyone can be redeemed," says Blink.

"Heh... ya got a lotta faith, kid," says Creed. "Never lose that."

"Things just seem so different now," says Blink. "It's great that Rogue's back, but now Storm's dead. I didn't know her that well, but... when I came to the X-Men, she was the first person who talked to me. I wish I could've gotten to know her better."

"Life never works out th' way ya want it to."

"Hey... can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Do you want to be redeemed?"

"...how about a different question?"

My name is Henry McCoy. And I come from another world. A world ruled by a mad tyrant. A world where mutants were the superiors and humans the inferior. A world where I had an endless supply of subjects to experiment on. A world where death and misery ruled above all else, a world where hope was all but extinct. Those were some fun times.

Now I'm here. In another world. A world where I'm called a villain. The "Dark Beast" is the moniker given to me. Honestly, "Dark Beast?" How uncreative is that? But I digress. Currently, I'm the leader of a terrorist organization known as the Brotherhood of Mutants. I look around the room at the rest of our numbers.

Toad, Blob, Black Tom Cassidy, Greystone, Mesmero, Phantazia, Sauron, Mimic, and our newest recruit, a man by the name of Payne. We have had others in our ranks, including Avalanche and Prelate, but we lost touch with Avalanche during the Limbo event. As for Prelate... well... let's just say he's not as dead as he may have appeared. Now, we're planning our next act of terror. I'm trying to think of something to really get the attention of the masses. You can only blow up so many buildings after all before it gets boring. And this should be fun.

"Wait..." says Sauron.

"Whut?" asks Blob.

"Do you hear that?" he asks.

The room grows quiet as we all strain to listen for some sound. Yet, we hear nothing.

"Yeh sure yeh aren't hearin' things, laddie?" asks Black Tom.

"He's outta his fucking mind, obviously," says Blob.

"I'm positive I heard something..." says Sauron.

"Riiiiiight," says Blob.

"...there's something here..." says Mesmero.

"Who?" asks Payne. "No one here but us."

"No... there's something else..."

"There's nothing else," says Blob.

"What's with your attitude problem, Frederick?" asks Toad. "Aren't you people supposed to be jolly?"

"Fuck you!" exclaims Blob. "At least I don't look like a dog shit on my face!"

"No, you just look like someone shoved a sodding Buick up your arse."

"I think we might have a problem..." says Greystone. "McCoy, you might want to look at this..."

I walk over to where Greystone is, and my eyes are wide in shock. It's hard to say exactly what happened next. I remember a blinding flash, and then everything went dark. The last thing I heard before I faded away into unconsciousness were cryptic words from Mesmero:

"They're here... God help us, they're here..."