Westchester County
New York

Peter Wisdom had sat in this particular establishment for only ten minutes and already he hated it and, by extension, all of Salem Center. Harry’s Hideaway had been a frequent watering hole for the inhabitants of the Xavier Institute and that fact had Wisdom absolutely boggled.

The scotch was shit and their beer selection read like a who’s who of near-frozen gnat’s piss. He was actually somewhat impressed they had any scotch at all. The bartender—who looked about twelve—seemed extremely confused when Wisdom ordered the drink on the rocks. Part of Wisdom wanted to request the drink mixed with vermouth—not because he liked his scotch that way, just because he was curious if the little snot-nosed co-ed even knew what vermouth was.

He checked his watch. Ten past. "You’d think a bloke who can teleport anywhere in the blink of an eye could keep to a schedule…" he muttered. Prepared to light a cigarette, he heard the bartender perk up.

"Excuse me, sir—you can’t smoke in here."

"Beg pardon?" asked Wisdom. "Last I checked, this is a bar, isn’t it?"

"Yes…"

"And since when can I not smoke in a bar?"

"This is a restaurant, too," said the bartender. "So by law, we can’t allow you to smoke in here."

"An’ here I thought you yanks were all about liberty and shit…" said Wisdom. He replaced the cigarette in the pack and stuffed it into the inside pocket of his jacket. "Bugger…"

"I see our time apart hasn’t improved your demeanor, Wisdom."

Pete turned his eyes upwards and saw a young man resembling Errol Flynn sit across from him. "Nice disguise, Wagner. Not obvious in the least."

Kurt Wagner shrugged. "So I like to have fun with my image inducer."

Wisdom rolled his eyes as he sipped the scotch. "I’d offer to buy you a drink, but this place charges far too much for shitty alcohol."

"Plus I’m a priest," said Kurt.

"Doesn’t mean shit," said Wisdom. "You should see some of the Irish priests I knew. Half of them were off their tits during their sermons. One of them hid vodka in bottles of holy water. The parents of a certain baptized boy weren’t too happy about that."

"Is there a reason you wanted to see me, Peter?" asked Kurt.

"Couldn’t we have met somewhere a tad nicer?" asked Wisdom.

"You’re the one who refused to meet at the Institute…"

"Whatever. Now listen, I need your help locating an outfit you lot are associated with."

"What outfit would that be?" asked Kurt. "Not sure if you’ve noticed, but there aren’t many organizations running around with an X these days."

"This one doesn’t have an X and they’re quite difficult to get a hold of," said Wisdom. "The Mutant Underground Support Engine."

Kurt looked down and cleared his throat. "I don’t know what you’re talking about."

"Oh yes you do," said Wisdom. "I’ve important business with one of their members. Problem is, not even SHIELD can narrow down their location."

"How did you find out about MUSE?"

"Don’t insult me, Wagner," said Wisdom. "I’ve been in espionage for longer than I’d care to admit. MI-6, WHO, Black Air, SHIELD—all of them have files on a mutant underground. And one of the members is very important to me."

"Which one?"

"Pardon?"

"Who do you need?" asked Kurt.

"Don’t know his real name, but he goes by the handle of Weapon X."

Kurt snickered and shook his head. "I should have guessed."

"You gonna help me?" asked Wisdom.

"Why me? Why not go through Kitty?"

Wisdom flinched at the mention of that name. "We’re not exactly on speaking terms. And there’s no one else in the X-Men I can trust. Which means it falls to you, mate. So once again, will you help me?"

Kurt stood from the table. "Go back to your hotel, Peter. I’m sure you’ll get a fix on the man you’re looking for."

Marvel 2000 Proudly Presents

DIAMOND IN THE ROUGH
Part One

By Dino Pollard

Thaton
Union of Myanmar

Officially called the Union of Myanmar and one of the largest countries in Southeast Asia, Burma is a country rife with tension. Maung Sein lived his entire life in the Mon state in the southern part, the son of rice farmers. Sein, however, found work elsewhere—in a large, tire factory located in the town of Thaton.

At twenty years of age, Sein knew his opportunities were limited. Perhaps if he could find a way to one of the bordering nations, Thailand or China maybe, he would have a better chance at a decent life. But getting past the Myanmar military would prove difficult.

Especially when one day, they turned up in Sein’s factory, armed with weapons. The factory floor manager stood at the fore, and he pointed the squad’s leader to Sein’s location. Maung began to panic. He felt the sweat on his brow grow at the approach.

The commander stepped right up to him and said, "Maung Sein?"

Sein wanted to shake his head, but he knew it would mean nothing. So he nodded his head slowly and the commander nodded. "By order of the State Peace and Development Council, you are to come with us to Naypyidaw immediately."

"Am… am I being charged?" asked Sein.

"You dare question me, genetrash?" asked the commander. He raised his arm and backhanded Sein across his jaw. When his hand connected, however, it shattered with a crack.

"AGH!" the commander cried, looking in shock at his broken hand. The soldiers raised their rifles in response, pointing them at Sein. His fellow workers looked on with horror at this man they thought they knew.

Sein’s hand went to his face and he felt its hardness. Were he able to see his own face, he would see that it now took on the appearance of a diamond.

"Shoot him!" shouted the commander.

"No, no please!" said Sein. "I didn’t mean to—!"

The soldiers heard no more, choosing instead to open fire on him. The workers ran from the vicinity as the bullets slammed into Sein’s diamond-hard body at point-blank range. His body rocked with each strike, and it kept doing so until each soldier emptied his magazine. Once the smoke cleared, Sein fell backward, striking the factory floor.

The commander gestured to Sein. "Check him." One of the soldiers did so, examining the worker’s fallen form. Sein’s body returned to its normal state of flesh and blood. The soldier looked up at the commander.

"He’s alive…" he said. "And… he doesn’t have a scratch on him."

"Bring him," said the commander. "We are to continue with our orders."

White Plains
New York

When Pete Wisdom entered his room at the Crowne Plaza, he wasn’t surprised when he saw a young woman sitting in the chair. She had long, black hair and some sort of strange device on her forehead. With an M tattooed over her right eye and dressed in a blue and gold uniform that proudly displayed a prominent X badge, she was definitely far from inconspicuous.

"I see the Mutant Underground isn’t as subtle as I’ve been led to believe," said Wisdom.

"People only see what I want them to see," said the young woman. From the small device on her forehead, two small, glowing butterfly-like shapes emerged and flittered around her head. "Thanks to my little friends, of course."

"Of course," said Wisdom, plopping down on his bed. "Wouldn’t be one of Xavier’s outfits without a psi onboard, now would it?"

"I got your message," she said. "My name’s Fixx."

Wisdom chuckled slightly, remembering Kurt’s words before they parted ways. "Wagner, you cheeky bastard…"

"I’m sorry?" asked Fixx.

"Just something Nightcrawler said to me," he said. "Made it pretty clear you were the one I should talk to." He produced a pack of Silk Cuts and offered it to her. "Smoke?"

"I thought all the rooms in the Crowne Plaza are non-smoking," said Fixx.

"They are," said Wisdom, placing one of the cigarettes in his mouth. "I suppose it’s why Fury booked me a room here. Must be his idea of a joke."

Fixx crossed her legs. "Shall we cut to the chase, Mr. Wisdom? Nightcrawler said you were interested in establishing contact with the Underground, but I’m not sure why you went through him when you already have some of my former teammates working at SHIELD."

"I don’t know Bishop or Shard well enough to trust them," said Wisdom. "Wagner and I may not be bosom buddies, but he’s good people."

"So what did you want to talk about?" asked Fixx, one of her psychic faeries flittering above her outstretched palm. "Or should I just find out for myself?"

"Don’t bother, I’m not too fond of having people root through my mind. Besides, you might not like what you see." Wisdom lit the cigarette with the tip of his finger providing the necessary heat. "I’m interested in one of your members, someone who’s really good at the stealth game. Young man by the name of Weapon X."

Fixx nodded. "Nightcrawler mentioned you were interested in Brandon. But he’s doing good work where he is now."

"How many operatives does MUSE have?"

"I’m not at liberty to sa—"

"Right, of course you aren’t," said Wisdom. "What I mean is, you have plenty of people and you mostly help mutants find safe passage, setting them up with new identities, that sort of thing. You’re good at finding the victims, but not so good at striking the aggressors."

"Now wait just a minu—"

Wisdom raised his hands in a gesture of goodwill. "No disrespect meant, love. It’s a difficult job, fighting mutant oppression, and no outfit is equipped to do all the work themselves. What I propose is we work together."

Fixx relaxed her composure. "I’m listening."

"SHIELD is interested in bringing Weapon X onboard, having him help us take out some of the nasties who are doing harm to mutants," said Wisdom. "We have intel that points to mutant rights violators in all parts of the less-developed world. Africa, Southeast Asia, Central and South America… We can’t all be everywhere at once and SHIELD can’t protect all of them. Their organization is too big and too concerned with protecting the free world. So these victims slip through the cracks. That’s where you come in. We’ll handle the heavy lifting, take out the guilty parties, and you pick up the refugees and do your thing."

"And you need Brandon for this?" asked Fixx.

Wisdom cracked a smile. "Let’s face facts. He’s more Marine Corps than Peace Corps, isn’t he? What do you say?"

"I say you ask him," said Fixx. A figure moved from behind the curtain, dressed in a black bodysuit complete with goggles equipped with red lenses. Wisdom recognized the man instantly from his file photo.

"Has he been there the whole time?" asked Wisdom.

"Yup," said Fixx. "Used his telepathy to help mask his presence."

"Not bad at all," said Wisdom. "Weapon X, I presume. I take it I don’t have to repeat myself, so what do you say? In or out, mate?"

The masked assassin simply nodded.

A hundred miles southwest of Block Island, nestled in the Atlantic Ocean, exists a marvel of modern-day technology. Developed by SHIELD with the aid of Stark Enterprises lies the Triskelion, a man-made island that operates solely as a SHIELD facility.

With the aid of SHIELD’s HERMES transport system, agents stationed at the base are able to teleport instantly from the Helicarrier to the Triskelion. A few of the agents were recently transferred to the Triskelion under special orders directly from Colonel Nick Fury, orders which hold no official record.

"Who else has Pete recruited?" asked David North. Under the codename of Maverick, North has served with SHIELD for some time now, always with the X-Force program, and always under the leadership of Pete Wisdom.

"Mystique is on reserve. Beyond her there’s Sean Watanabe, calls himself Brass," said Fury.

"Never heard of him," said Maverick.

"Not surprising, he hasn’t spent much time in the spotlight," said Fury. "An expert in combat, both armed and unarmed. Also a telepath."

"And the others?"

"Wisdom went off to New York to recruit the last member of the team, someone from the X-camp."

"That’s it? Just four active members?" asked Maverick. "X-Force usually had a bit more than that."

"There’s one more," said Fury. "Dust."

Maverick’s expression was hidden behind his trademark mask, but if it were off, Fury would see disgust on his face. "One of the Dark Riders? Brilliant work, Nick. How did he get you to sign off on that one?"

"It’s a dark world, and the jobs you guys are takin’ on are gonna call for some flexible morality. Dust has that, plus Wisdom makes a good sales pitch," said Fury.

The door opened. Brass stood in the open passage, with Dust by his side. Fury gestured to them as he spoke to Maverick. "Meet your teammates. David North, Sean Watanabe."

Brass extended his hand and Maverick took it. "I’ve reviewed your file. Pretty impressive career you’ve had," said Brass.

"The most impressive stuff isn’t a matter of record," said Maverick. "Wish I could say I’m familiar with your exploits."

"Hopefully I’ll live up to your expectations," said Brass.

"And you already know Sooraya Qadir," said Fury.

Maverick made no motion to shake her hand or greet her with any sort of welcome. He just crossed his arms over his chest. "Yes, we’ve met."

"Where’s Wisdom?" asked Dust. "I didn’t sign on to stand around waiting."

"Actually you did," said Fury. "Espionage 101, kid. Most of this game is establishing contacts, investigating sources, and acting when necessary."

"Sounds like a reporter," said Dust.

"Except no book deals when you stumble on something big," said Brass. "Way I understand it, nothing we do will ever be known to the public."

"Especially not if I have my way," said Fury.

The door opened. Wisdom entered with Weapon X by his side. "I see everyone’s here."

"Everyone except Mystique," said Maverick.

"Just as I expected," said Wisdom. "Guess it’s time to call role, eh? I’ve recruited you all for one, simple purpose—to help mutants. And I don’t mean running around in tights like the X-Men, putting out fires. No, we do the dirty work they can’t—or won’t—do. I won’t kid any of you, if you’ve got a very good moral compass, I don’t have use for you. The things we’ll do… they won’t be pretty. Everyone still onboard?"

No one spoke up to dissent. Wisdom took that as a cue that everyone was in agreement.

"Good," he continued. "More and more mutants are being born every day. And there are a lot of very bad people who want to exploit those mutants. We have to make sure that doesn’t happen. We works in the shadows, answer only to Fury. No one knows we exist. I chose you all because each of you has skills useful in the world of espionage:

"Maverick and I go back, we’ve been with this outfit since the beginning. He’s been doing this since the Cold War, so he’s got plenty of experience.

"Weapon X has been conditioned for years to be the perfect assassin. Telepathy and a bodysuit which projects a forcefield he can manipulate in a variety of ways.

"Brass, also a telepath, is a weapons master and he’s proven in the past that his name comes from the massive stones between his legs. Not a lot of people would throw themselves into situations he has.

"And finally, that brings us to Dust. Former terrorist, forced into that life by the Taliban."

"Why do we have a former terrorist on here again?" asked Brass.

"Because terrorism is in the eye of the beholder," said Wisdom. "Our actions will be viewed as terrorism. But beyond that, Dust is out for one thing—the preservation of her people. And her ability to transform into sand means she can get into places the rest of us can’t." He turned to Fury. "Anything to add?"

"Just the usual non-disclosure crap," said Fury. "In case you haven’t realized it by now, SHIELD can’t be afford to be linked with you people. So if you’re captured, we will not come after you. If you claim SHIELD status, we will deny it. There are no files on any of you. None of you are officially working with SHIELD, understand?"

Again, no one opened their mouth to protest.

"Good," said Fury. He held up a manila folder in his hand. "In that case, let’s get started."